The Oath of the Vayuputras: Shiva Trilogy 3

Chapter 18

Honour or Victory?

‘I say that we have no choice,’ said Kali. ‘I agree we cannot kill him, but he must remain our prisoner here till the end of the war.’

Shiva and his family, along with Gopal, were assembled in the Neelkanth’s private chambers at the Kashi palace.

Ganesh glanced at a seething Sati and decided to hold his counsel.

Kartik, however, had no such compunctions. ‘I agree with mausi.’

Shiva looked at Kartik.

‘I know that it is a difficult decision,’ continued Kartik. ‘Parvateshwarji has behaved with absolute honour. He was not privy to any of our strategy discussions. He could have escaped on multiple occasions, but did not. He waited till you returned so he could take your permission to leave. But you’re the Neelkanth, baba. You have the responsibility for India on your shoulders. Sometimes, for the sake of the larger good, one has to do things that may not appear right at the time. Perhaps, a laudable end can justify some questionable means.’

Sati glared at her younger son. ‘Kartik, how can you think that a great end justifies questionable means?’

‘Maa, can we accept a world where the Somras continues to thrive?’

‘Of course we can’t,’ said Sati. ‘But do you think that this struggle is only about the Somras?’

Ganesh finally spoke up. ‘Of course it is, maa.’

‘No, it is not,’ said Sati. ‘It is also about the legacy that we will leave behind, of how Shiva will be remembered. People from across the world will analyse every aspect of his life and draw lessons. They will aspire to be like him. Didn’t we all criticise Lord Bhrigu for using the daivi astras in the attack on Panchavati? The Maharishi must have justified what he did with arguments similar to what you’re advocating. If we behave in the same way then what will differentiate us from him?’

‘People only remember victors, didi,’ said Kali. ‘For history is written by victors. They can write it however they want. The losers are always remembered the way the victors portray them. What is important right now is for us to ensure our victory.’

‘Please allow me to disagree, Your Highness,’ said Gopal. ‘It is not true that only victors determine history.’

‘Of course, it is,’ said Kali. ‘There is a Deva version of events and an Asura version of events. Which version do we remember?’

‘If you talk about the present-day India, then yes, the Deva version is remembered,’ said Gopal. ‘But even today, the Asura version is well known outside of India.’

‘But we live here,’ said Kali. ‘Why should we bother about the beliefs that prevail elsewhere?’

‘Perhaps I have been unable to make myself clear, Your Highness,’ said Gopal. ‘It’s not just about the place, but also about the time. Will the Deva version of history always be remembered the way it is? Or is it possible that different versions will emerge? Remember, if there’s a victor’s version of events, then there’s a victim’s narrative that survives equally. For as long as the victors remain in command, their version holds ground. But if history has taught us one thing, it is that communities rise and fall in eminence just as surely as the tides ebb and flow. There comes a time when victors do not remain as powerful, when the victims of old become the elite of the day. Then, one will find that narratives change just as dramatically. This new version becomes the popular version in time.’

‘I disagree,’ dismissed Kali. ‘Unless the victims escape to another land, like the Asuras, they will always remain powerless, their experiences dismissed as myths.’

‘Not quite,’ said Gopal. ‘Let me talk about something that is close to your heart. In the times that we live, the Nagas are feared and cursed as demons. Many millennia ago, they were respected. After winning this war they will become respectable and powerful once again as loyal allies of the Neelkanth. Your version of history will then begin to gain currency once again, won’t it?’

An unconvinced Kali chose to remain silent.

‘An interesting factor is the conduct of the erstwhile victims in the new era,’ said Gopal. ‘Armed with fresh empowerment, will they seek vengeance on the surviving old elite?’

‘Obviously the victims will nurse hatred in their hearts. Would you expect them to be filled with the milk of human kindness?’ asked Kali, sarcastically.

‘You hate the Meluhans, don’t you?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘But how do you feel about the founding father of Meluha, Lord Ram?’

Kali was quiet. She held Lord Ram in deep reverence.

‘Why do you revere Lord Ram, but reject the people he left behind?’ asked Gopal.

Sati spoke up on her sister’s behalf. ‘That is because Lord Ram treated even his enemies honourably, quite unlike the present-day Meluhans.’

Shiva observed Sati with quiet satisfaction.

‘A man becomes God when his vision moves beyond the bounds of victors and losers,’ said Sati. ‘Shiva’s message has to live on forever. And that can only happen if both the victors and the losers find validation in him. That he must win is a given. But equally critical is his winning the right way.’

Gopal was quick to support Sati. ‘Honour must beget honour. That is the only way.’

Shiva walked to the balcony and gazed at the massive Kashi Vishwanath temple on the Sacred Avenue, and beyond it at the holy Ganga.

