Immortals of Meluha (8 page)
CHAPTER 3
Nandi lay in a semi-conscious state for several hours as the medicines administered by the doctors worked on his body. Shiva sat by his side, repeatedly changing the wet cloth on his burning forehead to control the fever. Nandi kept babbling incoherently as he tossed and turned in his sleep, making Shiva’s task that much more difficult.
‘I’ve been searching... long... so long... a hundred years... never thought I.... find Neelkanth... Jai Shri Ram...’
Shiva tried to ignore Nandi’s babble as he focussed on keeping the fever down. But his ears had caught on to something.
He’s been searching for a hundred years?!
Shiva frowned.
The fever’s affecting his bloody brain! He doesn’t look a day older than twenty years!
‘I’ve been searching for a hundred years...,’ continued the oblivious Nandi. ‘...I found... Neelkanth...’
Shiva stopped for a moment and stared hard at Nandi. Then shaking his head dismissively, he continued his ministrations.
Shiva had been walking on a paved, signposted road along the River Beas for the better part of an hour. He had left the rest house to explore the area by himself, much against a rapidly recovering Nandi’s advice. Nandi was out of danger, but they had to wait for a few days nevertheless, so that the Captain could be strong enough to travel. There was not much Shiva could do at the rest house and he had begun to feel resdess. The three soldiers had tried to shadow Shiva, but he had angrily dismissed them. ‘Will you please stop trying to stick to me like leeches?’
The rhythmic hymns sung by the gentle waters of the Beas soothed Shiva. A cool tender breeze teased his thick lock of hair. He rested his hand on the hilt of his scabbard as his mind swirled with persistent questions.
Is Nandi really more than a hundred years old? But that’s impossible! And what the hell do these craqy Meluhans need me for anyway? And why in the name of the holy lake is my bloody throat still feeling so cold?
Lost in his thoughts, Shiva did not realise that he had strayed off the road into a clearing. Staring him in the face was the most beautiful building he had ever seen. It was built entirely with white and pink marble. An imposing flight of stairs led up to the top of a high platform, which had been adorned by pillars around its entire circumference. The ornate roof was topped by a giant triangular spire, like a giant ‘namaste’ to the gods. Elaborate sculptures were carved upon every available space on the structure.
Shiva had spent many days in Meluha and all the buildings he had seen so far were functional and efficient. However, this particular one was oddly flamboyant. At the entrance, a signpost announced, Temple of Lord Brahma’. The Meluhans appeared to reserve their creativity for religious places.
There was a small crowd of hawkers around the courtyard in the clearing. Some were selling flowers, others were selling food. Still others were selling assorted items required for a
puja
. There was a stall where worshippers could leave their footwear as they went up to the temple. Shiva left his shoes there and walked up the steps. Entering the main temple, he stared at the designs and sculptures, mesmerized by the sheer magnificence of the architecture.
‘What are you doing here?’
Shiva turned around to find a Pandit staring at him quizzically. His wizened face sported a flowing white beard matched in length only by his silvery mane. Wearing a saffron dhoti and angvastram, he had the calm, gende look of a man who had already attained
nirvana
, but had chosen to remain on earth to fulfil some heavenly duties. Shiva realised that the Pandit was the first truly old person that he had seen in Meluha.
‘I am sorry. Am I not allowed in here?’ asked Shiva politely.
‘Of course you are allowed in here. Everyone is allowed into the house of the gods.’
Shiva smiled. Before he could respond however, the Pandit questioned once again, ‘But you don’t believe in these gods, do you?’
Shiva’s smile disappeared as quickly as it came.
How the hell does he know?
The Pandit answered the question in Shiva’s eyes. ‘Everyone who enters this place of worship looks only at the idol of Lord Brahma. Almost nobody notices the efforts and the brilliance of the architects who built this lovely temple. You, however, have eyes only for the work of the architects. You have not yet cast even a glance upon the idol.’
Shiva grinned apologetically. You guessed right. I don’t believe in symbolic gods. I believe that the real god exists all around us. In the flow of the river, in the rustle of the trees, in the whisper of the winds. He speaks to us all the time. All we need to do is listen. However, I apologise if I have caused some offence in not showing proper respect for your god.’
You don’t need to apologise, my friend,’ smiled the Pandit. There is no “your god” or “;my god”. All godliness comes from the same source. Just the manifestations are different. But I have a feeling that one day you will find a temple worth walking into just for prayer, not to admire its beauty.’
‘Really? Which temple might that be?’
‘You will find it when you are ready, my friend.’
Why do these Meluhans always talk in bizarre riddles?
Shiva nodded politely, his expression pretending an appreciation for the Pandit’s words that he did not truly feel. He thought it wise to flee the temple before his welcome was stretched any further.
‘It’s time to get back to my rest house now, Pandit
ji
. But I eagerly look forward to finding the temple of my destiny. It was a pleasure meeting you,’ said Shiva, as he bent down to touch the Pandit’s feet.
