Dwarka Shastri was listening intently, although his eyes seemed to be slowly firing up with fury.
‘It is believed that it was the invasion of the Aryans from Europe and the contest for agricultural land and water that forced the Dravidians to migrate southwards and settle beyond the Vindhyas.’
‘So there must have been a great war?’ asked Dwarka Shastri. ‘Your so-called Indus Valley civilization is said to have had a population of over 5 million people. Such a vast establishment cannot be defeated without a long and dreadful war, correct?’
‘I guess so, Baba…’ Vidyut responded unsurely.
‘The Harappan people who reached great heights of sophistication in trade, who displayed fine precision in weights and measures, who used hydraulic technologies for water-man-agement, who built cities in scientific architectural patterns and grids, who could build copper smelting plants and gigantic public structures, would no doubt have advanced military prowess also and would not be easy to vanquish, do you agree?’
Vidyut nodded in concurrence.
‘Do you know the excavations show that cities of the Harappan civilization were surrounded and protected by mighty walls, which were nearly impregnable for any invading army? Do you think an enormous civilization of 5 million people with such advanced cities and capabilities would simply uproot everything and run away at the mere sight of an invading army? Of course they would not. So if these people were indeed defeated in a military conflict, it would have been a very large-scale and violent clash involving long and powerful sieges of the cities.’
‘You are right, Baba.’
‘Even those sieges would be nearly impossible for a pre-historic army, given that the major Harappan cities were not only defended by great walls, but also had sophisticated water-supply systems and vast granaries. Any army that laid siege to these cities would take months to starve the inhabitants. So for the moment we have to assume that the invaders actually stormed the cities by sheer military force. And in that case the excavations should have unearthed a massive reservoir of arms used in the war, as well as decapitated and mutilated human skeletons. If baked bricks can survive thousands of years, why not metallic weapons and human bones?’
Vidyut was listening very carefully.
‘But none of those things were found Vidyut. Barring a few broken bronze arrows, the archaeologists uncovered absolutely no signs of a war or violent struggle across hundreds of excavation sites,’ continued Dwarka Shastri.
It was all very novel and educative for Vidyut. He realized he had never really gone into the depths of understanding how the Aryans actually displaced the Harappan people. He had simply taken it for granted, because he had read so in the books.
‘Clearly, if no weapons or signs of a conflict have been found, there never was any war. And if there was no war, there could have been no invasion!’ exclaimed the great old man like a mathematics professor unraveling a complex theorem.
Vidyut then asked the question that the matthadheesh wanted him to ask. He asked the question the true answer to which had been lost somewhere in the hundreds of years of false propaganda. And the answer to which could change the world forever.
Dwarka Shastri knew that buried in the pages of the Harappan tale, lay mankind’s greatest untruth.
‘But baba, if there was no invasion, who were the Aryans??’
Harappa, 1700 BCE
MAD-MEN AND ZOMBIES
‘This is absolutely ridiculous!’ exclaimed Vivasvan Pujari. He was standing in front of the priestly council, with over one hundred elite soldiers guarding all the exits of the large courtroom.
Despite the garrison siege of his house the previous day, Vivasvan Pujari was confident that the absurd charges against him would be quashed in a matter of minutes, as soon as he explained his meeting with Nayantara to the council. He had presented himself promptly at the court the very next morning. Nevertheless, his heart was deeply saddened as this was originally going to be the appointed hour of his greatest glory. Now his seating as the Chief Priest of Harappa had been substituted by a criminal hearing.
‘You must not use this tone with me, O councilman’, warned Vivasvan Pujari. He was not going to let his dignity be tarnished by the council or by anyone.
‘Yes, I had visited Nayantara. And that was because there was a false summons against my son Manu. I knew it was a terrible mistake and I rode to her mansion only to resolve the matter.’
‘And that resolution was the cruel execution of the famous dancer, O devta?’ commented one of the council members wryly.
