The Oath of the Vayuputras: Shiva Trilogy 3

Chapter 32

The Last Resort

Shiva had pulled a light cloth over his head and wrapped it around his face, leaving his eyes open. His angvastram was draped across his muscular torso, affording protection from the fine drizzle. Sati lay in a covered cart as oxen pulled it gently. She was strong enough to walk now, but Ayurvati had insisted on exercising abundant caution during the march to Lothal. Shiva parted the curtains on the cart and looked at his sleeping wife. He smiled and drew the curtain shut again.

He kicked his horse into a canter.

‘Panditji,’ said Shiva, slowing his horse down as he approached Gopal. ‘About the Vayuputras...’

‘Yes?’

‘What is that terrible weapon that they possess that Kali spoke of?’

‘The Brahmastra?’ asked Gopal, referring to the fearsome weapon of Brahma.

‘Yes. How is it different from other daivi astras?’ asked Shiva, for he didn’t understand how a Brahmastra was so much more terrible than other divine weapons.

‘Most daivi astras only kill men. But there are some, like the Brahmastra, that can destroy entire cities, if not kingdoms.’

‘By the holy lake! How can one weapon do that?’

‘The Brahmastra is the weapon of absolute destruction, my friend; a destroyer of cities and a mass-killer of men. When fired on some terrain, a giant mushroom cloud will rise, high enough to touch the heavens. Everyone and everything in the targeted place would be instantly vaporised. Beyond this inner circle of destruction will be those who are unfortunate enough to survive, for they will suffer for generations. The water in the land will be poisoned for decades. The land will be unusable for centuries; no crops will grow on it. This weapon doesn’t just kill once; it kills again and again, for centuries after it has been used.’

‘And people actually contemplate using a weapon such as this?’ asked a horrified Shiva. ‘Panditji, using such a dreadful weapon is against the laws of humanity.’

‘Precisely, great Neelkanth. A weapon like this can never actually be used. The mere knowledge that one’s enemy has this weapon, can strike terror in one’s heart. No matter what the odds, one will surrender; one cannot win against the Brahmastra.’

‘Do you think the Vayuputras will give this weapon to me? Or am I being too presumptuous? After all, I’m not one of them. They think I’m a fraud, don’t they?’

‘I can think of two reasons why they may help us. First, they have not tried to assassinate you, which they would have, had a majority of them believed that you were a fraud. Maybe a strong constituency amongst them still respects your uncle, Lord Manobhu.’

‘And the second?’

‘Lord Bhrigu used daivi astras in his attack on Panchavati. It was not the Brahmastra, but it was a daivi astra nevertheless. Even if it was fabricated from Lord Bhrigu’s own material, he broke Lord Rudra’s laws by actually using one. That, I suspect, would have turned the Vayuputras virulently against him. And an enemy’s enemy...’

‘...is a friend,’ said Shiva, completing Gopal’s statement. ‘But I’m not sure these are reasons enough.’

‘We don’t have any other choice, my friend.’

‘Perhaps... How do we get to the land of the Vayuputras?’

‘Pariha is at a substantial distance towards our west. We can march overland, through the great mountains, to get there. But that is risky and time consuming. The other option is to take the sea route. But we will have to wait for the Northeasterly winds.’

‘The Northeasterlies? But they begin only when the rains stop. We’ll have to wait for one or two months.’

‘Yes, we will have to.’

‘I have an idea. I’m sure the Meluhans will set up spies and scouts in and around Lothal once they know that we have retreated into the city. So if we take the conventional route to Pariha, they will know that I have sailed west. Lord Bhrigu may guess that I’ve gone to the Vayuputras to seek help, which may encourage him to send assassins in pursuit. How about sailing south in a small convoy of military ships?’

Gopal immediately understood. ‘We’ll make them think that we’re going to the Narmada, onwards perhaps to either Ujjain or Panchavati.’

‘Exactly,’ said Shiva. ‘We could disembark from our military ships at a secret location and then set sail in a nondescript merchant ship to Pariha.’

‘Brilliant. The Meluhans can keep searching for you along the Narmada while we are on our way to Pariha.’

‘Right.’

‘And if we use just one merchant ship instead of an entire convoy, we could keep the voyage secretive and be quick.’

