The Secret of the Nagas

by Amish Tripathi

  Sati was about to say something, but kept quiet.

  ‘And who is more misunderstood today than a person with a deformity? Call us Naga. Call us a monster. Throw us to the South of the Narmada, where our presence will not trouble your lily white lives.’

  ‘So what you are saying is that all Nagas are paragons of virtue?’

  ‘We don’t know! And we don’t care! Why should we answer for the Nagas? Just because we were born deformed? Will you answer for any Suryavanshi who breaks the law?’

  Sati kept silent.

  ‘Isn’t it punishment enough that we live alone in this god forsaken palace, with only three servants for company? That the only excitement in our lives is the periodic visits of our brother? How much more do you want to punish us? And will you kindly explain what we are being punished for?’

  The docile personality suddenly seemed to assert herself and Maya abruptly moved back, hiding behind Athithigva.

  Athithigva bent low. ‘Please, Lady Sati. I beg you. Please don’t tell anyone.’

  Sati remained quiet.

  ‘She’s my sister,’ pleaded Athithigva. ‘My father made me swear on his deathbed that I would protect her. I cannot break my pledge.’

  Sati looked at Maya and then at Athithigva. For the first time in her life, she was confronted with the viewpoint of a Naga. And she could see the unfairness that they faced.

  ‘I love her,’ said Athithigva. ‘Please.’

  ‘I promise to keep quiet.’

  ‘Will you swear in the name of Lord Ram, My Lady?’

  Sati frowned. ‘I am a Suryavanshi, Your Highness. We don’t break our promises. And everything that we do is in the name of Lord Ram.’

  As soon as the ships were through the gates, Drapaku ordered the sails up full mast. He directed the other ships to quickly fall into formation.

  They had just gone a short distance when they beheld the mighty Brahmaputra flowing down to marshal with the Ganga, and together form probably one of the largest fresh water bodies in the world.

  ‘By the great Lord Varun,’ said Drapaku in awe, remembering the God of water and seas. ‘That river is almost as big as an ocean!’

  ‘Yes,’ said Divodas proudly.

  Turning to Purvaka, Drapaku said, ‘I wish you could see this, father. I have never seen a river so massive!’

  ‘I can see through your eyes, my son.’

  ‘Brahmaputra is the largest river in India, Brigadier,’ said Divodas. ‘The only one with a masculine name.’

  Drapaku thought about it for a moment. ‘You are right. I never thought of that. Every other river in India has a feminine name. Even the great Ganga that we sail on.’

  ‘Yes. We believe the Brahmaputra and Ganga are the father and mother of the Branga.’

  Purvaka started. ‘Of course! That must be the source of the names of your main river and your kingdom. The Brahmaputra and Ganga conjugate to create Branga!’

  ‘Interesting point, father,’ said Drapaku. He then turned to Divodas. ‘Is that true?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The ships set sail, down the Branga river, to the capital city of the kingdom, Brangaridai, literally, the heart of Branga.

  Parvateshwar was standing alone at the stern, watching the lead boat. The system that Anandmayi had suggested, of tying a line from the lead boat to the central boat, was being followed. The General still marvelled at the brilliant simplicity of this idea.

  ‘General.’

  Parvateshwar turned around to find Anandmayi standing behind him. Due to the cold, she had wrapped a long angvastram around her.

  ‘Your Highness,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Anandmayi with a slight smile. ‘I have soft feet.’

  Parvateshwar nodded, about to say something, but he hesitated.

  ‘What is it, General?’

  ‘Your Highness,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘I meant no insult when I asked you to duel with me. In Meluha, it is a form of fellowship.’

  ‘Fellowship! You make our relationship sound so boring, General.’

  Parvateshwar kept silent.

  ‘Well, if you have called me a friend,’ said Anandmayi, ‘perhaps you can answer a question.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Why did you take the vow of lifelong celibacy?’

  ‘That is a long story, Your Highness.’

  ‘I have all the time in the world to hear you.’

  ‘More than two hundred and fifty years ago, noblemen in Meluha voted for a change in Lord Ram’s laws.’

