The Immortals of Meluha
Page 73
‘Yes, oh corrupt Chandravanshi,’ scoffed Daksha, moving his hands for dramatic effect. ‘We have the Neelkanth.’
Dilipa’s eyes had the dazed look of a child who had just discovered that the hand that brutally knifed his back belonged to his beloved father. Shiva’s heart was disturbed with increased apprehension. This was not the way this meeting was supposed to occur.
Daksha continued his hectoring. ‘The Neelkanth has sworn to destroy the evil Chandravanshi way of life. You HAVE to listen.’
A bewildered Dilipa stared at Shiva for what seemed like an eternity. At long last, he recovered enough to softly whisper, ‘Whatever you say.’
Before Daksha could bluster further, Dilipa turned and staggered towards the tent curtain. At the exit, he turned around to look at Shiva once again. Shiva swore that he could see a few tears in those proud, haughty eyes.
As soon as Dilipa left the tent, Daksha got up and hugged Shiva, lightly, so as to not hurt the Neelkanth. ‘My Lord, did you see the look on his face. It was precious!’
Turning towards Parvateshwar, he continued, ‘Parvateshwar, Dilipa is broken. You will have no trouble controlling the Swadweepans and bringing them around to our way of life. We will go down in history as the men who found a permanent solution to this problem!’
Shiva wasn’t paying attention. His troubled heart desperately searched for answers. How could a struggle that appeared so righteous, just a few hours back, now suddenly appear wrong? He turned towards Sati, forlorn. She gently touched his shoulder.
‘What are you thinking, my Lord?’ asked Daksha, intruding into Shiva’s troubled thoughts.
Shiva just shook his head.
‘I just asked if you would like to travel in Dilipa’s carriage to Ayodhya?’ asked Daksha. ‘You deserve the honour, my Lord. You have led us to this glorious day’
This conversation did not appear important to Shiva at this point. He did not have the energy to think of an answer. He just nodded in an absentminded manner.
‘Wonderful. I’ll make all the arrangements,’ said Daksha. Turning towards his aide, he continued, ‘Send Ayurvati in to immediately dress the Lord’s wounds. We need to leave by tomorrow morning to make sure that we have control over Ayodhya, before chaos reigns in the aftermath of Dilipa’s defeat.’
With a namaste towards Shiva, Daksha turned to leave. ‘Parvateshwar, aren’t you coming?’
Parvateshwar gazed at Shiva, his face creased with concern.
‘Parvateshwar?’ repeated Daksha.
Taking a quick look at Sati, Parvateshwar turned to leave. Sati moved forward, holding Shiva’s face gently. Shiva’s eyes seemed to droop with the heavy weight of tiredness. Ayurvati lifted the curtain carefully. ‘How are you, my Lord?’
Shiva looked up, his eyes half shut. He was descending into a strange sleep. He yelled suddenly, ‘Nandi!’
Nandi came rushing in.
‘Nandi, can you find me a cravat?’
‘Cravat, my Lord?’ asked Nandi.
‘Yes.’
‘Umm. But why, my Lord?’
‘BECAUSE I NEED IT!’ shouted Shiva.
Nandi, shocked at the violence of his Lord’s reply, hurried out. Sati and Ayurvati looked at Shiva in surprise. Before they could say anything, he suddenly collapsed. Unconscious.
He was running hard, the menacing forest closing in on him. He was desperate to get beyond the trees before they laid their ravenous claws on him. Suddenly, a loud insistent cry pierced through the silence.
‘Help! Please help!’
He stopped. No. He wouldn’t run away this time. He would fight that monster. He was the Mahadev. It was his duty. Shiva turned around slowly, his sword drawn, his shield held high.
‘Jai Shri Ram!’ he yelled, as he raced back to the clearing. The bushy thorns slashed his legs. Bleeding and terrified, he ran hard.
I will reach her in time.
I will not fail her again.
My blood will wash away my sin.
He sprang through the last clump of shrubs, letting the thorns cut greedily at his flesh, and leapt into the clearing. His shield held defensively, his sword gripped low to retaliate. But nobody attacked. It was a strange laughter that finally broke his concentration. He lowered his shield. Slowly.
‘Oh Lord!’ he shrieked in agony.
The woman lay stricken on the ground, a short sword buried into her heart. The little boy stood on her side. Stunned. His hand bloodied with the struggle of his kill. The hairy monster sat on the rocky ledge, pointing at the little boy. Laughing.
‘NO!’ screamed Shiva, as he jerked himself awake.
‘What happened, Shiva?’ asked a worried Sati, darting to hold his hand.
Shiva looked around the room, startled. A worried Parvateshwar and Ayurvati got up too. ‘My Lord?’