Vivasvan Pujari stared long and hard into the eyes of this council member, who till yesterday did not have the courage to even sneeze loudly in the presence of the devta. Today he had the audacity to question Vivasvan Pujari face to face. In fact everyone was behaving differently. Vivasvan had taken an early repast that morning, which had left him feeling unwell. He attributed the giddiness to his own anxiety about the hearing. On his way he had noticed that several people known to him had looked through him, as if they did not recognize him. As he rode towards the courthouse, he had witnessed street-fights and angry squabbles on the roads, outside shops and even in residential courtyards. All this was not normal in Harappa, the civilized and gentle Vedic city. But today everyone seemed to be restless and aggressive. What was happening to his beloved city?
The council members were no different from the city crowd this morning. They were brash, loud and exceedingly disrespectful. The exaggerated swagger in their walk, the uncouth guffawing and the mocking tone of the proceedings were all alien to the normally gracious and brilliant council members, and to Harappa at large. The city, its culture and its people had been groomed under the pious and magnanimous ethos of the Vedas and the Sanatana Dharma. But today the loving and peaceful people of Harappa looked nothing like themselves. Today they all seemed mildly deranged. And it was getting worse with every hour.
‘Look council member, I did not even know that Nayantara had been murdered till Ranga informed me yesterday at my residence,’ said the devta. ‘May God bless her soul and give her noble births till her spiritual journey is over.’
While he said a short prayer for the departed soul of the beautiful dancer, the devta could sense his own temper building. A strange urge from deep within him was tempting him to jump across the hall and brutally decapitate everyone on that bench. He could easily do it, he knew. He even pictured the assault moves in his head. But he was a devta. Within moments he realized it was a manic thought and quickly shrugged it off. This was so very unlike himself, felt Vivasvan Pujari. What was happening to him?
Vivasvan could sense that something was not completely okay, although he could subconsciously fight the effect of whatever it was that was making him unnaturally angry. He was a devta and had complete control over his mind, body, nerves and spirit. But the rest of the Harappans were ordinary mortals. The infected water from the wells and tanks of the city was making them mad. They were succumbing to the after-effects of the evil Mesopotamian alchemy of Gun, Ap & Sha.
They were slowly becoming a city of demented beasts.
The hearing was now on for over two hours. It was only during this time that Vivasvan Pujari heard about the circumstances in which the beautiful Nayantara had been discovered by her servants in her private chambers, soon after he had left. She was found bleeding profusely on her great bed, with a thick copper spear pierced right through her chest, literally pinning her to the thick wooden backrest. Only someone bestowed with great physical strength and boundless cruelty could have struck such a powerful blow. Her exceptionally pretty face was contorted with agony and struggle, and her eyes were sunk deep into her head. The daakini had left Nayantara’s body. It was useless to her now.
‘You do know your white robes were stained with her blood when you stomped out of her chambers, O devta?’ asked one of the council members.
‘And the servants of her mansion heard her scream with pain, moments before you left her!’ yelle
d another councilman.
Vivasvan Pujari clenched his teeth and closed his eyes to control his rage, now boiling beyond all limits. He responded in a controlled voice.
‘I only slapped her once. I agree it was a hard blow for a woman as delicate as her. She fell on the ground, her lower lip bleeding copiously. I instantly regretted my decision of striking a woman, and offered my robe to stop her bleeding. Hence the stains.’
‘And why, may we ask, did you, the great devta himself, choose to physically assault a helpless woman?’ asked one of the now half-crazy priests. Vivasvan Pujari did not like the generous dose of sarcasm in his voice.
‘She had the nerve to disrobe in front of me,’ replied Vivasvan Pujari.
‘And…?’ asked one of the men from the bench, shifting in his place cockily, winking at his neighbors. The judges now appeared nothing more than a bunch of perverts to Vivasvan Pujari. He was beginning to get worried.
‘And she attempted to make intimate physical contact with me,’ replied Vivasvan.
‘Well that should be rewarded with some love my good Sir, and not a slap. Nayantara was the most delicious dish of Harappa!’ screamed out one of the council members, followed by wild and vulgar laughter from everyone in the courtroom. Vivasvan Pujari could not believe his eyes and ears. Not one Harappan would ever speak with such disrespect for a departed spirit. And these priests were some of the most saintly souls on the planet. Why were they behaving like the mighty warlord Sura’s rogue and intoxicated henchmen?
