Harappa - Curse of the Blood River

by Vineet Bajpai

  ‘Let’s leave now, it’s late,’ said Vidyut, as he slipped a two thousand rupees bill into the invoice folder. Something caught his eye. The folder did not have the restaurant’s food and drinks invoice. It had a note, written in a stylish, slashing handwriting.

  Tomorrow 7 pm, Ganga aarti.

  Yours truly,

  Romi

  Harappa, 1700 BCE

  MRIT KAARAAVAAS

  Vivasvan Pujari woke up to a hideous stench. As he opened his eyes, all he could see in the dim flickering light were walls of rough, black stone. His head wound was still fresh and he felt a cold and wet surface under his bareback. He tried to get up. The stink in the air was unbearable.

  As he sat up and looked around, he could not get a clear sense of where he was. His vision was still blurred. His throat felt like it was infested with cactus thorns. He had not had a sip of water for what seemed like days. He turned to see a thick wooden door tightly shut on the suffocating space he was holed up in. His ears were filled with his own dried blood, but could catch distant screams of people enduring great suffering. The hellish smell of the place was making him nauseous.

  Slowly the devta was gaining consciousness and memory. He realized his hands were resting on wet and squishy ground by his sides. He raised one of them only to see his palm smeared with brown filth. The cries of people continued to pierce through what appeared to be thick and impregnable walls. Vivasvan Pujari sensed that his palm was also reeking of the same stench that filled the air, only stronger.

  The devta shook his head to get more clarity of his surroundings. The smelly air was going to make him sick. As his senses returned to him, he recognized that the stench was a gruesome mix of human sweat, faeces, blood and rotting flesh. The realization made him vomit instantly. Only blood came out from his gut. He had not eaten or drank for over two days now. He noticed that the ground he sat on was flowing with blood and human excrement. In a sudden jolt he figured where he was. But he refused to believe it. He tried frantically to get up and open the thick door. It was locked. The only light in this dark cell was from a lone flame flickering on a wall-mounted lamp. Vivasvan Pujari got up to see that he was in a stifling cell smaller than the size of a cot. The air was thick with the smell of decay and death, and the cries and moans of inmates were never-ending.

  Vivasvan Pujari could hardly breathe. He was now shivering in the cold dampness of the cell where he could not even stand up without his head hitting the low ceiling. The ghastly stench, the black walls, the chilly dankness, the macabre screams…all were telling the devta where he was.

  Vivasvan Pujari was not ready for this. Despite all his strength, courage and spiritual profundity, the devta was not willing to accept that he was in the most ghoulish prison on Earth. That he was in the mrit kaaraavaas – the dungeons of the dead!

  Somdutt could not believe his eyes as he saw the conditions and suffering of the mrit kaaraavaas. Unbeknownst to Priyamvada and her associate Ranga, the chief engineer had escaped the infected water. When Ranga and his men, who had placed themselves on guard duty that night, spiked the central cisterns and tanks of Harappa, Somdutt was out on a site inspection on the banks of the Saraswati. He and his handful of trusted men had come back to a city and people they did not recognize. They had come back to a city of madmen.

  He had heard about the trial of the mighty Vivasvan Pujari with disbelief and gloom. Somdutt was convinced, as any Harappan would be in his right senses, that the devta was being framed. He had decided to take corrective measures. But first, he had to meet the devta and find out what was going on.

  The mrit kaaraavaas had no policy or procedure for visitors. Even a graveyard allows people to connect with their departed near and dear ones. But not the dungeons. The dungeons were a dark hole from which nothing came back. A hell where every entrant had to abandon all hope.

  Somdutt was an enterprising man. As Chief Engineer he also had access to vast vaults of wealth. In the current state of collective insanity, it was not going to be hard to bribe one of the officers in charge of the prison. No matter what needed to be done, Somdutt knew he had to meet the mighty devta. If there was any hope for this manic metropolis, it was Vivasvan Pujari.

  Sixteen hours since he came back to the city of Harappa, Somdutt was climbing down the dark stairs of the mrit kaaraavaas. He had succeeded in arranging a short meeting with the most influential inmate those prison walls had ever seen.

