‘Actually, I am considering getting married.’
‘A capital idea!’ said Shiva. ‘Now all you have to do is convince some blind woman to marry you!’
‘Shiva!’ reprimanded Sati gently.
‘Well, I’ve already found a woman,’ said Veerbhadra, before his courage could desert him. ‘And she’s not blind...’
‘Not blind?!’ exclaimed Shiva, his eyebrows humorously arched in wide disbelief. ‘Then she is stupid enough to tie herself for the next seven births to a man who wants someone else to determine his marriage!’
Veerbhadra gazed at Shiva with an odd mixture of embarrassment, contrition and incomprehension.
‘I have told you before, Bhadra,’ said Shiva, ‘There are many customs of our tribe that I don’t like. And one of the primary ones amongst them is that the leader has to approve the bride of any tribesman. Don’t you remember how we made fun of this ridiculous tradition as children?’
Veerbhadra glanced at Shiva and immediately down again, still unsure.
‘For god’s sake man, if you are happy with her, then I am happy for you,’ said an exasperated Shiva. ‘You have my permission.’
Veerbhadra looked up in surprised ecstasy as Nandi nudged him again. Krittika looked at Veerbhadra, as a long held breath escaped with massive relief. She turned to Sati and silently mouthed the words, ‘Thank you.’
Shiva walked towards Krittika and hugged her warmly. A startled Krittika held back for an instant, before the warmth of the Neelkanth conquered her Suryavanshi reserve. She returned the embrace.
‘Welcome to the tribe,’ whispered Shiva. ‘We are quite mad, but at heart we are good people!’
‘But how did you know,’ said Veerbhadra. ‘I never told you that I loved her.’
‘I am not blind, Bhadra,’ smiled Shiva.
‘Thank you,’ said Krittika to Shiva. ‘Thank you for accepting me.’
Shiva stepped back and said, ‘No. Thank you. I was always concerned about Bhadra. He is a good, dependable man, but too simple-minded about women. I was worried about how married life would treat him. But there is no reason to worry anymore.’
‘Well, I too want to tell you something,’ said Krittika. ‘I had never believed in the legend of the Neelkanth. But if you can do to Meluha what you have done to my lady, then you are worthy of even being called the Mahadev!’
‘I don’t want to be called the Mahadev, Krittika. You know I love Meluha as much as I love Sati. I will do all that I possibly can.’ Turning towards Veerbhadra, Shiva ordered, ‘Come here, you stupid oaf!’
Veerbhadra came forward, embraced Shiva affectionately and whispered, ‘Thank you.’
‘Don’t be stupid. There’s no need for a “thank you“!’ said Shiva with a grin.
Veerbhadra smiled broadly.
‘And listen!’ snarled Shiva in mock anger. ‘You are going to answer to your best friend over the next chillum we share on how you dared to love another woman for so long without even speaking to me about it!’
Everybody laughed out loud.
‘Will a good batch of marijuana make up for it?’ asked Veerbhadra, smiling.
‘Well, I’ll think about it!’
‘Doesn’t she look tired?’ asked a concerned Ayurvati, looking at Sati.
Sati had just gotten up from the player platform as she and her mother had been excused for this particular ceremony. This was only for the bridegroom and the father-in-law. The pandits were preparing for the puja, which would take a few moments.
‘Well, it has been six days of almost continuous celebrations and pujas,’ said Kanakhala. ‘Though it is the custom that all this be done for a royal wedding, I can understand her being tired.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say it has anything to do with the six days of pujas,’ said Brahaspati.
‘No?’ asked Kanakhala.
‘No,’ answered Brahaspati, mischievously. ‘I think it has to do with the five nights’
‘What?’ exclaimed Ayurvati, then blushed a deep red as the meaning of Brahaspati’s words dawned on her.
Parvateshwar, who was sitting next to Kanakhala, glared at Brahaspati for the highly improper remark. Brahaspati guffawed as the ladies giggled quietly. An assistant pandit turned around in irritation. But on seeing the seniority of the Brahmins sitting behind him, he immediately swallowed his annoyance and returned to his preparations.
Parvateshwar however had no such compunctions. ‘I can’t believe the kind of conversation I am being forced to endure!’ He rose to walk to the back of the congregation.
