The Oath of the Vayuputras: Shiva Trilogy 3

Chapter 27

The Neelkanth Speaks

The survivors had been disarmed and chained together in groups. The chains had been fixed into stakes buried deep in the ground. They were surrounded by four divisions of Shiva’s finest. It was well nigh impossible for them to escape. Ayurvati had commandeered the outer port area and created a temporary hospital. The injured, of both the Meluhan as well as Shiva’s armies, were being treated.

Shiva squatted next to a low bed where Sati had just received a quick surgery. The wound on her shoulder would heal quickly but the thigh injury would take some time. Kali and Gopal stood at a distance.

‘I’m all right,’ said Sati, pushing Shiva away. ‘Go to Mrittikavati. You need to take control of the city quickly. They need to see you. You need to calm them down. We don’t want skirmishes breaking out between the citizens of Mrittikavati and our army.’

‘I know. I know. I’m going,’ said Shiva. ‘I just needed to check on you.’

Sati smiled and pushed him once again. ‘I’m fine! I will not die so easily. Now go!’

‘Didi is right,’ said Kali. ‘We need to do a flag march within the precincts of the city and cow them down.’

A surprised Shiva turned around. ‘We are not taking our army into the city.’

Kali flailed her hands in exasperation. ‘Then why did we conquer the city?’

‘We haven’t conquered the city. We’ve only defeated their army. We need to get the citizens of Mrittikavati on our side.’

‘On our side? Why?’

‘Because we will then be free to sail out of here with our entire army. We have ten thousand prisoners of the Meluhan army. Do you want to commit our soldiers to guarding prisoners of war? If Mrittikavati comes to our side, we can keep the Meluhan army imprisoned in the city itself.’

‘They’re not going to do that, Shiva. In fact, if they see any weakness in us, they will sense an opportunity to rebel.’

‘It’s not weakness, Kali, but compassion. People usually know the difference.’

‘You’ve got to be joking! How in God’s name are you going to show compassion after massacring their army?’

‘I will do it by not marching into the city with my army. I will go there only with Bhadra, Nandi and Parshuram. And I will speak to the citizens.’

‘How will that help?’

‘It will.’

‘You have just destroyed their army, Shiva! I don’t think they would be interested in listening to anything you have to say.’

‘They will be. I am their Neelkanth.’

Kali could barely contain her irritation. ‘At least let me accompany you along with some Naga soldiers. You may need some protection.’

‘No.’

‘Shiva...’

‘Do you trust me?’

‘What does that have to...’

‘Kali, do you trust me?’

‘Of course I do.’

‘Then let me handle this,’ concluded Shiva, before turning to Sati. ‘I’ll be back soon, darling.’

Sati smiled and touched Shiva’s hand.

‘Go with Lord Ram, my friend,’ said Gopal, as Shiva rose and turned to leave.

Shiva smiled. ‘He’s always with me.’



A collective buzz of a thousand voices hovered over the central square as the citizens of Mrittikavati came in droves for a glimpse of their Neelkanth. News of his presence in the city had spread like wildfire.

Was it the Neelkanth who attacked us?

Why would he attack us?

We are his people! He is our God!

Was it really him who banned the Somras and not a fraud Neelkanth? Did our Emperor lie to us? No, that cannot be...

Shiva stood tall on the stone podium, surveying the milling, excitable crowd. He allowed them to have a clear view of his uncovered blue throat, the neel kanth. Unarmed as ordered, Nandi, Veerbhadra and Parshuram stood apprehensively behind him.

‘Citizens of Mrittikavati,’ thundered Shiva. ‘I am your Neelkanth.’

Whispers hummed through the square.

‘Silence!’ said Nandi, raising his hand, quietening the audience immediately.

‘I come from a faraway land deep in the Himalayas. My life was changed by what I had believed was an elixir. But I was wrong. This mark I bear on my throat is not a blessing from the gods but a curse of Evil, a mark of poison. I carry this mark,’ said Shiva, pointing to his blue throat. ‘But my fellow Meluhans, you bear this scourge as well! And you don’t even know it!’

The audience listened, spellbound.

‘The Somras gives you a long life and you are grateful for that. But these years that it gifts to you are not for free! It takes away a lot more from you! And its hunger for your soul has no limit!’

