The Secret of the Nagas
Page 34
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 the 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.
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 the 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.
