Immortals of Meluha

by Amish Tripathi

  ‘I have said it before and I’ll say it again,’ said Shiva with a broad smile. ‘Lord Ram was a genius.’

  ‘Yes, he was,’ said Sati, enthusiastically. ‘Jai Shri Ram.’

  ‘Jai Shri Ram,’ repeated Shiva. ‘But tell me, how come your father became the Emperor after Lord Brahmanayak. After all, his Highness is the first born of the previous Emperor, correct?’

  ‘He was elected, just like every other Emperor of Meluha. Actually it was the first time in Meluhan history that a ruling emperor’s son was elected Emperor,’ said Sati proudly.

  ‘Hmm. But your grandfather helped your father get elected?’

  ‘I’ve never been sure about that. I know my grandfather would have liked it if my father had become Emperor. But I also know that he was a great man who followed the rules of Meluha and would not openly help his son. Lord Bhrigu, a great sage respected across the land, helped my father a great deal in his election.’

  Shiva smiled at her tenderly running his hand across the side of her face. Sati closed her eyes, exulting in the sensation. His hand glided along the side of her body to rest on her hand again. He squeezed it softly.

  Shiva was about to ask more about the relationship between Daksha and Lord Bhrigu when the door suddenly swung open. Daksha, looking deeply exhausted, stormed in. Following him were Veerini and Kanakhala. Shiva immediately withdrew his hand before Daksha could see where it was. But Daksha had noticed the movement.

  ‘Father!’ cried a surprised Sati.

  ‘Sati, my child,’ sighed Daksha, kneeling next to Sati’s bed. Veerini knelt next to Daksha and ran her hand lovingly over her daughter’s face. She was crying. Kanakhala remained at the door and greeted Shiva with a formal namaste. Shiva returned Kanakhala’s namaste with a beaming smile. Parvateshwar and Ayurvati waited next to Kanakhala, politely leaving the royal family alone in their private moment. Nandi, Veerbhadra and Krittika stood behind them. A discrete aide silently brought in two chairs for the royal couple, placed them next to the bed and left just as quietly.

  Daksha, Veerini and Kanakhala, accompanied by two thousand soldiers, had immediately left Devagiri on hearing the news of Sati’s injury. They had sailed down the Saraswati to the inland delta of the river and then had ridden night and day to reach Koonj.

  ‘I am alright, father,’ said Sati, holding her mother’s hand gently. Turning towards her mother, she continued, ‘Seriously, mother. I am feeling better than ever. Give me one more week and I’ll dance for you!’

  Shiva smiled gently at Sati as Daksha and Veerini broke into a weak laugh.

  Looking at her father, Sati continued, ‘I am sorry to have caused so much trouble. I know there are much more important tasks at hand and you had to rush here.’

  ‘Trouble?’ asked Daksha. ‘My child, you are my life. You are nothing but a source of joy for me. And at this point of time, you can’t imagine how proud I am of you.’

  Veerini bent over and kissed Sati’s forehead tenderly.

  ‘I am proud of all of you,’ continued Daksha looking back at Parvateshwar and Ayurvati. ‘Proud that you supported the Lord in what had to be done. We actually fought back a terrorist attack! You can’t imagine how much this has electrified the nation!’

  Daksha soothingly continued to pat Sati’s hand, as he turned to Shiva and said, ‘Thank you, my Lord. Thank you for fighting for us. We know now that we have put our faith in the right man.’

  Shiva could say nothing but smile awkwardly and acknowledge Daksha’s faith with a slight nod and a courteous namaste.

  Turning to Ayurvati, Daksha asked, ‘How is she now? I was told she is on her way to a total recovery.’

  ‘Yes, your Highness,’ said Ayurvati. ‘She should be able to move in another week. And in three weeks, the only memory of the wound would be a scar.’

  ‘You are not just the best doctor of this generation, Ayurvati,’ said Daksha proudly. You are in fact the best doctor of all time.’

  ‘Oh no, your Highness,’ cried a flabbergasted Ayurvati, holding her ears gently to ward off the evil spirits that might get angry at an undeserved compliment. ‘There are many far greater than me. But in this case, the miracle was by the Lord Neelkanth, not me.’