  Somdutt vomited thrice before he could reach the cell of the devta. The air of the dungeons was worse than a human could imagine. As he vomited, he also wept. He could not visualize the glowing, white-robed, divine and benevolent Vivasvan Pujari being held captive in such torment. He also realized how sometimes people in power and prosperity lose touch with the horrible realities of those less fortunate. Or in the case of the dungeons, those who were condemned to suffer till their mortal bodies decomposed into the sewage slurry of the prison. He wondered if any human had the right to subject another to such a merciless fate.

  When the door of Vivasvan Pujari’s cell was flung open by the intoxicated guard, Somdutt saw what he expected to. Even in the pathetic and inhuman conditions of the dungeons, the devta sat cross-legged, in a deep meditative trance. Somdutt could not help but fall at the feet of the mighty Vivasvan Pujari, the savior of Harappa.

  ‘Somdutt…my friend…Somdutt…’ the devta said, clasping Somdutt’s hand in his own, resting his forehead on his friend’s fingers and weeping profusely. He could not express the relief he found as he saw the face of his noble friend. In the last two days Vivasvan Pujari had forgotten what a friend looked like. All men he considered friends had abandoned him and his precious family when he needed them most. The engineer was overwhelmed himself. The devta, who was impeccably dressed, groomed and smelled of fresh sandalwood at every occasion, was sitting here in a rotting cell, bleeding, dirty, wounded and betrayed.

  ‘What is going on, my lord, my Surya?’ asked Somdutt, wiping his own tears as well as his mentor’s. ‘We need to take quick action.’

  ‘Yes we do, Somdutt…yes we do,’ replied the devta. ‘But before we discuss anything, tell me where my Sanjna is. Tell me where my Manu is!’

  ‘They are safe, O devta…at least for now,’ replied Somdutt. ‘Sanjna was rescued by Manu and his Magnificent Nine in a daring raid on the courtroom. She is safe now, and they are all in hiding. They wanted to extract you too, but by then the courthouse was reinforced with hundreds of cavalry. They could not reach you.’

  Vivasvan Pujari heaved a sigh of relief. He was ready to die a thousand deaths, as long as his wife and child were safe.

  After a few moments of respite, Vivasvan Pujari spoke again. His voice now had a glimmer of hope. The devta was ready to fight back!

  ‘So what is the course of action now, Somdutt?’ Vivasvan asked.

  ‘My lord, I hear Manu is planning an all-out attack on the mrit kaaraavaas. But O mighty devta, he does not stand a chance. The ten of them will not be able to overpower the three hundred trained fighters protecting this hell hole.’

  Vivasvan Pujari gave a tired smile. He was not so sure about the odds Somdutt had described. Manu himself, and each of the nine gems of his family, could shoot forty arrows from their bows before a commoner could complete a single cycle of breath. Each one of them could engage and rout twenty opponents in a sword-fight. If the ten of them attacked the dungeons, it would be a fifty-fifty chance.

  However, with his beloved Manu and the magnificent nine, Vivasvan did not want to gamble. In any case he was certain that he and his family had a lot of battles to fight in the coming days. If there was an easier way of escaping the dungeons that no one had ever escaped, Vivasvan Pujari wanted to take it.

  Banaras, 2017

  TRAITOR!

  The drunk owner of the Tibetan restaurant had no clue how the note had reached Vidyut, or who dropped it there. With dirty caps and similar uniforms, the waiters looked more or less the same. None of them appeared to know
anything, even when threatened by a revolver muzzle peeping out from under Bala’s jacket. None of them anyway had the courage to mess with visitors from the feared Dev-Raakshasa matth. Romi was either one of the unnoticed guests at the restaurant, or he was a master at disguise.

  Vidyut asked Sonu and two of his fighters to escort Damini back to the safety of the matth. Damini tried to protest, but in vain. Vidyut was not going to let her stay at a place that was clearly being watched and controlled by an expert killer with exceptional abilities. Sonu and his team drew their handguns and swiftly made their way to the monastery, keeping Damini between the three of them at every step.

  The clock had struck half past nine and it was dark. The busy street, however, was still buzzing with thousands of tourists filling the seats of scores of tiny restaurants lining both sides of this flea market. Offering everything from Japanese sushi to Indian masala dosa, these eateries were packed with tourists of all nationalities, age groups and ethnicities. Possibility of finding their deadly stalker in these myriad thousands offered worse odds than a needle in a haystack. And clearly, he was watching them, even now. This assassin had outsmarted even the highly effective guptachar sena (army of spies) of the matth. He was more dangerous than Vidyut had imagined… and he was a step ahead.