Everyone was poised for his decision.

He turned and whispered, ‘I need some time to think. We will meet again tomorrow.’



Sati looked down. The clear waters of the lake lay below her. The fish swam rapidly, keeping pace with her as she flew over the water, towards the banks in the distance.

She looked up towards a massive black mountain, different in hue from all the surrounding mountains, topped by a white cap of snow. As she drew close, her vision fell upon a yogi on the banks of the lake. He wore a tiger-skin skirt. His long, matted hair had been tied up in a bun. His muscular body was covered by numerous battle scars. A small halo, almost like the sun, shone behind his head. A crescent moon was lodged in his hair while a snake slithered around his neck. A massive trident stood sentinel beside him, half-buried in the ground. The face of the yogi was blurred, though. And then the mists cleared.

‘Shiva!’ said Sati.

Shiva smiled at her.

‘Is this your home? Kailash?’

Shiva nodded, never once taking his eyes off her.

‘We shall come here one day, my love. When it’s all over, we shall live together in your beautiful land.’

Shiva’s smile broadened.

‘Where are Ganesh and Kartik?’

Shiva didn’t answer.

‘Shiva, where are our sons?’

Suddenly, Shiva started ageing. His handsome face was rapidly overrun by wrinkles. His matted hair turned white almost instantaneously. His massive shoulders began to droop, his taut muscles dissolving before Sati’s very eyes.

Sati smiled. ‘Will we grow old together?’

Shiva’s eyes flew wide open. Like he was looking at something that did not make sense.

Sati looked down at her reflection in the waters. She frowned in surprise. She hadn’t aged a day. She still looked as young as always. She turned back towards her husband. ‘But I’ve stopped using the Somras. What does this mean?’

Shiva was horror-struck. Tears were flowing fiercely down his wrinkled cheeks as his face was twisted in agony. He reached out with his hand, screaming loudly. ‘SATI!’

Sati looked down. Her body was on fire.

‘SATI!’ he screamed once again, getting up and running towards the lake. ‘DON’T LEAVE ME!’

Still facing Shiva, Sati began to fly backwards, faster and faster, the wind fanning the flames on her body. But even through the blaze she could see her husband running desperately towards her.

‘SATI!’

Sati woke up with a start. The beautifully carved Kashi palace ceiling looked ethereal in the flickering torch-light. The only sound was that of the water trickling down the porous walls, cooling the hot dry breeze as it flowed in. Sati instinctively reached out to her left. Shiva wasn’t there.

Alarmed, she was up in a flash. ‘Shiva?’

She heard him call out from the balcony. ‘I’m here, Sati.’

Walking across, she could make out Shiva’s silhouette in the darkness as he leaned back in an easy chair, focussed on the Vishwanath temple in the distance. Nestling comfortably against him on the armrest, she reached out her hand and ran it lovingly through her husband’s locks.

It wasn’t a full moon night, but there was enough light for Shiva to clearly see his wife’s expression.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Shiva.

Sati shook her head. ‘Nothing.’

‘Something’s wrong. You look disturbed.’

‘I had a strange dream.’

‘Hmmm?’

‘I dreamt that we were separated.’

Shiva smiled and pulled Sati close to him, embracing her. ‘You can dream all you want, but you’re never getting away from me.’

Sati laughed. ‘I don’t intend to.’

Shiva held his wife close, turning his gaze back to the Vishwanath temple.

‘What are you thinking?’ asked Sati.

‘I’m just thinking that marrying you was the best thing I ever did.’

Sati smiled. ‘I’m not going to disagree with that. But what specifically brought that up at this time?’

Shiva ran his hand along Sati’s face. ‘Because I know that for as long as you’re with me, you will always keep me centred on the right path.’

‘So, you’ve decided to do the right thing with...’

‘Yes, I have.’

Sati nodded in satisfaction. ‘We will win, Shiva.’

‘Yes, we will. But it has to be the right way.’

‘Absolutely,’ said Sati, and quoted Lord Ram. ‘There is no wrong way to do the right thing.’



A select assembly awaited the arrival of Parvateshwar, who was to be produced in the court of Kashi during the second prahar. The Kashi nobility was represented by Athithigva alone. Shiva sat impassively, his closest advisors around him in a semi-circle: Gopal, Sati, Kali, Ganesh and Kartik. Bhagirath and Ayurvati stood at a distance. Anandmayi was missing.

Shiva nodded towards Athithigva.

Athithigva called out loudly. ‘Bring the General in.’

Parshuram, Veerbhadra and Nandi escorted Parvateshwar into the hall. The Meluhan general was unchained, keeping in mind Shiva’s explicit orders. He glanced briefly at Sati before turning to look at Shiva. The Neelkanth’s rigid face was inscrutable. Parvateshwar expected to be put to death. He knew Shiva would not have wanted to do it, but the others would have convinced him of the necessity of getting rid of the general.