Vivasvan Pujari concluded that he needed to get out of this courtroom as soon as possible. He would step out and investigate what had gone wrong with everyone. He was convinced that a very dark and sinister enemy was lurking from behind the shadows. The devta had to get to the very root of all this before it was too late for his city and his people. He decided to conclude the court hearing speedily.
Banaras, 2017
‘YOU AND ME.
HERE AND NOW.’
‘We have to find this Romi Pereira’, said Sonu. ‘But how will this work? Varanasi is a massive city and we have no clue of where to start the hunt.’
Vidyut along with Balwanta, Bala and Sonu had decided to turn tables on this man who called himself Romi. With permission and blessings from the great Dwarka Shastri, they were now planning to unleash a massive manhunt across the ancient city. The construct of the plan was simple. The Guptachar Sena (Army of Spies) of the matth would be activated immediately. Nurtured over hundreds of years of painstaking planning and organization building, this Sena comprised hundreds of informers of the matth. The ground soldiers of this intelligence unit ranged from small shopkeepers and rickshaw-pullers, to restaurant waiters and even street urchins. This rag-tag, diverse yet supremely effective network covered every lane, every ghaat, every motel and every secret cremation ground of Kashi. This Sena had played a key role in the survival of the matth for 1,600 years, and in the numerous bloody battles its inhabitants fought to defend the sacred institution. This spy-army would now be on the lookout for a boyish looking, handsome fellow with round spectacles. They would scan every nook and corner of the city and comb him out.
On the other hand, Vidyut and his newly formed team decided to lay bait by roaming around the ghaats, unarmed and seemingly unprotected. If Romi was here to kill Vidyut, he would not be able to resist the temptation.
Either they would find Romi in the hole he was hiding in, or they would draw him out into the open battleground.
‘Absolutely not, Naina!’ said Vidyut sternly. ‘You will not accompany us on this hunt. This man is clearly a professional. And he may not be alone.’
‘And who is asking for your permission yaa?’ responded Naina nonchalantly. ‘You may be the awaited savior and the devta for these people, but for me you are just Vidyut okay?’
The kiss on the terrace had lasted a couple of seconds longer than Vidyut would have wanted. He had unknowingly permitted himself to respond to the passionate lips of Naina, before realizing what was happening and pulling away gently. He was letting Damini down, and he couldn’t let that happen. He had just smiled at Naina, given her a soft peck on her cheek and walked away. None of them had spoken about the episode so far, but they both knew they would have to. Soon.
‘Look Naina, don’t be silly. Out there is no place for a woman.’
‘What…? What did you just say…?’ Naina nearly shouted back with a deep look of disappointment on her face. ‘I never imagined you would be such a sexist Vidyut!’
Vidyut wasn’t. He admired and respected women deeply. He felt silly and embarrassed at having made that ridiculous statement.
‘I’m sorry Naina. I didn’t mean it that way. I just don’t want you to get hurt.’
‘Try me, Vidyut. Let’s have a one to one fight. No holds barred,’ said Naina calmly. ‘I think you forget that the girls of the Dev-Raakshasa Matth train as hard as the boys, and have fought shoulder to shoulder for centuries.’
Vidyut was kicking himself for having said what he did. He vividly remembered the tales of valiance and sacrifice of the womenfolk of the matth. Whether it was battling with otherworldly beings through ethereal conflicts, or taking up arms against invading armies, the ladies of the matth were second to none. And this was true to the very spirit of the Hindu way of life – a great religion that worshipped the Goddess in her most benevolent as well as terrifying forms.
‘Let it go na, Naina’, was all Vidyut could say with an imploring and apologetic expression. By now the others had gathered around, including Sonu, Bala, Purohit ji, Balwanta and few more ladies from the matth.
‘No really, Mr. Shastri. I challenge you to a duel. Here and now. You and me.’
