‘But our history teacher in school tells us that there was an Aryan invasion in… in… 1500 BCE,’ said Taarak, scratching his head to recall the date.
‘That was based on Christian belief, not science! The Christians believed that the world was created at nine o’clock in the morning of 23 October, 4004 BCE. Working from that date, they established that the great Biblical flood—in the anticipation of which Noah built a massive ark to preserve living beings on earth—would have happened in 2448 BCE. They then postulated that the Aryan invasion would have happened around a thousand years later! That is the basis for what has been passed on to us as historical research for endless years,’ scoffed Mataji.
‘So the Western scholars were interested in propagating Christianity rather than serious historical research?’ asked Taarak.
‘Yes,’ said Mataji. ‘Western scholars who studied Hindu literature were initially convinced that the
Krishna story had been borrowed from the life of Jesus Christ. In 1762, the Italian scholar P. Georgi wrote that Krishnu is a corruption of the name of the Saviour; the deeds correspond wonderfully with the name, though they have been impiously and cunningly polluted by most wicked imposters! Another scholar, Albrecht Weber, painstakingly pointed out all the similarities between Krishna and Christ. Weber concluded that the Vedic concept of incarnations of God was also borrowed from the idea that Jesus Christ had been the Son of God. Yet another scholar, Dr F. Lorinser, carried out a translation of the Bhagavad Gita but instead of admiring it for its original wisdom, he compared it to the New Testament and concluded that the Gita had mostly been inspired by the Bible!’ exclaimed Mataji.
‘So we were accused of having plagiarised the Bible?’ asked Taarak.
‘Yes. But luckily, the big break in favour of Krishna’s antiquity came from a book called Indica—written around three hundred years before Jesus Christ by Megasthenes, the Greek ambassador to the Mauryan kingdom. Megasthenes described Mathura as a centre of Krishna-worship. The Western scholars who had been claiming that Krishna was simply a story inspired by the Christian Bible now had to eat their own words because it turned out that the Krishna story had existed much before Jesus Christ. For the first time ever, Indian literary sources were reviewed to see if they could substantiate what was written in the Indica. As it turns out, the grammarian Patanjali had written of Kansa’s slaying by Krishna in the second century BCE; Kautilya’s Arthashastra from the fourth century BCE mentioned Krishna several times; the greatest Sanskrit grammarian, Panini, talked of Vishnu-worship and Bhakti in the fifth century BCE. It was thus firmly established that Krishna—and Krishna-worship—predated Christianity by many centuries,’ explained Mataji. ‘Forced to eat humble pie, Western scholars now adopted the ingenious idea of suggesting that ancient Indian literature was not a product of local Indian populations but had been imported by conquering Aryans from Central Europe.’
Taarak nodded his head vigorously to show support for Mataji’s declarations.
‘We keep referring to Mesop,’ replied Sir Khaned of bmefotamia as the cradle of civilisation. That’s nonsense. It was India! It was the drying-up of the Sarasvati that took our people and our culture there. The most sacred spot for Muslims from around the world is the Kaaba in Mecca. The world forgets the fact that the Kaaba was a pagan temple prior to the advent of Islam. The Kaaba contained 360 idols, representing each day of the year. The chief among these deities was the moon-god Hubal—remarkably similar to Shiv. Just like Shiv, Hubal was depicted as carrying the moon on his head. And just like Shiv, from whose holy abode the Ganga flowed down to us, Hubal had the sacred waters of Zamzam,’ said Mataji. ‘The Muslims retained many of the pagan rites associated with the Kaaba. They continued to circumambulate the Kaaba seven times—just like Hindus do around fire. They continued to wear white clothes during Hajj—just like the Jain munis of India do round the year. They even retained the symbol of Hubal—the crescent and star—and adopted it as an Islamic symbol!’
‘How does that matter, Mataji? It only shows that we are all connected, doesn’t it?’ asked Taarak innocently.
‘True, but what I’m telling you is that many of the traditions of Islam evolved from a set of pagan beliefs. It is possible that some of these pagan traditions had Vedic roots. Much later, Muslims came to believe that Hubal’s three goddesses—Al-Lat, Uzza and Manat—had taken refuge in the Somnath temple of Gujarat, just a short distance from Dwarka. This was the main reason why waves of attacks by Muslim invaders took place on the Somnath temple!’ said Mataji indignantly. ‘That’s why I need you to work diligently… so that you may set right historical wrongs.’
