Immortals of Meluha

by Amish Tripathi

  ‘Yes,’ said Jhooleshwar. ‘And unless you have been declared a vikarma, I don’t think that law is being broken.’

  ‘Yes it is!’

  There were shocked murmurs from the congregation. Jhooleshwar raised his hand.

  ‘Nobody is a vikarma here, Tarak,’ said Jhooleshwar. ‘Now please sit down.’

  ‘Princess Sati defiles the yagna with her presence.’

  Shiva and Parvateshwar looked sharply at Tarak. Jhooleshwar was as stunned as the rest of the assembly by Tarak’s statement. ‘Tarak!’ said Jhooleshwar. ‘You go too far. Princess Sati is confined in the guest-house, abiding by the laws of the yagna. She is not present on the yagna platform. Now sit down before I have you whipped.’

  ‘On what charge will you have me whipped, Governor?’ yelled Tarak. ‘Standing up for the law is not a crime in Meluha.’

  ‘But the law has not been broken!’

  ‘Yes it has. The exact words of the law is that no vikarma can be on the same platform while a yagna is being conducted. The yagna is being conducted on the Dwitiya platform of the city. By being on the same platform, the princess defiles the yagna.’

  Tarak was technically correct. Most people interpreted that law to mean that a vikarma could not be on the prayer ceremony platform. However, since Karachapa, like most Meluhan cities, was built on a platform, a strict interpretation of the law would mean that Sati should not be anywhere on the entire Dwitiya platform. To keep the yagna legal, she would either have to move to the other platform of the city or outside the city walls.

  Jhooleshwar was momentarily taken aback as Tarak’s objection was accurate in principle. He tried a rally weakly. ‘Come, come Tarak. You are being too conscientious. I think that is too strict an interpretation. I think...’

  ‘No, Shri Jhooleshwarji,’ reverberated a loud voice through the gathering.

  Everybody turned to see where the sound came from. Sati, who had come out on her balcony, continued. ‘Please accept my apologies for interrupting you, Governor,’ said Sati with a formal namaste. ‘But Tarak’s interpretation of the law is fair. I am terribly sorry to have disturbed the yagna. My entourage and I shall leave the city immediately. We will return by the beginning of the third prahar, by which time the ceremony should be over.’

  Shiva clenched his fist. He frantically wanted to wring Tarak’s neck but he controlled himself with superhuman effort. Within minutes Sati was out of the guest-house, along with Krittika and five personal bodyguards. Shiva turned to look at Nandi and Veerbhadra, both of whom rose to join Sati. They understood that Shiva wanted them to ensure that she was safe outside the city.

  ‘It is disgusting that you did not realise this yourself,’ Tarak said scornfully to Sati. What kind of a princess are you? Don’t you respect the law?’

  Sati looked at Tarak. Her face calm. She refused to be drawn into a debate and waited patiently for her guards to prepare the horses.

  ‘I don’t understand what a vikarma woman is doing travelling with the convoy of the Neelkanth. She is polluting the entire journey,’ raged Tarak.

  ‘Enough!’ intervened Shiva. ‘Princess Sati is leaving with dignity. Stop your diatribe right now.’

  ‘I will not!’ screeched Tarak. What kind of a leader are you? You are challenging Lord Ram’s laws.’

  ‘Tarak!’ yelled Jhooleshwar. ‘The Lord Neelkanth has the right to challenge the law. If you value your life, you will not defy his authority’

  ‘I am a Meluhan,’ shrieked Tarak. ‘It is my right to challenge anyone breaking the law. A dhobi, a mere washerman, challenged Lord Ram. It was his greatness that he acceded to the man’s objection and renounced his wife. I would urge the Neelkanth to learn from Lord Ram’s example and use his brains for making decisions.’

  ‘ENOUGH TARAK!’ erupted Sati.

  The entire congregation was stunned into silence by Tarak’s remark. But not Sati. Something inside her snapped. She had tolerated too many insults for too long. And she had endured them with quiet dignity. But this time, this man had insulted Shiva. Her Shiva, she finally acknowledged to herself.

  ‘I invoke the right of Agnipariksha’ said Sati, back in control.

  The stunned onlookers could not believe their ears. A trial by fire!

