Immortals of Meluha (51 page)
The road to the Ramjanmabhoomi temple clung to the sides of a gently sloping hill, before ending its journey at Lord Ram’s abode. It afforded a breathtaking view of the city below. But Shiva did not see it. Neither did he see the magnificent construction of the gigantic temple or the gorgeously landscaped gardens around it. The temple was sheer poetry, written in white marble, composed by the architect of the gods. The architect had designed a grand staircase leading up to the main temple platform, which appeared awe-inspiring, yet inviting. Colossal and ornate marble statues in sober blue and grey had been engraved on the platform. Elaborately carved pillars supported an ostentatious yet tasteful ceiling of blue marble. The architect obviously knew that Lord Ram’s favourite time of the day was the morning. For on the ceiling, the morning sky, as it would have been seen in the absence of the temple roof, had been lovingly painted. On top of the ceiling, the temple spire shot upwards to a height of almost one hundred metres, like a giant namaste to the gods. The Swadweepans, to their credit, had not forced their garish sensibilities on the temple. Its restrained beauty was in keeping with the way the sober Lord Ram would have liked it.
Shiva did not notice any of this. Nor did he look at the intricately carved statues in the inner sanctum. Lord Ram’s idol at the centre was surrounded by his beloveds. To the right was his loving wife, Sita, and to the left was his devoted brother, Lakshman. At their feet, on his knees, was Lord Ram’s most fervent and favourite disciple, Hanuman, of the
Vayuputra
tribe,
the sons of the Wind God
.
Shiva could not find the strength to meet Lord Ram’s eyes. He feared the verdict he would receive. He crouched behind a pillar, resting against it, grieving. When he couldn’t control his intense feelings of guilt anymore, his eyes released the tears they had been holding back. Shiva made desperate attempts to control his tears, but they kept flowing as though a dam had burst. He bit into his balled fist, overcome by remorse. He curled his legs up against his chest and rested his head on his knees.
Drowning in his sorrow, Shiva did not feel the compassionate hand on his shoulder. Seeing no reaction, the hand squeezed his shoulder lightly. Shiva recognised the touch but kept his head low. He did not want to appear weak, be seen with tears in his eyes. The gentle hand, old and worn with age, withdrew quietly, while its owner waited patiently until Shiva composed himself. When the time was right, he came forward and sat down in front of him. A sombre Shiva did a formal namaste to the Pandit, who looked almost exactly like the Pandits that Shiva had met at the Brahma temple at Meru and the Mohan temple at Mohan Jo Daro. He sported a similar extensively flowing white beard and a white mane. He wore a saffron dhoti and angvastram, just like the other pandits. The wizened face had the same calm, welcoming smile. The only difference was that this Pandit bore a considerably more generous waist.
‘Is it really so bad?’ asked the Pandit, his eyes narrowed and head tilted slightly, in the typically Indian empathetic look.
Shiva shut his eyes and lowered his head again. The Pandit waited patiently for Shiva’s reply. ‘You don’t know what I have done!’
‘I do know.’
Shiva looked up at the Pandit, his eyes full of surprise and shame.
‘I know what you have done, Oh Neelkanth,’ said the Pandit. ‘And I ask again, is it really so bad?’
‘Don’t call me the Neelkanth,’ glared Shiva. ‘I don’t deserve the tide. I have the blood of thousands on my hands.’
‘Many more than thousands have died,’ said the Pandit. ‘Probably hundreds of thousands. But you really think they wouldn’t have died if you hadn’t been around? Is the blood really on your hands?’
‘Of course it is! It was my stupidity that led to this war. I had no idea what I was doing. A responsibility was thrust upon me and I wasn’t worthy of it! Hundreds of thousands have perished as a result!’
Shiva curled up his fist and pounded his forehead, desperately trying to soothe the throbbing heat on his brow. The Pandit stared in mild surprise at the deep red blotch on Shiva’s forehead, right between his eyes. It didn’t bear the colour of a blood clot. It was a much deeper hue, almost black. The Pandit controlled his surprise and remained silent. Now was not the correct time.
‘And it’s all because of me,’ moaned Shiva, his eyes moistening again. ‘It’s all my fault.’
‘Soldiers are Kshatriyas, my friend,’ said the Pandit, a picture of calm. ‘Nobody forces them to die. They choose their path, knowing the risks.