  ‘What is wrong with that? I thought Lord Ram had said his laws can be changed for the purpose of justice.’

  ‘Yes, he did. But this particular change did not serve justice. You know about our Maika system of child management, right?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Anandmayi. How a mother could be expected to surrender her child without any hope of seeing him ever again was something she did not understand. But she didn’t want to get into an argument with Parvateshwar. ‘So what change was made in it?’

  ‘The Maika system was relaxed so that the children of nobility would not be surrendered into the common pool. They would continue to be tracked separately and returned to their birth parents when they turned sixteen.’

  ‘What about the children of common people?’

  ‘They were not a part of this relaxation.’

  ‘That’s not fair.’

  ‘That’s exactly what my grandfather, Lord Satyadhwaj, thought. Nothing wrong with the relaxation itself. But one of Lord Ram’s unchangeable rules was that the law should apply equally to everyone. You cannot have separate sets of rules for the nobility and the masses. That is wrong.’

  ‘I agree. But didn’t your grandfather oppose this change?’

  ‘He did. But he was the only one opposing it. So the change still went through.’

  ‘That is sad.’

  ‘To protest against this corruption of Lord Ram’s way, my grandfather vowed that neither he nor any of his adopted Maika descendants would ever have birth children.’

  Anandmayi wondered who gave Lord Satyadhwaj the right to make a decision for all his descendants in perpetuity! But she didn’t say anything.

  Parvateshwar, chest puffed up in pride, said, ‘And I honour that vow to this day.’

  Anandmayi sighed and turned towards the riverbank, watching the dense forest. Parvateshwar too turned to look at the Branga river, heavily laden with silt, flowing sluggishly on.

  ‘It’s strange how life works,’ said Anandmayi, without turning towards Parvateshwar. ‘A good man rebelled against an injustice in a foreign land more than two hundred and fifty years ago. Today, that very rebellion is causing me injustice...’

  Parvateshwar turned to glance at Anandmayi. He stared hard at her beautiful face, a soft smile on his lips. Then he shook his head and turned back towards the river.

  Chapter 12

  The Heart of Branga

  The Branga river carried too much water and silt to remain whole for long. It rapidly broke up into multiple distributaries, which spread their bounty across the land of Branga before disgorging themselves into the Eastern Sea, creating what was probably the largest river delta on earth. It was rumoured that the land was so fertile with the flood-delivered silt and so bountiful in water that the farmers did not have to labour for their crops. All they had to do was fling the seeds and the rich soil did the rest!

  Brangaridai lay on the main distributary of the Branga river, the Padma.

  Shiva’s fleet closed in on Brangaridai a little over two weeks after crossing the gates of Branga. They had sailed through lands that were prosperous and wealthy. But there was an air of death, of pathos, which hung heavy.

  The walls of Brangaridai spread over an area of a thousand hectares, almost the size of Devagiri. While the city of Devagiri had been built on three platforms, Brangaridai spread itself on naturally higher ground, around a kilometre inland from t
he Padma, as a safeguard against floods. Surrounded by high walls, the capital stayed true to the Chandravanshi disdain for any long term planning. The roads were laid out in a haphazard manner and not in the grid form of the Meluhan cities. But the streets were still broad and tree-lined. Vast quantities of Branga wealth ensured that their buildings were superbly built and maintained, while their temples were lofty and grand. A large number of public monuments had been constructed over the centuries: stadia for performances, halls for celebrations, exquisite gardens and public baths. Despite their superb condition, these public buildings were rarely used. The repeated bouts of the plague ensured that the Brangas saw death every day. There was very little zest left for life.

  The river port off the city had multiple levels to allow for the vastly varying depth of the Padma at different times of the year. At this time of the year, the peak of winter, the Padma was at its medium flow. Shiva and his entourage disembarked on the fifth level of the port. Shiva saw Parvateshwar, Drapaku, Purvaka and Divodas waiting for him on the comfortable concourse at this port level.

  ‘It’s a massive port, Purvaka ji,’ said Shiva.

  ‘I can sense it, My Lord,’ smiled Purvaka. ‘I think these Brangas may probably have the capability to be as efficient as the Meluhans.’

