Sati gave up. She didn’t have the strength. She also knew that Shiva had to find his own peace with her death. And he wouldn’t find that unless he felt he had tried everything possible to save her.
‘I can feel my fever rising,’ said Sati. ‘Please give me the medicines.’
Ayurvati glanced at Sati uncomfortably. All her medical training told her that she shouldn’t do this. She knew that she was just increasing Sati’s suffering by giving her medicines. Sati stared hard at Ayurvati. She couldn’t give up now. Not when Shiva had asked her to hang on.
‘Give me the medicines, Ayurvatiji,’ repeated Sati. ‘I know what I am doing.’
Ayurvati gave Sati the medicines. She gazed into Sati’s eyes, expecting to find some traces of fear or anguish. There were none. Ayurvati smiled gently and walked back to Shiva and Parvateshwar.
‘I know!’ exclaimed Shiva. ‘Why don’t we give her the Somras?’
‘What effect will that have, my Lord?’ asked a surprised Ayurvati. ‘The Somras only works on the oxidants and increases a person’s lifespan. It doesn’t work on injuries.’
‘Look Ayurvati, I don’t think anyone truly understands everything about the Somras. I know you know that. What you don’t know is that the Somras repaired a frostbitten toe that I had lived with all my life. It also repaired my dislocated shoulder.’
‘What!’ said a visibly surprised Parvateshwar. ‘That’s impossible. The Somras does not cure physical disabilities.’
‘It did in my case.’
‘But that could also be because you are special, my Lord,’ said Ayurvati. ‘You are the Neelkanth.’
‘I didn’t drop from the sky, Ayurvati. My body is as human as Sati’s. As human as yours. Let’s just try it!’
Parvateshwar did not need any more convincing. He dashed out to find Vraka sitting on a stool. Vraka immediately rose and saluted his commander.
‘Vraka,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘The temple could still have some Somras powder. It was the main production centre of the area. I want that powder. Now’
‘You will have it in ten minutes, my Lord,’ boomed Vraka as he rushed off with his guards.
‘There is nothing else to do but wait,’ said Ayurvati as Sati fell asleep. The Somras had been administered — a stronger dose than usual. ‘Parvateshwar, you are tired. You need to recover from your wounds. Please go and sleep.’
‘I don’t need sleep,’ said Parvateshwar stubbornly. ‘I am staying on guard with my soldiers at the perimeter. You can’t trust those Chandravanshis. They may launch a counterattack at night.’
A frustrated Ayurvati glared at Parvateshwar, her belief reinforced that the machismo of the Kshatriyas made them impossible patients.
‘Are you going to bed, my Lord?’ asked Ayurvati, turning towards Shiva, hoping that at least he would listen. ‘There is nothing you can do now. We just have to wait. And you need the rest.’
Shiva just shook his head. Wild horses could not drag him away from Sati.
‘We could arrange a bed in this hut,’ continued Ayurvati. ‘You could sleep here if you wish so that you can keep an eye on Sati.’
‘Thank you, but I am not going to sleep,’ said Shiva, briefly looking at Ayurvati before turning towards Sati. ‘I am staying here. You go to sleep. I will call you if there is any change.’
Ayurvati glared at Shiva and then whispered, ‘As you wish, my Lord.’
A tired Ayurvati walked towards her own hut. She needed to get some rest since the next day would be busy. She would have to check the wounds of all the injured to ensure that recovery was proceeding properly. The first twenty-four hours were crucial. Her medical corps had been broken into groups to keep a staggered, all-night vigil for any emergencies.
‘I will be with the soldiers, Shiva,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘Nandi and Veerbhadra are on duty outside along with some of my personal guards.’
Shiva knew what Parvateshwar actually wanted to say.
‘I will call you as soon as there is a change, Parvateshwar,’ said Shiva, looking up at the General.
Parvateshwar smiled weakly and nodded to Shiva. He rushed out before his feelings could cause him any embarrassment.
Parvateshwar sat silently, his soldiers at a respectful distance. They could tell when their Lord wanted to be left alone. Parvateshwar was lost in thoughts of Sati. Why should a person like her be put through so much suffering by the Almighty? He remembered her childhood. The day when he decided that here was a girl he would be proud to have as his goddaughter.