‘Right again.’



Sati stood at a window in a lookout-shelter on the southern edge of Lothal fort, staring at the vast expanse of sea beyond its walls. The monsoon had arrived in earnest and heavy rain was pelting the city.

Shiva and his army were well fortified within the city walls. Ganesh was expected to arrive in Lothal within a week or two, along with his force.

Ayurvati rushed into the shelter with a loud whoop, propping her cane and cloth umbrella beside the entrance. ‘Lord Indra and Lord Varun, be praised! They have decided to deliver the entire quota of this year’s rain in a single day!’

Sati turned towards Ayurvati with a wan look.

Ayurvati sat next to her and squeezed the end of her drenched angvastram. ‘I love the rain. It seems to wash away sorrows and bring new life with renewed hope, doesn’t it?’

Sati nodded politely, not really interested. ‘Yes, you are right, Ayurvatiji.’

Not one to give up, Ayurvati plodded on, determined to lighten Sati’s mood. ‘I’m quite free right now. There aren’t too many injured and the monsoon diseases have, surprisingly, been very low this year.’

‘That is good news, Ayurvatiji,’ said Sati.

‘Yes, it is. So, I was thinking that this would be a good time to do your surgery.’

Sati’s face carried an ugly blemish on her left cheek, where scar tissue had formed over the remnants of the burns she had suffered during the Battle of Devagiri.

‘There’s nothing wrong with me,’ said Sati politely.

‘Of course there isn’t. I was only referring to the scar on your face. It can be removed very easily through cosmetic surgery.’

‘No. I don’t want surgery.’

Ayurvati assumed that Sati was worried about the long recovery time and the possible impact on her ability to participate in the next battle. ‘But it is a very simple procedure, Sati. You will recover in a couple of weeks. We seem to be in for a good monsoon this year. This means there will be no warfare for a few months. You will not miss any battle.’

‘Nothing would keep me away from the next battle.’

‘Then why don’t you want to do this surgery, my child? I’m sure it would make the Lord Neelkanth happy.’

A hint of a smile escaped her solemn demeanour. ‘Shiva keeps telling me I’m as beautiful as ever, scar or no scar. I know I look horrendous. He’s lying because he loves me. But I choose to believe it.’

‘Why are you doing this?’ asked an anguished Ayurvati. ‘It won’t hurt you at all; not that you are scared of pain...’

‘No, Ayurvatiji.’

‘But why? You have to give me a reason.’

‘Because, I need this scar,’ said Sati grimly.

Ayurvati paused for a moment. ‘Why?’

‘It constantly reminds me of my failure. I will not rest till I have set it right and recovered the ground that I lost for my army.’

‘Sati! It wasn’t your fault that...’

‘Ayurvatiji,’ said Sati, interrupting the former chief surgeon of Meluha. ‘You of all people should not tell me a white lie. I was the Commanding Officer and my army was defeated. It was my fault.’

‘Sati...’

‘This scar stays with me. Every time I look at my reflection, it will remind me that I have work to do. Let me win a battle for my army, and then we can do the surgery.’



‘Dada,’ whispered Kartik, gently placing his hand on his angry brother’s arm.

Ganesh’s army had just arrived at Lothal. They too had avoided Mrittikavati as advised by a Vasudev pandit. Just like Shiva, Ganesh had ensured that all his ships were destroyed on the Saraswati before his army marched south to Lothal.

They were received at the gates of Lothal by Governor Chenardhwaj. Ganesh and Kartik had wanted to meet their parents immediately, but were informed by Chenardhwaj that Shiva wanted to meet them beforehand. Shiva wanted to prepare them for their first meeting with their mother after her defeat at the Battle of Devagiri.

Meanwhile, the allies of the Neelkanth – Bhagirath, the Prince of Ayodhya, Chandraketu, the King of Branga, and Maatali, the King of Vaishali – were led to their respective chambers in the Lothal governor’s residence by protocol officers. The Chandravanshi royalty, used to the pomp and pageantry of their own land, were distinctly underwhelmed by the austere arrangements of the Meluhan accommodation. It was difficult to believe that the governor of one of the richest provinces of the richest Empire in the world lived in such simplicity. However, they accepted their housing with good grace, knowing it was the will of Shiva.

