Immortals of Meluha (11 page)

‘That also sounds like a good idea,’ said a smiling Shiva. Why Nandi, you are almost like a fount of brilliant ideas!’

Nandi laughed along with Shiva, always happy to be the cause of a smile on his Lord’s face. ‘I’ll just be back, my Lord.’

Shiva lay down on his bed and was quickly lost in the thoughts that really mattered to him.

I’ll finish the meeting with the Emperor as soon as humanly possible, give him whatever the bloody hell he wants and then scour the city for Sati.

Shiva had considered asking Nandi about the whereabouts of Sati but had eventually decided against it. He was painfully aware that he had made a less than spectacular impression on her at their first meeting. If she hadn’t made it easy for him to find her, it only meant that she wasn’t terribly stirred by him. He didn’t want to compound the issue by speaking casually about her to others.

He smiled as the memory of her face came flooding back to him. He replayed the magical moments when he had seen her fighting. Not the most romantic of sights for most men of his tribe. But for Shiva, it was divine. He sighed recalling her soft, delicate body, which had suddenly developed brutal, killer qualities upon being attacked. The curves that had so captivated him swung smoothly as she transferred her weight to swing her sword. The sober tied hair had swayed sensuously with each move of the sword arm. He breathed deeply.

What a woman!

It was early in the morning when Shiva and Nandi crossed the bridge between the Tamra and Svarna platforms to reach the royal citadel. The bridge, another marvel of Meluhan engineering, was flanked on the sides by a thick wall. Holes had been drilled on the walls, to shoot arrows or pour hot oil on enemies. The bridge was bisected by a massive gate, a final protection just in case the other platform was lost to an enemy.

When they crossed over to the Svarna platform, Shiva was completely taken by surprise, not by the grandeur of the royal area but by the lack of it. He was shocked by the fact that there was no opulence. Despite ruling over such a massive and wealthy empire, the nobility lived in a conspicuously simple manner. The structure of the royal citadel was almost exacdy like the other platforms. There were no special concessions for the aristocrats. The same block structures that dominated all of Meluha were to be found in the royal citadel as well. The only magnificent structure was to the far right and sported the sign ‘Great Public Bath’. The Bath also had a glorious temple to Lord Indra to the left. The temple, built of wood, stood on a raised foundation of baked bricks, its cupola plated with solid gold! It seemed that special architecture was reserved only for structures built for the Gods or ones that were for the common good.

Probably just like how Lord Ram would have preferred.

The only concession to the emperor, however, was that his standard block structure was larger than the others. Significantly larger.

Shiva and Nandi entered the royal private office to find Emperor Daksha sitting on a simple throne at the far end of the modesdy furnished room, flanked by a man and a woman.

Daksha, greeting Shiva with a formal namaste, said. ‘I hope your journey was comfortable.’

He looked too young to be an emperor of such a large country. Though he was marginally shorter than Shiva, the major difference between them was the musculature. While the strapping Shiva was powerfully built, Daksha’s body showed that it had not been strained by too much exercise. He wasn’t obese either. Just average. The same could be said about his wheatish complexioned face. Average sized, dark eyes flanked a straight nose. He wore his hair long like most Meluhan men and women. The head bore a majestic crown with the sun symbol of the Suryavanshis manifested in the centre through sparkling gem stones. An elegant dhoti, with an angvastram hung down the right shoulder and a large amount of functional jewellery, including two amulets on his right arm, complemented Daksha’s average appearance. His only distinguishing feature was his smile — which spread its innocent conviction all the way to his eyes. Emperor Daksha looked like a man who wore his royalty lightly.

‘Yes it was, your highness,’ replied Shiva. The infrastructure in your empire is wonderful. You are an extraordinary emperor.’

‘Thank you. But I only deserve reflected credit. The work is done by my people,’

‘You are too modest, your Highness.’

Smiling politely, Daksha asked, ‘May I introduce my most important aides?’ Without waiting for an answer, he pointed to the woman on his left, ‘This is my prime minister, Kanakhala. She takes care of all administrative, revenue and protocol matters.’

Kanakhala did a formal namaste to Shiva. Her head was shaved except for a tuft of smooth hair at the back which had been tied in a knot. She had a string called the janau tied across from her left shoulder down to the right side of her torso. She looked young like most Meluhans, but was a little overweight as was clearly evident from the excess flesh she bore between the white blouse and dhoti. She had a dark and incredibly smooth complexion and like all her countrymen, wore jewellery that was restrained and conservative. Shiva noticed that the second amulet on Kanakhala’s arm showed a pigeon. Not a very high chosen-tribe amongst the Brahmins. Shiva bent low and did a formal Namaste in reply.

Pointing to his right, Daksha said, ‘And this is my chief of the armed forces, General Parvateshwar. He looks after the army, navy, special forces, police etc’

Parvateshwar looked like a man that Shiva would think twice about taking on in a battle. He was taller than Shiva and had an immensely muscular physique that dominated the space around him. His curly and long hair had been combed fastidiously and fell neady from under his crown. His smooth, swarthy skin was marked by the proud signs of long years in battle. His body was hairless, in a rare departure from the normally hirsute Kshatriya men who took body hair to be a sign of machismo. Probably to make up for this deficiency, Parvateshwar maintained a thick and long moustache which curled upwards at the edges. His eyes reflected his uncompromisingly strong and righteous character. The second amulet on his arm showed Parvateshwar as a tiger, a very high chosen-tribe amongst the Kshatriyas. He nodded curdy at Shiva. No Namaste. No elaborate bow of his proud head. Shiva, however, smiled warmly and greeted Parvateshwar with a formal Namaste.