And
the possible glory that comes with it. The Neelkanth is not the kind of person on whom responsibility can be thrust against his will. You
chose
this. You were
born
for it.’
Shiva looked at the Pandit starded. His eyes seemed to ask, ‘Born for it?’
The Pandit ignored the question in Shiva’s eyes. ‘Everything happens for a reason. If you are going through this turmoil, there is a divine plan behind it.’
‘What bloody divine reason can there be for so many deaths?’
‘The destruction of evil? Wouldn’t you say that is a very important reason?’
‘But I did not destroy evil!’ yelled Shiva. ‘These people aren’t evil.
They’re just different
. Being different isn’t evil.’
The Pandit’s face broke into his typically enigmatic smile. ‘Exactly. They are not evil. They are just different. You have realised it very quickly, my friend, a lot earlier than the previous Mahadev.’
Shiva was perplexed by the Pandit’s words for an instant. ‘Lord Rudra?’
‘Yes! Lord Rudra.’
‘But he did destroy evil. He destroyed the Asuras.’
‘And, who said the Asuras were evil?’
‘I read it…’ Shiva stopped mid—sentence. He finally understood.
‘Yes,’ smiled the Pandit. ‘You have guessed it correctly. Just like the Suryavanshis and the Chandravanshis see each other as evil, so did the Devas and the Asuras. So if you are going to read a book written by the Devas, what do you think the Asuras are going to be portrayed as?’
‘You mean they were just like today’s Suryavanshis and Chandravanshis?’
‘More so than you can imagine. The Devas and the Asuras, just like the Chandravanshis and the Suryavanshis, represent two balancing life forces — a duality’
‘Duality?’
‘Yes, a duality that is one of the many perspectives of the universe — the masculine and the feminine. The Asuras and the Suryavanshis stand for the masculine. The Devas and the Chandravanshis speak for the feminine. The names change, but the life forces they embody remain the same. They will always exist. There is no way that either can be destroyed. Otherwise the universe will implode.’
‘And they see their fight with the other as the eternal struggle between good and evil.’
‘Exactly,’ beamed the Pandit, marvelling at Shiva’s keen mind even in this time of distress. ‘But they haven’t been fighting all the time. Sometimes, there have been long periods of cooperation as well. In times of strife, which usually happens when there is evil, it is easiest to blame each other. A difference of opinion between two dissimilar ways of life gets portrayed as a fight between good and evil. Just because the Chandravanshis are different from the Suryavanshis doesn’t mean that they are evil. Why do you think the Neelkanth had to be an outsider?’
‘So that he would not be biased towards any one point of view,’ said Shiva, as a veil lifted before his eyes.
‘Exactly! The Neelkanth has to be above all this. He has to be devoid of any bias.’
‘But I was not beyond biases. I was convinced that the Chandravanshis are evil. Maybe what Anandmayi says is right. Maybe I am naive, easily misled.’
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself, my friend. You cannot drop from the sky knowing everything, can you? You would have to enter from any one side. And whichever side you entered the equation from, you would obviously be coloured by their viewpoint, seeing the other side as evil. You realized your error early. Lord Rudra did not recognise it till it was almost too late. He had nearly destroyed the Asuras before he grasped the simple fact that they were not evil, just different.’
‘
Nearly
destroyed them? You mean some Asuras still exist?’
The Pandit smiled mysteriously. ‘That conversation is for another time my friend. The point you need to understand is that you are not the first Mahadev who was misled. And you will not be the last. Imagine, if you will, what Lord Rudra’s feelings of guilt must have been?’
Shiva kept quiet, his eyes downcast. The knowledge of Lord Rudra’s guilt did not reduce the shame that racked his soul. Reading his thoughts, the Pandit continued. ‘You took the best decision you could take under the circumstances. I know this will be cold comfort, but being the Neelkanth isn’t easy. You will have to bear the burden of this guilt. I know the kind of person you are. It
will
be a heavy burden. Your challenge is not to ignore the guilt or the pain. You have too good a heart to be able to do that. Your challenge is to stay true to your karma, to your duty,
in spite
of the pain. That is the fate and the duty of a Mahadev.’
‘But what kind of a Mahadev am I? Why am I required? How am I to destroy evil if I don’t know what evil is?’
‘Who said your job is to destroy evil?’
