Rajiv Menon -- ThunderGod

by Rajiv G rtf txt Menon

  The Master picked up the dead warrior like one would a sleeping child and started to walk away. He stopped for a moment and looked down to where the blood of Ugra and Vrtra had formed a puddle at his feet. The Master allowed himself a sigh; the blood of two great warriors, the last of their respective kind, had merged to stain the earth red.

  In a cave on the southern slopes of Mount Kailash, the Master worked tirelessly as he prepared Ugra for his final rest. He cleaned the body and removed the viscera. He then filled the cavity with a mixture of herbs and rock salt. Every care was taken to ensure that the funeral was befitting that of a Gond chief. He then placed the body in a squatting position with its head facing south. After a prayer, the Master sealed the entrance of the cave.

  As he left the tomb of Ugra, the Master had a smile on his face. He looked out to the south and saw the Gond warrior's soul make its way across the plains of Terai where Ugra's forefathers had roamed, over the vast expanse of the dark forests of the Dandaka, past the Vaitarnya, the river of the dead, till it finally came to rest on a giant tree that stood alone on a knoll. This was the tree of souls. This was where it would lie in wait until the land was in need of another great warrior.

  ***

  Manu watched as the six Rishis began preparations for the yajna. Each of them had gone separately into the forest and gathered wood that they energised with their mantras. The six then proceeded to arrange the wood in a pre-determined symmetrical order, all the while continuing to chant their mantras. Once the wood had been arranged in the fire pit, Manu lit the fire. The chanting continued as the Rishis took turns to pour ghee into the fire, causing it to burn brightly and emit a thick white smoke.

  Meanwhile, Vashishta led the Devas into the valley that housed the settlement of Manu and his Brahmanas. They reached a stream and Vashishta was dismayed to see that Brahmana women had gathered on the other side to bathe. The Devas began to gawk at the beautiful women, their eyes filled with desire.

  Indra saw a woman emerge out of the water. Her amber skin shone through wet white robes that left no part of her stunning body to the imagination. Her face was lovely, with perfect features framed by a thick mane of raven hair, and big dark eyes that were now firmly fixed on Indra. His throat went dry as he drank in her beauty; he tried to speak but could only manage a hoarse whisper to Vashishta.

  'Who is she?'

  The young Rishi made no attempt to hide his displeasure at the Deva king's behaviour.

  'Look away, my lord. That is Ahalya; she is betrothed to the Rishi Gautama.'

  Indra had no desire to antagonise Vashishta. He held Ahalya's gaze for a moment longer and then turned away. The Rishi pointed to a thick plume of white smoke in the clear blue sky.

  'That is where we must go.'

  Manu was pleased as he watched Vashishta arrive with Indra and his Devas. As always the Rishi's timing was perfect. The smoke from the yajna had created a halo in the sky above them. Manu scooped up some ghee and threw it into the flames as he began the final rites of the ritual. He began to chant the last of the mantras in a deep voice. The other six voices accompanied him. Every face was turned to the sky in rapt attention.

  In the middle of the halo of smoke, the skies seemed to part, creating a portal into another dimension. A beam of light that threatened to dwarf the sun with its brilliance emerged from it. The beam started to make its way towards Vashishta and the group of Devas who stood still, hypnotised by the spectacle. The intonation of the mantras made the air around them vibrate like a drum.

  Manu and his Brahmanas watched with bated breath. As the beam fell on the Devas and Vashishta, they were lifted up into the sky through the halo of smoke and then disappeared from view.

  The watching men were astounded; they could not believe what they had just witnessed. A young boy who had assisted Manu with the ritual voiced the thought that was going through every member of the audience.

  'Where did they go?'

  Manu spoke without taking his eyes off the sky.

  'They are in Swarga. It is from there that Indra will rule the world of men.'

  The Rishis, who had never attempted a yajna of this magnitude before, were amazed with its results. They sang Manu's praises, admiring their Master's wisdom and resourcefulness. Only Pulastya still remained sceptical. He bowed to Manu and requested that he be permitted to leave the settlement to continue his tapas.

