Nura, the new chief of the Aie tribe, stoked the dying embers of the fire; it was that time when night surrenders to the day. Around him lay his hunting party, fast asleep. They had been through a long, hard winter, followed by the great flood that had wiped out half the tribe. Only the youngest and the strongest had survived. Before he died, Nura's father had handed over the reins of the tribe to him. Now it was up to him to look after and provide for his people.
It had been months since the floodwaters had receded. The Aie scoured their lands for the great herds of deer that once abounded in these plains. But the rising waters of the Black Sea had destroyed the sweet grass, leaving very little grazing for the herds. So the once proud hunters had to live on roots, berries and small creatures that had survived.
Nura knew that, as chief, the people looked to him to lead them through these trying times. The grumbling had already started amongst a few disgruntled young hunters. Discussions were being held on whether the land would be able to sustain a population as large as theirs. Nura knew that if they did not find any meat soon, he would have a rebellion on his hands. He prayed to the gods for a successful hunt.
Nura looked up as the first light of dawn spread across the sky. Something on the ridge ahead caught his attention and he looked on, amazed. Silhouetted against the sky was the most magnificent pair of antlers he had ever seen. He woke his tribesmen, who quickly readied themselves for the hunt. Expert hunters, the Aie moved swiftly and silently towards the ridge. The herd of deer, still oblivious to their presence, was engrossed in their feeding. The hunters silently fanned out in a semicircle as they ran in, and Nura signalled to the men on the extremes to flank the herd.
The hunters at the flank cast their spears, bringing down a couple of deer. Nura saw the stag lift its head. It looked around anxiously for an opening to break through, but he had set the trap well, the hunters had cut off all escape routes.
Nura watched the stag turn towards him and realised that it was readying to stand and fight. Nura smiled; this creature would make a worthy adversary. He braced himself as the stag lowered its magnificent antlers and charged towards him.
The young chief stood perfectly still as the stag neared him. The distance was too short to cast his spear. He saw its antlers loom large in front of him; it had six sharp prongs on either side. Each one of them was capable of running through a man. Nura pushed his spear out in front like a staff and jammed it into the antlers and held on with all his strength. The stag shook its head and tossed Nura about. He dug his feet into the earth and tried to wrestle the creature to the ground. The spear broke in his hand and knocked him off his feet.
The stag stopped to shake the pieces of wood from its antlers, which bought the young chief some time. One of his men tossed him a short, heavy stabbing spear. Nura hefted the weapon and got to his feet. He was on top of the ridge now. The animal had to run upwards to meet him. He turned to the beast just as it began charging.
Nura timed his jump to perfection. As the beast lowered its head to disembowel the man in front of him, he leapt forward, head first, over the great antlers. He felt the sharp horns of the creature pass inches under his belly. He readied his spear and thrust it deep into the back of the creature, aiming for the spot between the heavily-muscled shoulders. The spear bit deep into its flesh as Nura's momentum carried him over the body of the stag. He hit the ground hard and rolled to his feet.
The stag, now mortally wounded, stood on the ridge, blood streaming down its flanks. Yet it did not flee, but turned around to face the man once again. Nura drew his skinning knife and waited, bracing himself for the next charge, but it did not come. The spear had found the heart of the beast, and its knees slowly buckled and it fell to the ground. The Aie raised their spears and yelled in triumph.
The sun had almost set by the time the Aie finished with the skinning and the butchering of most of the carcasses. Fires had been lit everywhere to roast and smoke the meat. So engrossed were they in their task that they failed to notice a small raft floating through the gentle waters towards them.
A man stood on the raft and looked towards the land with relief. He had floated across the sea several months now. The waters of the great flood had swamped his native land, an island in the western ocean. As far as he knew, only he had survived. It was up to him now to ensure that the legacy of his people was preserved.
In the fading light, he noticed a group of savage tribesmen butchering the carcasses of a few deer. The man gently dropped into the water and pushed the raft away. He did not want to be seen as a castaway who had been adrift for a while. The first impression was everything and in this case it could be the difference between life and death. The man took a deep breath and dived below the surface.