‘I shall work hard, Mataji. I shall make you proud of me,’ said Taarak allowing himself to be convinced of the righteousness of Mataji’s cause. He silently vowed to do whatever was needed to make her happy.
That brings me to the topic of Arjuna’s wife, Subhadra. I knew that my sister, Subhadra, was in love with Arjuna. However, my elder brother Balarama had arranged her marriage with Duryodhana. I advised Arjuna to enter Dwarka in disguise and, rather shrewdly, advised
Subhadra to elope with him. She needed very little encouragement, though! Balarama was very angry with me. He planned to go after Arjuna but when I convinced him that Subhadra had eloped with Arjuna of her own free will, he grudgingly reconciled himself to the situation. Subhadra would eventually bear Arjuna a son. His name would go down in history as Abhimanyu.
Devendra Chhedi was surprised to receive a visit from Inspector Radhika Singh and Sub-Inspector Rathore. He almost wished he could ignore their presence, as he scanned his printouts containing genetic markers. He smiled contentedly as he took a puff from his cherry-flavoured tobacco-laden pipe and then forced himself to deal with the police officers who were looking at him quizzically, wondering why he was smiling at them.
Chhedi was the world’s leading authority in SCNT—better known as Somatic Cell Nuclear Transfer. In SCNT, reproductive cloning could be carried out by transferring genetic material from the nucleus of a donor adult cell to an egg whose nucleus had been removed. The reconstructed egg, containing the DNA from the donor cell, would then be treated with chemicals and electric currents in order to stimulate cell division. Once the cloned embryo reached an enclosed within a circle.atis Saini and Radhika appropriate age, it would be transferred to the uterus of a female host where it would continue to develop until birth.
Cloning had originally been discovered by Scottish scientists at the Roslin Institute who had created the famous sheep Dolly. Dolly had aroused global excitement and concern because of the scientific and ethical implications of cloning. The achievement, cited by Science magazine as the medical miracle of the decade, also generated uneasiness over cloning, soon to become an all-encompassing term used by researchers to describe different processes for duplicating biological material. Chhedi had worked his way up at the Roslin Institute before being offered a generous research grant by the Chandigarh-based Immuno Molecular Life Sciences Ltd to carry on his study with substantially elevated budgets and state-of-the-art facilities.
‘Yes? What may I do for you?’ asked Chhedi, holding out his hand to exchange greetings with the officers. As he got up from his chair, his long salt-and-pepper hair fell over his face. His crumpled lab coat partially hid a polka-dotted bowtie that was lopsided and covered with pipe ash.
‘Sir, we need your assistance,’ began Radhika Singh. ‘You do remember the seal that was sent to you for safekeeping by your friend, Mr Anil Varshney?’
‘I’m not at liberty to discuss this issue with you,’ declared Chhedi pompously. He hadn’t been sworn to secrecy by Varshney, but Chhedi was unable to pass up any opportunity to make people in authority squirm. It was this rebellious streak that had got him into trouble with the school principal when he had rigged his toilet to explode. Mercifully, the young Chhedi had been a better talker than detonations-expert and the principal had managed to get away with just a few tender spots on his rear. Chhedi had b
een rusticated, much to the chagrin of his father who had eventually cajoled the principal to think beyond his sore backside.
‘Fair enough,’ said Radhika quickly. ‘The reason we’re here is because Mr Varshney’s murderer—someone known to you from your school days—Ravi Mohan Saini is on his way here to meet you. We believe that he has killed not only Anil Varshney but also Dr Nikhil Bhojaraj. In addition to that, he is a suspect in the death of Professor Rajaram Kurkude’s secretary as well as in the kidnapping of Professor Kurkude himself.’
Chhedi’s jaw dropped. What the hell was Saini up to? They had known each other in school. Saini had exhibited the same trace of rebelliousness as Chhedi but to a lesser degree. It was in stark contrast to the exemplary-schoolboy behaviour of Anil Varshney. The officers were right. He did need to give them a patient hearing. It was a question of risk to life. He cleared his throat. ‘What exactly do you want from me?’ he asked.