  Looking briefly towards a visibly embarrassed Shiva before turning back to Daksha, Ayurvati continued, ‘I thought we had lost her. She got the terrible fever after we pulled the agnibaan out. You know that there are no medicines to cure the agnibaan fever, your Highness. But the Lord refused to lose hope. It was his idea to give her the Somras.’

  Daksha turned to Shiva with a grateful smile and said, ‘I have one more thing to thank you for, my Lord. My daughter is part of my soul. I wouldn’t have been able to survive without her.’

  ‘Oh no, I did nothing,’ said Shiva, self-conscious. ‘It was Ayurvati who treated her.’

  ‘It is nothing but your humility speaking, my Lord,’ said Daksha. ‘You truly are a worthy Neelkanth. In fact, you are a worthy Mahadev!’

  An astounded Shiva stared at Daksha, his expression serious. He knew who the previous Mahadev, the God of Gods, was. He did not believe he deserved to be compared to Lord Rudra. His deeds did not qualify him for that.

  ‘No, your Highness. You speak too highly of me. I am no Mahadev.’

  ‘Oh yes you are, my Lord,’ said Kanakhala and Ayurvati almost simultaneously. Parvateshwar looked on, silent.

  Not wanting to press the issue as Shiva disliked being called Mahadev, Daksha turned towards Sati, What I don’t understand is why you jumped in front of the Lord to take the arrow. You have never believed in the legend. You have never had faith in the Neelkanth like I have. Why then did you risk your own life for the Lord?’

  Sati did not say anything. She looked down with an uncomfortable smile, embarrassed and ill-at-ease. Daksha turned to Shiva to see him wearing the very same sheepish expression as Sati’s. Veerini looked at her husband intently. She waited for him to rise and speak to Shiva. Daksha suddenly stood up and walked around the bed towards Shiva, holding his hands in a formal namaste. A surprised Shiva got up and returned Daksha’s namaste formally, with a slight bow of his head.

  ‘My Lord, perhaps for the first time in her life, my daughter is tongue-tied in front of me,’ said Daksha. ‘And I have come to understand you over time. You will always give to others but never ask anything for yourself. Hence I am going to make the first move here.’

  Shiva continued to stare at Daksha, frowning.

  ‘I will not lie to you, my Lord,’ continued Daksha. ‘The laws classify my daughter as a vikarma, because she had given birth to a still-born decades back. It is not that serious a crime. It could have been due to the past life karma of the child’s father. But the law of the land is that both the father and mother be blamed for the tragedy. My darling daughter was put in the category of a vikarma, because of this incident.’

  Shiva looked at Daksha, but his expression was clear that he thought the vikarma law unfair.

  ‘It is believed that vikarma people are carriers of bad fate,’ continued Daksha. ‘Hence if she marries again, she will pass on her bad fate to her husband and possibly her future children.’

  Veerini looked at her husband with inscrutable eyes.

  ‘I know my daughter, my Lord,’ continued Daksha. ‘I have never seen her do anything even remotely wrong. She is a good woman. In my opinion, the law that condemns her is unfair. But I am only the Emperor. I cannot change the law.’

  Parvateshwar glared angrily at Daksha, upset that he served an Emperor who held the law in such low esteem.

  ‘It breaks my heart that I cannot give my daughter the happy life that she deserves,’ sobbed Daksha. ‘That I cannot save her from the humiliation that a good soul like her suffers daily. What I can do, though, is ask you for help.’

  Sati looked at her father with loving eyes.

  ‘You are the Neelkanth,’ continued Daksha. ‘In fact you are more than that. I genuinely believe you are a Mahadev, even though I know yo
u don’t like to be called that. You are above the law. You can change the law if you wish. You can override it if you want.’

  An aghast Parvateshwar glowered at Daksha. How could the Emperor be so dismissive of the law? Then his eyes fell on Shiva. His heart sank further.

  Shiva was staring at Daksha with undisguised delight. He had thought that he would have to convince the Emperor about Sati. But here he was, quite sure that the Emperor was about to offer his daughter’s hand to him.

  ‘If you decide to take my daughter’s hand, my Lord, no power on earth can stop you,’ contended Daksha. ‘The question is: do you want to?’

  All the emotions in the universe surged through Shiva’s being. His face bore an ecstatic smile. He tried to speak but his voice was choked. He bent down, picked up Sati’s hand gently brought it to his lips and kissed it lovingly. He looked up at Daksha and whispered, ‘I will never let go of her. Never.’

