The Secret of the Nagas (26 page)

‘Yes.’

The ships set sail, down the Branga river, to the capital city of the kingdom,
Brangaridai
, literally,
the heart of Branga
.

Parvateshwar was standing alone at the stern, watching the lead boat. The system that Anandmayi had suggested, of tying a line from the lead boat to the central boat, was being followed. The General still marvelled at the brilliant simplicity of this idea.

‘General.’

Parvateshwar turned around to find Anandmayi standing behind him. Due to the cold, she had wrapped a long angvastram around her.

‘Your Highness,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come.’

‘It’s all right,’ said Anandmayi with a slight smile. ‘I have soft feet.’

Parvateshwar nodded, about to say something, but he hesitated.

‘What is it, General?’

‘Your Highness,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘I meant no insult when I asked you to duel with me. In Meluha, it is a form of fellowship.’

‘Fellowship! You make our relationship sound so boring, General.’

Parvateshwar kept silent.

‘Well, if you have called me a friend,’ said Anandmayi, ‘perhaps you can answer a question.’

‘Of course.’

‘Why did you take the vow of lifelong celibacy?’

‘That is a long story, Your Highness.’

‘I have all the time in the world to hear you.’

‘More than two hundred and fifty years ago, noblemen in Meluha voted for a change in Lord Ram’s laws.’

‘What is wrong with that? I thought Lord Ram had said his laws can be changed for the purpose of justice.’

‘Yes, he did. But this particular change did not serve justice. You know about our Maika system of child management, right?’

‘Yes,’ said Anandmayi. How a mother could be expected to surrender her child without any hope of seeing him ever again was something she did not understand. But she didn’t want to get into an argument with Parvateshwar. ‘So what change was made in it?’

‘The Maika system was relaxed so that the children of nobility would not be surrendered into the common pool. They would continue to be tracked separately and returned to their birth parents when they turned sixteen.’

‘What about the children of common people?’

‘They were not a part of this relaxation.’

‘That’s not fair.’

‘That’s exactly what my grandfather, Lord Satyadhwaj, thought. Nothing wrong with the relaxation itself. But one of Lord Ram’s unchangeable rules was that the law should apply equally to everyone. You cannot have separate sets of rules for the nobility and the masses. That is wrong.’

‘I agree. But didn’t your grandfather oppose this change?’

‘He did. But he was the only one opposing it. So the change still went through.’

‘That is sad.’

‘To protest against this corruption of Lord Ram’s way, my grandfather vowed that neither he nor any of his adopted Maika descendants would ever have birth children.’

Anandmayi wondered who gave Lord Satyadhwaj the right to make a decision for all his descendants in perpetuity! But she didn’t say anything.

Parvateshwar, chest puffed up in pride, said, ‘And I honour that vow to this day.’

Anandmayi sighed and turned towards the riverbank, watching the dense forest. Parvateshwar too turned to look at the Branga river, heavily laden with silt, flowing sluggishly on.

‘It’s strange how life works,’ said Anandmayi, without turning towards Parvateshwar. ‘A good man rebelled against an injustice in a foreign land more than two hundred and fifty years ago. Today, that very rebellion is causing me injustice...’

Parvateshwar turned to glance at Anandmayi. He stared hard at her beautiful face, a soft smile on his lips. Then he shook his head and turned back towards the river.

Chapter 12

The Heart of Branga

The Branga river carried too much water and silt to remain whole for long. It rapidly broke up into multiple distributaries, which spread their bounty across the land of Branga before disgorging themselves into the Eastern Sea, creating what was probably the largest river delta on earth. It was rumoured that the land was so fertile with the flood-delivered silt and so bountiful in water that the farmers did not have to labour for their crops. All they had to do was fling the seeds and the rich soil did the rest!

Brangaridai lay on the main distributary of the Branga river, the Padma.

Shiva’s fleet closed in on Brangaridai a little over two weeks after crossing the gates of Branga. They had sailed through lands that were prosperous and wealthy. But there was an air of death, of pathos, which hung heavy.