‘Nothing complicated, sir. We would like to stay put, right here in your office until they show up. In the meantime, I shall be posting plainclothes officers all over your campus. It is our intention to recapture Mr Saini when he comes over to meet you. It shall also give us the opportunity to determine the whereabouts of Professor Kurkude,’ explained Rathore.
‘One more thing sir,’ interrupted Radhika. ‘It’s possible that Saini may phone you in advance to tell you of his arrival. Please keep us informed so that we are better prepared for him. Please be informal and receptive to his requests. Say nothing that may tip him off that we’re here.’
Chhedi nodded his head. ‘I hear you loud and clear, ,’ replied Sir Khanno. bInspector. It shall be as you ask, but I also require your cooperation,’ he said.
‘What sort of cooperation do you need from us?’ asked Radhika.
‘The work that we’re doing here is path-breaking research. We just cannot afford to have strangers roaming in and out of private work areas,’ said Chhedi. ‘You shall have to ensure that your men are restricted to non-access-controlled areas of this facility.’
Soon Yudhistira expressed his desire to perform the Rajasuya Yajna—a public coronation in which other kings would accept and acknowledge him as an equal sovereign. I suggested that the Pandavas first defeat Jarasandha—the mighty ruler of Magadha. Such a victory would make it impossible for any other sovereign to object to Yudhistira’s sovereignty. I suggested that Bhima challenge Jarasandha to a duel. I told Bhima the secret to killing Jarasandha. Jarasandha’s body had to be torn into two halves vertically in order to kill him. Bhima followed my advice and succeeded in splitting Jarasandha in two. This paved the way for Yudhistira’s coronation. It also rid me of the biggest thorn in my side, Jarasandha.
Radhika looked around her. Rows upon rows of gleaming laboratory tables and equipment, cryo-freezers, specimen storage systems, electronic microscopes and DNA synthesisers stretched into the distance. Alongside were banks of computer servers where thousands of data sets from multiple research studies done on different platforms could be merged, and data from thousands of projects, finds, participants and sources could be analysed together, increasing the probability of gene discovery.
‘If you don’t mind my asking, what exactly do you do here?’ asked Radhika, her interest piqued by Chhedi’s statement.
‘We’re trying to use modern scientific techniques to uncover our past,’ said Chhedi cryptically.
‘Could you be a little less mysterious, sir?’ asked Radhika, smiling as she located a few almonds in her pockets. Chhedi laughed. The woman was a livewire.
‘My primary interest lies in our ability to rejuvenate ancient DNA,’ said Chhedi, staring at Radhika as she popped an almond into her mouth.
‘Ancient DNA? But isn’t that pointless? There would hardly be any ancient DNA material for revival,’ argued Radhika.
‘You are mistaken Inspector. Ancient civilisations knew more about stem cells than modern humans. Many Hindus would be intimately aware of a ritual that would be performed after childbirth for precisely this reason,’ said Chhedi.
‘Really? What ritual was that?’ asked Radhika.
‘After delivery, the midwife would take the umbilical cord of the new born child and place a small portion of it in an airtight copper capsule, and this capsule—known as a Taviju Raksha—would be tied below the
waist of the child until he grew up,’ explained Chhedi. ‘The remainder of the umbilical cord would be placed in an earthen jar and buried underground. Doesn’t it surprise you that modern civilisation has only just recently figured out that preserving stem cells from a child’s umbilical cord using cryo-freezing is a prudent step?’
‘So you think that the Tavija Rasksha,’ replied Sir Khantrohttp://kailaibala.blogspot.in/ was not merely a religious ritual but a scientific one?’ asked Radhika.
‘The ancients knew far more about medicine than we’re willing to believe,’ replied Chhedi. ‘Vedic surgeons wrote about plastic surgery, extraction of cataracts, dental surgery, caesarean sections and bone-setting. Surgery—known as Shastrakarma in the Vedas—was pioneered in the Shushruta Samahita. Shushruta’s path-breaking treatise describes rhinoplasty in which a mutilated nose can be reconstructed through plastic surgery! The Charaka Samhita authored by Charaka discusses physiology, etiology, embryology, digestion, metabolism, immunity and even genetics. For example, Charaka knew the factors that determined the sex of a child. Why is it impossible to believe that the ancients knew of genetic cloning? Read between the lines, Inspector,’ said Chhedi.
