Immortals of Meluha

by Amish Tripathi

  Breathing was an effort. He opened his mouth to help his lungs along. But not enough air flowed in. Shiva concentrated with all his might, opened his mouth wide and sucked in as much air as he could. The curtains by the side of the window rustled as a kindly wind rushed in. With the sudden gush of air, Shiva’s body relaxed just a bit. And then the battle began again. He focused and willed giant gasps of air into his hungry body.

  Knock! Knock!

  The light tapping on the door alerted Shiva. He was disoriented for a moment. Still breathing hard! His shoulder was twitching. The familiar pain was missing. He looked down at his knee. It didn’t hurt anymore. The scar had vanished. Still gasping for breath! He looked down at his toe. Whole and complete now. He bent to check it. A cracking sound reverberated through the room as his toe made its first movement in years. Still breathing hard! There was also an unfamiliar tingling coldness in his neck. Very cold.

  Knock! Knock! A little more insistent now.

  A bewildered Shiva staggered to his feet, pulled the angvastram around his neck for warmth and opened the door.

  The darkness veiled his face, but Shiva could still recognise Bhadra. He whispered in a panic stricken voice, ‘Shiva, I’m sorry to disturb you so late. But my mother has suddenly got a very high fever. What should I do?’

  Shiva instinctively touched Bhadra’s forehead. ‘You too have a fever Bhadra. Go to your room. I will get the doctor.’

  As Shiva raced down the corridor towards the steps he encountered many more doors opening with the now familiar message. ‘Sudden fever! Help!’

  Shiva sprinted down the steps to the attached building where the doctors were housed. He knocked hard on the door. Ayurvati opened it immediately, as if she was expecting him. Shiva spoke calmly. ‘Ayurvati, almost my entire tribe has suddenly fallen ill. Please come fast, they need help.’

  Ayurvati touched Shiva’s forehead. You don’t have a fever?’

  Shiva shook his head. ‘No.’

  Ayurvati frowned, clearly surprised. She turned and ordered her nurses, ‘Come on. It’s begun. Let’s go.’

  As Ayurvati and her nurses rushed into the building, Chitraangadh appeared out of nowhere. He asked Shiva, ‘What happened?’

  ‘I don’t know. Practically everybody in my tribe suddenly fell ill.’

  ‘You too are sweating heavily’

  ‘Don’t worry. I don’t have a fever. Look, I’m going back into the building. I want to see how my people are doing’

  Chitraangadh nodded, adding, ‘I’ll call Nandi.’

  As Chitraangadh sped away in search of Nandi, Shiva ran into the building. He was surprised the moment he entered. All the torches in the building had been lit. The nurses were going from room to room, methodically administering medicines and advising the scared patients on what they should do. A scribe walked along with each nurse meticulously noting the details of each patient on a palm-leaf booklet. The Meluhans were clearly prepared for such an eventuality. Ayurvati stood at the end of the corridor, her hands on her hips. Like a general supervising her superbly trained and efficient troops. Shiva rushed up to her and asked, ‘What about the second and third floor?’

  Ayurvati answered without turning to him. ‘Nurses have already reached all over the building. I will go up to supervise once the situation on this floor has stabilised. We’ll cover all the patients in the next half hour.’

  ‘You people are incredibly efficient but I pray that everyone will be okay,’ said a worried Shiva.

  Ayurvati turned to look at Shiva. Her eyebrows were raised slightly and a hint of a smile hovered on her serious face. ‘Don’t worry. We’re Meluhans. We are capable of handling any situation. Everybody will be fine.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

  ‘Yes. Please go take a bath.’

  ‘What?!’

  ‘Please go take a bath. Right now,’ said Ayurvati as she turned back to look at her team. ‘Everybody, please remember that all children below the age of fifteen must be tonsured. Mastrak, please go up and start the secondary medicines. I’ll be there in five minutes.’

  ‘Yes, my lady,’ said a young man as he hurried up the steps carrying a large cloth bag.

  ‘You’re still here?’ asked Ayurvati as she noticed that Shiva hadn’t left.

  Shiva spoke softly, controlling his rising anger, ‘What difference will my bathing make? My people are in trouble. I want to help.’