  A stunned Sati stared at Shiva. She had dared to love over the last week, but had not dared to hope. And now her wildest dream was coming true. She was going to be his wife.

  An overjoyed Daksha hugged Shiva tightly and softly said, ‘My Lord!’

  Veerini was sobbing uncontrollably. The unfairness done to Sati all her life had been set right. She looked up at Daksha, almost willing to forgive him. Ayurvati and Kanakhala entered the room and congratulated the Emperor, the Queen, Shiva and Sati. Nandi, Krittika and Veerbhadra, who had heard the entire conversation, expressed their joy. Parvateshwar stood rooted near the door, furious at such disregard for Lord Ram’s way.

  Shiva, at long last, regained control of himself. Firmly gripping Sati’s hand, he looked at Daksha, ‘But your Highness, I have a condition.’

  ‘Yes, my Lord.’

  ‘The vikarma law...’

  ‘It doesn’t need to be changed, my Lord,’ said Daksha. ‘If you decide to marry my daughter, then the law cannot stop you.’

  ‘All the same,’ said Shiva. ‘That law must be changed.’

  ‘Of course, it will be my Lord,’ said a beaming Daksha. Turning towards Kanakhala, he continued, ‘Make a proclamation to be signed by the Neelkanth, saying that from now on any noble woman who gives birth to a still-born child will not be classified as vikarma.’

  ‘No, your Highness,’ interrupted Shiva. ‘That is not what I asked. I want the entire vikarma law scrapped. Nobody will be a vikarma from now on. Bad fate can strike anyone. It is ridiculous to blame their past lives for it.’

  Parvateshwar looked at Shiva in surprise. Though he did not like even a comma being changed in any of Lord Ram’s laws, he appreciated that Shiva was remaining true to a fundamental cannon of Lord Ram’s principles — the same law applies to everybody, equally and fairly, without exceptions.

  Daksha however looked at Shiva in shock. This was unexpected. Like all Meluhans, he too was superstitious about the vikarma. His displeasure was not with the vikarma law itself but with his daughter being classified as one. But he quickly recovered and said, ‘Of course, my Lord. The proclamation will state that the entire vikarma law has been scrapped. Once you sign it, it will become law.’

  ‘Thank you, your Highness,’ smiled Shiva.

  ‘My daughter’s happy days are starting again,’ exulted Daksha, turning to Kanakhala. ‘I want a grand ceremony at Devagiri when we return. A wedding the likes of which the world has not seen before. The most magnificent wedding ever. Call in the best organisers in the land. I want no expense spared.’

  Daksha turned to look at Shiva for affirmation. Shiva looked at Sati to admire her joyous smile and glorious dimples. Turning towards Daksha, he said, ‘All I want, your Highness, is to get married to Sati. I wouldn’t mind the simplest ceremony in the world or the most magnificent. As long as all of you, Brahaspati and the Gunas are present, I will be happy’

  ‘Excellent!’ rejoiced Daksha.

  CHAPTER 19

  Love Realised

  There was an air of celebration in Devagiri when the royal caravan arrived three weeks later. Kanakhala, who had arrived in Devagiri earlier, ensured that all the preparations for the most-eagerly awaited wedding in a millennium had been accomplished. Her arrangements, as always, had been impeccable.

  The various wedding ceremonies and celebrations had been spread over seven days, each day with an exuberant variety of events. By the usually sober Suryavanshi standards, the city had been decorated extravagantly. Colourful banners hung proudly from the city walls, splashing festive beauty on the sober grey exteriors. The roads had been freshly tiled in the sacred blue colour. All the restaurants and shops served their customers free of charge for the seven days of revelry, subsidised at state expense. All the buildings had been freshly painted at government cost to make Devagiri appear like a city that had settled the previous day.

  A massive channel had been rapidly dug along the far side of the Saraswati where a part of the river had been diverted. The channel was in the open in some parts and went underground in others. Filters injected a red dye into the water as soon as it entered the channel and removed it just as efficiently when the water flowed back into the river. The channel formed a giant Swastika, an ancient symbol which literally translates to ‘that which is associated with well-being’ or very simply, a lucky charm. From any of the three city platforms, a Meluhan could look in reverence at the enormous impression of the revered Swastika in the royal red Suryavanshi colour formed by the flow of the holy Saraswati. Some of the protective giant spikes around the entry drawbridges of the three platforms had been cleared. In their stead, giant rangolis, visible from miles away, had been drawn to welcome all into the capital. Kanakhala had wanted to clear all the spikes surrounding Devagiri, but Parvateshwar had vetoed it, citing security reasons.