‘Cloning? I don’t recall any mention of it in our epics?’ asked Radhika.
‘Think carefully. When Lord Rama fought with Ravana, was he fighting one demon with ten heads or was he actually fighting ten people who had been genetically cloned from Ravana?’ asked Chhedi.
Radhika digested the information slowly. She visualised Ravana battling Lord Rama, with the latter lopping off the former’s head repeatedly, only to see it replaced by yet another. The geneticist wasn’t entirely wrong. It could indeed have been possible that Ravana had succeeded in cloning himself so that any enemy would have to fight not just one but ten Ravanas.
‘I assume that you’re familiar with the stories of Durga slaying various demons?’ asked Chhedi.
‘Some of them,’ said Radhika, chewing on an almond contentedly.
‘According to the eighth chapter of Devi Mahatmya from the Markandeya Puran, there lived a demon by the name of Raktabija. You do understand what Raktabija means, don’t you? It translates to blood seed. The story about Raktabija was that each time a drop of his blood fell to the earth, a new duplicate of himself would emerge. He was eventually killed by Durga. She succeeded in killing him by preventing his blood from reaching the ground. Isn’t this yet another example of our ancient myths telling us about deeper scientific advances?’ asked Chhedi.
Radhika was reeling from the onslaught of information.
‘Our mythology tells us that Brahama took birth from the umbilicus of Vishnu. Was this just imagination or was it indicative of the fact that Vedic people knew of the presence and significance of stem cells in the umbilical cord?’ asked Chhedi.
Greeted by silence, Chhedi asked, ‘We know that Krishna’s elder brother—Balarama—was transferred from Devaki’s womb to that of Rohini. How would that have been possible without knowledge of in vitro fertilisation?’
Unknown to Radhika and non-academics, Chhedi had written a paper in which he had referenced the Vishnu Purana. It also said that Hari in the form of Brahama was the instrumental cause of creation. It was said that matter was imperceptible and invisible but had been infused with an intrinsic ability to transform, mutate, combine, recombine and permutate into visible substances. Chhedi had argued that there were pluripotential stem cells in the bone marrow and the blood in the umbilical cord, and that these stem cells were the ones that were capable of transforming themselves into any cell ,’ replied Sir Khanta on the in the universe of the human body. When the Vishnu Purana spoke of Akaa
sa—it was simply referring to the universe’s pluripotential stem substance.
Guests from all over the land attended the Rajasuya Yajna of Yudhistira. Included among the invitees were Duryodhana and Shishupala. Indraprastha had grown into the most magnificent city in the land and poets had begun comparing it to heaven. Duryodhana was extremely jealous. I’m told that while he was admiring the city, he slipped and fell into a pond. Draupadi, who happened to be in the vicinity, observed, ‘A blind son of blind parents!’ Duryodhana seethed with anger at the remark and took a personal vow that he would ensure Draupadi’s humiliation exactly in the same way that she had enjoyed his. Indeed, it is true that careless remarks can come back to bite you!
‘Do you realise that we have just crossed Karnal?’ asked Saini from the front seat.
‘Yes. Ten minutes ago. How is that important?’ asked Priya.
‘Well, somewhere between Karnal and Ambala, lies a very important location,’ said Saini. Priya maintained her silence. She had grown weary of prodding answers from Saini. She believed he would blurt them out soon enough, anyway. He proved her right.
‘Midway between Karnal and Ambala is the battlefield of Kurukshetra, where the Pandavas and Kauravas fought their epic war,’ said Saini finally. ‘If you both are in agreement, I would like to stop at Jyotisaar.’
‘What is at Jyotisaar?’ asked Kurkude.
‘I’ll explain later. Just let’s get to Thanesar village and you’ll understand everything,’ said Saini.
Taarak asked for a few directions along the way and they reached the Kurukshetra-Pehowa road within ten minutes. Just five kilometres west of Thanesar stood the massive banyan tree that Saini wanted to visit. It was called Jyotisaar. The tree was encircled by a simple white fence and next to it stood a marble chariot depicting Krishna delivering his famous sermon to Arjuna. A signboard informed visitors of the significance of the location.
The Krishna Key Page 3