  ‘I don’t have the time or the patience to argue with you. You will go take a bath right now!’ said Ayurvati, clearly not trying to control her rising temper.

  Shiva glared at Ayurvati as he made a heroic effort to rein in the curses that wanted to leap out of his mouth. His clenched fists wanted to have an argument of their own with Ayurvati. But she was a woman.

  Ayurvati too glared back at Shiva. She was used to being obeyed. She was a doctor. If she told a patient to do something, she expected it to be done without question. But in her long years of experience she had also seen a few patients like Shiva, especially from the nobility. Such patients had to be reasoned with. Not instructed. Yet, this was a simple immigrant. Not some nobleman!

  Controlling herself with great effort, Ayurvati said, ‘Shiva, you are sweating. If you don’t wash it off, it will kill you. Please trust me. You cannot be of any help to your tribe if you are dead.’

  Chitraangadh banged loudly on the door. A bleary eyed Nandi woke up cursing. He wrenched the door open and growled, ‘This better be important!’

  ‘Come quickly. Shiva’s tribe has fallen ill.’

  ‘Already? But this is only the first night!’ exclaimed Nandi. Picking up his angvastram he said, ‘Let’s go!’

  The bathroom seemed a strange place for a bath. Shiva was used to splashing about in the chilly Mansarovar Lake for his bi-monthly ablutions. The bathroom felt strangely constricted. He turned the magical device on the wall to increase the flow of water. He used the strange cake-like substance that the Meluhans said was a soap to rub the body clean. Ayurvati had been very clear. The soap had to be used. He turned the water off and picked up the towel. As he rubbed himself vigorously, the mystifying development he had ignored in the past few hours came flooding back. His shoulder felt better than new He looked down in awe at his knee. No pain, no scar. He stared in wonder at his completely healed toe. And then he realised that it wasn’t just the injured parts, but his entire body felt new, rejuvenated and stronger than ever. His neck, though, still felt intolerably cold.

  What the devil is going on?

  He stepped out of the bathroom and quickly wore a new dhoti. Again, Ayurvati’s strict instructions were not to wear his old clothes which were stained by his sweat. As he was putting on the angvastram around his neck for some warmth, there was a knock on the door. It was Ayurvati. ‘Shiva, can you open the door please? I just want to check whether you are all right.’

  Shiva opened the door. Ayurvati stepped in and checked Shiva’s temperature; it was normal. Ayurvati nodded slightly and said, ‘You seem to be healthy. And your tribe is recovering quickly as well. The trouble has passed.’

  Shiva smiled gratefully. ‘Thanks to the skills and efficiency of your team. I am truly sorry for arguing with you earlier. It was unnecessary. I know you meant well.’

  Ayurvati looked up from her palm-leaf booklet with a slight smile and a raised eyebrow. ‘Being polite, are we?’

  ‘I’m not that rude, you know,’ grinned Shiva. ‘You people are just too supercilious!’

  Ayurvati suddenly stopped listening as she stared at Shiva with a stunned look on her face. How had she not noticed it before? She had never believed in the legend. Was she going to be the first one to see it come true? Pointing weakly with her hands she mumbled, ‘Why have you covered your neck?’

  ‘It’s very cold for some reason. Is it something to get worried about?’ asked Shiva as he pulled the angvastram off.

  A cry resounded loudly through the silent room as Ayurvati staggered back. Her han
d covered her mouth in shock while the palm leaves scattered on the floor. Her knees were too weak to hold her up. She collapsed with her back against the wall, never once taking her eyes off Shiva. Tears broke through her proud eyes. She kept repeating, ‘Om Brahmaye namah. Om Brahmaye namah.’

  ‘What happened? Is it serious?’ asked a worried Shiva.

  You have come! My Lord, you have come!’

  Before a bewildered Shiva could react to her strange reaction, Nandi rushed in and noticed Ayurvati on the ground. Copious tears were flowing down her face.

  ‘What happened, my lady?’ asked a startled Nandi.

  Ayurvati just pointed at Shiva’s neck. Nandi looked up. The neck shone an eerie iridescent blue. With a cry that sounded like that of a long caged animal just released from captivity, Nandi collapsed on his knees. ‘My Lord! You have come! The Neelkanth has come!’