‘Shiva, it’s alright. It’s alright,’ whispered Sati, gently running her hand along Shiva’s face.
‘You were poisoned, my Lord,’ said Ayurvati. ‘We think that some of the Chandravanshi soldiers may have had poisoned weapons. It has affected many others as well.’
Shiva slowly regained his composure. He got off his bed. Sati tried to help him up, but he insisted on doing it himself. His throat felt excruciatingly parched. He stumbled over to the ewer, followed closely by Sati. He reached over and gulped down some water.
‘It seems like I have been asleep for many hours,’ said Shiva, finally noticing the lamps and dark sky beyond.
‘Yes,’ said a worried Ayurvati. ‘Close to thirty-six hours.’
‘Thirty-six hours!’ cried a surprised Shiva, before collapsing on to a comfortable chair. He noticed a forbidding figure sitting at the back, his right eye covered in a bandage, his amputated left hand in a sling. ‘Drapaku?’
‘Yes, my Lord,’ said Drapaku, as he tried to get up and salute.
‘My God, Drapaku! It’s so good to see you. Please sit down!’
‘It is heavenly to see you, my Lord,’
‘How was your end of the battle?’
‘I lost too many men, my Lord. Almost half of them. And this arm and eye,’ whispered Drapaku. ‘But by your grace, we held them till the main battle was won.’
‘It wasn’t my grace, my friend. It was your bravery,’ said Shiva. ‘I am proud of you.’
‘Thank you, my Lord.’
Sati stood next to her husband, gently caressing his hair. ‘Are you sure you want to sit, Shiva? You can lie down for a while.’
‘I have slouched around enough, Sati,’ said Shiva with a weak smile.
Ayurvati smiled. ‘Well, the poison certainly didn’t affect your sense of humour, my Lord.’
‘Really? Is it still that bad?’ grinned Shiva.
Parvateshwar, Drapaku and Ayurvati laughed weakly. Sati didn’t. She was watching Shiva intently. He was trying too hard. He was trying to forget, trying to get others to focus on something other than himself. Was this dream much worse than the others?
‘Where is his Highness?’ asked Shiva.
‘Father left for Ayodhya this morning,’ said Sati.
‘My Lord,’ said Parvateshwar, ‘His Highness felt it would not be right to keep Swadweep without a sovereign for so long, considering the circumstances. He felt it important that the Suryavanshi army be marched across the empire immediately, with Emperor Dilipa as prisoner, so that the Swadweepans know and accept the new dispensation.’
Dilipa’s eyes had the dazed look of a child who had just discovered that the hand that brutally knifed his back belonged to his beloved father. Shiva’s heart was disturbed with increased apprehension. This was not the way this meeting was supposed to occur.
Daksha continued his hectoring. ‘The Neelkanth has sworn to destroy the evil Chandravanshi way of life. You HAVE to listen.’
A bewildered Dilipa stared at Shiva for what seemed like an eternity. At long last, he recovered enough to softly whisper, ‘Whatever you say.’
Before Daksha could bluster further, Dilipa turned and staggered towards the tent curtain. At the exit, he turned around to look at Shiva once again. Shiva swore that he could see a few tears in those proud, haughty eyes.
As soon as Dilipa left the tent, Daksha got up and hugged Shiva, lightly, so as to not hurt the Neelkanth. ‘My Lord, did you see the look on his face. It was precious!’
Turning towards Parvateshwar, he continued, ‘Parvateshwar, Dilipa is broken. You will have no trouble controlling the Swadweepans and bringing them around to our way of life. We will go down in history as the men who found a permanent solution to this problem!’
Shiva wasn’t paying attention. His troubled heart desperately searched for answers. How could a struggle that appeared so righteous, just a few hours back, now suddenly appear wrong? He turned towards Sati, forlorn. She gently touched his shoulder.
‘What are you thinking, my Lord?’ asked Daksha, intruding into Shiva’s troubled thoughts.
Shiva just shook his head.
‘I just asked if you would like to travel in Dilipa’s carriage to Ayodhya?’ asked Daksha. ‘You deserve the honour, my Lord. You have led us to this glorious day’
This conversation did not appear important to Shiva at this point. He did not have the energy to think of an answer. He just nodded in an absentminded manner.
‘Wonderful. I’ll make all the arrangements,’ said Daksha. Turning towards his aide, he continued, ‘Send Ayurvati in to immediately dress the Lord’s wounds. We need to leave by tomorrow morning to make sure that we have control over Ayodhya, before chaos reigns in the aftermath of Dilipa’s defeat.’
With a namaste towards Shiva, Daksha turned to leave. ‘Parvateshwar, aren’t you coming?’
Parvateshwar gazed at Shiva, his face creased with concern.