‘Please wait outside, Captain,’ advised Parvateshwar, looking at Nandi.

Before Nandi could respond, Shiva cut in. ‘My apologies. But is it alright if Nandi stays here with me? He has been my constant companion since I left my homeland and has become a dear and trusted friend.’

‘Of course he may,’ replied Daksha.

‘Your Highness, it is not appropriate for a Captain to be witness to this discussion,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘In any case, his service rules clearly state that he can only escort a guest into the emperor’s presence and not stay there while a matter of state is discussed.’

‘Oh relax Parvateshwar. You take your service rules too seriously sometimes.’ Turning to Shiva, Daksha continued, ‘If it is alright with you, may we see your neck now?’

Nandi slid behind Shiva to untie the cravat. Seeing the beads darned on the cravat to convey the impression that the throat was covered for religious reasons, Daksha smiled and whispered, ‘Good idea.’

As Nandi pulled Shiva’s cravat off, Daksha and Kanakhala came close to inspect Shiva’s throat in greater detail. Parvateshwar did not step forward but strained his neck slightly to get a better look. Daksha and Kanakhala seemed clearly stunned by what they saw.

The emperor felt the throat and whispered in awe, ‘The colour comes from the inside. It is not a dye. It is true and genuine.’

Daksha and Kanakhala glanced at each other, tears glistening in their astounded eyes. Kanakhala folded her hands into a namaste and began mumbling a chant under her breath. Daksha looked up at Shiva’s face, trying desperately to suppress the ecstasy that coursed through his insides. With a controlled smile, the Emperor of Meluha said, 1 hope we have not done anything to cause you any discomfort since your arrival in Meluha.’

Despite Daksha’s controlled reaction, Shiva could guess that both the emperor and his prime minister were taken aback by his blue throat.

Just how important is this bloody blue throat for the Meluhans?

‘Umm, none at all your Highness,’ replied Shiva as he tied the cravat back around his neck. ‘In fact, my tribe and I have been delighted by the hospitality that we have received here.’

‘I’m glad for that,’ smiled Daksha, bowing his head politely. ‘You may want to rest a litde bit and we could talk in more detail tomorrow. Would you like to shift your residence to the royal citadel? It is rumoured that the quarters here are a litde more comfortable.’

‘That is a very kind offer, your Highness.’

Daksha turned to Nandi and asked, ‘Captain, what did you say your name was?’

‘My name is Nandi, your Highness.’

‘You too are welcome to stay here. Make sure that you take good care of our honoured guest. Kanakhala, please make all the arrangements.’

‘Yes, your Highness.’

Kanakhala called in one of her aides, who escorted Shiva and Nandi out of the royal office.

As Shiva exited the room, Daksha went down on his haunches with great ceremony and touched his head to the ground on which Shiva had just stood. He mumbled a prayer sofdy and stood up again to look at Kanakhala with tears in his eyes. Kanakhala’s eyes, however, betrayed impatience and a touch of anger.

‘I didn’t understand, your Highness,’ glared Kanakhala. ‘The blue mark was genuine. Why did you not tell him?’

‘What did you expect me to do?’ cried a surprised Daksha. ‘This is his second day in Devagiri. You want me to just accost him and tell him that he is the Neelkanth, our saviour? That he has been sent to solve all our problems?’

‘Well, if he has a blue throat, then he is the Neelkanth, isn’t he? And if he is the Neelkanth, then he is our saviour. He has to accept his destiny.’

An exasperated Parvateshwar interjected. ‘I can’t believe that we are talking like this. We are Meluhans! We are the Suryavanshis! We have created the greatest civilisation ever known to man. And some barbarian with no education, no skills, no merit is going to be our saviour? Just because he has a blue throat?’

‘That is what the legend says Parvateshwar,’ countered Kanakhala.

Daksha interrupted both his ministers. ‘Parvateshwar, I believe in the legend. My people believe in the legend. The Neelkanth has chosen my reign to appear. He will transform all of India to the ideals of Meluha — a land of truth, duty and honour. With his leadership, we can end the Chandravanshi crisis once and for all. All the agonies they inflict upon us will be over — from the terrorist attacks to the shortage of Somras to the killing of the Saraswati.’

‘Then why delay telling him, your Highness?’ asked Kanakhala. ‘The more days we waste, the weaker becomes the resolve of our people. You know there was another terrorist attack just a few days back at a village not far from Hariyupa. As our reaction becomes weak, our enemies become bolder, your Highness. We must tell the Lord quickly and announce his arrival to our people. It will give us the strength to fight our cruel enemies.’

‘I will tell him. But I am trying to be more farsighted than you. So far our empire has only faced the morale-sapping influence of fraudulent Neelkanths. Imagine the consequences if people found out that the true Neelkanth has come but refuses to stand by us. First we must be sure that he is willing to accept his destiny. Only then will we announce him to our people. And I think that the best way to convince him is to share the whole truth with him. Once he sees the unfairness of the attacks we face, he will fight with us to destroy evil. If that takes time, so be it. We have waited for centuries for the Neelkanth. A few more weeks will not destroy us.’