  Back at the matth, Vidyut kissed Damini goodnight. Given the matth’s regulations and code, it was not prudent to spend the night in the same room. The one thing Vidyut was certain of was that Damini was in the safest place she could be. No one, not even this extraordinary assassin, could dent the perimeter of the mighty Dev-Raakshasa matth.

  ‘What now, Vidyut?’ asked Damini, as Vidyut was about to leave the neat guest suite she was lodged in.

  ‘Well, the guy has asked me to meet him at the Ganga aarti tomorrow. How can I decline the invitation, especially after his gift from our first meeting?’ replied Vidyut, clearly burning with rage. Tonight Romi had made the mistake of coming near Vidyut when he was with Damini. And this Vidyut was not going to forgive.

  ‘But why has he called you to the Ganga aarti, Vidyut? What is so special about it?’

  ‘The Ganga aarti takes place at 6.45 pm at the overcrowded Dashashwamedh ghaat…same place I met Romi the first time. The only difference is that during this divine aarti or collective worship with incandesced sacred lamps on the banks of the loved river, the crowd becomes a sea of human heads. The Ganga aarti is a surreal experience, where Lord Shiva, Maa Ganga, Surya (Sun) and Agnee, the God of fire, are worshipped. Devotees throng the ghaats to partake in this holy ritual.’

  Vidyut paused for a few seconds and said, ‘In other words, there will be over twenty thousand people at the ghaat tomorrow.’

  It was a huddle of the warriors. Balwanta was furious, breathing heavily, his massive shoulders heaving like giant mechanical pistons. He was angry with himself at letting Vidyut leave the matth. There was Bala, now fully aware of the dark talent of this master-assassin. Sonu had washed his face and was chewing several bundles of the famous Banarasi paan – betel leaves flavored with betel nuts, lime paste, spices and sometimes tobacco. Sonu couldn’t let any of the matth elders know he had had beer that evening. There was Govardhan and of course Purohit ji. Vidyut had just joined in.

  ‘How could the guptachar sena not find him?’ fumed Balwanta. He was the leader of the ancient intelligence network and took its failure very personally. ‘We cover every motel, every guesthouse, every restaurant and every shop. More than three hundred rickshaw pullers and two hundred auto drivers are part of the network. Why, we even keep an eye on the graveyards and the taantric monasteries! There is no way this rascal could have escaped our clutches. What is one man against an entire covert army?’

  Balwanta was right. From whatever Vidyut had described, Romi was clearly not from Banaras. His language, his clothing, and his demeanor…everything suggested that he was an outsider. How could one man, and that too in a new city, beat a vast network as old as the Dev-Raakshasa matth itself?

  ‘Unless…’ muttered Bala.

  ‘Unless what, Bala?’ enquired Vidyut.

  ‘Unless he is not alone in Banaras, Vidyut. Why are we being so naïve as to imagine he is a lone wolf? Maybe he is not. Maybe he is backed by a whole organization with deep-rooted presence in Varanasi. If we are going to take him on, we better consider all possibilities.’

  Bala instantly made sense to everyone present, most of all to Vidyut. In a flash Vidyut knew Bala was right. How could he have been so silly?

  ‘He is not alone,’ said Vidyut. His statement had no element of doubt.

  ‘Now let’s not jump to conclusions either, Video…’ started Bala, only to be interrupted by Vidyut.

  ‘He is not alone!’ repeated Vidyut, this time a bit sternly. His hands rested on his waist and he was looking straight at the ground, shaking his head. ‘We have been so stupid…’ he muttered, before breaking into a big laugh.

  ‘Oh God…we have been so stupid!’ shouted Vidyut as he began guffawing uncontrollably. The others exchanged glances, clueless about what Vidyut suddenly found so funny.

  ‘For God’s sakes man, Video…would you care to share your thoughts with us?’ enquired Bala after half a minute of Vidyut’s laughter.

  ‘I’m sorry…I’m sorry everyone…just that I can’t believe we didn’t see it before,’ said Vidyut. He was slowly turning serious.

  ‘See what, dada?’ asked Sonu.

  ‘It is very simple, Sonu. Romi met me, or should I say Romi was in my vicinity today when the outing was totally unplanned. How did he know I was going to be there?’ explained Vidyut.

  Balwanta, Bala, Govardhan and Purohit ji froze as they heard the last devta’s words. How did they miss something so obvious?