A sinister breeze rustled the leaves of the trees that lined the square.

‘For these few additional transient years you pay a price that is eternal! It is no coincidence that so many women in Meluha cannot bear children. That is the curse of the Somras!’

Shiva’s words found ready resonance in Meluhan hearts, many of which had been broken by the long lonely wait for children from the Maika adoption system. They knew the misery of growing old without a child.

‘It is no coincidence that the mother of your country, the mother of Indian civilisation itself, the revered Saraswati is slowly drying to extinction. The thirsty Somras continues to consume her waters. Her death will also be due to the evil of the Somras!’

The Saraswati River was not just a body of water to most Indians; in fact, no river was. And the Saraswati was the holiest among them all. It was their spiritual mother.

‘Thousands of children are born in Maika with painful cancers that eat up their bodies. Millions of Swadweepans are dying of a plague brought on by the waste of the Somras. Those people curse the ones who use the Somras. They are cursing you. And your souls will bear this burden for many births. That is the evil of the Somras!’

Veerbhadra looked at Shiva’s back and then at the audience.

Shiva felt his blue throat and smiled sadly. ‘It may appear that the Somras has my throat. But in actual fact, it has all of Meluha by the throat! And it is squeezing the life out of you slowly, so slowly, that you don’t even realise it. And by the time you do, it will be too late. All of Meluha, all of India, will be destroyed!’

The citizens of Mrittikavati continued to be engrossed in his speech.

‘I did try to stop this peacefully. I sent out a notice to every city, in every kingdom, all across this fair land of our India. But in Meluha, my message was replaced by another put up by your Emperor, stating that it wasn’t I who banned the Somras, but some fraud Neelkanth.’

Nandi could sense the tide turning.

‘Your Emperor lied to you!’

There was pin-drop silence.

‘Emperor Daksha occupies the position that was Lord Ram’s more than a thousand years ago. He represents the legacy of the great seventh Vishnu. He is supposed to be your Protector. And he lied to you.’

Parshuram looked at Shiva with reverence. He had swayed the Meluhans firmly to his side.

‘As if that wasn’t enough, he sent his army to drive a wedge between you and me. But I know that nothing can tear us apart; I know that you will listen to me. For I am fighting for Meluha. I am fighting for the future of your children!’

A collective wave of understanding swept through the crowd; the Neelkanth was fighting for them, not against them.

‘You have heard myths about the tribe of Vasudev, left behind by our great lord, Shri Ram. Well, the legendary tribe does exist, the ones who carry the legacy of Lord Ram. And they are with me, sharing my mission. They also want to save India from the Somras.’

Almost every Meluhan was familiar with the fable of the Vasudevs, the tribe of Lord Ram himself. Now knowing that they not only existed in flesh and blood, but were with the Neelkanth as well, drove the issue beyond debate in their minds.

‘I am going to save Meluha! I’m going to stop the Somras!’ roared Shiva. ‘Who is with me?’

‘I am!’ screamed Nandi.

‘I am!’ shouted every citizen of Mrittikavati.

‘I love Meluha more than the Somras,’ said Shiva, ‘so I put up a proclamation banning the Somras. Your Emperor loves the Somras more than Meluha, so he decided to oppose me. Whose side are you on? Meluha or the Somras?’

‘Meluha!’

‘Then what do we do with the army that fights for your Emperor; that fights for the Somras?’

‘Kill them!’

‘Kill them?’

‘Yes!’

‘No!’ shouted Shiva.

The people fell silent, dumbfounded.

‘Your army was only following orders. They have surrendered. It would be against the principles of Lord Ram to kill prisoners of war. So once again, what should we do with them?’

The audience remained quiet.

‘I want the soldiers to be imprisoned in Mrittikavati,’ said Shiva. ‘I want you to ensure that they do not escape. If they do, they will follow your Emperor’s orders and fight me again. Will you keep them captive in your city?’

‘Yes!’

‘Will you ensure that not one of them escapes?’

‘Yes!’

Shiva allowed a smile to escape. ‘I see gods standing before me. Gods who are willing to fight Evil! Gods who are willing to give up their attachment to Evil!’

