Immortals of Meluha (48 page)
‘Yes, my Lord,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘His daughter, Princess Anandmayi.’
Ayurvati smiled, shaking her head slightly.
‘What?’ asked Shiva.
Ayurvati looked sheepishly at Parvateshwar and then grinned at Sati. Parvateshwar glared back at Ayurvati.
‘What happened?’ asked Shiva again.
‘Nothing that important, my Lord,’ clarified Parvateshwar, looking strangely embarrassed. ‘It’s just that she is quite a handful.’
‘Well, I’ll ensure that I remain out of her way then,’ said Shiva, smiling.
‘So this route seems to make the most sense,’ said Parvateshwar, pointing at the map.
Shiva, and the other poisoned soldiers, had recovered completely over the previous five days. The march to Ayodhya was scheduled the next day.
‘I think you are right,’ said Shiva, his mind going back to the meeting with the Emperor of Swadweep.
No point in thinking about Dilipa. I’m sure he was acting during the meeting. The Chandravanshis are evil. They are capable of any deception. Our war was righteous.
‘We plan to leave tomorrow morning, my Lord,’ said Parvateshwar. Turning towards Sati, he continued, ‘You can finally see the birthplace of Lord Ram, my child.’
‘Yes Pitratulya,’ smiled Sati. ‘But I don’t know if these people would have kept his temple unharmed. They may have destroyed it in their hatred.’
Their conversation was interrupted by a loud commotion.
Parvateshwar turned with a frown. ‘What is going on out there, Nandi?’
‘My Lord,’ said Nandi from the other side of the curtain. ‘The Princess Anandmayi is here. She has some demands. But we can’t fulfil them. She insists on meeting you.’
‘Please tell her Highness to wait in her tent,’ growled Parvateshwar. ‘I will be over in a few minutes.’
‘I cannot wait General!’ screamed a strong, yet feminine voice from across the curtain.
Shiva signalled to Parvateshwar to let her in. Parvateshwar turned towards the curtain. ‘Nandi, Veerbhadra, bring her in. But check her first for any weapons.’
In a few moments, Anandmayi, flanked by Nandi and Veerbhadra, entered Shiva’s tent. Shiva raised his eyebrow at her presence. She was taller than her father. And distractingly beautiful. A deep walnut coloured complexion complemented a body that was bountifully voluptuous, yet healthy. Her doe-shaped eyes were in a seductive half-stare, while her lips were in a perpetual pout that was sensual yet intimidating. She was provocatively clothed, with a dhoti that had been tied dangerously low at the waist and ended many inches above her knees, while being tied agonizingly tight at her curvaceous hips. It was just a little longer than the loincloth that the Meluhan men tied during their ceremonial baths. Her blouse was similar to the cloth piece that Meluhan women tied, except that it had been cut raunchily on the top to the shape of her ample breasts, affording a full view of her generous cleavage. She stood with her hips tilted to the side, exuding raw passion.
‘You really think I can hide some weapons in this?’ charged Anandmayi, pointing at her clothes.
A startled Nandi and Sati glared at her, while Shiva and Veerbhadra sported a surprised smile. Parvateshwar shook his head slightly.
‘How are you doing, Parvateshwar?’ asked Anandmayi, flashing a smile while scanning him from top to bottom, her eyebrows raised lasciviously.
Shiva couldn’t help smiling as he saw Parvateshwar blush slightly.
‘What is it you desire, Princess?’ barked Parvateshwar. ‘We are in the middle of an important meeting’
‘Will you really give me what I desire, General?’ sighed Anandmayi.
Parvateshwar blushed even deeper. ‘Princess, we have no time for nonsensical talk!’
‘Yes,’ groaned Anandmayi. ‘Most unfortunate. Then perhaps you can help me get some milk and rose petals in this sorry little camp you are running.’
Parvateshwar turned towards Nandi in surprise. Nandi blabbered, ‘My Lord, she doesn’t want just a glass, but fifty litres of milk. We can’t allow that with our rations.’