  This was getting worse and worse. Under Agnipariksha, an unfairly injured soul could challenge their tormentor to a duel. It was called Agnipariksha as combat would take place within a ring of fire. There was no escape from the ring. The duellists had to keep fighting till one person surrendered or died. An Agnipariksha was extremely rare these days. And for a woman to invoke the right was almost unheard of.

  ‘There is no reason for this, my lady,’ pleaded Jhooleshwar. Just like his subjects, he was terrified that Princess Sati might be killed in his city. For the gargantuan Tarak would certainly slay her. The Emperor’s wrath would be terrible. Turning to Tarak, Jhooleshwar ordered, ‘You will not accept this challenge.’

  ‘And be called a coward?’

  ‘You want to prove your bravery?’ spoke Parvateshwar for the first time. ‘Then fight me. I will act as Sati’s second for the challenge.’

  ‘Only I have the right to appoint a second,pitratulya’ said Sati, reverentially referring to Parvateshwar as being ‘like a father’. Turning to Tarak, she said, ‘I am appointing no second. You will fight with me.’

  ‘You will do no such thing Tarak,’ Brahaspati objected this time.

  ‘Tarak, the only reason you wouldn’t want to fight is if you are afraid of being killed,’ said Shiva.

  Every person turned towards the Neelkanth, shocked by his words. Turning to Sati, Shiva continued, ‘Citizens of Karachapa, I have seen the Princess fight. She can defeat anyone. Even the gods.’

  Sati stared at Shiva, shocked.

  ‘I accept the challenge,’ growled Tarak.

  Sati nodded at Tarak, climbed on her white steed and turned to leave. At the edge of the square, she pulled up her horse and turned to take one more look at Shiva. She smiled at him, turned and rode away.

  It was the beginning of the third prahar as Shiva and Brahaspati stole quietly into the local varjish graha, the exercise hall, to observe Tarak exercising with two partners. The day’s yagna had been a disaster. With everyone petrified that the princess would die the next day, no one was inclined to participate in the ceremony. However, as the yagna had been called, it had to be conducted or the gods would be offended. The congregation went through the motions and the yagna was called to a close.

  Tarak’s famed fearsome blows on his hapless partners filled Brahaspati’s soul with dread and he came to an immediate decision. ‘I’ll assassinate him tonight. She will not die tomorrow’

  Shiva turned in stunned disbelief to the chief scientist. ‘Brahaspati? What are you saying?’

  ‘Sati is too noble to meet a fate such as this. I am willing to sacrifice my life and reputation for her.’

  ‘But you are a Brahmin. You are not supposed to kill.’

  ‘I’ll do it for you,’ whispered Brahaspati, emotions clouding his judgement. You will not lose her, my friend.’

  Shiva came close to Brahaspati and hugged him. ‘Don’t corrupt your soul, my friend. I am not worth such a big sacrifice.’

  Brahaspati clung to Shiva.

  Stepping back, Shiva whispered, ‘In any case, your sacrifice is not required. For as sure as the sun rises in the east, Sati will defeat Tarak tomorrow.’

  A few hours into the third prahar, Sati returned to the guest house. She did not go up to her room, but summoned Nandi and Veerbhadra to the central courtyard, drew her sword and began her practise with them.

  A little later Parvateshwar walked in, looking broken. His expression clearly conveyed his fear that this might be the last time he would talk to Sati. She stopped practising, sheathed her sword and folded her hands into a respectful namaste. ‘Pitratulya,’ she whispered.

  Parvateshwar came close to Sati, his face distraught. She could not be sure but it seeme
d as though he had been crying. She had never seen even a hint of a tear in his confident eyes.

  ‘My child,’ mumbled Parvateshwar.

  ‘I am doing what I think is right,’ said Sati. ‘I am happy’

  Parvateshwar couldn’t find the strength to say anything. For a brief moment, he considered assassinating Tarak at night. But that would be illegal.

  Just then, Shiva and Brahaspati walked in. Shiva noticed Parvateshwar’s face. This was the first time he had seen any sign of weakness in the general. While he could understand Parvateshwar’s predicament, he did not like the effect it was having on Sati.

  ‘I am sorry I am late,’ said Shiva cheerily.

  Everyone turned to look at him.

  ‘Actually, Brahaspati and I had gone to the Lord Varun temple to pray for Tarak,’ said Shiva. We prayed that the journey his soul would take to the other world would be comfortable.’

  Sati burst out laughing. So did the rest of the party in the courtyard.