Nura looked up from his task of skinning the great stag. The sun, an orange orb, had almost disappeared into the dark waters. Suddenly he saw something in the water that made him sit up. It was a man unlike any he had seen before. His hair and long beard was the colour of snow. His body was covered with bronze armour and shone in the fading light. To the Aie, who had never seen metal, he looked like a creature from another world, a god. One of the young men in the tribe panicked and cast his spear. The flint tip struck the metal armour and bounced off. The god did not draw his sword or make any threatening gesture; he merely continued to walk out of the water towards them. The Aie looked at each other in shock. Nura shouted out to them to lower their weapons; he had no desire to provoke the god any further.
The stranger walked up to the man who had cast his spear; he had been struggling with the carcass of a deer. The primitive flint knife made the butchering of the animal extremely taxing work. As the god drew his gleaming sword, there was a hush among the Aie; they expected the god to punish the man for his folly. But he picked up one of the limbs of the animal in one hand and swung the heavy bronze blade. The sword sliced through flesh, bone and tendon almost effortlessly. He held up the severed limb in his hand. There were cries of wonder and astonishment among the tribe; they had never beheld such a weapon before. The stranger went to Nura and presented the severed limb to him as he spoke.
'I am Kasyapa.'
Nura did not understand, but head bowed, he accepted the offering from the god. Now it was his turn to appease their divine guest. He cut out the heart of the great stag and offered it to him. Kasyapa accepted the offering, trying hard to hide his disgust. His people had shunned the consumption of meat a long time ago. They believed that it increased the development of the baser instincts within the mind. He gagged at the prospect of tasting flesh, but he knew that it had to be done. He bit into the soft rubbery organ and tore off a piece of it. Blood dribbled down his chin and stained his beard. It took all his will to prevent himself from throwing up as he forced himself to swallow the vile-tasting chunk of flesh.
A cry of appreciation went up among the Aie. The god had accepted their offering. The tribe had no doubt in their mind that it had been he who had blessed them with such a successful hunt. The man who had thrown the spear prostrated at his feet, begging for forgiveness. Kasyapa lifted him to his feet and handed him the remaining portion of the animal's heart. More shouts of joy erupted at this gesture. Their god was as generous as he was compassionate.
Many years passed. Kasyapa lived among the Aie; he learnt their tongue and their ways. He taught them to grow crops, domesticate the cattle and the horses on the wild steppes and how to extract metal from the earth. He did not allow the grateful Aie to worship him as a god. They began to refer to him as Arya, or noble one. He took as his wives Aditi and Diti, the beautiful sisters of Nura. Aditi bore him four sons: Ikshvaaku, Yavana, Aditya and Deva. Diti gave him one, his favourite, whom he called Asura.
Kasyapa's sons grew into fine young men and their indulgent father opened his vast treasure trove of knowledge to them, promising them that their children would rule the world one day. This did not go down well with the gods in heaven. Blinded by paternal love, even the wise Kasyapa did not see that
his sons had only inherited his physical form, one of great strength and beauty. Their nature was of their mothers, that of the savage Aie.
The sons of Aditi soon proved to be the scourge of the northern steppes, subduing all the other tribes of the land. They captured vast territories, killing the men and enslaving the women and children. These women bore them many sons, and they soon established their own individual clans. The gods in heaven watched with consternation. They knew that if these warriors were left unchecked, the entire world would soon become their battleground. They appeared to Kasyapa in his dreams, asking him to control his savage progeny. But the Arya did not heed their warnings. He was blind to the faults of his offspring. He spent his days in the company of his youngest son, Asura, who had not let the promise of wealth or women sway him from the side of his noble father. It was then that the gods decided to teach Kasyapa a lesson.