The army was accommodated in guesthouses and temporary shelters erected within the city. It was a tribute to the robust urban planning of Meluha that such a large number of new arrivals could be so quickly accommodated in reasonable comfort. All in all, a massive army, now totalling nearly two hundred and fifty thousand soldiers, had set up residence in Lothal.

Having been briefed by Shiva, Ganesh and Kartik rushed to meet their mother. They had been told about the nature of her injuries. Shiva did not want the brothers to inadvertently upset her further. While Kartik was, as instructed by Shiva, able to control his anger and shock, Ganesh’s obsessive love for his mother did not allow him that ability.

Ganesh clenched his fists, staring at his mother’s disfigured face. He gritted his teeth and breathed rapidly, his normally calm eyes blazing. His long nose was stretched out, trembling in anger. His big floppy ears were rigid.

Ganesh growled, ‘I will kill every single one of those b...’

‘Ganesh,’ said Sati calmly, interrupting her son. ‘The Meluhan soldiers were only doing their duty, as was I. They have done nothing wrong.’

Ganesh’s silence was unable to camouflage his fury.

‘Ganesh, these things happen in a war. You know that.’

‘Dada, maa is right,’ said Kartik.

Sati stepped close and embraced her elder son. She pulled his face down and kissed his forehead, smiling lovingly. ‘Calm down, Ganesh.’

Kartik held his mother and brother as well. ‘Dada, battle scars are a mark of pride for a warrior.’

Ganesh held his mother tight, tears streaming down his face. ‘You are not entering a battlefield again, maa. Not unless I am standing in front of you.’

Sati smiled feebly and patted Ganesh on his back.



Shiva walked into his suite of rooms in the governor’s residence at Lothal. Sati had moved some of the furniture to create a training circle, and was practicing her sword movements. Shiva leaned against a wall and observed his wife quietly, so as not to disturb her. He admired every perfect warrior move, the sway of her hips as she transferred her weight; the quick thrusts and swings of her sword; the rapid movement of her shield, which she used almost like an independent weapon. Shiva breathed deeply at yet another reminder of why he loved her so much.

Sati swung around with her shield held high, as her eyes fell on Shiva.

‘For how long have you been watching?’ she asked, surprised.

‘Long enough to know that I should never challenge you to a duel!’

Sati smiled slightly, not saying anything. She quickly sheathed her sword and put her shield down. Shiva stepped over and helped untie her scabbard.

‘Thank you,’ whispered Sati as she took the scabbard from Shiva, walked up to the mini-armoury and placed her shield and sheathed sword.

‘We will not be able to go to Pariha together,’ said Shiva.

‘I know,’ said Sati. ‘I was told by Gopalji that Parihans only allow Vayuputras and Vasudevs to enter their domain. I am neither.’

‘Well, technically, nor am I.’

Sati pulled her angvastram over her head so as to cover her left cheek. She held the hem of the cloth between her teeth, covering her facial scar. ‘But you are the Neelkanth. Rules can be broken for you.’

Shiva came forward, and pulled Sati close with one hand. With the other, he held the angvastram covering her face and tried to pull it back. Even though she knew he did not care, Sati liked to hide her scar from Shiva. It didn’t matter to her if others saw it, but not Shiva.

‘Shiva...’ whispered Sati, holding her angvastram close.

Shiva tugged hard and pulled the angvastram free from her mouth. An upset Sati tried to yank it back but Shiva managed to overpower her, holding her close.

‘I wish you could see through my eyes,’ whispered Shiva, ‘so you could see your own ethereal beauty.’

Sati rolled her eyes and turned away, still struggling within Shiva’s grip. ‘I’m ugly! I know it! Don’t use your love to insult me.’

‘Love?’ asked Shiva, pretending mock surprise, wiggling his eyebrows. ‘Who said anything about love? It’s lust! Pure and simple!’

Sati stared at Shiva, her eyes wide. Then she burst out laughing.

Shiva pulled her close again, grinning. ‘This is no laughing matter, my princess. I am your husband. I have rights, you know.’

Sati continued to laugh as she hit Shiva playfully on his chest.

Shiva kissed her tenderly. ‘I love you.’

‘You’re mad!’

‘That I am. But I still love you.’