  It was with mixed feelings that Manu gave the young Rishi permission. Pulastya had been his favourite pupil. Unlike some of his colleagues, he had shown no interest in marriage and children after becoming a Rishi. He was single-minded in his devotion to the pursuit of knowledge. But lately, it had come to the Master's notice that his pupil had been voicing some radical thoughts. Vashishta had informed him that Pulastya, during his penance, had come under the influence of a dark sorcerer who roamed these mountains. This being was worshipped as a god by some of the tribes of the Dandaka and some of his teachings were in direct conflict with the Laws of Manu.

  The Lawgiver was sad to see him go, but he was in the process of building the greatest civilisation in the world. The Rishis and the Devas were an integral part of that plan, and he would tolerate no dissent from either.

  He glanced up and saw that the sky was clear again; the portal that they had opened to Swarga had now shut. His thoughts went to Vashishta. The Rishi had an important part to play in his plans. He said a quick prayer for his success and dismissed the rest of the gathering.

  ***

  As the Devas emerged from the bright tunnel of light through which they seemed to have journeyed, they looked at each other in awe. Their weapons had disappeared. Their bodies had healed completely, scars vanished and severed limbs regenerated. In their minds, they felt nothing but complete bliss.

  Indra looked at the land around them. It was not at all unlike the valley they had just left behind. Yet he felt so completely different. He felt no hunger or thirst. Not even the yearning for soma, something that had been his constant companion ever since he had tasted the brew for the first time.

  'What have they done to us?' He looked around at his men, reading their thoughts.

  'Embrace the change in yourselves, for you'll are men no more. This is Swarga, the land of the gods. Your land now, oh Devas.'

  It was Vashishta's voice they heard in their heads.

  'You will find that it is not necessary to speak here. You can communicate with thought. Now come, let me escort you to your palace.'

  The Devas set off behind Vashishta. As they moved forward, the Devas realised that their feet did not touch the ground-- they seemed to glide through the air a few inches above it. They passed groups of people running across the grasslands of green and gold, indulging in playful banter and childhood games. They paid no attention to the passersby. Vashishta explained.

  'These are the righteous souls who have completed their karmic obligations and attained moksha.'

  They moved on and reached a city unlike any they had ever seen before. There were no high walls or gates for protection. Even the exquisitely built homes did not have any doors on them, only open entrances and windows. Beautiful music could be heard everywhere.

  They passed all manner of strange creatures: the Yakshas, short, stocky beings who wore hooded robes that covered them from head to toe. They were the builders and craftsmen of Swarga. There were also Gandharvas, musicians and artistes who were half-men half-goat; and the Kinnaras, warriors who were half-men half-horse. They all acknowledged the Devas by raising their tools, harps and weapons in salute.

  Vashishta continued with his narration.

  'This is Amravathi, the most beautiful city in all the worlds, and these are demi-gods, the inhabitants of this land and now your loyal subjects. They are the only beings other than Rishis that can travel between earth and Swarga at will.'

  As Indra studied them carefully, he noticed something.

  'Their weapons--their swords have no edge to them, their arrows are blunt.'

&
nbsp; 'Their weapons are ceremonial, my king. There is no place here for emotions like anger, jealousy and hatred, hence no need for weapons or wars.'

  Indra was stunned when he heard Vashishta's words.

  'No wars! Then what are we doing here? We are warriors; the way of the sword is the only way we know. All these powers I and my companions acquired--how will they serve us here?'

  Vashishta tried to pacify the king.

  'You will have little use for them here, I'm afraid.'

  Indra could not believe what he was hearing.

  'My men are the greatest warriors to walk the face of this earth. Are you telling me that they must while away the rest of their lives in idle pursuits of pleasure?'

  Vashishta looked towards Indra's companions. Enthralled by Amravathi's ethereal beauty, they were paying no attention to the conversation.

  'No, my lord! In time your services as warriors will be called upon to aid the Arya kings in battle, but for now we need you and your Devas for a delicate and far more important task.'

