‘But I am no Mahadev. My deeds till now don’t make me deserve that tide.’
‘It doesn’t work that way, my friend. You don’t earn a tide after you have done your deeds. You do your deeds because of and only after you believe that you already are the Mahadev. It doesn’t matter what others think. It’s about what you believe. Believe you are the Mahadev, and you will be one.’
Shiva frowned.
‘Believe!’ repeated the Pandit.
BOOM! A distant reverberation echoed through the ambience. Shiva turned his eyes towards the horizon.
‘It sounds like an explosion,’ whispered the Pandit’s outline.
The distant, insistent voice of Sati came riding in. ‘S-H-I-V-A...’
BOOM! Another explosion.
‘S-H-I-V-A...’
‘It looks like your wife needs you, my friend.’
Shiva looked in astonishment at the outline of the Pandit, unable to decipher where the sound came from.
‘Maybe you should wake up,’ advised the Pandit’s disembodied voice.
‘S-H-I-V-A’
A groggy Shiva woke up to find Sati staring at him with concern. He was still a little bleary from the outlandishly strange dream state that he had just been yanked out of.
‘Shiva!’
BOOM!
‘What the hell was that?’ cried Shiva, alert now.
‘Someone is using daivi astras!’
‘What? What are daivi astras?’
A clearly stunned Sati spoke agitatedly, ‘Divine weapons! But Lord Rudra destroyed all the daivi astras! Nobody has access to them anymore!’
Shiva was completely alert by now, his battle instincts primed. ‘Sati, get ready. Wear your armour. Bind your weapons.’
Sati responded swiftly. Shiva slipped on his armour, coupled his shield to it and tied his sword to his waist. He slipped on his quiver smoothly and picked up his bow. Noting that Sati was ready, he kicked the door open. Taman and eight other guards had their swords drawn, ready to defend their Neelkanth against any attack.
‘My Lord, you should wait inside,’ said Taman. ‘We will hold the attackers here.’
Shiva stared hard at Taman, his eyes frowning at Taman’s well–intentioned words. Taman immediately stepped aside. ‘I am sorry, my Lord. We will follow you.’
Before Shiva could react, they heard footsteps rushing in their hallway. Shiva immediately drew his sword. He strained his ears to assess the threat.
Four footsteps. Just two men to attack a royal hallway! This didn’t make sense.
One pair of footsteps dragged slightly. The terrorist was clearly a large man using considerable willpower to make his feet move faster than his girth allowed.
‘Stand down, soldiers,’ ordered Shiva suddenly. ‘They are friends.’
Nandi and Veerbhadra emerged around the corner, running hard, with their swords at the ready.
‘Are you alright, my Lord?’ asked Nandi, admirably not out of breath.
‘Yes. We are all safe. Did the two of you face any attacks?’
‘No,’ answered Veerbhadra, frowning. ‘What the hell is going on?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Shiva. ‘But we’re going to find out.’
‘Where’s Krittika?’ asked Sati.
‘Safe in her room,’ answered Veerbhadra. ‘There are five soldiers with her. The room is barred from the inside.’
Sati nodded, before turning to Shiva. ‘What now?’
‘I want to check on the Emperor first. Everybody, files of two. Keep your shields up for cover. Sati at my side. Nandi in the middle. Taman, Veerbhadra, at the rear. Don’t light any torches. We know the way. Our enemies don’t.’
The platoon moved with considerable speed and stealth, mindful of possible surprise attacks from the terrorists. Shiva was troubled by what he had heard. Or rather, what he didn’t. Apart from the repeated explosions, there was absolutely no other sound from the palace. No screams of terror. No sound of panicked footsteps. No clash of steel. Nothing. Either the terrorists had not begun their real attack as yet. Or, Shiva was late and the attack was already over. Shiva frowned as a third alternative occurred to him. Maybe there were no terrorists in the palace itself. Maybe the attack was being mounted from a distance, with the daivi astras that Sati spoke of.
Shiva’s platoon reached Daksha’s chambers to find his guards at the door tense and ready for battle.
‘Where is the Emperor?’ asked Shiva.
