Immortals of Meluha (28 page)

The caravan left the river city of Kotdwaar on a royal barge led and followed by two large boats of equal size and grandeur as the royal vessel. Typical of the Meluhan security system, the additional boats were to confuse any attacker about which boat the royal family may be on. The entire royal party was in the second boat. Each of the three large boats was manned by a brigade of soldiers. Additionally, there were five small and quick cutter boats on both sides of the royal convoy, keeping pace and protecting the sides in case of an ambush.

‘When the monsoon is not active, my Lord,’ said Ayurvati, ‘the rivers are the best way to travel. Though we have good roads connecting all major cities, it cannot match the rivers in terms of speed and safety.’

Shiva smiled at Ayurvati politely. He was not in the frame of mind for much conversation. Sati had not spoken to Shiva since that fateful day at Kotdwaar when he had refused to undergo a shudhikaran.

The royal barge stopped at many cities along the river. The routine seemed much the same. Extreme exuberance would manifest itself in each city on the arrival of the Neelkanth.

It was a kind of reaction unnatural in Meluha. But then, a Neelkanth didn’t grace the land every day.

‘Why?’ asked Shiva of Brahaspati, after many days of keeping quiet about the disquiet in his troubled heart.

‘Why what?’

‘You know what I am talking about, Brahaspati,’ said Shiva, narrowing his eyes in irritation.

‘She genuinely believes that she deserves to be a vikarma,’ answered Brahaspati with a sad smile.

‘Why?’

‘Perhaps because of the manner in which she became a vikarma.’

‘How did it happen?’

‘It happened during her earlier marriage.’

‘What! Sati was married?!’

’Yes. That was around ninety years back. It was a political marriage with one of the noble families of the empire. Her husband’s name was Chandandhwaj. She got pregnant and went to the Maika to deliver the child. It was the monsoon season. Unfortunately, the child was stillborn.’

‘Oh my god!’ said Shiva, empathising with the pain Sati must have felt.

‘But it was worse. On the same day, her husband, who had gone to the Narmada to pray for the safe birth of their child, accidentally drowned. On that cursed day, her life was destroyed.’

Shiva stared at Brahaspati, too stunned to react. ‘She became a widow and was declared a vikarma the same day.’

‘But how can the husband’s death be considered her fault?’ argued Shiva. ‘That is completely ridiculous.’

‘She wasn’t declared a vikarma because of her husband’s death. It was because she gave birth to a stillborn child.’

‘But that could be due to any reason. Maybe there was a mistake that the local doctors committed.’

‘That doesn’t happen in Meluha, Shiva,’ said Brahaspati calmly. ‘Having a stillborn child is probably one of the worst ways for a woman to become a vikarma. Only giving birth to a Naga child would be considered worse. Thank god that didn’t happen. Because then she would have been completely ostracised from society.’

‘This has to be changed. The concept of vikarma is unfair.’

Brahaspati looked at his friend intensely. ‘You might save the vikarma, Shiva. But how do you save a woman who doesn’t want to be saved? She genuinely believes she deserves this punishment.’

‘Why? I’m sure she is not the first Meluhan woman to give birth to a stillborn. There must have been others before her. There will be many more after her.’

‘She was the first
royal
woman to give birth to a stillborn. Her fate has been a source of embarrassment to the emperor. It raises questions about his ancestry’

‘How would it raise questions about his lineage? Sati is not his birth daughter. She would also have come from Maika, right?’

‘No, my friend. That law was relaxed for families of nobility around two hundred and fifty years back. Apparently in the ‘national interest”, noble families were allowed to keep their birth-children. Some laws can be amended, provided ninety per cent of the Brahmins, Kshatriyas and Vaishyas above a particular chosen-tribe and job status vote for the change. There have been rare instances of such unanimity. This was one of them. Only one man opposed this change.’

‘Who?’

‘Lord Satyadhwaj, the grandfather of Parvateshwar. Their family had vowed not to have any birth children since this law was passed. Parvateshwar honours that promise to this day.’

‘But if the birth law could be changed,’ said Shiva working things out, ‘why couldn’t the law of vikarma?’

‘Because there aren’t enough noble families affected by that law. That is the harsh truth.’

‘But all this goes completely against Lord Ram’s teachings!’

‘Lord Ram’s teachings also say that the concept of the vikarma is correct. Don’t you want to question that?’

Shiva glanced at Brahaspati silently, before looking out over the river.

There is nothing wrong with questioning Lord Ram’s laws, my friend,’ said Brahaspati. ‘There were many times when he himself stood down because of someone else’s rationale. The question is that what are your motives for wanting to change the law? Is it because you genuinely think the law itself is unfair? Or is it because you are attracted to Sati and you want to remove an inconvenient law which stands in your path.’

‘I genuinely think the vikarma law is unfair. I felt that from the moment I found out about it. Even before I knew Sati was a vikarma.’

‘But Sati doesn’t think the law is unfair.’

‘But she is a good woman. She doesn’t deserve to be treated this way.’

‘She is not just a good woman. She is one of the finest I have ever met. She is beautiful, honest, straight-forward, brave and intelligent — everything a man could want in a woman. But you are not just any man. You are the Neelkanth.’

Shiva turned around and rested his hands on the craft’s railing. He looked into the distance at the dense forest along the riverbanks as their boat glided across the water. The soothing evening breeze fanned Shiva’s long locks.

‘I’ve told you before, my friend,’ said Brahaspati. ‘Because of that unfortunate blue throat, every decision you take has many ramifications. You have to think many times before you act.’

