The Oath of the Vayuputras
Page 107
A panic-stricken Gopal rushed towards Shiva. He knew that Shiva hadn’t eaten in twenty-four hours. He hadn’t slept. He had been sitting on top of an inhumanly cold tower. Grief had practically unhinged him. He knew the Neelkanth wasn’t himself. ‘My friend... Listen to me. Don’t make a decision like this in haste.’
Shiva looked at Gopal, his face frozen.
‘I know you are angry, Neelkanth. But don’t do this. I know your good heart. You will repent it.’
Shiva turned around to walk back into the conference building. Gopal reached out and held Shiva’s arm, trying to pull him back.
‘Shiva,’ pleaded Gopal, ‘you’ve given your word to the Vayuputras. You’ve given your word to your uncle, Lord Mithra.’
Shiva gripped Gopal’s hand tightly and removed it from his arm.
‘Shiva, the power of this weapon is terrible and unpredictable,’ pleaded Gopal, grasping at any argument to stop this tragedy. ‘Even if the Pashupatiastra’s destruction is restricted to the inner circle, any attempt to destroy all three platforms of Devagiri will widen this circle. It will not just destroy Devagiri, it will also destroy all of us. Do you really want to kill your entire army, your family and your friends?’
‘Tell them to leave.’
Shiva’s voice was soft, barely audible. His eyes remained remote and unfocused, staring into space. Gopal paused for a moment, watching Shiva with a glimmer of hope. ‘Should I tell our people to leave? With the Pashupatiastra?’
Shiva did not move. There was no reaction on his face. ‘No. Tell the people of this city to leave. All except those who have protected or made the Somras, and those directly responsible for Sati’s death. For when I am done, there will be no more Daksha. There will be no more Somras. There will be no more Evil. It will be as if this place, this Evil, never existed. Nothing will live here, nothing will grow here, and no two stones will be left standing upon each other to show that there ever was a Devagiri. It all ends now.’
Gopal was grateful that at least the innocent people of Devagiri would be saved. But what about Lord Rudra’s law banning the use of daivi astras?
‘Shiva, the Pashupatiastra...’ whispered Gopal with hope.
Shiva stared at Gopal unemotionally and spoke in a voice that was eerily composed. ‘I will burn down this entire world.’
Gopal stared at Shiva with foreboding. The Neelkanth turned around and walked back into the building, to his Sati.
Tara rose.
‘Where are you going?’ whispered Brahaspati.
‘To get the Pashupatiastra,’ answered Tara softly.
‘You cannot! It will destroy us all!’
‘No, it won’t. These weapons can be triangulated in such a way that the devastation will remain confined within the city. We will not be affected if we remain more than five kilometres away.’
Tara began to walk away.
Brahaspati pulled her back and whispered urgently, ‘What are you doing? You know this is wrong. I feel for Shiva, but the Pashupatiastra...’
Tara stared at Brahaspati without a hint of doubt in her eyes. ‘Lord Ram’s sacred laws have been shamelessly broken. The Neelkanth deserves his vengeance.’
‘Of course, he does,’ said Brahaspati, meeting her gaze without flinching. ‘But not with the Pashupatiastra.’
‘Don’t you feel his pain? What kind of friend are you?’
‘Tara, I had once considered doing something wrong. I had wanted to assassinate a man who was to duel Sati. Shiva stopped me. He stopped me from taking a sin upon my soul. If I have to be a true friend to him, I have to stop him from tarnishing his soul. I can’t let him use the Pashupatiastra.’
‘His soul is already dead, Brahaspati. It’s lying on top of that ice tower,’ said Tara.
‘I know, but...’
Tara pulled her hand away from Brahaspati. ‘You expect him to fight in accordance with the laws when his enemies have not. They have taken everything from him, his life, his soul, his entire reason for existence. He deserves his vengeance.’
Chapter 49
Debt to the Neelkanth
Shiva’s army had been divided into three groups, led by Bhagirath, Chandraketu and Maatali. Each group was stationed outside the gates of the three platforms of Devagiri. Maatali’s troops blocked the Svarna platform, Chandraketu’s forces guarded the exit from the Rajat platform and Bhagirath’s troops were at the steps of the Tamra platform. Shiva’s instructions had been followed. Ignoring Kali’s protests, Shiva’s forces informed those within the city that they would be allowed to leave, all except those Kshatriyas who had fought to protect the Somras and those Brahmins who had worked to create the Somras. Daksha and his personal bodyguards, including Vidyunmali, had also been specifically excluded from the amnesty. An evacuation had begun. What amazed the Chandravanshis among Shiva’s troops was the number of citizens who chose to stay on and die with Devagiri.