‘He is inside, my Lord,’ said the royal guard captain, recognising the Neelkanth’s silhouette immediately. ‘Where are they, my Lord? We’ve been waiting for an attack since the first explosion.’
‘I don’t know, Captain,’ replied Shiva. ‘Stay here and block the doorway. Taman, support the captain here with your men. And remain alert’
Shiva opened the Emperor’s door. ‘Your Highness?’
‘My Lord? Is Sati all right?’ asked Daksha.
‘Yes, she is, your Highness,’ said Shiva, as Sati, Nandi and Veerbhadra followed him into the chamber. ‘And the Queen?’
‘Shaken. But not too scared.’
‘What was that?’
‘I don’t know,’ answered Daksha. ‘I would suggest that you and Sati stay here for now till we know what’s going on.’
‘Perhaps it maybe advisable for you to stay here, your Highness. We cannot risk any harm coming to you. I am going out to help Parvateshwar. If there’s a terrorist attack on, we need all the strength we have.’
‘You don’t have to go, my Lord. This is Devagiri. Our soldiers will slay all the terrorists dim-witted enough to attack our capital.’
Before Shiva could respond, there was a loud insistent knocking on the door.
‘Your Highness? Request permission to enter.’
‘Parvateshwar!’ thought Daksha. ‘Observing protocol even at a time like this!’
‘Come in!’ growled Daksha. As Parvateshwar entered, Daksha let fly. ‘How in Lord Indra’s name can this happen, General? An attack on Devagiri? How dare they?’
‘Your Highness,’ intercepted Shiva. Sati, Nandi and Veerbhadra were in the chambers now. He could not allow Parvateshwar to be insulted in front of them, especially in front of Sati. ‘Let us find out what is going on first.’
‘The attack is not on Devagiri, your Highness,’ glared Parvateshwar, his impatience with his Emperor on edge. ‘My scouts saw massive plumes of smoke coming from the direction of Mount Mandar. I believe it is under attack. I have already given orders for my troops and the station Arishtanemi to be ready. We leave in an hour. I need your approval to depart.’
‘The explosions were in Mandar, Pitratulya?’ asked Sati incredulously. ‘How powerful were they to be heard in Devagiri.’
Parvateshwar looked gloomily at Sati, his silence conveying his deepest fears. He turned towards Daksha. ‘Your Highness?’
Daksha seemed stunned into silence. Or was that a frown on his eyes. Parvateshwar could not be sure in the dim light.
‘Guards, light the torches!’ ordered Parvateshwar. ‘There is no attack on Devagiri!’
As the torches spread their radiance, Parvateshwar repeated, ‘Do I have your permission, my Lord?’
Daksha nodded softly.
Parvateshwar turned to see Shiva looking shocked. ‘What happened, Shiva?’
‘Brahaspati left for Mount Mandar yesterday.’
‘What?’ asked a startled Parvateshwar, who had not noticed the chief scientist’s absence in the celebrations of the previous day. ‘O Lord Agni!’
Shiva turned slowly towards Sati, drawing strength from her presence.
‘I will find him, Shiva,’ consoled Parvateshwar. ‘I am sure he is alive. I will find him.’
‘I’m coming with you,’ said Shiva.
‘And so am I,’ said Sati.
‘What?’ asked Daksha, the light making his agonised expression clear. ‘You both don’t need to go.’
Shiva turned to Daksha, frowning. ‘My apologies, your Highnes
s. But I must go. Brahaspati needs me.’
As Parvateshwar and Shiva turned to leave the royal chambers, Sati bent down to touch her father’s feet. Daksha seemed too dazed to bless her and Sati did not want to remain too far behind her husband. She quickly turned to touch her mother’s feet.
‘Ayushman bhav’ said Veerini.
Sati frowned at the odd blessing — ‘May you live long’. She was going into a battle. She wanted victory, not a long life! But there was little time to argue. Sati turned and raced behind Shiva as Nandi and Veerbhadra followed closely.
CHAPTER 21
Preparation for War
The noise of the explosions stopped within an hour of the first. It wasn’t much later that Shiva, Parvateshwar, Sati, Nandi and Veerbhadra, accompanied by a brigade of one thousand five hundred cavalry, were on their way to Mount Mandar. Brahaspati’s scientists rode with the brigade, sick with worry over their leader’s fate. They rode hard and hoped to cover the day—long distance to the mountain in fewer than eight hours. It was almost at the end of the second prahar, with the sun directly overhead that the brigade turned the last corner of the road where the forest cover cleared to give them their first glimpse of the mountain.