  ‘I don’t think they care about efficiency, father,’ said Drapaku. ‘I sense that the bigger challenge for them is to simply stay alive.’

  Just then a short, rotund Branga man, wearing an impossibly large array of gold jewellery, came rushing down the steps. He saw Parvateshwar and went down on his knees, bringing his head down to his feet. ‘My Lord, you have come! You have come! We are saved!’

  Parvateshwar bent down to pick up the man sternly. ‘I am not the Neelkanth.’

  The Branga man looked up, confused.

  Parvateshwar pointed towards Shiva. ‘Bow down to the true Lord.’

  The man rushed towards Shiva’s feet. ‘My apologies, My Lord. Please don’t punish Branga for my terrible mistake.’

  ‘Get up, my friend,’ smiled Shiva. ‘How could you recognise me when you had never seen me before?’

  The Branga stood up, tears flooding his eyes. ‘Such humility, despite so much power. It could only be you, the great Mahadev.’

  ‘Don’t embarrass me. What is your name?’

  ‘I am Bappiraj, Prime Minister of Branga, My Lord. We have set up the welcoming party for you at ground level, where King Chandraketu awaits.’

  ‘Please take me to your king.’

  Bappiraj proudly climbed the last step to the ground level, followed by Shiva. Bhagirath, Parvateshwar, Anandmayi, Ayurvati, Divodas, Drapaku, Purvaka, Nandi and Veerbhadra followed.

  As soon as Shiva ascended, loud conch shells were blown by a posse of pandits. A large herd of elephants, decked in fine gold ornaments, standing a little further away, trumpeted loud enough to startle Purvaka. The splendidly-carved stone pavilion at the ground level had been sheathed in gold plates to honour the Mahadev. It seemed as though almost the entire population — 400,000 citizens — of Brangaridai had gathered to receive the Neelkanth. At the head was the poignant figure of King Chandraketu.

  He was a man of medium height, with a bronzed complexion, high cheekbones and doe-eyes. King Chandraketu’s black hair was long like most Indians and had been neatly oiled and curled. He didn’t have the muscular physique one expected of a Kshatriya. His lanky frame was clothed in a simple cream dhoti and angvastram. Despite ruling a kingdom with legendary hordes of gold and fabulous wealth, Chandraketu did not have a smidgeon of gold on his body. His eyes had the look of a defeated man, struggling against fate.

  Chandraketu went down on his knees, his head touching the ground and his hands spread forward, as did every other Branga present.

  ‘Ayushman bhav, Your Highness,’ said Shiva, blessing King Chandraketu with a long life.

  Chandraketu looked up, still on his knees, his hands folded in a namaste, copious tears rolling down his eyes. ‘I know I will live long now, My Lord. And so will every Branga. For you have come!’

  ‘We must stop this senseless war,’ said Vasuki, looking around the Naga Rajya Sabha. Many heads nodded in agreement. He was the descendant of one of the celebrated kings of the Nagas in the past. His lineage earned him respect.

  ‘But the war is over,’ said the Queen. ‘Mount Mandar has been destroyed. The secret is with us.’

  ‘Then why are we sending the medicine to the Brangas?’ asked Nishad. ‘We don’t need them anymore. Helping them only gives reasons to our enemies to keep hostilities alive.’

  ‘Is that how Nagas will work from now on?’ asked the Queen. ‘Abandoning a friend when not needed?’

  Suparna, whose face seemed to resemble that of a bird, spoke up. ‘I agree with the Queen. The Brangas were and are our allies. They are the only ones who supported us. We must help them.’

  ‘But we are Nagas,’ said Astik. ‘We have been punished for the sins of our previous births. We must accept our fate and live out our lives in penance. And we should advice the same to the Brangas.’

  The Queen bit her lip. Karkotak looked at her intensely. He knew his Queen hated this defeatist attitude. But he also knew what Astik said was the majority opinion.

  ‘I agree,’ said Iravat, before looking at Suparna. ‘And I wouldn’t expect the people of Garuda to understand that. They are hungry for war all the time.’