The citizens of Mrittikavati absorbed the praise from their Neelkanth.

Shiva raised his balled fist high in the air. ‘Har Har Mahadev!’

‘Har Har Mahadev!’ roared the people.

Nandi, Veerbhadra and Parshuram raised their hands and repeated the stirring cry of those loyal to the Neelkanth. ‘Har Har Mahadev!’

‘Har Har Mahadev!’



The governor’s palace in Mrittikavati had been modified to serve as a prison for the surviving soldiers of the Meluhan army. Shiva’s troops escorted the prisoners into the make-shift prison in small batches. Shiva, Kali, Sati, Gopal and Chenardhwaj were standing at a small distance from the entrance when Vidyunmali was led in. He tried to break free and lunge at Shiva. A soldier kicked Vidyunmali hard and tried to push him back in line.

‘It’s all right,’ said Shiva. ‘Let him approach.’

Vidyunmali was allowed to walk past the bamboo shields held by the soldiers, and move towards Shiva.

‘You were doing your duty, Vidyunmali,’ said Shiva. ‘You were only following orders. I have nothing against you. But you will have to stay imprisoned till the Somras has been removed. Then you will be free to do whatever it is that you want to do.’

Vidyunmali stared at Shiva with barely concealed disgust. ‘You were a barbarian when we found you and you are still a barbarian. We Meluhans don’t take orders from barbarians!’

Chenardhwaj drew his sword. ‘Speak with respect to the Neelkanth.’

Vidyunmali spat at the governor of Lothal-Maika. ‘I don’t speak to traitors!’

Kali drew her knife out, moving towards Vidyunmali. ‘Perhaps you shouldn’t speak at all...’

‘Kali...’ whispered Shiva, before turning towards Vidyunmali. ‘I have no enmity with your country. I tried to achieve my purpose with peace. I had sent out a clear proclamation asking all of you to stop using the Somras, but...’

‘We are a sovereign country! We will decide what we can and cannot use.’

‘Not when it comes to Evil. When it comes to the Somras, you will do what is in the interest of the people and the future of Meluha.’

‘Who are you to tell us what is in our interest?’

Shiva had had enough. He waved his hand dismissively. ‘Take him away.’

Nandi and Veerbhadra immediately dragged a kicking Vidyunmali towards the make-shift prison.

‘You will lose, you fraud,’ screamed Vidyunmali. ‘Meluha will not fall!’



‘Shiva, I’d like you to meet someone,’ said Brahaspati.

Brahaspati had just walked into Shiva’s private chamber in the Mrittikavati official guesthouse, accompanied by a Brahmin. Sati, Gopal and Kali were with the Neelkanth.

‘Do you remember Panini?’ asked Brahaspati. ‘He was my assistant at Mount Mandar.’

‘Of course I do,’ said Shiva, before turning to Panini. ‘How are you, Panini?’

‘I am well, great Neelkanth.’

‘Shiva,’ said Brahaspati, ‘I found Panini in Mrittikavati, leading a scientific project being conducted at the Saraswati delta. He has asked me if he can join us in our battle against the Somras.’

Shiva frowned, wondering why Brahaspati was disturbing him with such an inconsequential request at this time. ‘Brahaspati, he was your assistant. I completely trust your judgement. You don’t have to check with me about...’

‘He has some news that may be useful,’ interrupted Brahaspati.

‘What is it, Panini?’ asked Shiva politely.

‘My Lord,’ said Panini. ‘I was recruited by Maharishi Bhrigu for some secret work at Mount Mandar.’

Shiva’s interest was immediately piqued. ‘I thought the Somras factory at Mount Mandar has not been rebuilt as yet.’

‘My mission had nothing to do with the Somras, My Lord. I was asked to lead a small team of Meluhan scientists personally chosen by the Maharishi to make daivi astras from materials that he had provided.’

‘What? Was it you who made the daivi astras?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did the Vayuputras come and help you?’

‘We were trained by Maharishi Bhrigu himself on how to make them from the core material that he provided us. I do know a bit about the technology of daivi astras, but not enough to make any usable weapons. Perhaps I was selected because even my little knowledge is more than most.’

