Harappa - Curse of the Blood River

by Vineet Bajpai

  ‘Naina…my dear dear Naina…’ he said in an exasperated, unsure tone, his head tilted to one side.

  ‘Because if you did…I wouldn’t have waited 26 years, 9 months and 18 days for you, Vidyut,’ continued Naina, before giving Vidyut a longing glance and turning to leave.

  Vidyut had too much on his mind tonight. He smiled at Naina’s departing silhouette and entered his room. He was in no frame of mind to go after her and indulge in a draining emotional conversation at this time, even though he felt terrible about it. But something totally disconnected with the whole situation was disturbing Vidyut. He was not fully sure, but he felt he saw Naina holding a bulky electronic device under her dupatta. It was not a cellphone. It in fact looked like a device not very many people had access to. Vidyut ran a technology company with digital and telecom security at its core. He knew this stuff.

  From whatever Vidyut could make out in the dark, the gadget Naina held nearly wrapped under her stole, was an advanced Iridium 9555 satellite phone.

  Harappa, 1700 BCE

  THE DAGGER OF BETRAYAL

  ‘Where is Chandradhar in all this? Why has he not come to my rescue?’ asked Vivasvan Pujari. ‘He was missing in the courtroom as well.’

  Somdutt was quiet. Vivasvan Pujari stared at him expectantly. If there was anyone he knew could get him out of this quagmire, it was his partner, his brother-in-law, his friend… Chandradhar. The devta was certain that Pundit Chandradhar would leave no stone unturned and would wage war with any force of this world or another to save him.

  The chief engineer remained silent. Vivasvan Pujari was getting anxious, as he wanted to quickly get on with the plan to counterattack.

  After a moment of hesitation he put his filthy hand on Somdutt’s shoulder and spoke again, ‘Believe me Somdutt, it will not take Chandradhar more than a few hours to find out who is behind all this. While of course that scoundrel Ranga is involved, he does not have the intellect or the capability to conjure up such a byzantine conspiracy. There is definitely a dark and potent force behind the shadows.’

  Vivasvan Pujari was stunned to see his friend Somdutt sobbing softly. His heart froze. Had something happened to his beloved friend Chandradhar?

  ‘Speak up, Somdutt! What is matter? Have they got Chandradhar too??’

  The chief engineer looked up, regaining his composure. ‘No my lord, Pundit Chandradhar is perfectly fine.’

  ‘So why didn’t you contact him? I know you are very capable and resourceful Somdutt, but Chandra would have been a big help. He would have taken control of both the priestly council as well as the army.’

  ‘He already has full control of the council and the army my lord,’ replied Somdutt coldly.

  Vivasvan Pujari didn’t know what to say. He was a bit exasperated at Somdutt’s short responses and refusal to react positively to his advice about seeking help from Chandradhar, his most trusted ally and partner.

  ‘Look Somdutt, I don’t think you understand. Pundit Chandradhar is like a brother to me, and he will fight till his last breath to save me and my…’

  Somdutt couldn’t take it anymore. ‘Stop it, O great devta!’ he shouted, interrupting Vivasvan Pujari mid-sentence.

  Vivasvan could see Somdutt was breathing heavily, and appeared both dejected and angry.

  After a moment’s pause Somdutt leaned forward and placed both his hands affectionately on the devta’s bloodstained shoulders. He spoke softly, looking straight into Vivasvan Pujari’s eyes.

  ‘You really don’t know, my devta?’ he enquired softly, clearly unable to hide his emotions. Tears were once again rolling down his eyes.

  Vivasvan Pujari could now sense something sinister. If Chandradhar was alive and he was in control of the council and the army, why was he not here instead of Somdutt?

  ‘Tell me what you know, my friend,’ asked the devta nervously.

  Somdutt nodded softly and spoke, ‘Who do you think is commanding the army against you, my lord?’

  Vivasvan Pujari was looking at him blankly, never for a moment imagining what he was about to hear.

  ‘And who do you think is rallying the entire priestly council to make sure you and your family are declared felons of the worst order?’