  The Rishi paused for a moment and chose his words carefully.

  'You and your men will be called upon to lie with the brightest and most beautiful Brahmana women to breed the Arya nobility. You will be the progenitors of the Kshatriyas, the absolute warriors. It is with the help of these Kshatriyas that we will spread the Aryan civilisation across the far reaches of the earth.'

  Indra voice was lowered to a gasp at the outrageousness of Manu's plans.

  'Are you trying to tell me that Manu will decide when Indra and his Devas will walk on earth again?'

  Vashishta tactfully evaded the question.

  'Once you have tasted the pleasures of Swarga, it is unlikely any of you will ever want to visit earth again. Look, my lord, we have arrived at our destination, your palace.'

  Indra and his companions found themselves in front of the most magnificent building they had ever seen. It was made of white marble with domes of glittering gold; its walls were inlaid with precious gemstones of various sizes and hues unlike any they had ever seen before. The temples and palaces of Susa and Harappa paled in comparison to this marvellous edifice.

  At the entrance to the great palace of Amravathi, a gigantic white elephant greeted the Devas. It was twice the size of the biggest war elephant they had encountered in their battle against the Harappans. Its tusks were bigger than the length of a man. The creature got down on its front knees and raised its trunk high in the air in a gesture of submission. Vashishta made the introduction.

  'This, my lord, is Airavat, the guardian of Amravathi, and your personal vehicle.'

  The mammoth beast stepped aside and let them pass. As they made their way through the grand doors of the palace, Indra was glad to see a familiar face greet them.

  'Travistr! It is good to see you again, old friend.'

  Travistr bowed, his manner was stiff and a bit formal.

  'I no longer use that name, my lord. I gave it up along with my earlier profession.'

  Indra was not sure he understood. The man he knew as Travistr explained.

  'The Vajra was the last weapon I ever made. I no longer manufacture any instruments of war. I am now called Vishwakarma. I am an architect and a builder and this palace is my gift to you. Now come, let me introduce you to your court.'

  ***

  As Indra and his Devas followed Vishwakarma into the magnificent courtroom of the palace, Vashishta deliberately hung back and allowed the master builder to take the lead. Music began to echo through the hall as they entered. At the far end was a magnificent gold and jade throne. But before they could get there, they had to walk the gauntlet through a throng of dancing Apsaras.

  Although the Devas had grown up on ballads about these celestial nymphs, they realised now that the words of the bards had failed to capture the true essence of their beauty. The Apsaras were now dancing suggestively around them. The magnificent contours of their bodies were draped in sheer silk, leaving very little to the imagination. With eyes that were filled with promises of forbidden pleasures, they took the Devas by the hand and led them into the dance. Vashishta watched these rough warriors abandon all reserve and prance about with the nymphs to the divine music.

  As the song reached a crescendo, Indra watched the nymphs lead some of his men into little antechambers located on the sides of the great hall. Just then he heard a husky voice in his ear.

  'Come, my lord, let me remove the weariness of travel from your body.'

  He turned to look into the eyes of Urvashi, the queen of the Apsaras. She was draped in white silk, which drew attention to her marvellous body that was the colour of burnished gold. Her dark hair and soft brown eyes were fixed on him. Her full lips, coloured a bright red, were twisted in an enigmatic smile. She was impossibly beautiful, and for one brief moment Indra lost all reason and like a child allowed her to lead him into one of the antechambers.

  When they were alone, she fell into his arms, her mouth hungrily reaching for his. As Indra tasted her sweet lips, he felt light-headed. He wanted to lose himself in her arms forever. However, he used every ounce of self-control in his possession to push her away. Her eyes hardened and one of her perfect eyebrows went up in surprise. This was not something she was used to. Then she smiled and bowed slightly.

  'I am at your service, my lord. I will be right here if you need me.'