  Elite families from across the empire had been invited to attend the festivities. People of distinction ranging from governors to scientists, generals to artists and even sanyasis had trooped into Devagiri to celebrate the momentous occasion. Ambassadors of eminent countries, such as Mesopotamia and Egypt, had been given permits for a rare visit to the capital of Meluha. Jhooleshwar had cannily used the distinctive honour granted to ambassadors to wrangle some additional trade quotas. Brahaspati had come down from Mount Mandar with his retinue. Only a skeletal security staff of Arishtanemi soldiers had been left behind at the mountain. It was the first time in history that seven days would elapse at Mount Mandar without any experiments!

  The first day had two pujas organised in the name of Lord Indra and Lord Agni. They were the main gods for the people of India and their blessings were sought before any event. And an event as momentous as the wedding of the millennium could only begin with their sanction. This particular puja, however, celebrated their warrior form. Daksha eloquently explained the reason. The Meluhans were not just celebrating the marriage between the Neelkanth and their princess. They were also celebrating the massive defeat of the despised terrorists at Koonj. According to him, the echoes of Koonj would reverberate deep in the heart of Swadweep. The Suryavanshi vengeance had begun!

  This puja was followed by the formal marriage ceremonies of Shiva and Sati. Though some of the celebrations were still on, Shiva excused himself and tugged Sati along with him.

  ‘By the Holy Lake!’ exclaimed Shiva, shutting the door to their private chamber behind him. ‘This is only the first day! Is every day going to be as long?’

  ‘It doesn’t seem to make a difference to you! You walked out when you pretty well pleased!’ teased Sati.

  ‘I don’t care about those damn ceremonies!’ growled Shiva, ripping his ceremonial turban off and flinging it aside. He stared at Sati fervently, slowly moving towards her, his breathing heavy.

  ‘Oh yes of course,’ mocked Sati, with a playfully theatrical expression. ‘The Neelkanth gets to decide what is important and what is not. The Neelkanth can do anything he wants.’

  ‘Oh yes he can!’

  Sati laughed mischievously and ran to the other side of the bed. Shiva dashed
towards her from the opposite side hurling his angvastram off in one smooth motion.

  ‘Oh yes he can...’

  ‘Remember what I told you to say,’ whispered Nandi to Veerbhadra. ‘Don’t worry. The Lord will give his permission.’

  ‘What...’ whispered a groggy Shiva as he was woken up gently by Sati.

  ‘Wake up, Shiva,’ whispered Sati tenderly, her hair falling over his face, teasing his cheeks. ‘Careful now,’ murmured Sati softly, as Shiva looked at her longingly. ‘Nandi, Krittika and Veerbhadra are waiting at the door. They have something important to tell you.’

  ‘Hmmm?’ growled Shiva, as he walked towards the door and glared at the trio. ‘What is it Nandi? Isn’t there someone beautiful in your life that you would like to bother at this hour instead of troubling me?’

  ‘There’s nobody like you, my Lord,’ said Nandi, with a low bow and a chaste namaste.

  ‘Nandi, you better stop this nonsense or you are going to remain a bachelor all your life!’ joked Shiva.

  As everybody laughed out loud, Krittika remained anxious about the task at hand.

  ‘Well, what did you want to talk about?’ asked Shiva.

  Nandi nudged Veerbhadra roughly. Shiva turned to Veerbhadra with a quizzical look.

  ‘Bhadra, since when do you need the support of so many people to speak to me?’ asked Shiva.

  ‘Shiva...’ murmured Veerbhadra nervously.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘It’s like this...’

  ‘It’s like what?’

  ‘Well, you see...’

  ‘I am seeing Bhadra.’

  ‘Shiva, please don’t make him more nervous than he is,’ said Sati. Looking towards Veerbhadra, she continued, ‘Veerbhadra, speak fearlessly. You haven’t done anything wrong.’

  ‘Shiva,’ whispered Veerbhadra timidly, his cheeks the colour of beetroot. ‘I need your permission.’

  ‘Permission granted,’ said Shiva, amused by now. ‘Whatever it is that you want it for.’