‘You are going to drink fifty litres of milk?’ cried Parvateshwar, his eyes wide in astonishment.
‘I need it for my beauty bath, General!’ glowered Anandmayi. ‘You are going to take us on a long march from tomorrow. I cannot go unprepared.’
‘I will try and see what I can do,’ said Parvateshwar.
‘Don’t
try
, General.
Do it,’
admonished Anandmayi.
Shiva couldn’t control himself any longer. He burst out laughing.
‘What the hell do you think you are laughing at?’ glared Anandmayi, turning towards Shiva.
‘You will speak to the Lord with respect, Princess,’ yelled Parvateshwar.
‘The
Lord?’
grinned Anandmayi. ‘So he is the one in charge? The one Daksha was allegedly showing off?’
She turned back towards Shiva. ‘What did you say to trouble my father so much that he isn’t even talking anymore? You don’t look that threatening to me.’
‘Be careful about what you say, Princess,’ advised Parvateshwar fiercely. ‘You don’t know whom you are speaking with.’
Shiva raised his hand at Parvateshwar, signalling him to calm down. But Anandmayi was the one who required soothing.
‘Whoever you are, you will all be smashed when our Lord comes. When he descends to Swadweep and destroys the evil of your kind.’
What?!
‘Take her out of here, Nandi,’ yelled Parvateshwar.
‘No wait,’ said Shiva. Turning towards Anandmayi, he asked, ‘What did you mean by saying
“when your Lord will descend to Swadweep and destroy the evil of our kind”?’
‘Why should I answer you,
Parvateshwar’s Lord?’
Parvateshwar moved rapidly, drawing his sword and pointing it close to Anandmayi’s neck. ‘When the Lord asks something, you will answer!’
‘Do you always move that fast?’ asked Anandmayi, her eyebrows raised saucily. ‘Or can you take it slow sometimes?’
Bringing his sword threateningly closer, Parvateshwar repeated, ‘Answer the Lord, Princess.’
Shaking her head, Anandmayi turned towards Shiva. ‘We wait for our Lord who will come to Swadweep and destroy the evil Suryavanshis.’
Strong lines of worry began creasing Shiva’s handsome face. ‘Who is your Lord?’
‘I don’t know. He hasn’t shown himself as yet.’
An unfathomable foreboding sunk deep into Shiva’s heart. He was profoundly afraid of his next question. But something inside told him that he had to ask it. ‘How will you know he is your Lord?’
‘Why are you so interested in this?’
‘I need to know!’ snarled Shiva.
Anandmayi frowned at Shiva as if he was mad. ‘He will not be from the Sapt-Sindhu. Neither a Suryavanshi nor a Chandravanshi. But when he comes, he will come on our side.’
Shiva’s inner voice whispered miserably that there was more. Clutching the armrest of his chair, he asked, ‘And?’
‘And,’ continued Anandmayi, ‘his throat will turn blue when he drinks the Somras.’
An audible gasp escaped Shiva as his body stiffened. The world seemed to spin. Anandmayi frowned, even more confused about the strange conversation.
Parvateshwar glowered fiercely at Anandmayi. ‘You are lying, woman! Admit it! You are lying!’
‘Why would I…’
Anandmayi stopped in mid-sentence as she noticed Shiva’s cravat covered throat. The arrogance suddenly vanished from her face. She found her knees buckling under her. Pointing weakly with her hands, she asked, ‘Why is your throat covered?’
‘Take her out, Nandi!’ ordered Parvateshwar.
‘Who are you?’ shouted Anandmayi.
Nandi and Veerbhadra tried to pull Anandmayi out. With surprising strength, she struggled against them. ‘Show me your throat!’
They held on to her arms and dragged her backwards. She kicked Veerbhadra in the groin, causing him to fall back in pain as she turned towards Shiva once again. ‘Who the hell are you?’
