Immortals of Meluha (38 page)

The various wedding ceremonies and celebrations had been spread over seven days, each day with an exuberant variety of events. By the usually sober Suryavanshi standards, the city had been decorated extravagantly. Colourful banners hung proudly from the city walls, splashing festive beauty on the sober grey exteriors. The roads had been freshly tiled in the sacred blue colour. All the restaurants and shops served their customers free of charge for the seven days of revelry, subsidised at state expense. All the buildings had been freshly painted at government cost to make Devagiri appear like a city that had settled the previous day.

A massive channel had been rapidly dug along the far side of the Saraswati where a part of the river had been diverted. The channel was in the open in some parts and went underground in others. Filters injected a red dye into the water as soon as it entered the channel and removed it just as efficiently when the water flowed back into the river. The channel formed a giant
Swastika
, an ancient symbol which literally translates to ‘
that which is associated with well-being
’ or very simply, a lucky charm. From any of the three city platforms, a Meluhan could look in reverence at the enormous impression of the revered Swastika in the royal red Suryavanshi colour formed by the flow of the holy Saraswati. Some of the protective giant spikes around the entry drawbridges of the three platforms had been cleared. In their stead, giant rangolis, visible from miles away, had been drawn to welcome all into the capital. Kanakhala had wanted to clear all the spikes surrounding Devagiri, but Parvateshwar had vetoed it, citing security reasons.

Elite families from across the empire had been invited to attend the festivities. People of distinction ranging from governors to scientists, generals to artists and even sanyasis had trooped into Devagiri to celebrate the momentous occasion. Ambassadors of eminent countries, such as Mesopotamia and Egypt, had been given permits for a rare visit to the capital of Meluha. Jhooleshwar had cannily used the distinctive honour granted to ambassadors to wrangle some additional trade quotas. Brahaspati had come down from Mount Mandar with his retinue. Only a skeletal security staff of Arishtanemi soldiers had been left behind at the mountain. It was the first time in history that seven days would elapse at Mount Mandar without any experiments!

The first day had two pujas organised in the name of Lord Indra and Lord Agni. They were the main gods for the people of India and their blessings were sought before any event. And an event as momentous as the wedding of the millennium could only begin with their sanction. This particular puja, however, celebrated their warrior form. Daksha eloquently explained the reason. The Meluhans were not just celebrating the marriage between the Neelkanth and their princess. They were also celebrating the massive defeat of the despised terrorists at Koonj. According to him, the echoes of Koonj would reverberate deep in the heart of Swadweep. The Suryavanshi vengeance had begun!

This puja was followed by the formal marriage ceremonies of Shiva and Sati. Though some of the celebrations were still on, Shiva excused himself and tugged Sati along with him.

‘By the Holy Lake!’ exclaimed Shiva, shutting the door to their private chamber behind him. ‘This is only the first day! Is every day going to be as long?’

‘It doesn’t seem to make a difference to you! You walked out when you pretty well pleased!’ teased Sati.

‘I don’t care about those damn ceremonies!’ growled Shiva, ripping his ceremonial turban off and flinging it aside. He stared at Sati fervently, slowly moving towards her, his breathing heavy.

‘Oh yes of course,’ mocked Sati, with a playfully theatrical expression. ‘The Neelkanth gets to decide what is important and what is not. The Neelkanth can do anything he wants.’

‘Oh yes he can!’

Sati laughed mischievously and ran to the other side of the bed. Shiva dashed towards her from the opposite side hurling his angvastram off in one smooth motion.

‘Oh yes he can...’

‘Remember what I told you to say,’ whispered Nandi to Veerbhadra. ‘Don’t worry. The Lord will give his permission.’

‘What...’ whispered a groggy Shiva as he was woken up gently by Sati.

‘Wake up, Shiva,’ whispered Sati tenderly, her hair falling over his face, teasing his cheeks. ‘Careful now,’ murmured Sati softly, as Shiva looked at her longingly. ‘Nandi, Krittika and Veerbhadra are waiting at the door. They have something important to tell you.’

‘Hmmm?’ growled Shiva, as he walked towards the door and glared at the trio. ‘What is it Nandi? Isn’t there someone beautiful in your life that you would like to bother at this hour instead of troubling me?’

‘There’s nobody like you, my Lord,’ said Nandi, with a low bow and a chaste namaste.

‘Nandi, you better stop this nonsense or you are going to remain a bachelor all your life!’ joked Shiva.

As everybody laughed out loud, Krittika remained anxious about the task at hand.

‘Well, what did you want to talk about?’ asked Shiva.

Nandi nudged Veerbhadra roughly. Shiva turned to Veerbhadra with a quizzical look.

‘Bhadra, since when do you need the support of so many people to speak to me?’ asked Shiva.

‘Shiva...’ murmured Veerbhadra nervously.

‘Yes?’

‘It’s like this...’

‘It’s like what?’

‘Well, you see...’

‘I am seeing Bhadra.’

‘Shiva, please don’t make him more nervous than he is,’ said Sati. Looking towards Veerbhadra, she continued, ‘Veerbhadra, speak fearlessly. You haven’t done anything wrong.’

‘Shiva,’ whispered Veerbhadra timidly, his cheeks the colour of beetroot. ‘I need your permission.’

‘Permission granted,’ said Shiva, amused by now. ‘Whatever it is that you want it for.’

‘Actually, I am considering getting married.’

‘A capital idea!’ said Shiva. ‘Now all you have to do is convince some blind woman to marry you!’

‘Shiva!’ reprimanded Sati gently.

‘Well, I’ve already found a woman,’ said Veerbhadra, before his courage could desert him. ‘And she’s not blind...’