  The Captain bent low and brought his head down to touch the Neelkanth’s feet reverentially. The object of his adoration however, stepped back, befuddled and perturbed.

  ‘What the hell is going on here?’ Shiva asked agitatedly.

  Holding a hand to his freezing neck, he turned around to the polished copper plate and stared in stunned astonishment at the reflection of his neel kanth; his blue throat.

  Chitraangadh, holding the door frame for support, sobbed like a child. ‘We’re saved! We’re saved! He has come!’

  CHAPTER 2

  Land of Pure Life

  Chenardhwaj, the governor of Kashmir, wanted to broadcast to the entire world that the Neelkanth had appeared in his capital city. Not in the other frontier towns like Takshashila, Karachapa or Lothal. His Srinagar! But the bird courier had arrived almost immediately from the Meluhan capital Devagiri, the abode of the gods. The orders were crystal clear. The news of the arrival of the Neelkanth had to be kept secret until the emperor himself had seen Shiva. Chenardhwaj was ordered to send Shiva along with an escort to Devagiri. Most importantly, Shiva himself was not to be told about the legend. ‘The emperor will advise the supposed Neelkanth in an appropriate manner,’ were the exact words in the message.

  Chenardhwaj had the privilege of informing Shiva about the journey. Shiva though, was not in the most amenable of moods. He was utterly perplexed by the sudden devotion of every Meluhan around him. Since he had been transferred to the gubernatorial residence where he lived in luxury, only the most important citizens of Srinagar had access to him.

  ‘My Lord, we will be escorting you to Devagiri, our capital. It is a few weeks’ journey from here,’ said Chenardhwaj as he struggled to bend his enormous and muscular frame lower than he ever had.

  I’m not going till somebody tells me what is going on! What the hell is this damned legend of the Neelkanth?’ Shiva asked angrily.

  ‘My Lord, please have faith in us. You will know the truth soon. The emperor himself will tell you when you reach Devagiri.’

  ‘And what about my tribe?’

  ‘They will be given lands right here in Kashmir, my Lord. All the resources that they need to lead a comfortable life will be provided for.’

  ‘Are they being held hostage?’

  ‘Oh no, my Lord,’ said a visibly disturbed Chenardhwaj. ‘They are your tribe, my Lord. If I had my way, they would live like nobility for the rest of their lives. But the laws cannot be broken, my Lord. Not even for you. We can only give them what had been promised. In the course of time my Lord, you can decide to change the laws you feel necessary. Then we could certainly accommodate them anywhere.’

  ‘Please, my Lord,’ pleaded Nandi. ‘Have faith in us. You cannot imagine how important you are to Meluha. We have been waiting for a very long time for you. We need your help.’

  Please help me! Please!

  The memory of another desperate plea from a distraught woman years ago returned to haunt Shiva as he was stunned into silence.

  ‘Your destiny is much larger than these massive mountains.’

  Nonsense! I don’t deserve any destiny. If these people knew my guilt, they would stop this bullshit instantly!

  ‘I don’t know what to do, Bhadra.’

  Shiva was sitting in the royal gardens on the banks of the Dal Lake while his friend sat at his side, carefully filling some marijuana into a chillum. As Bhadra used the lit stick to bring the chillum to life, Shiva said impatiently, ‘That’s a cue for you to speak, you fool.’

  ‘No. That’s actually a cue for me to hand you the chillum, Shiva.’

  ‘Why will you not council me?’ asked Shiva in anguish. ‘We are still the same friends who never made a move without consulting each other!’

  Bhadra smiled. ‘No we are not. You are the Chief now. The tribe lives and dies by your decisions. It cannot be corrupted by any other person’s influence. We are not like the Pakratis, where the Chief has to listen to whoever is the loudmouth on their council. Only the chief’s wisdom is supreme amongst the Gunas. That is our tradition.’

  Shiva raised his eyes in exasperation. ‘Some traditions are meant to be broken!’

  Bhadra stayed silent. Stretching his hand, Shiva grabbed the chillum from Bhadra. He took one deep puff, letting the marijuana spread its munificence into his body.

  ‘I’ve heard just one line about the legend of the Neelkanth,’ said Bhadra. ‘Apparently Meluha is in deep trouble and only the Neelkanth can save them.’