This made even Kanakhala and Ayurvati to chortle. One of the senior pandits turned to signal that the ceremony was about to begin, making them fall silent immediately.
The pandits resumed the invocations of the shlokas. Both Shiva and Daksha continued to pour the ceremonial ghee into the sacred fire at regular intervals while saying, ‘Swaha’.
In between two successive swahas, there was enough time for Shiva and Daksha to talk softly to each other. They spoke of Sati. And only Sati. To any neutral observer, it would have been difficult to decide who loved the princess more. The pandit took a momentary break in his recitation of the shlokas, the cue for Shiva and Daksha to pour some more ghee into the sacred fire with a ‘Swaha.’ A little ghee spilled onto Daksha hands. As Shiva immediately pulled the napkin on his side to wipe it off, he noticed the chosen-tribe amulet on Daksha’s arm. He was stunned on seeing the animal there, but had the good sense to not make a comment. Daksha meanwhile had also turned and noticed Shiva’s gaze.
‘It wasn’t my choice. My father chose it for me,’ said Daksha, with a warm smile, while wiping the ghee off his hands. There was not a hint of embarrassment in his voice. If one looked closely though, one could see just a hint of defiance in his eyes.
‘Oh no, your Highness,’ mumbled Shiva, a little mortified. ‘I didn’t mean to look. Please accept my apologies.’
‘Why should you apologise, my Lord?’ asked Daksha. ‘It is my chosen-tribe. It is worn on the arm so that everyone can see it and classify me.’
‘But you are much beyond your chosen-tribe, your Highness,’ said Shiva politely. ‘You are a far greater man than what that amulet symbolises.’
‘Yes,’ smiled Daksha. ‘I really showed the old man, didn’t I? The Neelkanth did not choose to appear in his reign. He came in mine. The terrorists were not defeated in his reign. They were defeated in mine. And the Chandravanshis were not reformed in his reign. They will be reformed in mine.’
Shiva smiled cautiously. Something about the conversation niggled at him. He took one more glance at the amulet on Daksha’s arm. It represented a humble goat, one of the lowest chosen-tribes amongst the Kshatriyas. In fact, some people considered the goat chosen-tribe to be so low that its wearer could not even be called a full Kshatriya. Shiva turned back towards the sacred fire on receiving the verbal cue from the pandit. Scooping some more ghee, he poured it into the fire with a ‘Swaha’.
At nightfall, in the privacy of their chambers, Shiva had considered asking Sati about the relationship between Emperor Brahmanayak and his son, Daksha. But for some reason, his instincts told him that he would have to be careful in how he asks the questions.
‘How was the relationship between Lord Brahmanayak and your father?’
Sati stopped playing with Shiva’s flowing locks. She took a deep breath and whispered, ‘It was strained at times. They were very different characters. But Lord Bhrigu...’
The conversation was interrupted by knocking at the door.
‘What is it?’ growled Shiva.
‘My Lord,’ Taman, the doorkeeper, announced nervously. ‘The Chief Scientist Brahaspatiji has requested an audience with you. He insists that he must meet with you tonight.’
Shiva was always happy to meet Brahaspati. But before answering the doorkeeper, he looked at Sati with a raised eyebrow. Sati smiled and nodded. She knew of the importance that Shiva attached to his relationship with Brahaspati.
&n
bsp; ‘Let Brahaspatiji in, Taman.’
‘Yes, my Lord.’
‘My friend,’ said Brahaspati. ‘My apologies for disturbing you so late.’
‘You never need to apologise to me, my friend,’ answered Shiva.
‘Namaste, Brahaspatiji,’ said Sati, bending to touch the Chief Scientist’s feet.
‘Akhand saubhagyavati bhav,’ said Brahaspati, blessing Sati with the traditional invocation that may her husband always be alive and by her side.
‘Well,’ said Shiva to Brahaspati, ‘what is so important that you had to pull yourself out of bed so late at night?’
‘Actually, I didn’t get the chance to speak to you earlier.’
‘I know,’ said Shiva, smiling towards Sati. ‘Our days have been full with one ceremony after another.’