  Sonu was still a little baffled. ‘What do you mean, Vidyut dada?’ he asked. ‘Romi must have been waiting for you at a vantage point close to the matth entrance, and would have followed you.’

  ‘You are right, Sonu. But there are two issues with your theory. First of all, as we all know, a large force of armed warrior-monks defends this monastery. It would not be possible for anybody to hold on to a vantage point for three days at a stretch and not be caught. Secondly, both times he met me he was very well prepared. The first time he had a sophisticated explosive and detonation device ready. The second time around he was in perfect disguise or had infiltrated the restaurant staff. So it can still be what you are saying, but that would be hard to believe.’

  Sonu understood what Vidyut was saying. He said his thought out loud, ‘So Romi knew exactly when and where you were going!’

  ‘Yes,’ growled Balwanta, his eyes on fire. ‘There is a traitor among us.’

  Vidyut was now walking back to his room. It was a chilly night and the inner sanctum of the matth looked beautiful with its vast lawns, fountains and dim lighting. After the long and eventful day, Vidyut was looking forward to a few hours in his warm bed. He knew getting sleep would be difficult though, given that he had a dangerous rendezvous the next day. Dangerous for Romi.

  ‘Hey!’

  Vidyut turned around to see Naina leaning against a corridor pillar at a distance.

  ‘Oh hi, Naina. What are you doing here at this hour? It’s past midnight,’ said Vidyut.

  Naina didn’t speak. She just kept staring at Vidyut. The devta noticed she was clad in a well-fitting white salwaar kameez, with a bright orange dupatta. Her opulent hair was tightly parted in the center and tied in a long and fashionable Punjabi plat. A small bindi sparkled on her beautiful forehead and, as usual, her large eyes were made over neatly with mascara. Ornate earrings accentuated her gorgeous features.

  ‘Whaaaat…?’ Vidyut asked her jovially as he walked across the little green patch towards her. ‘Are you just going to stare?’

  ‘No. I don’t think I can do that anymore, can I Vidyut?’ she asked with a bewitching grin. Her smiling face was clearly hiding her pain behind it. Vidyut knew what she meant. He decided to ignore it nevertheless. What else coul
d he do?

  ‘Oh come on, Naina. Walk with me na,’ he said as he took her hand in his own and gently pulled her next to him. They started strolling leisurely towards Vidyut’s room. The bubbly and gushing Naina was unusually quiet this evening.

  ‘Something bothering you, Naina?’ asked Vidyut. He knew he couldn’t avoid the topic forever. And as a childhood friend Naina was very dear to him.

  ‘Why? Should something be bothering me, O great devta?’ replied Naina, pretending to not understand Vidyut’s question.

  ‘No, of course not. Just that you’re not talking as much as you usually do,’ he said, turning and looking at her. Naina did not respond. She kept looking straight at the path ahead of them, hands covered under her dupatta on this cold evening. Had it not been for the tension between them due to Damini’s arrival, this was a romantic setting to perfection.

  Vidyut’s room was the guest suite closest to the great Dwarka Shastri’s cottage. Naina and he were now right outside its door. Vidyut couldn’t help but notice how devastatingly beautiful Naina looked on this moonlit night.

  ‘Good night, Naina,’ he said, ‘and thank you for walking me to this room.’

  ‘No problem, Vidyut. Night.’

  Naina turned around and began walking towards her own quarters. Vidyut felt an uncontrollable urge to hold her and kiss her. Clearly, he was still half-human.

  As he turned to unlock his door, he heard Naina’s voice call out his name.

  ‘Vidyut…?’

  The devta turned around to see Naina standing a few steps away.

  ‘Yes, Naina?’

  ‘You know what…you should’ve sent a reply to at least one of my letters. You should’ve told me about Damini. She’s beautiful by the way!’ she said, her voice now trembling, her eyes moist…though her face still braved a smile.

  Vidyut didn’t know what to say. Naina looked more desirable than the apsaras of the heavens. Deep inside for a moment, he wished he could lift her in his arms and make love to her. Even the most righteous of men can be vulnerable to a heady concoction of unquestioned love and unparalleled beauty. But then again, Vidyut was not just a man. He was the last devta on planet Earth. He fought the temptation and kindled Damini’s picture in his soul. After a few rare moments of weakness, he was back. Nevertheless, he did want to comfort Naina. He really did love her as a dear friend.