Now Vidyut was getting a little amused. Clearly Naina had no real understanding of who he was. Although he did immediately notice that Naina was not in her usual flowing attire of traditional Indian clothing. She was wearing a tight, black sports t-shirt with a low round neck, with army grade camouflage pants and trekking boots. Her hair was tied in a tight bun and she wore a broad belt. She looked devastatingly attractive even in this gear. Vidyut felt she looked like one of those terrific ladies from the Bond films.
‘Naina, I know more kalaripayattu than anyone here yaa. And I am an advanced practitioner of both Jiu Jitsu and Krav Maga. For your kind information I also have the highest degree of black belt in Kung Fu. Bala, tell her man…’ Vidyut grinned to his friend who was now enjoying this little quarrel.
Naina stood her ground unfazed. She simply pointed her finger first to Vidyut and then to the ground. ‘You and me. Here and now’, she repeated.
Balwanta, Sonu, Pujari ji and Govardhan were now having fun. They knew Naina was an ace fighter, but they also knew she was no match for Vidyut. Not that they had seen Vidyut fight. Or even train. They somehow had inane faith in Vidyut’s abilities. They just knew. While the entire Shastri bloodline carried traces of divinity, Vivasvan in 1700 BCE and Vidyut in 2017 were the true devtas. With a real God between them.
‘Okay look, let’s do this. You fight Bala here. If you beat him, we will have the duel you want. If you can’t, then you have no chance against me,’ offered Vidyut, now almost breaking into a laugh.
Vidyut’s non-serious reaction was making Naina angrier.
‘What nonsense, Vidyut…’ protested Bala. ‘Can we please stop this childish exchange and get on with more important things?’
Naina and Vidyut were still staring at each other. Vidyut with admiration. Naina with anger.
‘Come on, Bala,’ said Naina, still looking at Vidyut.
‘This is unbelievable rubbish man,’ exclaimed the ex-military veteran, throwing his hands up in the air with exasperation. ‘I’m getting outta here.’
He turned to walk away. Within moments he felt like the Shatabdi Express had crashed into his back. Naina had shot a kick and was ready for the fight. Bala turned to see her in a fierce battle stance, one leg in the air, bent so as to fire another kick at a fraction of a second.
Her hands were now readied into fists. She was not going to let Bala walk off.
Bala was reeling under the pain.
‘Wow…I’ve never seen a woman strike with such power,’ he said. ‘Why, I’ve never seen a man hit so hard!’ said Bala, now grimacing and rubbing his back furiously to ease the agony.
‘Then fight me’, said Naina, now concentrating very hard on the fight at hand.
‘Look I can’t do this, Naina,’ said Bala. He couldn’t believe what was happening. And the pain was slowly making him very angry.
‘I will keep hitting you till you hit back, Bala’, said Naina. She was not going to let this go. She was hurt beyond words. Her Vidyut had doubted her.
Bala looked at Vidyut, who nodded and gestured with his hand telling Bala to go easy on Naina.
Bala threw off the sweatshirt he was wearing. To the delight of some of the young girls in the audience, a chiseled set of muscles glistened underneath his tight t-shirt and sweat. He wiped the drops on his forehead with the back of his hand, and took a kick-boxer’s stance.
Naina attacked again, with twice the ferocity. Her feet landed on Bala’s forearms that kept saving his face from the powerful barrage of kicks that she was landing. Suddenly Bala opened up and grabbed her foot. He was a trained fighter and had immense strength in his arms. He was going to twist Naina’s leg to drop her to the ground and force her into submission. As he turned her leg, she used the movement to her favor, propelled herself into the air using her other leg and crashed an aerial kick on to Bala’s head. He nearly crumbled under the assault.
This was not a friendly fight anymore.
Vidyut tried to intervene when Bala pushed him away. With his nose bleeding, Bala now threw his arms and legs into a quick stretch and got back into the kickboxing pose. Only this time he was all in.
Naina surged forward to punch Bala in the face. Bala swirled and dodged her fist, pushing his elbow into her shoulder as a counter-strike. It was a hard hit. Naina nearly flew two feet away to land on the grassy ground. Bala’s raw strength was no joke.
Harappa - Curse of the Blood River Page 12