‘I know,’ said Brahaspati nodding. ‘We Suryavanshis love ceremonies! In any case, I wanted to come and speak with you personally, since I have to leave for Mount Mandar tomorrow morning’
‘What?’ asked a surprised Shiva. ‘You have survived all this for the last six days. Surely you can survive one more?’
‘I know,’ said Brahaspati, crinkling his eyes apologetically. ‘I would have loved to stay but there is an experiment that had already been scheduled. The preparations have been going on for months. The Mesopotamian material required for it has already been prepared. We are going to test the stability of the Somras with lesser quantities of water. I have to go early to check that the experiment starts correctly. My other scientists will remain here to keep you company!’
‘Right,’ said Shiva sarcastically. ‘I really do love their constant theorising about everything under the sun.’
Brahaspati laughed. ‘I really do have to go, Shiva. I am sorry’
‘No need to apologise, my friend,’ said Shiva smiling. ‘Life is long. And the road to Mount Mandar short. You are not going to get rid of me that easily.’
Brahaspati smiled, his eyes full of love towards a man he had come to consider his brother. He stepped forward and hugged Shiva tightly. Shiva was a little surprised. It was usually Shiva who would move to embrace Brahaspati first, and Brahaspati would normally respond later, a little tentatively.
‘My brother,’ whispered Brahaspati.
‘Ditto,’ mumbled Shiva.
Stepping slightly back but still holding Shiva’s arms, Brahaspati said, ‘I would go anywhere for you. Even into Patallok if it would help you.’
‘I would never take you there, my friend,’ answered Shiva with a grin, thinking that he himself wasn’t about to venture into Patallok, the land of the demons.
Brahaspati smiled warmly at Shiva. ‘I hope to see you soon, Shiva.’
‘You can count on it!’
Turning to Sati, Brahaspati said, ‘Take care, my child. It is so good to see you finally get the life you deserve.’
‘Thank you, Brahaspatiji.’
CHAPTER 20
Attack on Mandar
‘How are you, my friend?’
‘What the hell am I doing here?’ asked a starded Shiva.
He found himself sitting in the Brahma temple in Meru. Sitting in front of him was the Pandit whom he had met during his first visit to Meru, many months back.
‘You called me here,’ said the Pandit smiling.
‘But how and when did I get here?’ asked Shiva, astounded.
‘As soon as you went to sleep,’ replied the Pandit. ‘This is a dream.’
‘I’ll be damned!’
‘Why do you swear so much?’ asked the Pandit frowning.
‘I only swear when the occasion demands,’ grinned Shiva. ‘And what’s wrong with swearing?’
‘Well, I think it reflects poor manners. It shows, perhaps, a slight deficiency in character.’
‘On the contrary, I think it shows tremendous character. It shows you have the strength and passion to speak your mind.’
The Pandit guffawed, shaking his head slightiy.
‘In any case,’ continued Shiva. ‘Since you are here, why don’t you tell me what your people are called? I was promised I would be told the next time I met one of you.’
‘But you haven’t met one of us again. This is a dream. I can only tell you what you already know,’ said the Pandit, smiling mysteriously. ‘Or something that already exists in your consciousness that you haven’t chosen to listen to as yet.’
‘So that’s what this is about! You are here to help me find something I already know!’
‘Yes,’ said the Pandit, his smile growing more enigmatic.
‘Well, what is it that we are supposed to talk about?’
‘The colour of that leaf,’ beamed the Pandit, pointing towards the many trees that could be seen from the temple, through its ostentatiously carved pillars.
‘The colour of that leaf?!’
‘Yes.’
Frowning strongly, Shiva sighed, ‘Why, in the name of the Holy Lake, is the colour of that leaf important?’
‘Many times a good conversational journey to find knowledge makes attaining it that much more satisfying,’ said the Pandit. ‘And more importantly, it helps you understand the context of the knowledge much more easily.’
‘Context of the knowledge?’
‘Yes. All knowledge has its context. Unless you know the context, you may not understand the point.’
‘And I’ll know all that by talking about the colour of that leaf?’
‘Yes.’
‘By the Holy Lake, man!’ groaned Shiva. ‘Let’s talk about the leaf then.’
‘All right,’ laughed the Pandit. ‘Tell me. What is the colour of that leaf?’