The walls of Brangaridai spread over an area of a thousand hectares, almost the size of Devagiri. While the city of Devagiri had been built on three platforms, Brangaridai spread itself on naturally higher ground, around a kilometre inland from the Padma, as a safeguard against floods. Surrounded by high walls, the capital stayed true to the Chandravanshi disdain for any long term planning. The roads were laid out in a haphazard manner and not in the grid form of the Meluhan cities. But the streets were still broad and tree-lined. Vast quantities of Branga wealth ensured that their buildings were superbly built and maintained, while their temples were lofty and grand. A large number of public monuments had been constructed over the centuries: stadia for performances, halls for celebrations, exquisite gardens and public baths. Despite their superb condition, these public buildings were rarely used. The repeated bouts of the plague ensured that the Brangas saw death every day. There was very little zest left for life.

The river port off the city had multiple levels to allow for the vastly varying depth of the Padma at different times of the year. At this time of the year, the peak of winter, the Padma was at its medium flow. Shiva and his entourage disembarked on the fifth level of the port. Shiva saw Parvateshwar, Drapaku, Purvaka and Divodas waiting for him on the comfortable concourse at this port level.

‘It’s a massive port, Purvaka ji,’ said Shiva.

‘I can sense it, My Lord,’ smiled Purvaka. ‘I think these Brangas may probably have the capability to be as efficient as the Meluhans.’

‘I don’t think they care about efficiency, father,’ said Drapaku. ‘I sense that the bigger challenge for them is to simply stay alive.’

Just then a short, rotund Branga man, wearing an impossibly large array of gold jewellery, came rushing down the steps. He saw Parvateshwar and went down on his knees, bringing his head down to his feet. ‘My Lord, you have come! You have come! We are saved!’

Parvateshwar bent down to pick up the man sternly. ‘I am not the Neelkanth.’

The Branga man looked up, confused.

Parvateshwar pointed towards Shiva. ‘Bow down to the true Lord.’

The man rushed towards Shiva’s feet. ‘My apologies, My Lord. Please don’t punish Branga for my terrible mistake.’

‘Get up, my friend,’ smiled Shiva. ‘How could you recognise me when you had never seen me before?’

The Branga stood up, tears flooding his eyes. ‘Such humility, despite so much power. It could only be you, the great Mahadev.’

‘Don’t embarrass me. What is your name?’

‘I am Bappiraj, Prime Minister of Branga, My Lord. We have set up the welcoming party for you at ground level, where King Chandraketu awaits.’

‘Please take me to your king.’

Bappiraj proudly climbed the last step to the ground level, followed by Shiva. Bhagirath, Parvateshwar, Anandmayi, Ayurvati, Divodas, Drapaku, Purvaka, Nandi and Veerbhadra followed.

As soon as Shiva ascended, loud conch shells were blown by a posse of pandits. A large herd of elephants, decked in fine gold ornaments, standing a little further away, trumpeted loud enough to startle Purvaka. The splendidly-carved stone pavilion at the ground level had been sheathed in gold plates to honour the Mahadev. It seemed as though almost the entire population — 400,000 citizens — of Brangaridai had gathered to receive the Neelkanth. At the head was the poignant figure of King Chandraketu.

He was a man of medium height, with a bronzed complexion, high cheekbones and doe-eyes. King Chandraketu’s black hair was long like most Indians and had been neatly oiled and curled. He didn’t have the muscular physique one expected of a Kshatriya. His lanky frame was clothed in a simple cream dhoti and angvastram. Despite ruling a kingdom with legendary hordes of gold and fabulous wealth, Chandraketu did not have a smidgeon of gold on his body. His eyes had the look of a defeated man, struggling against fate.

Chandraketu went down on his knees, his head touching the ground and his hands spread forward, as did every other Branga present.

‘
Ayushman bhav
, Your Highness,’ said Shiva, blessing King Chandraketu
with a long life
.

Chandraketu looked up, still on his knees, his hands folded in a namaste, copious tears rolling down his eyes. ‘I know I will live long now, My Lord. And so will every Branga. For you have come!’

‘We must stop this senseless war,’ said Vasuki, looking around the Naga Rajya Sabha. Many heads nodded in agreement. He was the descendant of one of the celebrated kings of the Nagas in the past. His lineage earned him respect.

‘But the war is over,’ said the Queen. ‘Mount Mandar has been destroyed. The secret is with us.’