It was the fiftieth year since Kasyapa had first appeared amongst the Aie. Nura announced a grand feast to honour the Arya and invited the five sons and their clans to participate. The feasting and merrymaking went on for days. On the final day, the gods sent an emissary, the great sage Narada. Kasyapa and his sons, along with Nura, gathered together in the great hall of the palace to welcome him. Narada presented the Arya with a flask of wine and informed him that he had an act of entertainment to present for the feast, a gift from the gods. He then bowed and left.
The wine was presented to the audience. Kasyapa was not sure of the motives of the gods; he made a sign to Nura and his sons to not touch the wine. His sons, however, ignored their father's warning and drank the wine with gusto. Even Asura, who until then had stayed away from all manner of intoxicants, helped himself to a cup.
A veiled woman appeared in the hall and began to dance. So graceful was she in form and in movement that she soon had everyone in the audience spellbound. Her skin was the colour of alabaster, her body was sculpted to perfection and her sheer clothing showed off her full breasts and finely-shaped limbs. As she moved, the tiny bells on her exquisitely-worked anklets produced the most enchanting music. She finished her act by taking off her veil and revealing her face to the enthralled audience. Kasyapa recognised her, even as her great beauty took his breath away. It was Menaka, the divine enchantress.
The sons of Aditi leapt to their feet, their eyes crazed with lust. Each of them claimed the woman for his own. Before their father could say anything, three of them had drawn their swords and fallen upon each other. Deva, who had not drawn his sword, watched in horror as his three older brothers hacked each other to death. He fell to his knees in front of his dead brothers and wept.
Asura, the son of Diti, had not moved from his seat. Through the carnage, he had not taken his eyes off Menaka's face. She looked at him and smiled. Asura stood up and walked over to his stepbrother. Kasyapa watched, a mute spectator, as his favourite son drew his sword and plunged it into Deva's back. Asura then seized Menaka by the waist and carried her off on his horse towards the distant lands in the south.
Outside, the clansmen heard of the terrible event that had occurred within the palace. They abandoned their celebrations, drew their weapons and fell upon each other. By now the gods had decided that Kasyapa had learnt his lesson. A mist descended from the sky, enveloping the warring clansmen. They dropped their weapons and fell to the ground, unconscious.
When the fog lifted, they came to their senses and huddled together. They had no memory of the terrible events that had just come to pass. Kasyapa came out to address them; his heart was broken yet he kept his voice firm. He told them to leave these lands forever and never return. They meekly gathered their belongings and branched out in different directions.
Nura, who had been a hapless spectator until now, turned to Kasyapa angrily.
'How could you let this happen, Arya? Is this the legacy you promised your sons? You said their children would one day rule the world. Today you have left them with nothing. With no land, no tribe and no future.' The once proud warrior fell to his knees and tore at his hair as he wept uncontrollably.
Kasyapa turned to him, his eyes blazing with a feverish light, and he spoke in a deep voice that Nura had never heard before.
'The gods have punished me for going against them. They have taken from me what I valued most of all, my sons. But fear not Nura, the promise I made will stand good. One day a prince from one of these tribes will unite the sons of Aditi and he will sow the seeds of an empire that will rule the world.'
The words of the Arya had a calming effect on Nura, but he had one more question.
'What of Asura, your other son?'
Kasyapa's eyes took on a terrible glint.
'It is against his children that the four tribes will unite. They will pay a heavy price for their father's betrayal.'
Nura watched as the Arya turned and walked away towards the mountains to the east, never to be seen again.
***
Mitra opened his eyes as he came awake with a start. His mind was in a whirl with a million thoughts. The origins of their tribes had always been shrouded in mystery. Now he realised why. He tried to sit up and that's when exhaustion overtook every fibre of his being. He fell back on his bed in a deep sleep. For days he locked himself in his hut and did not see anybody while he recovered his strength. Then one day, he left the settlement quietly and made his way to the mountains in the north.
***
On Indra's eighteenth birthday, Mahisi announced a huge feast to which she invited all the prominent families of Aryavarta. She and her army of women slaved long and hard over the preparations. The feast was like no other Aryavarta had witnessed; the festivities and wine flowed long through the day and well into the night.