‘Not blind?!’ exclaimed Shiva, his eyebrows humorously arched in wide disbelief. ‘Then she is stupid enough to tie herself for the next seven births to a man who wants someone else to determine his marriage!’

Veerbhadra gazed at Shiva with an odd mixture of embarrassment, contrition and incomprehension.

‘I have told you before, Bhadra,’ said Shiva, ‘There are many customs of our tribe that I don’t like. And one of the primary ones amongst them is that the leader has to approve the bride of any tribesman. Don’t you remember how we made fun of this ridiculous tradition as children?’

Veerbhadra glanced at Shiva and immediately down again, still unsure.

‘For god’s sake man, if you are happy with her, then I am happy for you,’ said an exasperated Shiva. ‘You have my permission.’

Veerbhadra looked up in surprised ecstasy as Nandi nudged him again. Krittika looked at Veerbhadra, as a long held breath escaped with massive relief. She turned to Sati and silently mouthed the words, ‘Thank you.’

Shiva walked towards Krittika and hugged her warmly. A startled Krittika held back for an instant, before the warmth of the Neelkanth conquered her Suryavanshi reserve. She returned the embrace.

‘Welcome to the tribe,’ whispered Shiva. ‘We are quite mad, but at heart we are good people!’

‘But how did you know,’ said Veerbhadra. ‘I never told you that I loved her.’

‘I am not blind, Bhadra,’ smiled Shiva.

‘Thank you,’ said Krittika to Shiva. ‘Thank you for accepting me.’

Shiva stepped back and said, ‘No. Thank
you
. I was always concerned about Bhadra. He is a good, dependable man, but too simple-minded about women. I was worried about how married life would treat him. But there is no reason to worry anymore.’

‘Well, I too want to tell you something,’ said Krittika. ‘I had never believed in the legend of the Neelkanth. But if you can do to Meluha what you have done to my lady, then you are worthy of even being called the Mahadev!’

‘I don’t want to be called the Mahadev, Krittika. You know I love Meluha as much as I love Sati. I will do all that I possibly can.’ Turning towards Veerbhadra, Shiva ordered, ‘Come here, you stupid oaf!’

Veerbhadra came forward, embraced Shiva affectionately and whispered, ‘Thank you.’

‘Don’t be stupid. There’s no need for a “thank you“!’ said Shiva with a grin.

Veerbhadra smiled broadly.

‘And listen!’ snarled Shiva in mock anger. ‘You are going to answer to your best friend over the next chillum we share on how you dared to love another woman for so long without even speaking to me about it!’

Everybody laughed out loud.

‘Will a good batch of marijuana make up for it?’ asked Veerbhadra, smiling.

‘Well, I’ll think about it!’

‘Doesn’t she look tired?’ asked a concerned Ayurvati, looking at Sati.

Sati had just gotten up from the player platform as she and her mother had been excused for this particular ceremony. This was only for the bridegroom and the father-in-law. The pandits were preparing for the puja, which would take a few moments.

‘Well, it has been six days of almost continuous celebrations and pujas,’ said Kanakhala. ‘Though it is the custom that all this be done for a royal wedding, I can understand her being tired.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t say it has anything to do with the six
days
of pujas,’ said Brahaspati.

‘No?’ asked Kanakhala.

‘No,’ answered Brahaspati, mischievously. ‘I think it has to do with the five
nights
’

‘What?’ exclaimed Ayurvati, then blushed a deep red as the meaning of Brahaspati’s words dawned on her.

Parvateshwar, who was sitting next to Kanakhala, glared at Brahaspati for the highly improper remark. Brahaspati guffawed as the ladies giggled quietly. An assistant pandit turned around in irritation. But on seeing the seniority of the Brahmins sitting behind him, he immediately swallowed his annoyance and returned to his preparations.

Parvateshwar however had no such compunctions. ‘I can’t believe the kind of conversation I am being forced to endure!’ He rose to walk to the back of the congregation.

This made even Kanakhala and Ayurvati to chortle. One of the senior pandits turned to signal that the ceremony was about to begin, making them fall silent immediately.

The pandits resumed the invocations of the shlokas. Both Shiva and Daksha continued to pour the ceremonial ghee into the sacred fire at regular intervals while saying, ‘Swaha’.

In between two successive swahas, there was enough time for Shiva and Daksha to talk softly to each other. They spoke of Sati. And only Sati. To any neutral observer, it would have been difficult to decide who loved the princess more. The pandit took a momentary break in his recitation of the shlokas, the cue for Shiva and Daksha to pour some more ghee into the sacred fire with a ‘Swaha.’ A little ghee spilled onto Daksha hands. As Shiva immediately pulled the napkin on his side to wipe it off, he noticed the chosen-tribe amulet on Daksha’s arm. He was stunned on seeing the animal there, but had the good sense to not make a comment. Daksha meanwhile had also turned and noticed Shiva’s gaze.

‘It wasn’t my choice. My father chose it for me,’ said Daksha, with a warm smile, while wiping the ghee off his hands. There was not a hint of embarrassment in his voice. If one looked closely though, one could see just a hint of defiance in his eyes.

‘Oh no, your Highness,’ mumbled Shiva, a little mortified. ‘I didn’t mean to look. Please accept my apologies.’

‘Why should you apologise, my Lord?’ asked Daksha. ‘It is my chosen-tribe. It is worn on the arm so that everyone can see it and classify me.’

‘But you are much beyond your chosen-tribe, your Highness,’ said Shiva politely. ‘You are a far greater man than what that amulet symbolises.’

‘Yes,’ smiled Daksha. ‘I really showed the old man, didn’t I? The Neelkanth did not choose to appear in his reign. He came in mine. The terrorists were not defeated in his reign. They were defeated in mine. And the Chandravanshis were not reformed in his reign. They will be reformed in mine.’