There were many who came in a disciplined line to the city gates, said a dignified goodbye to their families and walked silently back to their homes to await death. There was no acrimony; no fighting at the gates or attempts to save the city. Not even melodramatic farewells.
Gopal and Kartik had stationed themselves at the Tamra platform, along with Bhagirath’s troops. The soldiers on this side were primarily Brangas. A tired Bhagirath, having just supervised the construction of the perimeter barricades, rejoined them.
The Ayodhyan prince nodded towards the odd movements of citizens at the gate, half of them leaving and the other half returning to the city. ‘What’s going on here?’
Kartik dropped his eyes and said nothing, while Gopal’s eyes welled up.
‘It is becoming a movement amongst the Meluhans,’ said the chief of the Vasudevs. ‘An act of honour. A cause that demands your life. Stay and die with your city. Have your soul purified by allowing yourself to be killed by the Neelkanth...’ He stopped himself, obviously overcome with emotion.
Bhagirath raised his eyebrows. ‘What do you mean?’
Gopal gestured towards the crowd, where yet another woman had said goodbye to a couple, before calmly turning back towards the city. ‘See for yourself,’ he said.
Bhagirath paused for a moment, brows knitted, to study Gopal’s face before turning back to the woman.
‘Excuse me, madam,’ Bhagirath called out to her, and she stopped, turning to face him. ‘Why are you returning to the city? Why are you not evacuating with the others?’
The folds of her angvastram wafted gently in the breeze around her. She had a kind face with dark, quiet eyes and a soft voice. She spoke calmly, as if she was discussing the weather. ‘I am a Meluhan. To be Meluhan is not about the country you live in – it is about how you live, what you believe in. What is the purpose of a long life, if not to strive for something higher? Lord Ram’s most sacred law has been broken. We have fallen. All that we are has already been destroyed. What can we now hope to strive for in this life, if this is our karma?’
Bhagirath couldn’t believe his ears.
The Meluhan woman continued. ‘I believe in the Neelkanth. I have waited for him for so many years, worshipped him. And this is what Meluha has done to him. To our Princess – the most exemplary Meluhan of us all, who lived every breath of her life strictly according to Lord Ram’s code. This is what Meluha has done to our Laws that make us who we are.’ She was quiet for a moment, her eyes searching his. ‘I am guilty. I took the Somras. I followed the Emperor and, through my complacency and silence, was party to everything that conspired to bring this about. If this is Meluha’s evil, then it is my evil too. My karma. I will pay my debt to the Neelkanth this day, and pray that it may allow me to be reborn with a little less sin upon my soul.’
Shiva looked at Gopal, his face frozen.
‘I know you are angry, Neelkanth. But don’t do this. I know your good heart. You will repent it.’
Shiva turned around to walk back into the conference building. Gopal reached out and held Shiva’s arm, trying to pull him back.
‘Shiva,’ pleaded Gopal, ‘you’ve given your word to the Vayuputras. You’ve given your word to your uncle, Lord Mithra.’
Shiva gripped Gopal’s hand tightly and removed it from his arm.
‘Shiva, the power of this weapon is terrible and unpredictable,’ pleaded Gopal, grasping at any argument to stop this tragedy. ‘Even if the Pashupatiastra’s destruction is restricted to the inner circle, any attempt to destroy all three platforms of Devagiri will widen this circle. It will not just destroy Devagiri, it will also destroy all of us. Do you really want to kill your entire army, your family and your friends?’
‘Tell them to leave.’
Shiva’s voice was soft, barely audible. His eyes remained remote and unfocused, staring into space. Gopal paused for a moment, watching Shiva with a glimmer of hope. ‘Should I tell our people to leave? With the Pashupatiastra?’
Shiva did not move. There was no reaction on his face. ‘No. Tell the people of this city to leave. All except those who have protected or made the Somras, and those directly responsible for Sati’s death. For when I am done, there will be no more Daksha. There will be no more Somras. There will be no more Evil. It will be as if this place, this Evil, never existed. Nothing will live here, nothing will grow here, and no two stones will be left standing upon each other to show that there ever was a Devagiri. It all ends now.’
Gopal was grateful that at least the innocent people of Devagiri would be saved. But what about Lord Rudra’s law banning the use of daivi astras?
‘Shiva, the Pashupatiastra...’ whispered Gopal with hope.
Shiva stared at Gopal unemotionally and spoke in a voice that was eerily composed. ‘I will burn down this entire world.’
Gopal stared at Shiva with foreboding. The Neelkanth turned around and walked back into the building, to his Sati.
Tara rose.
‘Where are you going?’ whispered Brahaspati.
‘To get the Pashupatiastra,’ answered Tara softly.
‘You cannot! It will destroy us all!’