Parvateshwar also knew that regardless of what happened to him, he would treat the Neelkanth with the honour that the Lord deserved. The general clicked his heels together and brought his balled right fist up to his chest. And then, completing the Meluhan military salute, he bowed low towards the Neelkanth. He did not bother with anyone else.

‘Parvateshwar,’ said Shiva.

Parvateshwar immediately looked up.

‘I do not want to drag this on for too long,’ said Shiva. ‘Your rebellion has shocked me. But it has also reinforced my conviction that we are fighting Evil and it’ll not make things easy for us. It can lead even the best amongst us astray, if not through inducements then through dubious calls of honour.’

Parvateshwar continued to stare at Shiva, waiting for the sentence.

‘But when one fights against Evil, one has to fight with Good,’ said Shiva. ‘Not just on the side of Good, but with Good in one’s heart. Therefore, I have decided to allow you to leave.’

Parvateshwar couldn’t believe his ears.

‘Go now,’ said Shiva.

Parvateshwar was only half listening. This magnificent gesture from the Neelkanth had brought tears to his eyes.

‘But let me assure you,’ continued Shiva coldly, ‘the next time we meet, it will be on a battlefield. And that will be the day I will kill you.’

Parvateshwar bowed his head once again, his eyes clouded with tears. ‘That will also be the day of my liberation, My Lord.’

Shiva stayed stoic.

Parvateshwar looked up at Shiva. ‘But for as long as I live, My Lord, I shall fight to protect Meluha.’

‘Go!’ said Shiva.

Parvateshwar smiled at Sati. She brought her hands together in a polite but expressionless Namaste. Parvateshwar mouthed the word ‘Vijayibhav’ silently, blessing his god-daughter with victory.

As he turned around to leave, he saw Ayurvati and Bhagirath standing by the door. He walked up to them.

‘My apologies, Parvateshwar,’ said Bhagirath.

‘I understand,’ replied Parvateshwar, impassively.

Parvateshwar looked at Ayurvati.

Ayurvati just shook her head. ‘Do you realise that you are leaving one of the most magnificent men ever born?’

‘I do,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘But I will have the good fortune of dying at his hands.’

Ayurvati breathed deeply and patted Parvateshwar on his shoulder. ‘I will miss you, my friend.’

‘I will miss you too.’

Parvateshwar scanned the room quickly. ‘Where’s Anandmayi?’

‘She’s waiting for you at the port,’ said Bhagirath, ‘beside the ship that will take you away.’

Parvateshwar nodded. He looked back one last time at Shiva and then walked out.



The harbour master came up to him just as Parvateshwar reached the Assi Ghat. ‘General, your ship is berthed in that direction.’

He began walking in the direction indicated. Parvateshwar saw Anandmayi by the gangplank of a small vessel, obviously a merchant ship.

‘Did you know that I would be allowed to leave honourably?’ asked a smiling Parvateshwar as soon he reached her.

‘When they told me this morning to arrange a ship to sail up the Ganga,’ said Anandmayi, ‘I could surmise it was not to carry your corpse all the way to Meluha and display it to the Suryavanshis.’

Parvateshwar laughed.

‘Also, I never lost faith in the Neelkanth,’ said Anandmayi.

‘Yes,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘He’s the finest man born since Lord Ram.’

Anandmayi looked at the ship. ‘It’s not much, I admit. It will not be comfortable, but it’s quick.’

Parvateshwar suddenly stepped forward and embraced Anandmayi. It took a surprised Anandmayi a moment to respond. Parvateshwar was not a man given to public displays of affection. She knew that it was deeply uncomfortable for him so she never tried to embrace him in public.

Anandmayi smiled warmly and caressed his back. ‘It’s all over now.’

Parvateshwar pulled back a little, but kept his arms around his wife. ‘I will miss you.’

‘Miss me?’ asked Anandmayi.

‘You have been the best thing that ever happened to me,’ said an emotional Parvateshwar, tears in his eyes.

Anandmayi raised her eyebrows and laughed. ‘And I will continue to happen to you. Let’s go.’

‘Let’s go?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where?’

‘Meluha.’

‘You’re coming to Meluha?’

‘Yes.’

Parvateshwar stepped back. ‘Anandmayi, the path ahead is dangerous. I honestly don’t think that Meluha can win.’

‘So?’

‘I cannot permit you to put your life in danger.’

‘Did I seek your permission?’

‘Anandmayi, you cannot...’

Parvateshwar stopped speaking as Anandmayi held his hand, turned around and started walking up the gangplank. Parvateshwar followed quietly with a smile on his face and tears in his eyes.