It was late in the night. The royal convoy had just set sail from the city of Sutgengarh on the Indus. The emotions at Sutgengarh had erupted in the now predictable routine of exuberance at the sight of the Neelkanth. The saviour of their civilisation had finally arrived.

Their saviour, however, was in his own private hell. Sati had maintained her distance from Shiva for the last few weeks. He was torn, experiencing pain and dismay at depths he didn’t think fathomable.

The convoy’s next stop was the famous city of
Mohan Jo Daro
or the
Platform of Mohan
. The city, on the mighty Indus, was dedicated to a great philosopher-priest called Lord Mohan, who lived in this region many thousands of years ago. Once he had met with the people of Mohan Jo Daro, Shiva expressed a desire to visit the temple of Lord Mohan. This temple stood outside the main city platform, further down the Indus. The governor of Mohan Jo Daro had offered to take the Lord Neelkanth there in a grand procession. Shiva however insisted on going alone. He felt drawn to the temple. He felt that it would have some solutions for his troubled heart.

The temple itself was simple. Much like Lord Mohan himself. A small non—descript structure announced itself as the birthplace of the sage. The only sign of the temple’s significance was the massive gates in the four cardinal directions of the compound. As instructed by Shiva, Nandi and Veerbhadra, along with their platoon, waited outside.

Shiva, with his comforting cravat back around his neck, walked up the steps feeling tranquil after a long time. He rang the bell at the entrance and sat down against a pillar with his eyes shut in quiet contemplation. Suddenly, an oddly familiar voice asked: ‘How are you, my friend?’

CHAPTER 14

Pandit of Mohan Jo Daro

Shiva opened his eyes to behold a man who was almost a replica of the pandit he had met at the Brahma temple, in what seemed like another life. He sported a similar long flowing white beard and a big white mane. He wore a saffron dhoti and angvastram. The wizened face bore a calm and welcoming smile. If it wasn’t for this pandit’s much taller frame, Shiva could have easily mistaken him for the one he had met at the Brahma temple.

‘How are you, my friend?’ repeated the pandit sitting down.

‘I am alright, Panditji,’ said Shiva, using the Indian term
‘ji’
as a form of respect. He couldn’t follow why, but the intrusion was welcome to him. It almost seemed as though he was drawn to this temple because he was destined to meet the pandit. ‘Do all pandits in Meluha look alike?’

The man smiled warmly. ‘Not all the pandits. Just us.’

‘And who might
“;us”
be, Panditji?’

‘The next time you meet one of us, we will tell you,’ said the Pandit cryptically. ‘That is a promise.’

‘Why not now?’

‘At this point of time, our identity is not important,’ smiled the Pandit. What is important is that you are disturbed about something. Do you want to talk about it?’

Shiva took a deep breath. Gut instinct told him that he could trust this man.

‘There is this task that I supposedly have to do for Meluha.’

‘I know. Though I wouldn’t dismiss the Neelkanth’s role as a “task”. He does much more than that.’ Pointing at Shiva’s throat, the Pandit continued, ‘Pieces of cotton cannot cover divine brilliance.’

Shiva looked up with a wry smile. ‘Well, Meluha does seem like a wonderful society. And I want to do all I can to protect it from evil.’

‘Then what is the problem?’

‘The problem is that I find some grossly unfair practices in this nearly perfect society. And this is inconsistent with the ideals that Meluha aspires to.’

‘What practices are you referring to?’ asked the Pandit.

‘For example, the way the vikarma are treated.’

‘Why is it unfair?’

‘How can anyone be sure that these people committed sins in their previous birth? And that their present sufferings are a result of that? It might be sheer bad luck. Or a random act of nature.’

‘You’re right. It could be. But do you think that the fate of the vikarma is about them personally?’

‘Isn’t it?’

‘No it isn’t,’ explained the Pandit. ‘It is about the society as a whole. The vikarma acceptance of their fate is integral to the stability of Meluha.’

Shiva frowned.

‘What any successful society needs, O Neelkanth, is flexibility with stability. Why would you need flexibility? Because every single person has different dreams and capabilities. The birth son of a warrior could have the talent to be a great businessman. Then society needs to be flexible enough to allow this son to change his vocation from his father’s profession. Flexibility in a society allows change, so that all its members have the space to discover their true selves and grow to their potential. And if every person in a society achieves his true potential, society as a whole also achieves its true potential.’

‘I agree.’

But what does this have to do with the vikarma?

‘I’ll come to the obvious question in a bit. Just bear with me,’ said the Pandit. ‘If we believe that flexibility is key to a successful society, the Maika system is designed to achieve it in practice. No child knows what the professions of his birth-parents are. They are independent to pursue what their natural talent inspires them to do.’

‘I agree. The Maika system is almost breathtakingly fair. A person can credit or blame
only himself
for what he does with his life. Nobody else. But this is about flexibility. What about stability?’

‘Stability allows a person the freedom of choice, my friend. People can pursue their dreams only when they are living in a society where survival is not a daily threat. In a society without security and stability, there are no intellectuals or businessmen or artists or geniuses. Man is constantly in fight or flight mode. Nothing better than an animal. Where is the chance then to allow ideas to be nurtured or dreams to be pursued? That is the way all humans were before we formed societies. Civilisation is very fragile. All it takes is a few decades of chaos for us to forget humanity and turn into animals. Our base natures can take over very fast. We can forget that we are sentient beings, with laws and codes and ethics.’