  ‘Who, Somdutt?! Quit knitting puzzles and tell me!’ Vivasvan Pujari implored

  Somdutt tried to speak but was startled by a bloodcurdling shriek that tore across even the thick stonewalls of the dungeons. Someone was being tortured beyond human endurance.

  Both Vivasvan Pujari and Somdutt muttered a healing mantra in their mouths, aimed to alleviate the pain of the poor soul.

  ‘Brace yourself my lord, for now I will reveal the name of the person who put the holy seal of approval on your incarceration in this living hell,’ said Somdutt.

  He did not need to take the name. There were only two people in all of Harappa who had the authority to put the seal of approval on all judgments passed in the court, for those to be carried out within seven days. One of them was locked deep in the dark belly of the mrit kaaraavaas. He was Vivasvan Pujari himself. The other was the man this devta trusted with all his heart. The man whose life he had saved. The gem of Harappa whose sister he had married.

  ‘Chandradhar!’ screamed out the devta in disbelief. ‘It cannot be. You lie to me you wretched scoundrel!’ he barked at Somdutt. ‘You are also a part of the web of treachery being spun around me. Get out of here!’

  Somdutt was not offended. He expected this reaction from the noble devta. And yet he knew he had to convey the whole truth, no matter how venomous it was.

  ‘It was Chandradhar who sent you to the dungeons. It was Chandradhar who released arrest warrants for your son Manu and the gracious Sanjna. It was Chandradhar who influenced the city council to confiscate all your property, land and assets. Your household workers have been declared complicit in your crimes, and have all been sentenced to death.’

  Vivasvan Pujari sat frozen in the dark cell. A blunt arrow of deceit had pierced right through his very soul. The dagger of betrayal had been sunk deep into his very existence. He looked nothing more than a lifeless corpse. His face had no color, his eyes any life. The devta who looked like a strapping young man even at his ripe age, was suddenly looking like a very old man.

  Vivasvan Pujari was now sitting with his face buried between his raised knees, weeping profusely. He had wept so much in the last few hours that his eyes seemed to have run dry. Yet he could not help but convulse into heavy sobs. The devta was an exceptionally strong man. He could cry with as much honesty as he did love.

  The onslaught was not over yet for Vivasvan Pujari. Somdutt braced himself and began delivering the final blow.

  ‘There is more, O devta. Pardon me for being the bearer of such devastating news,’ said Somdutt, nearly breaking down himself as he submitted the disclaimer. Vivasvan Pujari did not move or react, although his heavy sobbing was now quieting down.

  The engineer continued.

  ‘A massive manhunt has been unleashed to capture and kill Manu, lady Sanjna and your nine warriors. Moreover, Chandradhar has passed a decree through the council, declaring himself as the first monarch of Harappa and his wife Priyamvada as the royal queen. He is going to end the rule of the people in our beloved metropolis, the city you have built so meticulously, O devta.’

  Somdutt was expecting a violent response from Vivasvan Pujari, but there was none. The devta sat in the same posture without any reaction, his face buried deep into his knees.

  ‘There is one more thing, my devta,’ continued Somdutt. ‘Chandradhar has passed special instructions to make a public spectacle out of you tomorrow morning. It is to set a precedent, he says.’

  He knew the devta was listening to every word. He broke the last bit of bad news he was the harbinger of.

  ‘A great public feast and procession have been organized for the people of Harappa at the Great Bath tomorrow morning. As you know, our bath is twenty times larger than that of Mohenjo-daro. They are working ov
ernight to convert it into a gigantic arena with seating for over fifteen thousand spectators.’

  There was still no response from Vivasvan Pujari.

  Somdutt dropped his head backwards and let out a short cry of grief. His world was spinning, as he could not believe how his happy and glorious Harappa could turn into this hideous nightmare within hours and days. After a few seconds he pulled himself back and prepared to speak the unspeakable. He slowly bent forward, close to the devta’s face, and spoke as if every word he uttered was a profound sin.

  ‘They are going to torture you brutally tomorrow morning, O mighty devta. And all of Harappa will watch.’