Placing his hand on Shiva’s head, the Pandit said gently,
‘Jai Guru Vishwamitra. Jai Guru Vashishta.’
Shiva rose, turned and walked down the steps. Looking at Shiva walking away from him, clearly out of earshot, the Pandit whispered with an admiring smile, for he had recognised his
fellow traveller in karma
. ‘The pleasure was all mine, my
karmasaathi’
Shiva reached the shoe stall, out on his shoes and offered a coin for the service. The shoe-keeper politely declined. ‘Thank you Sir, but this is a service provided by the government of Meluha. There is no charge for it.’
Shiva smiled. ‘Of course! You people have a system for everything. Thank you.’
The shoe-keeper smiled back. ‘We are only doing our duty, Sir.’
Shiva walked back to the temple steps. As he sat down, he breathed in deeply and let the tranquil atmosphere suffuse him with its serenity. And then it happened. The moment that every unrealised heart craves for. The unforgettable instant that a soul, clinging on to the purest memory of its previous life, longs for. The second, that in spite of a conspiracy of the gods, only a few lucky men experience. The moment when
she
enters
his
life.
She rode in on a chariot, guiding the horses expertly into the courtyard, while a lady companion by her side held on to the railings. Although her black hair was tied in an understated bun, a few irreverent strands danced a spellbinding
kathak
in the wind. Her piercingly magnetic, blue eyes and bronzed skin were an invitation for jealousy from the goddesses. Her body, though covered demurely in a long angvastram, still ignited Shiva’s imagination enough to sense the lovely curves which lay beneath. Her flawless face was a picture of concentration as she manoeuvred the chariot skilfully into its parking place. She dismounted the chariot with an air of confidence. It was a calm confidence which had not covered the ugly distance towards arrogance. Her walk was dignified. Stately enough to let a beholder know that she was detached, but not cold. Shiva stared at her like a parched piece of earth mesmerised by a passing rain cloud.
Have mercy on me!
‘My lady, I still feel it’s not wise to wander so far from the rest of your entourage,’ said her companion.
She answered. ‘Krittika, just because others don’t know the law, doesn’t mean that we can ignore it. Lord Ram clearly stated that once a year, a pious woman has to visit Lord Brahma. I will not break that law, no matter how inconvenient it is to the bodyguards!’
The lady noticed Shiva staring at her as she passed by him. Her delicate eyebrows arched into a surprised and annoyed frown. Shiva made a valiant attempt to tear his glance away, but realised that his eyes were no longer in his control. She continued walking up, followed by Krittika.
She turned around at the top of the temple steps, to see the caste unmarked immigrant at a distance, still staring at her unabashedly. Before turning to walk into the main temple, she muttered to Krittika, ‘These uncouth immigrants! As if we’ll find our saviour amongst these barbarians!’
It was only when she was out of sight that Shiva could breathe again. As he desperately tried to gather his wits, his overwhelmed and helpless mind took one obvious decision — there was no way he was leaving the temple before getting another look at her. He sat down on the steps once again. As his breathing and heartbeat returned to normal, he finally began to notice the surroundings that had been consecrated by her recent presence. He stared once again at the road on the left from where she had turned in. She had ridden past the cucumber seller standing near the banyan tree.
Incidentally, why is the cucumber seller not trying to hawk his wares? He just seems to be staring at the temple. Anyway, it is not any of my concern.
He followed the path that her chariot had taken as it had swerved to its left, around the fountain at the centre of the courtyard. It had then taken a sharp right turn past the shepherd standing at the entrance of the garden.
Incidentally, where were this shepherd’s sheep?
Shiva continued to look down the path the chariot had taken into the parking lot. Next to the chariot stood another man who had just walked into the temple complex, but had inexplicably not entered the temple itself. He turned to the shepherd and appeared to nod slightly. Before Shiva could piece together the information that he had just seen, he felt her presence again. He turned immediately to see her walking down the steps, with Krittika walking silently behind. Still finding this rude, caste-unmarked, obviously foreign man staring at her, she walked up to him and asked in a firm but polite voice, ‘Excuse me, is there a problem?’
‘No. No. There’s no problem. I just felt that I had seen you before somewhere,’ replied a flustered Shiva.
The lady was not sure how to respond to this. It was obviously a lie but there appeared to be a sincere voice behind it. Before she could react, Krittika cut in rudely. ‘Is that the best line you could come up with?’
As Shiva was about to retort, he was alerted by a quick movement from the cucumber seller. Shiva turned to see him pulling out a sword as he tossed his shawl aside. The shepherd and the man next to the chariot also stood poised in traditional fighter positions with their swords drawn. Shiva immediately drew his sword and stretched out his left hand protectively, to pull the object of his fascination behind him. She however deftly side-stepped his protective hand, reached into the folds of her angvastram and drew out her own sword.
