The Krishna Key (5 page)

Soon Yudhistira expressed his desire to perform the Rajasuya Yajna
—
a public coronation in which other kings would accept and acknowledge him as an equal sovereign. I suggested that the Pandavas first defeat Jarasandha
—
the mighty ruler of Magadha. Such a victory would make it impossible for any other sovereign to object to Yudhistira’s sovereignty. I suggested that Bhima challenge Jarasandha to a duel. I told Bhima the secret to killing Jarasandha. Jarasandha’s body had to be torn into two halves vertically in order to kill him. Bhima followed my advice and succeeded in splitting Jarasandha in two. This paved the way for Yudhistira’s coronation. It also rid me of the biggest thorn in my side, Jarasandha.

Radhika looked around her. Rows upon rows of gleaming laboratory tables and equipment, cryo-freezers, specimen storage systems, electronic micro
scopes and DNA synthesisers stretched into the distance. Alongside were banks of computer servers where thousands of data sets from multiple research studies done on different platforms could be merged, and data from thousands of projects, finds, participants and sources could be analysed together, increasing the probability of gene discovery.

‘If you don’t mind my asking, what exactly do you do here?’ asked Radhika, her interest piqued by Chhedi’s statement.

‘We’re trying to use modern scientific techniques to uncover our past,’ said Chhedi cryptically.

‘Could you be a little less mysterious, sir?’ asked Radhika, smiling as she located a few almonds in her pockets. Chhedi laughed. The woman was a livewire.

‘My primary interest lies in our ability to rejuvenate ancient DNA,’ said Chhedi, staring at Radhika as she popped an almond into her mouth.

‘Ancient DNA? But isn’t that pointless? There would hardly be any ancient DNA material for revival,’ argued Radhika.

‘You are mistaken Inspector. Ancient civilisations knew more about stem cells than modern humans. Many Hindus would be intimately aware of a ritual that would be performed after childbirth for precisely this reason,’ said Chhedi.

‘Really? What ritual was that?’ asked Radhika.

‘After delivery, the midwife would take the umbilical cord of the new born child and place a small portion of it in an airtight copper capsule, and this capsule—known as a
Taviju Raksha
—would be tied below the
waist of the child until he grew up,’ explained Chhedi. ‘The remainder of the umbilical cord would be placed in an earthen jar and buried underground. Doesn’t it surprise you that modern civilisation has only just recently figured out that preserving stem cells from a child’s umbilical cord using cryo-freezing is a prudent step?’

‘So you think that the
Tavija Rasksha
,’ replied Sir Khantrohttp://kailaibala.blogspot.in/ was not merely a religious ritual but a scientific one?’ asked Radhika.

‘The ancients knew far more about medicine than we’re willing to believe,’ replied Chhedi. ‘Vedic surgeons wrote about plastic surgery, extraction of cataracts, dental surgery, caesarean sections and bone-setting. Surgery—known as
Shastrakarma
in the Vedas—was pioneered in the
Shushruta Samahita.
Shushruta’s path-breaking treatise describes rhinoplasty in which a mutilated nose can be reconstructed through plastic surgery! The
Charaka Samhita
authored by Charaka discusses physiology, etiology, embryology, digestion, metabolism, immunity and even genetics. For example, Charaka knew the factors that determined the sex of a child. Why is it impossible to believe that the ancients knew of genetic cloning? Read between the lines, Inspector,’ said Chhedi.

‘Cloning? I don’t recall any mention of it in our epics?’ asked Radhika.

‘Think carefully. When Lord Rama fought with Ravana, was he fighting one demon with ten heads or was he actually fighting ten people who had been genetically cloned from Ravana?’ asked Chhedi.

Radhika digested the information slowly. She visualised Ravana battling Lord Rama, with the latter
lopping off the former’s head repeatedly, only to see it replaced by yet another. The geneticist wasn’t entirely wrong. It could indeed have been possible that Ravana had succeeded in cloning himself so that any enemy would have to fight not just one but ten Ravanas.

‘I assume that you’re familiar with the stories of Durga slaying various demons?’ asked Chhedi.

‘Some of them,’ said Radhika, chewing on an almond contentedly.

‘According to the eighth chapter of
Devi Mahatmya
from the
Markandeya Puran,
there lived a demon by the name of
Raktabija.
You do understand what Raktabija means, don’t you? It translates to
blood seed.
The story about Raktabija was that each time a drop of his blood fell to the earth, a new duplicate of himself would emerge. He was eventually killed by Durga. She succeeded in killing him by preventing his blood from reaching the ground. Isn’t this yet another example of our ancient myths telling us about deeper scientific advances?’ asked Chhedi.

Radhika was reeling from the onslaught of information.

‘Our mythology tells us that Brahama took birth from the umbilicus of Vishnu. Was this just imagination or was it indicative of the fact that Vedic people knew of the presence and significance of stem cells in the umbilical cord?’ asked Chhedi.

Greeted by silence, Chhedi asked, ‘We know that Krishna’s elder brother—Balarama—was transferred from Devaki’s womb to that of Rohini. How would that have been possible without knowledge of in vitro fertilisation?’

Unknown to Radhika and non-academics, Chhedi had written a paper in which he had referenced the
Vishnu Purana.
It also said that Hari in the form of Brahama was the instrumental cause of creation. It was said that matter was imperceptible and invisible but had been infused with an intrinsic ability to transform, mutate, combine, recombine and permutate into visible substances. Chhedi had argued that there were pluripotential stem cells in the bone marrow and the blood in the umbilical cord, and that these stem cells were the ones that were capable of transforming themselves into any cell ,’ replied Sir Khanta on the in the universe of the human body. When the
Vishnu Purana
spoke of
Akaasa
—it was simply referring to the universe’s pluripotential stem substance.