  Banaras, 2017

  THE GREAT VEDIC CIVILIZATION

  Damini was hellishly nervous at the prospect of meeting the great matthadheesh, the mighty Dwarka Shastri himself. It was a double whammy for her. On one end, meeting the most powerful and mystical saint and taantric in the whole world was making her terribly anxious. On the other hand, the grand old man was the only real in-law she was ever going to have. So Damini was flustered at what to wear, what to say and when to shut up.

  However, both Vidyut and Damini knew that today was not going to be a regular day. The devta’s evening appointment with Romi Pereira loomed over their minds every second. Damini was deeply concerned about Vidyut’s safety. Vidyut on the other hand wanted to know why Romi wanted to kill him. He was yearning to know which organization or institution was behind this lethal assassin. He was hoping to discover at least some part of the plot during his impending meeting with his great grandfather this morning.

  Damini loved the fact that she was being treated like a queen at the monastery. On her flight to Varanasi she had imagined the matth to be a dark and suffocating prison of stifling rituals and boring, stuck-up people. She was overjoyed to see the exact opposite happen. While indeed the matth looked intimidating and fortress-like as one entered it, the life and people inside were positively glowing. As she woke up in the morning, Damini was welcomed by the chanting of divine mantras with an intensity and passion she had never seen before. She was treated to a hot cup of rich herbal tea, the finest brew she had ever had. It gave her energy and elation she had never experienced before. This was followed by a session of rigorous yoga on a sun-kissed terrace, led by beaming and vivacious instructors.

  Damini was pleasantly surprised when she was served a hot breakfast fit for an empress. Her crunchy fresh fruit salad and farm fresh yoghurt were accompanied by not only Indian delicacies like aloo paratha and poha matar, but also by baked beans and cornflakes. The Dev-Raakshasa matth, its teachers, its profound disciplines and its infrastructure in no way appeared inferior to western educational establishments. The only difference being the advanced spiritual, warfare and occult training imparted at this ancient institution as part of the essential curriculum.

  As they walked towards the great Dwarka Shastri’s massive abode, Vidyut couldn’t stop laughing. Damini had attempted wearing a Banarasi saaree (traditional Indian outfit) that had been gifted to her by Purohit ji’s gracious wife that very morning, as a gesture of her affection. Much as Damini marched with great poise and dignity towards the cottage of the matthadheesh, every thirty seconds she felt that her cumbersome attire would dismantle itself and grossly malfunction. She was relieved when she finally reached the grand old man’s doorstep, her dress in one piece.

  The moment of truth was here. She had to now enter the medieval looking cottage and meet the phenomenon her boyfriend considered to be the most powerful man on Earth.

  ‘Okay, Vidyut baby…you ready na?’ asked Damini nervously as she took some deep breaths. Vidyut nodded innocently, barely able to hold back his laughter. He knew Damini was panicking needlessly. He knew his Baba was a trikaaldarshi or the viewer of all the realms of time and space – past, present and future. He knew the grand old man would see through the beautiful heart of Damini in a matter of moments. What Vidyut did not know was that the mighty Dwarka Shastri already knew Damini.

  He knew a lot more about her than even Vidyut did.

  The devta knocked on his great grandfather’s door and was greeted with the now familiar ‘Hmmm…’ Vidyut gestured Damini to follow him.

  As soon as Damini entered the massive living chamber of the world’s most powerful spirit, she could sense the presence of more than just the grandmaster in that room. She could almost hear the hissing of an ethereal being. She somehow felt that Dwarka Shastri, Vidyut and she were not the only people in the room. She tried to ignore this intense instinct. She was meeting her in-laws for God’s sake!

  Dwarka Shastri once again lay perched on his tall bed, raised to his regal posture by a dozen pillows and bolsters. Damini was nearly hypnotized as she caught the first glimpse of this extraordinary man. His flowing white hair, his battle-torn face and his royal appearance overwhelmed her to numbness. His fingers were flipping rosary beads like an automated counting machine.

  ‘Pranaam, baba,’ said Vidyut. Pranaam was among the humblest and most respectful of salutations in Indian culture.