Shiva stared down at the table unable to find the strength to even glance at Anandmayi. He held his armrest tightly. It seemed to be the only stable thing in a world spinning desperately out of control.
Veerbhadra staggered back, held her arms tighdy and pulled her back as Nandi held her by the neck. Anandmayi bit Nandi’s arm brutally. As a howling Nandi pulled his arm back, she screamed again, ‘Answer me, dammit! Who are you?’
Shiva looked up for one brief instant at Anandmayi’s tormented eyes. The pain they conveyed lashed his soul. The flames of agony burned his conscience.
A shocked Anandmayi suddenly became immobile. The misery in her eyes would have stunned the bravest of Meluhan soldiers. In a broken voice, she whispered, ‘You are supposed to be on our side…’
She allowed herself to be hauled out by Nandi and Veerbhadra. Parvateshwar kept his eyes down. He dared not look at Shiva. He was a good Suryavanshi. He would not humiliate his Lord by looking at him at his weakest. Sati, on the other hand, would not leave her husband to suffer alone, by not looking at him when he was at his weakest. She came to his side, touching his face.
Shiva looked up, his eyes devastated with the tears of sorrow. ‘What have I done?’
Sati held Shiva tightly, holding his throbbing head against her bosom. There was nothing she could say to alleviate the pain. She could just hold him.
An agonized whisper suffused the tent with its resonant grief. ‘What have I done?’
CHAPTER 25
It was another three weeks before Shiva’s entourage reached Ayodhya, the capital of the Swadweepans. They had travelled along a decrepit, long-winding road to the Ganga, and then sailed eastward to the point where the mighty, yet capricious, river passionately welcomed the waters of the Sarayu. Then they had cruised north, up the Sarayu, to the city of Lord Ram’s birth. It was a long circuitous route, but the quickest possible considering the terrible road conditions in
Swadweep
, the
island of the individual
.
The excitement in the hearts of the Meluhan soldiers was beyond compare. They had only heard legends about Lord Ram’s city. None had ever seen it.
Ayodhya
, literally
the impregnable city
, was the land first blessed by Lord Ram’s sacred feet. They expected a gleaming city beyond compare, even if it had been devastated by the Chandravanshi presence. They expected the city to be an oasis of order and harmony even if all the surrounding land had been rendered chaotic by the Chandravanshis. They were disappointed.
Ayodhya was nothing like Devagiri. At first glance, it promised much. The outer walls were thick and looked astonishingly powerful. Unlike the sober grey Meluhan walls, the exterior of Ayodhya had been extravagantly painted with every colour in god’s universe. Each alternate brick, however, was painted in pristine white, the royal colour of the Chandravanshis. Numerous banners, tinted in pink and blue, had been festooned down the city towers. The banners weren’t put up for a special occasion, but were permanent fixtures, adorning the city.
The empire road curved suddenly along the fort wall to the main entrance, so as to prevent elephants and battering rams from getting a straight run to the mighty doors. At the top of the main gates, a wonderfully ornate, horizontal crescent moon had been sculpted into the walls. Below it was the Chandravanshi motto.
‘Shringar. Saundarya. Swatantrata.’ Passion. Beauty. Freedom
.
It was only when one entered the city that it delivered a blow to the precision and order loving Meluhans. Krittika described the city’s organisation best as ‘functioning pandemonium’. Unlike all Meluhan cities, Ayodhya was not built on a platform — so it was obvious that if the Sarayu river ever flooded in the manner that the temperamental Indus did, the city would be inundated. The numerous city walls, built in seven concentric circles, were surprisingly thick and strong. However, it didn’t take a general’s strategic eye to see that the concentric walls had not been planned by a military mastermind. They were in fact added in a haphazard manner, one by one, after the city had burst its seams and extended beyond the previous perimeter. That is why there were many weak points along each wall, which an enemy laying siege could easily exploit. Perhaps that’s why the Chandravanshis preferred to take wars outside to a far away battleground rather than defend their city.