Immortals of Meluha (47 page)

‘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, ‘R
eform
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.

‘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.’

‘So we’re not going to Ayodhya?’

‘We will, my Lord,’ said Ayurvati. ‘But in a few days when you are strong enough.’

‘Some twelve thousand of our soldiers remain with us,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘We will march to Ayodhya when you are ready. His Highness insisted that Emperor Dilipa leave behind one of his family members with our unit as hostage to ensure that no Swadweepan attacks our much smaller force.’

‘So we have one of Emperor Dilipa’s family members in our camp?’