That fateful day, when for the first and only time, he regretted his vow to not have any progeny of his own. Which foolish father would not want a child like Sati?
It was a lazy afternoon more than a hundred years ago. Sati had just returned from the Gurukul at the tender age of sixteen. Full of verve and a passionate belief in Lord Ram’s teachings. Lord Brahmanayak still reigned over the land of Meluha. His son, Prince Daksha, was content being a family man, spending his days with his wife and daughter. He showed absolutely no inclination to master the warrior ways of the Kshatriya. Neither did he show the slightest ambition to succeed his father.
On that day, Daksha had settled down for a family picnic on the banks of the river Saraswati, a short distance from Devagiri. Parvateshwar remembered well his duties as the bodyguard to Daksha then. He sat near the Prince, close enough to protect him, but far enough to give some privacy to the prince and his wife. Sati had wandered off into the forest further in the distance, close to the river so that she was visible.
Suddenly Sati’s cry ripped through the silence. Daksha, Veerini and Parvateshwar looked up startled. They rushed to the edge of the bank to see Sati at the river bend, ferociously battling a pack of wild dogs. She was blocking them to protect a severely injured, fair woman. It could be seen even from the distance that the caste-unmarked woman was a recent immigrant, who did not know that one never approached the banks without a sword to protect oneself from wild animals. She must have been attacked by the pack, which was large enough to bring down even a charging lion.
‘Sati!’ shouted Daksha in alarm.
Drawing his sword, he charged down the river to protect his daughter. Parvateshwar followed Daksha, his sword drawn for batde. Within moments, they had jumped into the fray. Parvateshwar charged aggressively into the pack, easily hacking many with quick strikes. Sati, rejuvenated by the sudden support, fought back the four dogs charging her all at once. Daksha, despite an obvious lack of martial skills, fought ferociously, with the passionately protective spirit that comes only with being a parent. But the animals could sense that Daksha was the weakest amongst their human enemies. Six dogs charged at him at the same time.
Daksha drove his sword forward in a brutal jab at the dog in front of him. A mistake. Even though Daksha felled the dog, his sword was stuck in the dead animal. That was all the opening that the other dogs needed. One charged viciously from the side, seizing Daksha’s right forearm in its jaws. Daksha roared in pain, but held on to his sword as he tried to wrestle his arm free. Another dog bit Daksha’s left leg, yanking some of his flesh out. Seeing his Lord in trouble, Parvateshwar yelled in fury as he swung his sword at the body of the dog clinging to Daksha’s arm, cleanly cutting the beast in half. Parvateshwar pirouetted around in the same smooth motion slashing another dog charging Daksha from the front. Sati moved in to protect Daksha’s left flank as Daksha angrily stabbed the dog clinging to his leg. Seeing their numbers rapidly depleting, the remaining dogs retreated yelping.
‘Daksha!’ sobbed Veerini, as she rushed to hold up her collapsing husband. He was losing blood at an alarming rate from his numerous wounds, especially the leg. The dog must have bitten through a major artery. Parvateshwar quickly blew his distress conch shell. A cry for help reached the scouts at the closest crossing-house. Soldiers and paramedics would be with them in a few minutes. Parvateshwar bound his angvastram tight around Daksha’s thigh to stem the bleeding. Then he quickly helped the injured foreign woman
move closer to the royal party.
‘Father, are you alright?’ whispered Sati as she held her father’s hand.
‘Dammit, Sati!’ shouted Daksha. What do you think you were doing?’
Sati fell silent at the violent response from her doting father.
‘Who asked you to be a hero?’ harangued Daksha, fuming at his daughter. ‘What if something had happened to you? What would I do? Where would I go? And for whom were you risking your life? What difference does the life of that woman make?’
Sati continued to look down, distraught at the scolding. She had been expecting praise. The crossing-house soldiers and paramedics rushed to the scene. With efficient movements, they quickly stemmed the flow of Daksha’s blood. Dressing Parvateshwar’s and Sati’s minor wounds rapidly, they carried Daksha on a stretcher. His wounds needed attention from the royal physician.