‘But weren’t any Vayuputras present, in order to assist you?’ asked Shiva once again. ‘Did you see them with Maharishi Bhrigu perhaps?’

‘I don’t think the core material that the Maharishi gave us was from the Vayuputras.’

A surprised Shiva looked at Gopal, before turning back to Panini. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘The little that I know of the daivi astra technology is based on Vayuputra knowledge. Maharishi Bhrigu’s processes and the materials were completely different.’

‘Did he have his own core material to make the daivi astras?’

‘It appeared so.’

Shiva turned towards Gopal once again; the implications were obvious and portentous. To begin with, the Vayuputras were not on Bhrigu’s side after all. But more importantly, Bhrigu was an even more formidable opponent if he could make the core material for the daivi astras all by himself.

‘And I also think,’ said Panini, ‘that Maharishi Bhrigu may have used the last of the daivi astra core material that he had when he asked me to prepare the weapons.’

‘Why do you think so?’

‘Well, he was always exhorting me to be careful with the core material and not waste even small portions of it. I remember once when we had accidentally spoilt a minuscule amount of it. He was livid and had angrily rebuked us that this was all the daivi astra core material that he possessed; that we should be more careful.’

Shiva took a deep breath before turning to Gopal. ‘He has no more daivi astras.’

‘It appears so,’ answered Gopal.

‘And the Vayuputras are not with him.’

‘That would be a fair assumption to make.’

‘Shiva,’ said Brahaspati, ‘there’s more.’

Shiva raised a brow and turned towards Panini.

‘My Lord,’ said Panini, ‘I also believe that the secret Somras factory is in Devagiri.’

‘How can you be sure?’ asked Shiva.

‘I’m sure you’re aware that the Somras needs the Sanjeevani tree in large quantities. I was brought to Devagiri on a regular basis but only in the night, to check the quality of the Sanjeevani logs coming into the city.’

‘I don’t understand. Isn’t it a part of your normal duties to check the consignment before it is sent off to the Somras factory?’

‘That’s true. But I had a friend in the customs department with whom I checked whether the Sanjeevani logs ever left the city. He was unaware of any such movement. If such huge quantities of the Sanjeevani logs are being brought into Devagiri and not being taken out, then the most logical assumption is that this is the city where the Somras is being manufactured.’

Shiva’s expression reflected his gratitude towards the Brahmin. ‘Panini, thank you. You have no idea how useful your information is.’



‘Magadh has fallen?’ asked Parvateshwar.

Parvateshwar was in the office of the Meluhan Prime Minister Kanakhala. She had finally received a bird courier from Ayodhya after many months.

‘There’s more,’ said Kanakhala. ‘The entire army of Magadh has been routed. Prince Surapadman is dead. King Mahendra has gone into deep mourning. The Brangas are now in control of Magadh.’

Parvateshwar pressed the bridge of his nose as he absorbed the implications. ‘If they control Magadh, they control the chokepoint on the Ganga. They would only have to keep a few thousand soldiers within the fort of Magadh to be able to attack any Ayodhyan ship that attempts to sail past.’

‘Exactly! That means Ayodhya cannot come to our aid quickly enough. They will have to march through forests to their west and then move towards us.’

‘If Magadh has been conquered, it means the Lord Neelkanth can leave a small force in that city, sail up the Ganga with the rest of his forces and march into Meluha from Swadweep. We can expect an attack within as little as the next three or four months. We should ask our Ayodhyan allies to leave for Meluha at once. I will speak to Lord Bhrigu.’

‘There’s more,’ said a worried Kanakhala. ‘The courier also said that the army that besieged Ayodhya and attacked Magadh was led by Ganesh, Kartik, Bhagirath and Chandraketu.’

‘Then where is the Lord Neelkanth?’

‘Exactly!’ said Kanakhala. ‘Where is the Lord Neelkanth?’

Just then an aide rushed into Kanakhala’s office. ‘My Lord, My Lady, please come at once to His Highness’ office. Lord Bhrigu has asked that the both of you come immediately.’

As Kanakhala and Parvateshwar rushed out of the office, another aide approached them with a message for the Meluhan general. From the stamp, it was clear that the message was from Vidyunmali. Parvateshwar broke the seal, intending to read the letter on the way to the emperor’s office.