  ‘But I can’t seem to see any trouble out here? Everything seems perfect. If they want to see real trouble we should take them to our land!’

  Bhadra laughed slightiy. ‘But what is it about the blue throat that makes them believe you can save them?’

  ‘Damned if I know! They are so much more advanced than us. And yet they worship me like I am some god. Just because of this blessed blue throat’

  ‘I think their medicines are magical though. Have you noticed that the hump on my back has reduced a litde bit?’

  ‘Yes it has! Their doctors are seriously gifted.’

  ‘You know their doctors are called Brahmins?’

  ‘Like Ayurvati?’ asked Shiva, passing the chillum back to Bhadra.

  ‘Yes. But the Brahmins don’t just cure people. They are also teachers, lawyers, priests, basically any intellectual profession.’

  ‘Talented people,’ sniffed Shiva.

  ‘That’s not all,’ said Bhadra, in between a long inhalation.

  ‘They have a concept of specialisation. So in addition to the Brahmins, they have a group called Kshatriyas, who are the warriors and rulers. Even the women can be Kshatriyas!’

  ‘Really? They allow women into their army?’

  ‘Well, apparently there aren’t too many female Kshatriyas. But yes, they are allowed into the army.’

  ‘No wonder they are in trouble!’

  The friends laughed loudly at the strange ways of the Meluhans. Bhadra took another puff from the chillum before continuing his story. ‘And then they have Vaishyas, who are craftsmen, traders and business people and finally the Shudras who are the farmers and workers. And one caste cannot do another caste’s job.’

  ‘Hang on,’ said Shiva. ‘That means that since you are a warrior, you would not be allowed to trade at the marketplace?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Bloody stupid! How would you get me my marijuana? After all that is the only thing you are useful for!’

  Shiva leaned back to avoid the playful blow from Bhadra. ‘All right, all right. Take it easy!’ he laughed. Stretching out, he grabbed the chillum from Bhadra and took another deep drag.

  We’re talking about everything except what we should be talking about.

  Shiva became serious again. ‘But seriously, strange as they are, what should I do?’

  ‘What are you thinking of doing?’

  Shiva looked away, as if contemplating the roses in the far corner of the garden. ‘I don’t want to run away once again.’

  ‘What?’ asked Bhadra, not hearing Shiva’s tormented whisper clearly.

  ‘I said,’ repeated
Shiva loudly, ‘I can’t bear the guilt of running away once again.’

  ‘That wasn’t your fault...’

  ‘YES IT WAS!’

  Bhadra fell silent. There was nothing that could be said. Covering his eyes, Shiva sighed once again. ‘Yes, it was...’

  Bhadra put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, pressing it gently, letting the terrible moment pass. Shiva turned his face. ‘I’m asking for advice, my friend. What should I do? If they need my help, I can’t turn away from them. At the same time, how can I leave our tribe all by themselves out here? What should I do?’

  Bhadra continued to hold Shiva’s shoulder. He breathed deeply. He could think of an answer. It may have been the correct answer for Shiva, his friend. But was it the correct answer for Shiva, the leader!

  ‘You have to find that wisdom yourself, Shiva. That is the tradition.’

  ‘O the hell with you!’

  Shiva threw the chillum back at Bhadra and stormed away.

  In was only a few days later that a minor caravan consisting of Shiva, Nandi and three soldiers was scheduled to leave Srinagar. The small party would ensure that they moved quickly through the realm and reached Devagiri as soon as possible. Governor Chenardhwaj was anxious for Shiva to be recognised quickly by the empire as the true Neelkanth. He wanted to go down in history as the governor who found the Lord.

  Shiva had been made ‘presentable’ for the emperor. His hair had been oiled and smoothened. Lines of expensive clothes, attractive ear-rings, necklaces and other jewellery were brought to adorn his muscular frame. His fair face had been scrubbed clean with special Ayurvedic herbs to remove years of dead skin & decay. A cravat had been fabricated out of cotton to cover his glowing blue throat. Beads had been cleverly darned on to the cravat to make it look like the traditional necklaces that Meluhan men wore while on religious exercises. The cravat felt warm on his still cold throat.