  ‘Yashasvi bhava…’ replied the grandmaster. May you be the glorious one, was what the matthadheesh had replied with as a blessing.

  ‘Baba, I have Damini with me,’ said Vidyut, feeling stupidly shy. ‘I think you knew about her the moment she entered the matth.’

  Damini found this to be her cue again. This time she was right.

  ‘Pranaam, baba,’ she said in a gentle voice, her hands folded in veneration.

  Dwarka Shastri opened his eyes and looked at Damini. Within moments his signature glare melted into a look of profound love and familiarity. He then said something that neither Vidyut nor Damini could comprehend.

  The great matthadheesh smiled and uttered just two words in a loving tone.

  ‘Swagatam, Sanjna.’

  Welcome Sanjna.

  The bejeweled necklace sparkled brilliantly. Damini was dumbstruck when the great Dwarka Shastri asked Vidyut to open his old mahogany cupboard and pull out an intricately carved sandalwood box. It was a present for Damini. The diamond studded gold necklace inside was the most expensive piece of jewelry she had ever set her eyes on. It looked like an antique treasure, like it belonged to some ancient queen.

  ‘Baba…Vidyut…how can I accept something so…expensive…’ Damini said hesitantly, as she looked at Vidyut for guidance. Vidyut smiled and nodded at her to keep it. It was the grand old man’s show of affection.

  ‘I am glad you both are here together,’ said the matthadheesh after a few moments of silence. ‘Before we speak about anything else, tell me Vidyut, are you sure you want to meet this assassin at a time and place of his choice? He will be fully prepared.’

  Purohit ji had briefed the grandmaster about the events of the previous evening. Dwarka Shastri was cautious but not overly worried. He knew his grandson was no ordinary mortal. He knew from the moment Vidyut had set foot in Varanasi that a final face-off was unavoidable – a clash between demon and devta; evil and good; Romi and Vidyut. It was prophesied three and a half millennia ago. The time had come. And the grandmaster knew that the battle with Romi was only the beginning.

  ‘Yes, Baba. I will meet him and set things right once and for all. The Ganga aarti is a holy hour. We will vanquish the forces of evil,’ replied Vidyut.

  Dwarka Shastri smiled with pride and raised his hand to bless Vidyut.

  ‘But Baba, Vidyut…there are too many questions that are still unanswered,’ spoke Damini softly. ‘While I comprehend that the East India Company’s conspiracy to bury the truth of Brahminabad was part of a larger game-plan of psychological imperialism, but I don’t understand how destroying Brahminabad or undermining the Harappan or Saraswati civilization would help that cause.’

  Dwarka Shastri turned to Vidyut, ‘Why don’t you answer the question, Vidyut?’

  ‘Like I was explaining to you last evening, Damini, the absolute dominance of one race over another first needs the total submission of the ruled to the r
uler. This becomes possible only when over generations the entire populace is made to believe that the rulers have the moral, historical and cultural right to be the sovereigns.’

  Vidyut paused for a moment to see if Damini was following. She was.

  ‘So sowing seeds of a past that showed a legacy of western superiority was an important element in their strategy. It worked wonders for them to propagate to the Indians that they were always inferior, and even since the time of the Harappan civilization it was actually riders from the west that brought in development and prosperity. However, the entire scheme of the imperialists would fall flat if the people they are trying to suppress into submission suddenly discover that it was they who actually established mighty civilizations, cities and trades, when their current rulers were living in caves and wearing animal hide!’

  ‘And Harappa would do exactly that! It would remind Indians of a glorious past. It would inform them that it was in fact their very own ancestors who brought civilization to this world!’ exclaimed Damini, as she slowly grasped the whole maze.

  Dwarka Shastri nodded. ‘There is more to it, beta. Do you know that there were numerous havan-kundas or ritual-pits discovered in the excavations? That the Gods worshipped by the Harappans were actually Pashupati and Shakti, which are other names of Lord Shiva and the Goddess Durga? How many times have you read that seals and pottery depicting yogic postures were unearthed in the hundreds at the Harappan sites?’