  That comment hurt. The people of Garuda, or Nagas with the face of birds, had been the enemies of the rest of the Nagas for long. They used to live in the fabled city of Nagapur, far to the east of Panchavati, but still within the Dandak forest. The great Lord of the People had brokered peace many years back and Suparna, their present leader, had joined the Rajya Sabha as a trusted aide of the Queen. Her people now lived in Panchavati.

  The Queen spoke firmly. ‘That is uncalled for, Lord Iravat. Please don’t forget Lady Suparna has brought the people of Garuda into the joint Naga family. We are all siblings now. Anyone who insults Lady Suparna shall incur my wrath.’

  Iravat immediately backtracked. The Queen’s anger was legendary.

  Karkotak looked around with concern. Iravat had withdrawn but the discussion was going nowhere. Would they be able to continue sending the medicines to the Brangas as the Queen had promised? He looked at the Lord of the People, who rose to speak.

  ‘Lords and Ladies of the Sabha, please excuse me for the impertinence of speaking amongst you.’

  Everybody turned to the Lord of the People. While he was the youngest member of the Rajya Sabha, he was also the most respected.

  ‘We are looking at this the wrong way. This is not about the war or our allies. This is about being true to the principles of Bhoomidevi.’

  Everybody frowned. Bhoomidevi, a mysterious non-Naga lady who had come from the North in the ancient past and established the present way of life of the Nagas, was respected and honoured as a goddess. To question Bhoomidevi’s principles was sacrilegious.

  ‘One of her clear guidelines was that a Naga must repay in turn for everything that he receives. This is the only way to clear our karma of sins.’

  Most Rajya Sabha members frowned. They didn’t understand where the Lord of the People was going with this. The Queen, Karkotak and Suparna, however, smiled softly.

  ‘I would encourage you to look inside your pouches and see how many gold coins in there have the stamp of King Chandraketu. At least three quarters of the gold in our kingdom has come from Branga. They have sent it as allied support. But let us recognise it for what it really is: Advance payment for the medicine.’

  The Queen smiled at her nephew. It was his idea to tell King Chandraketu not to send plain gold ingots but coins bearing his stamp, to remind the Nagas of what they received from the Brangas.

  ‘By my simple calculations, we have received enough gold to supply medicines for the next thirty years. If we are to honour Bhoomidevi’s principles, I say we have no choice but to keep supplying the medicines to t
hem.’

  The Rajya Sabha had no choice. How could they question Bhoomidevi’s guidelines?

  The motion was passed.

  ‘My Lord, how do we stop the plague?’ asked Chandraketu.

  Shiva, Chandraketu, Bhagirath, Parvateshwar, Divodas and Bappiraj were in the king’s private chambers in the Brangaridai palace.

  ‘The route will be through the Nagas, Your Highness,’ said Shiva. ‘I believe they are the cause of the troubles of India. And, your plague. I know that you know where they live. I need to find them.’

  Chandraketu stiffened, his melancholic eyes shutting for a bit. He then turned to Bappiraj. ‘Please excuse us for a little while, Prime Minister.’

  Bappiraj tried to argue. ‘But, Your Highness...’

  The King narrowed his eyes and continued to stare at his Prime Minister. Bappiraj immediately left the chambers.

  Chandraketu went to a side wall, took off a ring from his forefinger and pressed it into an indentation. A small box sprang out of the wall with a soft click. The king picked up a parchment from it and walked back towards Shiva.

  ‘My Lord,’ said Chandraketu. ‘This is a letter I received from the Queen of the Nagas just a few days back.’

  Shiva scowled softly.

  ‘I beg you to hear it with an open mind, My Lord,’ said Chandraketu, before lifting the parchment and reading aloud. ‘My friend Chandraketu. My apologies for the delay in the delivery of this year’s supply of the medicines. The troubles with my Rajya Sabha continue. But whatever the situation, the medicines will be delivered soon. That is my word. Also, I have been informed that a charlatan claiming to be the Neelkanth is coming to your kingdom. I believe he wants to find a way to our land. All that he has to offer you are promises. What you get from us is our medicine. What do you think will keep your people alive? Choose wisely.’

  Chandraketu looked up at Shiva. ‘It has the seal of the Naga Queen.’