‘Parvateshwar?’ repeated Daksha.
Taking a quick look at Sati, Parvateshwar turned to leave. Sati moved forward, holding Shiva’s face gently. Shiva’s eyes seemed to droop with the heavy weight of tiredness. Ayurvati lifted the curtain carefully. ‘How are you, my Lord?’
Shiva looked up, his eyes half shut. He was descending into a strange sleep. He yelled suddenly, ‘Nandi!’
Nandi came rushing in.
‘Nandi, can you find me a cravat?’
‘Cravat, my Lord?’ asked Nandi.
‘Yes.’
‘Umm. But why, my Lord?’
‘BECAUSE I NEED IT!’ shouted Shiva.
Nandi, shocked at the violence of his Lord’s reply, hurried out. Sati and Ayurvati looked at Shiva in surprise. Before they could say anything, he suddenly collapsed. Unconscious.
He was running hard, the menacing forest closing in on him. He was desperate to get beyond the trees before they laid their ravenous claws on him. Suddenly, a loud insistent cry pierced through the silence.
‘Help! Please help!’
He stopped. No. He wouldn’t run away this time. He would fight that monster. He was the Mahadev. It was his duty. Shiva turned around slowly, his sword drawn, his shield held high.
‘Jai Shri Ram!’ he yelled, as he raced back to the clearing. The bushy thorns slashed his legs. Bleeding and terrified, he ran hard.
I will reach her in time.
I will not fail her again.
My blood will wash away my sin.
He sprang through the last clump of shrubs, letting the thorns cut greedily at his flesh, and leapt into the clearing. His shield held defensively, his sword gripped low to retaliate. But nobody attacked. It was a strange laughter that finally broke his concentration. He lowered his shield. Slowly.
‘Oh Lord!’ he shrieked in agony.
The woman lay stricken on the ground, a short sword buried into her heart. The little boy stood on her side. Stunned. His hand bloodied with the struggle of his kill. The hairy monster sat on the rocky ledge, pointing at the little boy. Laughing.
‘NO!’ screamed Shiva, as he jerked himself awake.
‘What happened, Shiva?’ asked a worried Sati, darting to hold his hand.
Shiva looked around the room, startled. A worried Parvateshwar and Ayurvati got up too. ‘My Lord?’
‘Shiva, it’s alright. It’s alright,’ whispered Sati, gently running her hand along Shiva’s face.
‘You were poisoned, my Lord,’ said Ayurvati. ‘We think that some of the Chandravanshi soldiers may have had poisoned weapons. It has affected many others as well.’
Shiva slowly regained his composure. He got off his bed. Sati tried to help him up, but he insisted on doing it himself. His throat felt excruciatingly parched. He stumbled over to the ewer, followed closely by Sati. He reached over and gulped down some water.
‘It seems like I have been asleep for many hours,’ said Shiva, finally noticing the lamps and dark sky beyond.
‘Yes,’ said a worried Ayurvati. ‘Close to thirty-six hours.’
‘Thirty-six hours!’ cried a surprised Shiva, before collapsing on to a comfortable chair. He noticed a forbidding figure sitting at the back, his right eye covered in a bandage, his amputated left hand in a sling. ‘Drapaku?’
‘Yes, my Lord,’ said Drapaku, as he tried to get up and salute.
‘My God, Drapaku! It’s so good to see you. Please sit down!’
‘It is heavenly to see you, my Lord,’
‘How was your end of the battle?’
‘I lost too many men, my Lord. Almost half of them. And this arm and eye,’ whispered Drapaku. ‘But by your grace, we held them till the main battle was won.’
‘It wasn’t my grace, my friend. It was your bravery,’ said Shiva. ‘I am proud of you.’
‘Thank you, my Lord.’
Sati stood next to her husband, gently caressing his hair. ‘Are you sure you want to sit, Shiva? You can lie down for a while.’
‘I have slouched around enough, Sati,’ said Shiva with a weak smile.
Ayurvati smiled. ‘Well, the poison certainly didn’t affect your sense of humour, my Lord.’
‘Really? Is it still that bad?’ grinned Shiva.
Parvateshwar, Drapaku and Ayurvati laughed weakly. Sati didn’t. She was watching Shiva intently. He was trying too hard. He was trying to forget, trying to get others to focus on something other than himself. Was this dream much worse than the others?
‘Where is his Highness?’ asked Shiva.
‘Father left for Ayodhya this morning,’ said Sati.
‘My Lord,’ said Parvateshwar, ‘His Highness felt it would not be right to keep Swadweep without a sovereign for so long, considering the circumstances. He felt it important that the Suryavanshi army be marched across the empire immediately, with Emperor Dilipa as prisoner, so that the Swadweepans know and accept the new dispensation.’