A startled Shiva glared at the Pandit. He hated the irritating word games that these pandits seemed to love.
Glimpsing the anger in Shiva’s eyes, the Pandit clarified immediately. ‘The strength that evil has is overestimated, my friend. It is not so difficult to annihilate. All it takes is for a few good men to decide that they will fight it. At practically all the times that evil has raised its head, it has met the same fate. It has been destroyed.’
‘Then why am I required?’
‘You are required for the most crucial task: To answer that most important question.’
‘What?’
‘
What
is evil?’
‘
What is evil?
’
‘Yes. Many wars have been fought between men,’ said the Pandit. ‘And many more will be fought in the future. That is the way of the world. But it is only a Mahadev who converts one of those wars into a battle between good and evil. It is only the Mahadev who can recognise evil and lead men against it. Before evil raises its ugly head and extinguishes all life.’
‘But how do I recognise evil?’
‘I can’t help you there my friend. I am not the Mahadev. This is a question you must find the answer to. But you have the heart. You have the mind. Keep them open and evil will appear before you.’
‘Appear?’
‘Yes,’ explained the Pandit. ‘Evil has a relationship with you. It will come to you. You have to keep your mind and your heart open so that you recognise it when it appears. I have only one suggestion. Don’t be hasty in trying to recognise evil. Wait for it. It
will
come to you.’
Shiva frowned. He looked down, trying to absorb the strange conversation. He turned towards Lord Ram’s idol, seeking some direction. He did not find the judgemental eyes he expected to see. Instead, he saw a warm, encouraging smile.
‘Your journey is not over, my friend. Not by a long shot. It has just begun. You have to keep walking. Otherwise evil will triumph.’
Shiva’s eyes dried up a bit. His burden didn’t feel any lighter, but he felt strong enough to carry it. He had to keep walking to the very end.
Shiva looked up at the Pandit and smiled weakly. ‘Who are you?’
The Pandit smiled. ‘I know the answer had been promised to you. And a vow by any of us is a collective vow. I will not break it.’
Shiva gazed at the Pandit, waiting for the answer.
‘We are the Vasudevs.’
‘The Vasudevs?’
‘Yes. Each Vishnu leaves a tribe behind entrusted with two missions.’
Shiva continued to watch the Pandit intently.
‘The first mission is to help the next Mahadev, if and when he comes.’
‘And the second?’
‘The second is that one of us will become the next Vishnu, whenever we are required to do so. The seventh Vishnu, Lord Ram, entrusted this task to his trusted lieutenant, Lord Vasudev. We are his followers. We are the tribe of Vasudev.’
Shiva stared at the Pandit, absorbing the implications of this information. He frowned as one inference suddenly occurred to him. ‘Did the Mahadevs also leave some tribes behind? Did Lord Rudra?’
The Pandit smiled, deeply impressed by Shiva’s intellect. The Mohan Jo Daro Secretary was correct.
This man is capable of being a Mahadev
.
‘Yes. Lord Rudra did leave behind a tribe. The tribe of Vayuputra.’
‘Vayuputra?’ asked Shiva. The name sounded oddly familiar.
The Pandit placed his hand on Shiva’s shoulder. ‘Leave this for another time, my friend. I think we have spoken enough for today. Go home. You need your good wife’s comforting embrace. Tomorrow is another day. And your mission can wait till then. For now, go home.’
Shiva smiled. An enigmatic smile. Out of character with his simple Tibetan ways. But he had become an Indian now. He leaned forward to touch the Pandit’s feet. The Pandit placed his hand on his head to bless him, speaking gently, ‘Vijayibhav. Jai Guru Vishwamitra. Jai Guru Vashishta.’
Shiva nodded, accepting the blessings with grace. He got up, turned and walked towards the temple steps. At the edge of the platform, he turned around to look at the Pandit once again. The Pandit sat on his haunches, touching his head reverentially to the ground that Shiva had just vacated. Shiva smiled and shook his head slightly. Looking beyond the Pandit, he gazed intently at the idol of Lord Ram. He put his hands together in a namaste and paid his respects to the Lord.
His burden didn’t feel any tighter. But he felt strong enough to carry it.
He turned and started climbing down. At the bottom, he was surprised to find Sati leaning against the statue of an apsara in the middle of the compound. He smiled. There was nobody in the world whom he would rather see at this time.