As Sati saw her father being carried away, she stayed rooted, deeply guilty at the harm her actions had caused. She was only trying to save a woman in distress. Wasn’t it one of Lord Ram’s primary teachings that it is the duty of the strong to protect the weak? She felt a soft touch on her shoulder. She turned to face Captain Parvateshwar, her father’s severe bodyguard. Strangely though, his face sported a rare smile.
‘I am proud of you, my child,’ whispered Parvateshwar. You are a true follower of Lord Ram.’
Tears suddenly burst in Sati’s eyes. She looked away quickly. Taking time to control herself she looked up with a wan smile at the man she would grow to call Pitratulya. She nodded softly.
Jolted back into the present by a bird call, Parvateshwar scanned the perimeter, his eyes moist at the ancient memory. He clutched his hands in a prayer and whispered, ‘She’s your true follower, Lord Ram. Fight for her.’
Shiva had lost track of time. Obviously, nobody had been assigned to reset the prahar lamps when so many lives were still in danger. Looking out of the window, he could see early signs of dawn. Shiva’s wounds burned, crying for relief. But he wasn’t going to give in. He sat quietly on his chair, next to Sati’s bed, restraining himself from making any noise that would disturb her. Sati held his hand tightly. Despite the searing heat of her feverish body, Shiva did not move his hands away. His palms were sweaty due to the intense heat.
He looked longingly at Sati and softly whispered, ‘Either you stay here or I leave this world with you. The choice is yours.’
He felt a slight twitch. He looked down to see Sati’s hand move slightly, allowing the sweat to slide from between their entwined palms. It was almost impossible to say where the sweat came from.
Is it Sati’s or mine?
Shiva immediately reached out with his other hand towards Sati’s forehead. It was burning even more strongly. But there were soft beads of perspiration on the temple. A burst of elation shot through Shiva’s being.
‘By the great Lord Brahma,’ whispered Ayurvati in awe. ‘I have never seen anything like this.’
She was standing besides Sati’s bed. The still sleeping Sati was sweating profusely, her garments and bed soaked. Parvateshwar stood by her side, his face aglow with hope.
‘The agnibaan fever never breaks,’ continued a stunned Ayurvati. ‘This is a miracle.’
Shiva looked up, his face shimmering with the ecstasy of a soul that had salvaged its reason for existence. ‘May the Holy Lake bless the Somras.’
Parvateshwar noticed Sati’s hand clutched tightly in Shiva’s but he did not comment. The bliss of this moment had finally crowded out his instinctive drive to stop something unacceptable under the laws of the land.
‘My Lord,’ said Ayurvati softly. ‘We must bathe her quickly. The sweat must be removed. However, considering that her wounds cannot get wet, my nurses will have to rub her down.’
Shiva looked up at Ayurvati and nodded, not understanding the implication.
‘Umm, my Lord,’ said Ayurvati. ‘That means you will have to leave the room.’
‘Of course,’ said Shiva.
As he got up to leave, Ayurvati said, ‘My Lord, your hands would need to be washed as well.’
Shiva looked down, noticing Sati’s sweat. He looked up at Ayurvati and nodded, ‘I will do so immediately.’
‘This is a miracle, Sati. Nobody has ever recovered from an agnibaan!’ said Ayurvati, beaming ear to ear. ‘I’ll be honest. I had given up hope. It was the Lord’s faith that has kept you alive.’
Sati was lying on her bed wearing a smile and freshly washed clothes. A new bed had been brought in with freshly laundered and sterilised linen. All traces of the toxic sweat triggered by the Somras had been removed.
‘Oh no,’ said a self-conscious Shiva. ‘I did nothing. It was Sati’s fighting spirit that saved her.’
‘No, Shiva. It was you. Not me,’ said Sati, holding Shiva’s hand without any hint of tentativeness. ‘You have saved me at so many levels. I don’t know how I can even begin to repay you.’
‘By never saying again that you have to repay me.’
Sati smiled even more broadly and held Shiva’s hand tighter. Parvateshwar looked on gloomily at both of them, now unhappy at the open display of their love.
‘All right,’ said Ayurvati, clapping her hands together as if to signal the end of an episode. ‘Much as I would like to sit here and chitchat with all of you, I have work to do.’
‘What work?’ asked Shiva playfully. ‘You are a brilliant doctor. You have an exceptional team. I know that every single injured person has been saved. There is nothing more for you to do.’