  ‘Bhadra, you are not the right opponent for the practise,’ said Shiva. ‘You move too fast. Nandi you duel with the princess. And control your agility.’

  Turning to Sati, Shiva continued, ‘I saw Tarak practise. His blows have tremendous power. But the force of the blows slows him down. Turn his strength into his weakness. Use your agility against his movements.’

  Sati nodded, absorbing every word. She resumed her practise with Nandi. Moving rapidly compared to Nandi’s slower movements, Sati was able to succeed in a strike that could be kill.

  Suddenly, an idea struck Shiva. Instructing Nandi to stop, he asked Sati, ‘Are you allowed to choose the combat weapon?’

  Yes. It’s my prerogative as I threw the challenge.’

  ‘Then choose the knife. It will reduce the reach of his strikes while you can move in and out much quicker.’

  ‘That’s brilliant!’ concurred Parvateshwar, while Brahaspati nodded.

  Sati signalled her agreement immediately. Almost at the same instant, Veerbhadra emerged with two knives. Giving one to Nandi, he gave the other to Sati. ‘Practise, my Lady.’

  Sati and Tarak stood at the centre of a circular stadium. This was not the main Rangbhoomi of Karachapa, which was gargantuan in its proportions. This one had been constructed next to the main stadium, for music concerts that the Mesopotamian immigrants in Karachapa loved. The arena was of the exact dimensions required for an agnipariksha. Not so big that a person could simply steer clear of the other contestant and not too small so that the combat would end fast. There were stands around the ground and a capacity crowd of over twenty thousand had come to watch the most important duel in Karachapa for the last five hundred years.

  There was a prayer on every lip. Let Father Manu cause a miracle so that Princess Sati would win. Or at the very least, Eve. Both Tarak and Sati greeted each other with a namaste, repeating an ancient pledge to fight with honour. Then, turning to the statue of Lord Varun at the top of the main stand they bowed, asking for blessings from the God of the Water and the Seas. Jhooleshwar had vacated his ceremonial seat right below the statue of Lord Varun for Shiva. The governor sat to Shiva’s left with Ayurvati and Krittika to his left. Brahaspati and Parvateshwar sat to Shiva’s right. Nandi and Veerbhadra were in their now famiEar position, behind Shiva. A bird courier had been sent to Daksha the previous day, informing him of the duel. However, there wasn’t enough time to expect a reply.

  At long last, Jhooleshwar stood up. He was nervous about the agnipariksha, but appeared composed. As per custom, he raised a balled fist to his heart and boomed: ‘Satya! Dharma! Maan!’ An invocation to Truth. Duty. Honour.

  The rest of the stadium rang in agreement. ‘Satya! Dharma! Maan!’

  Tarak and Sati echoed. ‘Satya! Dharma! Maan!’

  Jhooleshwar nodded to the stadium keeper who lit the ceremonial oil lamp with the holy fire. The lamp spilled its fire on to the oil channel; the periphery of the central ground was aflame. The ring for the pariksha had been set.

  Jhooleshwar turned to Shiva. ‘My Lord, your instructions to start the duel.’

  Shiva looked at Sati with a confident smile. Then turning to the stadium, he declared loudly, ‘In the purifying fire of Lord Agni, truth will always triumph!’

  Tarak and Sati immediately drew their knives. Tarak held his knife in front of him, like most traditional fighters. He had chosen a strategy that played to his strengths. Keeping his knife in front of him allowed him to strike the moment Sati came close. He did not stir too much, allowing Sati to make her moves in front of him.

  Sati, breaking all known rules of combat, held her knife behind her. She shifted the knife continuously from one hand to the other, while keeping a safe distance from her opponent. The aim was to confuse Tarak about the direction of her attack. Tarak on the other hand was watching Sati’s movements like a hawk. He saw her right arm flex. The knife was now in her right hand.

  Suddenly Sati leapt to the left. Tarak remained stationary. He knew that with her right hand holding the knife, the leftward movement was a feint. She would have to move to the right to bring her knife into play. Sure enough, Sati quickly moved to the right and brought in her arm up in a stabbing motion. Tarak was prepared. Shifting his knife quickly to his left arm, he slashed viciously, cutting Sati across her torso. It wasn’t a deep cut, but it appeared to hurt. A collective gasp went out from the audience.