‘No, it won’t. These weapons can be triangulated in such a way that the devastation will remain confined within the city. We will not be affected if we remain more than five kilometres away.’
Tara began to walk away.
Brahaspati pulled her back and whispered urgently, ‘What are you doing? You know this is wrong. I feel for Shiva, but the Pashupatiastra...’
Tara stared at Brahaspati without a hint of doubt in her eyes. ‘Lord Ram’s sacred laws have been shamelessly broken. The Neelkanth deserves his vengeance.’
‘Of course, he does,’ said Brahaspati, meeting her gaze without flinching. ‘But not with the Pashupatiastra.’
‘Don’t you feel his pain? What kind of friend are you?’
‘Tara, I had once considered doing something wrong. I had wanted to assassinate a man who was to duel Sati. Shiva stopped me. He stopped me from taking a sin upon my soul. If I have to be a true friend to him, I have to stop him from tarnishing his soul. I can’t let him use the Pashupatiastra.’
‘His soul is already dead, Brahaspati. It’s lying on top of that ice tower,’ said Tara.
‘I know, but...’
Tara pulled her hand away from Brahaspati. ‘You expect him to fight in accordance with the laws when his enemies have not. They have taken everything from him, his life, his soul, his entire reason for existence. He deserves his vengeance.’
Chapter 49
Debt to the Neelkanth
Shiva’s army had been divided into three groups, led by Bhagirath, Chandraketu and Maatali. Each group was stationed outside the gates of the three platforms of Devagiri. Maatali’s troops blocked the Svarna platform, Chandraketu’s forces guarded the exit from the Rajat platform and Bhagirath’s troops were at the steps of the Tamra platform. Shiva’s instructions had been followed. Ignoring Kali’s protests, Shiva’s forces informed those within the city that they would be allowed to leave, all except those Kshatriyas who had fought to protect the Somras and those Brahmins who had worked to create the Somras. Daksha and his personal bodyguards, including Vidyunmali, had also been specifically excluded from the amnesty. An evacuation had begun. What amazed the Chandravanshis among Shiva’s troops was the number of citizens who chose to stay on and die with Devagiri.
There were many who came in a disciplined line to the city gates, said a dignified goodbye to their families and walked silently back to their homes to await death. There was no acrimony; no fighting at the gates or attempts to save the city. Not even melodramatic farewells.
Gopal and Kartik had stationed themselves at the Tamra platform, along with Bhagirath’s troops. The soldiers on this side were primarily Brangas. A tired Bhagirath, having just supervised the construction of the perimeter barricades, rejoined them.
The Ayodhyan prince nodded towards the odd movements of citizens at the gate, half of them leaving and the other half returning to the city. ‘What’s going on here?’
Kartik dropped his eyes and said nothing, while Gopal’s eyes welled up.
‘It is becoming a movement amongst the Meluhans,’ said the chief of the Vasudevs. ‘An act of honour. A cause that demands your life. Stay and die with your city. Have your soul purified by allowing yourself to be killed by the Neelkanth...’ He stopped himself, obviously overcome with emotion.
Bhagirath raised his eyebrows. ‘What do you mean?’
Gopal gestured towards the crowd, where yet another woman had said goodbye to a couple, before calmly turning back towards the city. ‘See for yourself,’ he said.
Bhagirath paused for a moment, brows knitted, to study Gopal’s face before turning back to the woman.
‘Excuse me, madam,’ Bhagirath called out to her, and she stopped, turning to face him. ‘Why are you returning to the city? Why are you not evacuating with the others?’
The folds of her angvastram wafted gently in the breeze around her. She had a kind face with dark, quiet eyes and a soft voice. She spoke calmly, as if she was discussing the weather. ‘I am a Meluhan. To be Meluhan is not about the country you live in – it is about how you live, what you believe in. What is the purpose of a long life, if not to strive for something higher? Lord Ram’s most sacred law has been broken. We have fallen. All that we are has already been destroyed. What can we now hope to strive for in this life, if this is our karma?’
Bhagirath couldn’t believe his ears.
The Meluhan woman continued. ‘I believe in the Neelkanth. I have waited for him for so many years, worshipped him. And this is what Meluha has done to him. To our Princess – the most exemplary Meluhan of us all, who lived every breath of her life strictly according to Lord Ram’s code. This is what Meluha has done to our Laws that make us who we are.’ She was quiet for a moment, her eyes searching his. ‘I am guilty. I took the Somras. I followed the Emperor and, through my complacency and silence, was party to everything that conspired to bring this about. If this is Meluha’s evil, then it is my evil too. My karma. I will pay my debt to the Neelkanth this day, and pray that it may allow me to be reborn with a little less sin upon my soul.’