A furious cry arose as they got their first sight of what was the heart of their empire. Mandar had been ruthlessly destroyed. The mountain had a colossal crater at its centre. It was almost as if a giant Asura had struck his massive hands right through the core of the mountain and scooped out its core. The enormous buildings of science were in ruins, their remnants scattered across the plains below. The giant churners at the bottom of mountain were still functioning, their eerie sound making the gruesome picture even more macabre.
‘Brahaspati!’ roared Shiva, as he rode hard, right into the heart of the mountain, where the pathway, miraculously, still stood strong.
‘Wait Shiva,’ called out Parvateshwar. ‘It could be a trap.’
Shiva, unmindful of any danger, continued to gallop up the pathway through the devastated heart of the mountain. The brigade, with Parvateshwar and Sati in the lead, rode fast, trying to keep up with their Neelkanth. They reached the top to be horrified by the sight they saw. Parts of the buildings hung limply on broken foundations, some structures still smouldering. Scorched and unrecognisable body parts, ripped apart by the repeated explosions, were strewn all over. It was impossible to even identify the dead.
Shiva tumbled off his horse, his face devoid of even a ray of hope. Nobody could have survived such a lethal attack. ‘Brahaspati...’
‘How did the terrorists get their hands on the daivi astras?’ asked an agitated Parvateshwar, the fire of vengeance blazing within him.
The soldiers had been ordered to collect all the body parts and cremate them in separate pyres, to help the departed on their onward journey. A manifest was being drawn up of the names of those believed dead. The first name on the list was that of Brahaspati, Chief Scientist of Meluha, Sarayupaari Brahmin, Swan chosen-tribe. The others were mostly Arishtanemi, assigned to the task of protecting Mandar. It was a small consolation that the casualties were minimal since most of the mountain’s residents were in Devagiri for the Neelkanth’s marriage. The list was going to be sent to the great sanyasis in Kashmir, whose powers over the spiritual force were considered second to none. If the sanyasis could be cajoled into reciting prayers for these departed souls, it was hoped that their grisly death in this birth would not mar their subsequent births.
‘It could have also been the Somras, general,’ said Panini, one of Brahaspati’s assistant chief scientists, offering another plausible cause.
Shiva looked up suddenly on hearing Panini’s words.
‘The Somras did this! How?’ asked a disbelieving Sati.
‘The Somras is very unstable during its manufacturing process,’ continued Panini. ‘It is kept stable by using copious quantities of the Saraswati waters. One of our main projects was to determine whether we could stabilise the Somras using less water. Much lesser than at present.’
Shiva remembered Brahaspati talking about this. He leaned over to listen intendly to Panini.
‘It was one of the dream projects of...’ Panini found it hard to complete the statement. The thought that Brahaspati, the greatest scientist of his generation, the father-figure to all the learned men at Mount Mandar, was gone, was too much for Panini to bear. He was too choked to release the intense pain he felt inside. He stopped talking, shut his eyes and hoped the terrible moment would pass. Regaining a semblance of control over himself, he continued, ‘It was one of Brahaspatiji’s dream projects. He had come back to organise the experiment that was to begin today. He didn’t want us to miss the last day of the celebrations. So he came alone.’
Parvateshwar was numb. ‘You mean this could have been an accident.’
‘Yes,’ replied Panini. ‘We all knew the experiment was risky. Maybe that is why Brahaspatiji decided to begin without us.’
The entire room was stunned into silence by this unexpected information. Panini retreated into his private hell. Parvateshwar continued to gaze into the distance, shocked by the turn of events. Sad stared at Shiva, holding his hand, deeply worried about how her husband was taking the death of his friend. And that it may all have been just a senseless mishap!