Guests from all over the land attended the Rajasuya Yajna of Yudhistira. Included among the invitees were Duryodhana and Shishupala. Indraprastha had grown into the most magnificent city in the land and poets had begun comparing it to heaven. Duryodhana was extremely jealous. I’m told that while he was admiring the city, he slipped and fell into a pond. Draupadi, who happened to be in the vicinity, observed, ‘A blind son of blind parents!’ Duryodhana seethed with anger at the remark and took a personal vow that he would ensure Draupadi’s humiliation exactly in the same
way that she had enjoyed his. Indeed, it is true that careless remarks can come back to bite you!

‘Do you realise that we have just crossed Karnal?’ asked Saini from the front seat.

‘Yes. Ten minutes ago. How is that important?’ asked Priya.

‘Well, somewhere between Karnal and Ambala, lies a very important location,’ said Saini. Priya maintained her silence. She had grown weary of prodding answers from Saini. She believed he would blurt them out soon enough, anyway. He proved her right.

‘Midway between Karnal and Ambala is the battlefield of Kurukshetra, where the Pandavas and Kauravas fought their epic war,’ said Saini finally. ‘If you both are in agreement, I would like to stop at
Jyotisaar.’

‘What is at Jyotisaar?’ asked Kurkude.

‘I’ll explain later. Just let’s get to Thanesar village and you’ll understand everything,’ said Saini.

Taarak asked for a few directions along the way and they reached the Kurukshetra-Pehowa road within ten minutes. Just five kilometres west of Thanesar stood the massive banyan tree that Saini wanted to visit. It was called Jyotisaar. The tree was encircled by a simple white fence and next to it stood a marble chariot depicting Krishna delivering his famous sermon to Arjuna. A signboard informed visitors of the significance of the location.

Saini got down from the car and began circling the tree slowly.

‘What is so remarkable about this banyan?’ asked Kurkude, impatiently.

‘This, dear professor, is the Jyotisaar tree. “
Jyoti
” means “light” and “
sar
” translates to “core understanding”. This tree is
the core understanding of light
, or ultimately
an in-depth understanding of God.
This tree is thousands of years old and is an offshoot of the holy tree under which Krishna delivered the
Bhagwad Gita
to Arjuna. It has withstood the test of time and has remained rooted here from time immemorial. It saw the battle being fought right here at Kurukshetra!’ exclaimed Saini, reverentially touching the trunk of the tree. ‘If only trees could talk, we would have all the answers by simply conversing with the Jyotisaar!’

‘Some years ago, wasn’t there talk of a resident having found bones belonging to the soldiers in the great war right here?’ asked Kurkude.

‘Yes, there is a man called Ram Prasad Birbal—a resident of this area—who claims that ,’ replied Sir KhanDeb scriptureshe has found bones dating from the Kurukshetra battle. But honestly speaking, his findings do not really matter. The thermo-luminescent dating of other relics in addition to carbon-dating at other Kurukshetra sites have yielded dates far older than the Indus Valley civilisation. Euan Mackie, an English archaeologist, has even discovered a clay tablet depicting Krishna’s uprooting of the Yamala Arjuna trees. Guess where the clay tablet was discovered? In Mohenjodaro! Once again: proof that the Indus-Sarasvati was indeed the very civilisation that gave us the
Vedas,
the epics, the
Puranas
and the
Upanishads.’

‘Was there ever any doubt on that score?’ asked Kurkude.

‘The doubts were created by foreign historians,’ replied Saini, as he knelt in front of the tree to offer prayers. ‘Hundreds of sites of the Sarasvati civilisation were wrongly clubbed together and classified as the Indus Valley civilisation. It came to be regarded as a civilisation that apparently had no body of literature. On the other hand, the
Vedas,
which probably constitute the largest body of ancient literature anywhere in the world, were seen as sophisticated writing without a corresponding civilisation. The common-sense approach of linking the two together went contrary to the Aryan-invasion theory. This was in spite of the fact that the
Vedas
repeatedly allude to their sages performing their sacred rites on the banks of the Sarasvati. The discovery of the dried bed of the ancient Sarasvati is the strongest evidence to link the
Vedas
to Harappan culture. The
swastika
—a sacred symbol in the
Vedas
—has been found at innumerable places in Indus Valley sites. Archaeologists have also discovered fire altars, images of people in meditation, and sacred water tanks—all indications of the fact that the ones who built these magnificent cities were the same people who wrote the
Vedas.’

‘Wasn’t there also a view that the
Vedas
were possibly written
after
the decline of the Indus Valley?’ asked Priya, touching her head reverentially to the tree trunk.

‘That theory has been disproved by the discovery of the ancient route of the Sarasvati,’ retorted Saini. ‘The
Rig Veda
in particular calls the Sarasvati the largest river of the region,
pure in its course from the mountains to the sea!
This means that the river was in full flow when the
Vedas
were written.’

‘Did the Sarasvati continue to flow even during the time of the
Mahabharata
?’ asked Kurkude.

‘The
Mahabharata
describes the Sarasvati as a river that was no longer mighty—one that had begun to dry into isolated lakes in Rajasthan and Haryana,’ said Saini. ‘By simply reading ancient Vedic literature one can visualise the stages of the Sarasvati river. When the ice age ended, the massive glaciers of the Himalayas began to melt and this melting process made the Sarasvati exceptionally mighty. It remained in full flow until the glaciers had melted. But the end of the Sarasvati would have coincided with the end of Dwarka too, because the increasing sea levels would have inundated the city!’