The Immortals of Meluha
Page 72
‘I don’t think so,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘This war was triggered by their joint attack on Mandar! Why would they not be here?’
‘Shiva, I am sure you’ll figure it out,’ said Sati. ‘Don’t trouble yourself.’
‘Dammit Sati!’ yelled Shiva. ‘I can’t figure it out! That’s why I am worried!’
A startled Sati stepped back. His uncharacteristic vehemence stunned her. He wasn’t like this. Shiva realised what he had done. He immediately reached his bloodied hand out. ‘I’m sorry Sati. It’s just that I…’
The conversation was interrupted as Daksha, accompanied by an aide, raised the curtain and swaggered into the room.
‘My Lord!’ cried Daksha as he hugged Shiva tight.
Shiva flinched. His wounds hurt. Daksha immediately stepped back.
‘I’m so sorry, my Lord,’ said Daksha. Turning to his aide he continued, ‘Why is Ayurvati outside? Bring her in. Let her tend to the Lord’s wounds.’
‘No wait,’ said Shiva to the aide. ‘I had said I didn’t want to be disturbed. There is always time to address the wounds later.’ Shiva turned towards Daksha. ‘Your Highness, I need to speak about something…’
‘My Lord, if you will allow me first,’ said Daksha, as enthusiastic as a little boy who had just been given a long denied sweet. ‘I wanted to thank you for what you have done for me. For Meluha. We have done what even my father couldn’t! This is an absolute victory!’
Shiva and Parvateshwar looked briefly at each other before Daksha garnered their attention again.
‘Emperor Dilipa is being brought here even as we speak,’ said Daksha.
‘What?’ asked Parvateshwar taken aback. ‘But we had sent some of our soldiers to their camp just a little while back. They couldn’t possibly have arrested him so soon.’
‘No Parvateshwar,’ said Daksha. ‘I had sent my personal guards much earlier. We could tell from the viewing platform that the Chandravanshis had already lost by the time the Lord and you began the third charge. That is the benefit of the perspective you get from a distance. I was worried that Dilipa might escape like the coward he is. So I sent off my personal guards to arrest him.’
‘But, your Highness,’ said Parvateshwar, ‘shouldn’t we discuss the terms of surrender before we bring him in? What are we going to offer?’
‘Offer?’ asked Daksha, his eyes twinkling with the euphoria of triumph. ‘Frankly, we don’t really need to offer anything considering how he was routed. He is being brought here as a common criminal. However, we will show him how kind Meluha can be. We will make him such an offer that his next seven generations will be singing our praises!’
Before a surprised Shiva could ask what exactly Daksha had in mind, the crier of the Royal Guard announced the presence of Dilipa outside the tent. Accompanying him was his son, Crown Prince Bhagirath.
‘Just a minute, Kaustav,’ said Daksha, as he went into a tizzy, organising the room exactly as he would like it. He sat down on a chair placed in the centre of the room. Daksha requested Shiva to sit to his right. As Shiva sat, Sati turned to leave the tent. Shiva reached out to hold her hand. She turned, saw his need and walked behind his seat to sit down on a chair there. Parvateshwar sat to the Emperor’s left.
Daksha then called out loudly, ‘Let him in.’
Shiva was anxious to see the face of evil. Despite his misgivings about the absence of the Nagas, he genuinely believed he had fought a righteous war on the right side. Only seeing the defeated face of the evil king of the Chandravanshis would complete the victory.
Dilipa walked in. Shiva straightened up in surprise. Dilipa was nothing like what he expected. He had the appearance of an old man, a sight rare in Meluha due to the Somras. Despite his age, Dilipa had a rakishly handsome bearing. He was of medium height, had dark skin and a slightly muscular build. His clothes were radically different from the sober Meluhan fare. A bright pink dhoti, gleaming violet angvastram and a profusion of gold jewellery adorning most parts of his body, combined to give him the look of a dandy. His face had the crowfeet of a life lived well. A trimmed salt and pepper beard, accompanied by thick white hair under his extravagandy coloured crown, completed the effete look while adding an intellectual air.
‘Where’s the Crown Prince Bhagirath?’ asked Daksha.
‘I have asked him to wait outside since he can be a little hotheaded,’ said Dilipa. He looked only at Daksha, refusing to acknowledge the presence of the others in the room. ‘Don’t you Meluhans have any custom of offering a seat to your guests?’
‘You are not a guest, Emperor Dilipa,’ said Daksha. ‘You are a prisoner.’
‘Yes. Yes. I know. Can’t you get a joke?’ asked Dilipa superciliously. ‘So what is it that you people want this time?’