  Sati retreated and rallied. She moved the knife to her back again, transferring it from one hand to the other. Tarak kept a close eye on her arms. The knife was in her left hand. He expected her to move to the right, which she did. He remained immobile, waiting for her to swerve suddenly to her left. She did, swinging her left arm as she moved. Tarak acted before her arm could even come close enough to do any damage. He swung ferociously with his right arm and cut her deep in the left shoulder. Sati retreated rapidly as the congregation moaned in horror. Some shut their eyes. They could not bear to look anymore. Most were praying fervently. If it had to be done, let it be done swiftly and not in a slow painful manner.

  ‘What is she doing?’ whispered a panic-stricken Brahaspati to Shiva. ‘Why is she charging in so recklessly?’

  Shiva turned to look at Brahaspati, also noticing Parvateshwar’s face. Parvateshwar had a surprised, yet admiring grin on his face. Unlike Brahaspati, he knew what was going on. Turning back to look at the duel, Shiva whispered, ‘She’s laying a trap.’

  At the centre, Sati was still transferring the knife between her hands behind her back. She feigned a move from her right to the left, but this time did not transfer the knife. She flexed her left arm, keeping the right arm holding the knife loose and relaxed.

  Tarak was watching Sati closely, confident that he was going to slowly bleed her to death. He believed the knife was in her left hand. He waited for her to move right, then left, which she did in a swift veer. Expecting her left arm to come in, he sliced with his right hand. Sati neatly pirouetted back. Before a surprised Tarak could react, Sati had leapt to her right and brought her right hand in brutally onto Tarak’s chest. The knife pierced Tarak’s lung. The shock of the blow immobilised Tarak. Blood spurted from his mouth. He dropped his knife and staggered back. Sati ruthlessly maintained the pressure and dug the knife in deeper, right up to the hilt.

  Tarak stumbled back and collapsed to the ground, motionless. The entire stadium was stunned. Sati’s face had the expression of the mother goddess in fury. Eighty-five years of repressed anger had surfaced in that instant. She pulled the knife out, slowly twisting it to inflict maximum damage. Blood spewed out from Tarak’s mouth at an alarming rate. She raised the knife with both her hands. All she had to do was bring it down on his heart and Tarak would meet his maker. Then suddenly, her expression became calm again. It was almost as if someone had sucked out all the negative energy inside her. She turned around. Shiva, the destroyer of evil, sat on his throne, staring at her with a slight smile.

  Then she looked at Tarak, and whispered. ‘I forgive you.’


  The stadium erupted in joy. Even if Lord Varun had himself scripted the fight, it wouldn’t have been as perfect. It had everything that the Suryavanshis held dear. Defiant when under pressure, yet magnanimous in victory.

  Sati raised her knife and shouted, ‘Jai Shri Ram!’

  The entire stadium repeated, ‘Jai Shri Ram!’

  Sati turned towards Shiva and roared once again, ‘Jai Shri Ram!’

  ‘Jai...,’ Shiva’s words were clogged by the knot in his throat.

  The Lord won’t mind this time if I don’t complete the cry.

  Shiva glanced away from Sati, lest he show his tears to the woman he loved. Regaining control of himself, he looked back at her with a radiant smile. Sati continued to stare at Shiva. Emotions that had been dormant in her for too long rippled through her being as she saw Shiva’s admiration. When she couldn’t bear it any longer, she shut her eyes.

  CHAPTER 16

  The Sun & Earth

  There was an impromptu celebration that night in Karachapa. Their princess was safe. The insufferable Tarak had been defeated. Many people in Karachapa believed that even his own mother must have loathed the surly preacher. He had few supporters in the liberal city. But there were rules for duels. Hence the moment Sati had forgiven Tarak, paramedics had rushed in to take him to the hospital. Surgeons had laboured for six hours to save his life. To much dismay for the town folk, they had succeeded.

  ‘Have you heard about the poem of the sun and the earth?’ Sati asked Shiva.

  They were standing on the balcony of the governor’s palace while a boisterous party raged inside.

  ‘No,’ said Shiva with a seductive grin, corning a little closer to her. ‘But I’d love to hear it’

  ‘Apparently the earth sometimes thinks of the possibility of coming closer to the sun,’ said Sati. ‘But she can’t do that. She is so base and his brilliance so searing, that she will cause destruction if she draws him closer.’