The highlight of the evening was a musical recital by Sachi. She had sat with the bards and composed a ballad on the slaying of Baldar. She strummed on a harp and as she sang, her melodious voice transported her listeners to the scene in the great swamp. So great was the impact of her recital that, for a full minute after it was over, there was dead silence in the hall. Then the audience broke into rapturous applause. They hailed the bravery of Indra and praised his father for the gift of such an heir.
Once the guests had left, Indra and the boys made their way to their living quarters. All of them, with the exception of Soma, were a little drunk from the wine. Agni suggested they continue the revelry at Nira's Tavern. Both Varuna and Vayu received his suggestion enthusiastically; only Indra and Soma were hesitant.
Nira's Tavern was located in the slave quarters and had started as a place for the slaves to unwind after a hard day's work. It provided alcohol, women and a fair amount of discretion at a price. While it was forbidden for members of the tribe to patronise this establishment, the authorities usually turned a blind eye to indiscretions.
The establishment was run by its namesake, an Egyptian slave once renowned for her beauty. Nira was a tough-as-nails woman who had only two rules: spend money availing of the services, and take whatever disagreements one had outside the establishment. Non-adherence to these rules usually resulted in a rapid eviction from the premises.
The boys were escorted to a room and the women were presented to them. Agni, Vayu and Varuna wasted no time making their choices. Indra opted for a quart of their finest liquor, while Soma politely declined both liquor and women. The dancing and revelry went on well into the night and soon the crowing of the roosters brought them back to reality. Soma was the first to wake and he called out to the others. Indra had spent most part of the night asleep. He shook himself awake as they paid up and prepared to leave.
The boys were still in a buoyant mood as they made their way out of the slave quarters. Vayu and Agni sang one of the bawdy songs from the tavern and ignored Soma's pleas for silence. They turned a corner around one of the shacks and ran full tilt into a night patrol led by Atreya.
One of those in the patrol was Khara, still smarting from his defeat in the Spardha four years back. He was an ardent supporter of Pusan and n
ow saw an opportunity for revenge. He and the guards outnumbered Indra and his friends two to one. The Falcons were also unarmed and this lulled Khara into a sense of false security.
'Well, well, well! What have we here? It is our champion, Indra. Come out to do a bit of whoring, have you? Do you think he would be ready for a fight? Perhaps not! It is likely that the whores of Nira have blunted his spear.'
Varuna felt his friend's temper rise and he grabbed Indra by the arm. 'It's not worth it, my friend. One must choose one's battles. Come, let's walk away.'
Indra nodded; he shut his eyes and took a deep breath as Mitra had taught him. Feeling more in control, he and his friends made their way past the patrol towards Mahisi's.
Their inaction seemed to encourage Khara. He called out to them loudly. 'What do you think Sachi would say when she finds out about this?'
As if on cue one of the guards quipped. 'Finds out about what, my lord?'
'When she finds out that her future husband is a whore chaser.'
Indra stopped and turned around. His companions did not notice the darkness that clouded his eyes. They did not restrain him because they expected him only to rebut Khara's remark.
But Khara was not finished.
'A whore chaser just like his father.'
Indra looked around and spotted a stone that lay on the ground. Before the others could stop him, he had picked it up and flung it at Khara. The missile was the size of an orange and thrown with unerring accuracy. It struck Khara bang in the middle of his forehead and he hit the ground with a thud. There was a moment of stunned silence. Soma was the first to react, shouting, 'Run!'
The Falcons raced away, making towards the woods to the south of the settlement. They did not stop until they had put a few miles between the patrol and themselves. They sat down under a pine tree and tried to come to terms with what had just happened. Their situation was dire, to say the least. Indra was well-versed with the laws of the tribe; he had killed one of the night guards on duty. The penalty for that was death without a trial. His current standing would have no bearing in this matter; the rule was the same for nobility and commoner alike. He turned to his friends.
Rajiv Menon -- ThunderGod Page 13