Daksha stared at Dilipa quizzically.
‘You have already stolen the Yamuna waters a hundred years back,’ continued Dilipa. ‘What else do you want?’
Shiva turned in surprise towards Daksha.
‘We did not steal the Yamuna waters,’ yelled Daksha angrily.
‘They were ours and we took them back!’
‘Yes whatever,’ dismissed Dilipa with a wave of his hand.
‘What are your demands this time?’
Shiva was astonished at how the conversation was going. They had just defeated this evil man. He should be repentant. But here he was, being condescending and self-righteous.
Daksha looked at Dilipa with wide eyes and a kindly smile. ‘I don’t want to take anything. Instead, I want to give you something.’
Dilipa raised his eyebrows warily. ‘Give us something?’
‘Yes, I intend to give you the benefit of our way of life.’
Dilipa continued to stare at Daksha with suspicion.
‘We are going to bring you up to our superior way of life,’ continued Daksha, his eyes marvelling at his own generosity. ‘We are going to reform you.’
Dilipa said with half a snigger, ‘Reform us?’
‘Yes. My general, Parvateshwar, will run your empire from now on as Viceroy of Swadweep. You will continue to be the titular head. Parvateshwar will ensure that your corrupt people are brought in line with the Meluhan way of life. We will live together as brothers now.’
Parvateshwar turned towards Daksha, stunned. He did not expect to be despatched to Swadweep.
Dilipa appeared to have difficulty in controlling his laughter. ‘You actually think your straight-laced men can run Swadweep? My people are mercurial. They are not going to listen to your moralising!’
‘Oh, they will,’ sneered Daksha. ‘They will listen to everything we say. Because you don’t know where the actual voice comes from.’
‘Really? Where does it come from? Do enlighten me.’
Daksha motioned towards Shiva and said, ‘Look who sits with us.’
Dilipa turned to Daksha’s right and asked incredulously, ‘Who’s he? What in Lord Indra’s name is so special about him?’
Shiva squirmed, feeling increasingly uncomfortable.
Daksha spoke a little louder. ‘Look at his throat, Oh king of the Chandravanshis.’
Dilipa looked again with the same arrogance towards Shiva. Despite the dried smattering of blood and gore, the blue throat blazed. Suddenly, Dilipa’s haughty smile disappeared. He looked shocked. He tried to say something, but he was at a loss of words.
‘Shiva, I am sure you’ll figure it out,’ said Sati. ‘Don’t trouble yourself.’
‘Dammit Sati!’ yelled Shiva. ‘I can’t figure it out! That’s why I am worried!’
A startled Sati stepped back. His uncharacteristic vehemence stunned her. He wasn’t like this. Shiva realised what he had done. He immediately reached his bloodied hand out. ‘I’m sorry Sati. It’s just that I…’
The conversation was interrupted as Daksha, accompanied by an aide, raised the curtain and swaggered into the room.
‘My Lord!’ cried Daksha as he hugged Shiva tight.
Shiva flinched. His wounds hurt. Daksha immediately stepped back.
‘I’m so sorry, my Lord,’ said Daksha. Turning to his aide he continued, ‘Why is Ayurvati outside? Bring her in. Let her tend to the Lord’s wounds.’
‘No wait,’ said Shiva to the aide. ‘I had said I didn’t want to be disturbed. There is always time to address the wounds later.’ Shiva turned towards Daksha. ‘Your Highness, I need to speak about something…’
‘My Lord, if you will allow me first,’ said Daksha, as enthusiastic as a little boy who had just been given a long denied sweet. ‘I wanted to thank you for what you have done for me. For Meluha. We have done what even my father couldn’t! This is an absolute victory!’
Shiva and Parvateshwar looked briefly at each other before Daksha garnered their attention again.
‘Emperor Dilipa is being brought here even as we speak,’ said Daksha.
‘What?’ asked Parvateshwar taken aback. ‘But we had sent some of our soldiers to their camp just a little while back. They couldn’t possibly have arrested him so soon.’
‘No Parvateshwar,’ said Daksha. ‘I had sent my personal guards much earlier. We could tell from the viewing platform that the Chandravanshis had already lost by the time the Lord and you began the third charge. That is the benefit of the perspective you get from a distance. I was worried that Dilipa might escape like the coward he is. So I sent off my personal guards to arrest him.’
‘But, your Highness,’ said Parvateshwar, ‘shouldn’t we discuss the terms of surrender before we bring him in? What are we going to offer?’