It was late into the first hour of the fourth prahar. It had been decided that the brigade would set up camp at the bottom of the ruined mountain. They would leave the next day, only after all the ceremonies for the departed had been completed. Two riders had been dispatched to Devagiri with the news about Mandar. Parvateshwar and Sati sat at the edge of the mountain peak, whispering to each other. The drone of Brahmin scientists reciting Sanskrit shlokas at the bottom of the mountain floated up to create an ethereal atmosphere of pathos. Nandi and Veerbhadra stood at attention, a polite distance from Parvateshwar and Sati, looking at their Lord.
Shiva was walking around the ruins of the Mandar buildings, lost in thought. It was tearing him apart that he hadn’t even seen any recognisable part of Brahaspati. Everybody in Mandar had been destroyed beyond recognition. He desperately searched for some sign of his friend. Something he could keep with himself. Something he could cling on to. Something to soothe his tortured soul for the years of mourning he would go through. He walked at a snail’s pace; his eyes combing the ground. They suddenly fell upon an object he recognised only too well.
He slowly bent down to pick it up. It was a bracelet of leather, burnt at the edges, its back-hold destroyed. The heat of the fiery explosions had scarred its brown colour into black at most places. The centre however, with an embroidered design, lay astonishingly unblemished. Shiva brought it close to his eyes.
The crimson hue of the setting sun caused the Aum symbol to glow. At the meeting point of the top and bottom curve of the Aum were two serpent heads. The third curve, surging out to the east, ended in a sharp serpent head, with its fork tongue struck out threateningly.
It was him! He killed Brahaspati!
Shiva swung around, eyes desperately scanning the limbs scattered about, hoping to find the owner of the bracelet or some part of him there. But there was nothing. Shiva screamed silently. A scream audible only to him and Brahaspati’s wounded soul. He clutched the bracelet in his fist till it’s still burning embers burnt into his palms. Clasping it even more firmly, he swore a terrible vengeance. He vowed to bring upon the Naga a death that would scar him for his next seven births. That Naga, and his entire army of vice, would be arinihilated. Piece by bloody piece.
‘Shiva! Shiva!’ The insistent call yanked him back to reality.
Sati was standing in front of him, gently touching his hand. Parvateshwar stood next to her, disturbed. Nandi and Veerbhadra stood to the other side.
‘Let it go, Shiva,’ said Sati.
Shiva continued to stare at her, blank.
‘Let it go, Shiva,’ repeated Sati softly. ‘It’s singeing your hand.’
Shiva opened his palm. Nandi immediately lunged forwar
d to pull the bracelet out. Screaming in surprised agony, Nandi dropped the bracelet as it scalded his hand. How did the Lord hold it for so long?
Shiva immediately bent down and picked up the bracelet. This time carefully. His fingers were holding the less charred edge, the part with the Aum symbol. He turned to Parvateshwar. ‘It was not an accident.’
‘What?’ cried a startled Parvateshwar.
‘Are you sure?’ asked Sati.
Shiva looked towards Sati and raised the bracelet, the serpent Aum clearly in view. Sati let out a gasp of shock. Parvateshwar, Nandi and Veerbhadra immediately closed in to stare intently at the bracelet.
‘Naga...,’ whispered Nandi.
‘The same bastard who attacked Sati in Meru,’ growled Shiva. ‘The same Naga who attacked us on our return from Mandar. The very, bloody, same, son of a bitch.’
‘He will pay for this Shiva,’ said Veerbhadra.
Turning towards Parvateshwar, Shiva said, ‘We ride to Devagiri tonight. We declare war.’
Parvateshwar nodded.
The Meluhan war council sat quietly, observing five minutes of silence in honour of the martyrs of Mandar. General Parvateshwar and his twenty-five brigadiers sat to the right of Emperor Daksha. To Daksha’s left sat the Neelkanth, the administrative Brahmins led by Prime Minister Kanakhala and the governors of the fifteen provinces.
‘The decision of the council is a given,’ said Daksha, beginning the proceedings. ‘The question is when do we attack?’ ‘It will take us at the most a month to be ready to march, your Highness,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘You know that there are no roads between Meluha and Swadweep. Our army would have to travel through dense, impenetrable forests. So even if we begin the march in a month, we will not be in Swadweep before three months from today. So time is of the essence.’
‘Then let the preparations begin.’
Immortals of Meluha Page 26