‘Oh there is, my Lord,’ said Ayurvati with a smile. ‘I have to put on record how the Somras can cure an agnibaan wound. I will present this at the medical council as soon as I return to Devagiri. This is big news. We must research the curative properties of the Somras. There is a lot of work to do!’
Shiva smiled fondly at Ayurvati.
Sati whispered, ‘Thank you Ayurvatiji. Like thousands of others, I too owe my life to you.’
‘You owe me nothing, Sati. I only did my duty.’
Ayurvati bowed with a formal namaste and left the room.
‘Well, even I...,’ mumbled Parvateshwar awkwardly, as he walked out.
Parvateshwar was surprised to find Ayurvati waiting for him outside. She was standing at a safe distance from the guards. Whatever it was that she wanted to talk about, she did not want the others to hear.
‘What is it, Ayurvati?’ asked Parvateshwar.
‘I know what’s bothering you Parvateshwar,’ said Ayurvati.
‘Then how can you just stand by and watch? I don’t think it is right. I know that this is not the correct time to say anything. But I will raise the issue when appropriate.’
‘No, you shouldn’t’
‘How can you say that?’ asked a shocked Parvateshwar. ‘You come from a rare family which did not have even one renegade Brahmin during the rebellion. Lord Ram insisted that the laws had to be followed strictly. He demonstrated repeatedly that even he wasn’t above the law. Shiva is a good man. I won’t deny that But he cannot be above the law. Nobody can be above the law. Otherwise our society will collapse. You above all should know this.’
‘I know only one thing,’ said Ayurvati, determined. ‘If the Neelkanth feels it is right, then it is right.’
Parvateshwar looked at Ayurvati as if he didn’t recognise her. This could not be the woman he knew and admired, the woman who followed the law without exception. Parvateshwar had begun to respect Shiva. But the respect had not turned into unquestioning faith. He did not believe that Shiva was the one who would complete Lord Ram’s work. In Parvateshwar’s eyes, only Lord Ram deserved absolute obedience. Nobody else.
‘In any case,’ said Ayurvati, ‘I have to leave. I have a theory to think about.’
‘Really?’ asked Shiva. You mean it is not necessary in Meluha that the Emperor’s first-born son succeed him?’
‘Yes,’ replied Sati smiling.
Shiva and Sati had spent many hours over the previous week
talking about matters important and mundane. Sati, while recovering quickly, was still bedridden. The convoy had set up camp at Koonj till such time as the injured were ready to travel. The journey to Lothal had been called off. Shiva and Parvateshwar had decided that it was better to return to Devagiri as soon as the wounded were able to.
Sati shifted slightly to relieve a bit of the soreness in her back. But she did not let go of Shiva’s hand while doing so. Shiva leaned forward and pushed back a strand of hair that had slipped onto Sati’s face. She smiled lovingly at him and continued, ‘You see, till around two hundred and fifty years back, the children of the kings were not his birth-children but were drawn from the Maika system. So there was no question of knowing who the first-born was. We could only know his first-adopted.’
‘Fair point.’
‘But in addition, it was not necessary that the first-adopted child would succeed. This was another one of the laws that Lord Ram instituted for stability and peace. You see, in the olden days there were many royal families, each with their own small kingdoms.’
‘All right,’ said Shiva, paying as much attention to Sati’s words as to the hypnotising dimples that formed on her cheeks when she spoke. ‘These kings would probably be at war all the time, so that one of them could be overlord for however short a period.’
‘Obviously,’ smiled Sati, shaking her head at the foolishness of the kings before Lord Ram’s time.
‘Well, it is the same everywhere,’ said Shiva, remembering the constant warfare in his part of the world.
‘Battles for supremacy between the kings led to many unnecessary and futile wars, where the only ones who suffered were the common people,’ continued Sati. ‘Lord Ram felt it was ridiculous for the people to suffer so that the egos of their kings were fed. He instituted a system where a Rajya Sabha, the ruling council, consisting of all Brahmins and Kshatriyas of a specific rank, was created. Whenever the Emperor died or took sanyas, the council would meet and elect a new Emperor from amongst Kshatriyas of the rank of brigadier or above. The decision could not be contested and was inviolate.’
Immortals of Meluha Page 23