‘The colour? It’s green.’
‘Is it?’
‘Isn’t it?
‘Why do you think it appears green to you?’
‘Because,’ said Shiva, amused, ‘it is green.’
‘No. That wasn’t what I was trying to ask. You had a conversation with one of Brahaspati’s scientists about how the eyes see. Didn’t you?’
‘Oh that, right,’ said Shiva slapping his forehead. ‘Light falls on an object. And when it reflects back from that object to your eyes, you see that object.’
‘Exactly! And you had another conversation with another scientist about what normal white sunlight is made of.’
‘Yes, I did. White light is nothing but the confluence of seven different colours. That is why the rainbow is made up of seven colours since it is formed when raindrops disperse sunlight.’
‘Correct! Now put these two theories together and answer my question. Why does that leaf appear green to you?’
Shiva frowned as his mind worked the problem out. White sunlight falls on that leaf. The leaf’s physical properties are such that it absorbs the colours violet, indigo, blue, yellow, orange and red. It doesn’t absorb the colour green, which is then reflected back to my eyes. Hence I see the leaf as green.’
‘Exactly!’ beamed the Pandit. ‘So think about the colour of that leaf from the perspective of the leaf itself. What colour it absorbs and what it rejects. Is its colour green? Or is it every single colour in the world, except green?’
Shiva was stunned into silence by the simplicity of the argument being presented to him.
‘There are many realities. There are many versions of what may appear obvious,’ continued the Pandit. ‘Whatever appears as the unshakeable truth, the exact opposite may also be true in another context. It is the context or perspective that you’re looking from that moulds which particular reality you see.’
Shiva turned slowly towards the leaf again. Its lustrous green colour shone through in the glorious sunlight.
‘Are your eyes capable of seeing another reality?’ asked the Pandit.
Shiva continued to stare at the leaf as it gradually altered its appearance. The colour seemed to be dissolving out of the leaf as its bright green hue gradually grew lighter and lighter. It slowly reduced itself to a shade of grey. As a stunned Shiva continued to stare, even the grey s
eemed to dissolve slowly, till the leaf was almost transparent. Only its outline could be discerned. There appeared to be numerous curved lines of two colours, black and white, moving in and out of the outline of the leaf. It almost appeared as if the leaf was nothing but a carrier, which the black and white curved lines used as a temporary stop on their eternal journey.
It took some time for Shiva to realise that the surrounding leaves had also been transformed into their outlines. As his eyes panned, he noticed that the entire tree had magically transformed into an outline, with the black and white curved lines flowing in and out, easily and smoothly. He turned his head to soak in the panorama. Every object, from the squirrels on the trees to the pillars of the temple had all been transformed into outlines of their selves. The same black and white curved lines streamed in and out of them.
Turning to the Pandit to ask for an explanation, he was stunned to see that the priest himself was also transformed into an outline of his former self. White curved lines were flooding out of him with frightening intensity. Strangely though, there were no black lines around him.
‘What the...’
Shiva’s words were stopped by the outline of the Pandit pointing back at him. ‘Look at yourself, my Karmasaafhi,’ advised the Pandit.
Shiva looked down. ‘I’ll be damned!’
His body too had been transformed into an outline, completely transparent inside. Torrents of black curved lines were gushing furiously into him. He looked at the lines closely to notice that that they were not lines at all. They were, in fact, tiny waves which were jet black in colour. The waves were so tiny that from even a slight distance, they appeared like lines. There wasn’t even a hint of the white waves close to Shiva’s outlined body. ‘What the hell is going on?’
‘The white waves are positive energy and the black negative,’ said the Pandit’s outline. ‘They are both important. Their balance crucial. If they fall out of sync, cataclysm will occur.’
Shiva looked up at the Pandit, puzzled. ‘So why is there no positive energy around me? And no negative energy around you?’
‘Because we balance each other. The Vishnu’s role is to transmit positive energy’ said the Pandit. The white lines pouring feverishly out of the Pandit seemed to flutter a bit whenever he spoke. ‘And the Mahadev’s role is to absorb the negative. Search for it. Search for negative energy and you will fulfil your destiny as a Mahadev.’
Immortals of Meluha Page 25