  Indra threw himself on the comfortable bed and closed his eyes, enjoying the few brief moments of solitude. His mind was racing as he processed all the information he had got from Vashishta. He could not believe how he had handed the reins of his destiny into the hands of Manu and his Rishis. He and the Devas were now in a prison, albeit a gilded one.

  He racked his brains for a way out of this predicament, but there was none forthcoming. He had led his men into a honey trap from which there did not seem to be a way out. There is always a way, he told himself determinedly. Manu had weaved a masterful plan, but he had made one elementary error in his judgment of Indra. He had assumed the Deva king was a savage barbarian filled with lust, and hoped that the pleasures of this magic land would dull his senses and make him toe the line. The Lawgiver had insulted the Deva king's intelligence and thrown him a challenge.

  There was only one way Indra knew how to respond to a challenge: to stand up and fight. If the Rishis had found a way to move in and out of Swarga undeterred, so would he. Manu was going to be in for a surprise. He heard the sound of soft footfalls as Urvashi entered with two other nymphs.

  'Your presence is required in court, Your Majesty.'

  She and her companions led Indra to a warm bath filled with rose petals. They washed his body and gently massaged his limbs. Then, decked in a robe of purple silk, his body adorned with jewels, they led him back into the hall to the throne. Standing by were Manu and six Rishis. Pulastya had stayed away.

  As he walked to the throne, Indra noticed Manu's gaze on him. He realised that the Lawgiver was trying to read his mind. Indra used a technique that Mitra had taught him to empty his mind of all thought. It was something that Mitra had impressed upon him to master. Indra had never felt any use for it until now. He walked up to the throne and took his seat. Cheers went up in the hall.

  Manu waited for the applause to subside before he approached. In his hands he bore a glittering golden crown studded with gems, befitting the king of the gods. As he scanned Indra's mind, he found himself hitting a blank wall. A furrow appeared on his brow. This level of mind control was an art that took even an adept like him several years to master. It was not something he'd expected from Indra. Was there more to this barbarian than met the eye? Manu dispensed the thought from his mind as he placed the crown on the Deva king's head. The Rishis took up the chant.

  'Hail Indra! God of Thunder! Sovereign lord of Amravathi! Liberator of the clouds and waters! Bringer of rain! Slayer of Vrtra! King of all gods and men!'

  The chant began to echo through the hall. Indra was calm as he watched the glee on the faces of his companions. I
t had been a long while since he had seen them this happy. Manu made a sign for the dancing and revelry to continue.

  Indra did not participate in the festivities. He sat on his throne and watched his jailors, an inscrutable expression on his face, as Manu and his Rishis bowed low to him and walked out of the hall. He would wait, bide his time and gather his strength.

  If the Lawgiver thought that he would be able to hold the Deva king in this gilded cage and use him like one of his breeding bulls, he was in for a surprise. Indra would not rest till he washed his bloodied weapons in the waters of the southern ocean and completed his conquest of the land. The world of men had not seen the last of the one they would know and fear as the Thundergod.

  Epilogue

  As the blizzard abated, the frozen Himalayan plateau had an eerie stillness to it. The storm had raged on for months and now as far as the eye could see, a thick blanket of snow covered the ground. In the middle of the plateau stood a mound of ice, breaking the monotony of the bleak, flat landscape. Although the storm had subsided, thick clouds still hung over the sky like a pall of gloom.

  The wind began to pick up. It brushed the fresh powdery snow off the mound revealing the top of a block of ice in the shape of a pyramid. Within the confines of the icy block stood a man, his arms raised and hands joined in prayer. His face was tilted up to the heavens as he stood on one leg in the yogic tree pose.

  It was the man once known as Mitra, unrecognisable, however, in his current state of existence. The rigours of his penance had caused his body to completely waste away. His silver hair and beard were matted and hung in thick clumps around what was once a serene, handsome visage. It now resembled a grotesque mask, like the face of a badly preserved mummy. The skin was grey and crinkled like thin parchment. It had split in several places revealing dried up tissue and bits of his skull. Only his eyes were alive. Deep within their sockets they blazed with a manic intensity as he stared up at a fixed point in space.