‘Offer?’ asked Daksha, his eyes twinkling with the euphoria of triumph. ‘Frankly, we don’t really need to offer anything considering how he was routed. He is being brought here as a common criminal. However, we will show him how kind Meluha can be. We will make him such an offer that his next seven generations will be singing our praises!’
Before a surprised Shiva could ask what exactly Daksha had in mind, the crier of the Royal Guard announced the presence of Dilipa outside the tent. Accompanying him was his son, Crown Prince Bhagirath.
‘Just a minute, Kaustav,’ said Daksha, as he went into a tizzy, organising the room exactly as he would like it. He sat down on a chair placed in the centre of the room. Daksha requested Shiva to sit to his right. As Shiva sat, Sati turned to leave the tent. Shiva reached out to hold her hand. She turned, saw his need and walked behind his seat to sit down on a chair there. Parvateshwar sat to the Emperor’s left.
Daksha then called out loudly, ‘Let him in.’
Shiva was anxious to see the face of evil. Despite his misgivings about the absence of the Nagas, he genuinely believed he had fought a righteous war on the right side. Only seeing the defeated face of the evil king of the Chandravanshis would complete the victory.
Dilipa walked in. Shiva straightened up in surprise. Dilipa was nothing like what he expected. He had the appearance of an old man, a sight rare in Meluha due to the Somras. Despite his age, Dilipa had a rakishly handsome bearing. He was of medium height, had dark skin and a slightly muscular build. His clothes were radically different from the sober Meluhan fare. A bright pink dhoti, gleaming violet angvastram and a profusion of gold jewellery adorning most parts of his body, combined to give him the look of a dandy. His face had the crowfeet of a life lived well. A trimmed salt and pepper beard, accompanied by thick white hair under his extravagandy coloured crown, completed the effete look while adding an intellectual air.
‘Where’s the Crown Prince Bhagirath?’ asked Daksha.
‘I have asked him to wait outside since he can be a little hotheaded,’ said Dilipa. He looked only at Daksha, refusing to acknowledge the presence of the others in the room. ‘Don’t you Meluhans have any custom of offering a seat to your guests?’
‘You are not a guest, Emperor Dilipa,’ said Daksha. ‘You are a prisoner.’
‘Yes. Yes. I know. Can’t you get a joke?’ asked Dilipa superciliously. ‘So what is it that you people want this time?’
Daksha stared at Dilipa quizzically.
‘You have already stolen the Yamuna waters a hundred years back,’ continued Dilipa. ‘What else do you want?’
Shiva turned in surprise towards Daksha.
‘We did not steal the Yamuna waters,’ yelled Daksha angrily.
‘They were ours and we took them back!’
‘Yes whatever,’ dismissed Dilipa with a wave of his hand.
‘What are your demands this time?’
Shiva was astonished at how the conversation was going. They had just defeated this evil man. He should be repentant. But here he was, being condescending and self-righteous.
Daksha looked at Dilipa with wide eyes and a kindly smile. ‘I don’t want to take anything. Instead, I want to give you something.’
Dilipa raised his eyebrows warily. ‘Give us something?’
‘Yes, I intend to give you the benefit of our way of life.’
Dilipa continued to stare at Daksha with suspicion.
‘We are going to bring you up to our superior way of life,’ continued Daksha, his eyes marvelling at his own generosity. ‘We are going to reform you.’
Dilipa said with half a snigger, ‘Reform us?’
‘Yes. My general, Parvateshwar, will run your empire from now on as Viceroy of Swadweep. You will continue to be the titular head. Parvateshwar will ensure that your corrupt people are brought in line with the Meluhan way of life. We will live together as brothers now.’
Parvateshwar turned towards Daksha, stunned. He did not expect to be despatched to Swadweep.
Dilipa appeared to have difficulty in controlling his laughter. ‘You actually think your straight-laced men can run Swadweep? My people are mercurial. They are not going to listen to your moralising!’
‘Oh, they will,’ sneered Daksha. ‘They will listen to everything we say. Because you don’t know where the actual voice comes from.’
‘Really? Where does it come from? Do enlighten me.’
Daksha motioned towards Shiva and said, ‘Look who sits with us.’
Dilipa turned to Daksha’s right and asked incredulously, ‘Who’s he? What in Lord Indra’s name is so special about him?’
Shiva squirmed, feeling increasingly uncomfortable.
Daksha spoke a little louder. ‘Look at his throat, Oh king of the Chandravanshis.’
Dilipa looked again with the same arrogance towards Shiva. Despite the dried smattering of blood and gore, the blue throat blazed. Suddenly, Dilipa’s haughty smile disappeared. He looked shocked. He tried to say something, but he was at a loss of words.
