The Oath of the Vayuputras: Shiva Trilogy 3

Chapter 37

Unexpected Help

After a sumptuous dinner, Gopal and Shiva were back in their chambers, welcoming the opportunity for relaxation and inactivity. The fountain in the room having drawn his attention, Shiva quipped, ‘Panditji, where do they get the water from?’

‘For this fountain?’ asked Gopal.

‘For all the fountains, ponds and channels that we have seen. Quite frankly, building this city and these gardens would have required a prodigious amount of water. This is a desert land with almost no natural rivers. I was told that they don’t even have regular rains. So where does this water come from?’

‘They owe it to the brilliance of their engineers.’

‘How so?’

‘There are massive natural springs and aquifers to the north of Pariha.’

‘That is water within the rocks and the ground, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘But springs can never be as bountiful.’

‘True, but scarcity engenders ingenuity. When you don’t have enough water, you learn to use it judiciously. All the fountain and canal water that you see in the city is recycled waste water.’

Shiva, who had dipped his hand into the fountain water, immediately recoiled.

Gopal laughed softly. ‘Don’t worry, my friend. That water has been treated and completely cleaned. It’s even safe to drink.’

‘I’ll take your word for it.’

Gopal smiled as Shiva judiciously wiped his hands with a sanitised napkin.

‘How far away are these springs and aquifers?’

‘The ones that supply this city are a good fifty to hundred kilometres away,’ answered Gopal.

Shiva whistled softly. ‘That’s a long distance. How do they get the water here in such large quantities? I haven’t seen any canals.’

‘Oh, they have canals. But you can’t see them as they are underground.’

‘They’ve built underground canals?’ asked Shiva, stunned.

‘They’re not as broad as the canals we have back home. But they serve the purpose. They built canals that are the size of underground drains, which begin at the aquifers and springs.’

‘But a hundred kilometres is a long way to transport water. How do they do that? Do they have underground pumps powered by animals?’

‘No. They use one of the most powerful forces of nature to do the job.’

‘What?’

‘Gravity. They built underground channels with gentle gradients that slope over a hundred kilometres. The water naturally flows down due to the force of gravity.’

‘Brilliant. But building something like this would require precision engineering skills of a high order.’

‘You’re right. The angle of the descent would have to be absolutely exact over very long distances. If the gradient is even slightly higher than required, the water would begin to erode the bottom of the channel, destroying it over time.’

‘And if the slope is a little too gentle, the water would simply stop flowing.’

‘Exactly,’ said Gopal. ‘You can imagine the flawless design and execution required, in implementing a project such as this.’

‘But when did they...’

Shiva was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. He immediately lowered his voice to an urgent whisper. ‘Panditji, were you expecting someone?’

Gopal shook his head. ‘No. And, where is our guard? Isn’t he supposed to announce visitors?’

Shiva pulled out his sword, indicating to Gopal that he should follow him, as he tiptoed to the door. The safest place for him was behind Shiva. The Vasudev chief was a Brahmin and not a warrior. Shiva waited near the door. The soft knock was heard again.

Shiva turned and whispered to Gopal. ‘As soon as I pull the intruder in, shut the door and lock it.’

Shiva held his sword to the side, pulled the door open and in one smooth motion, yanked the intruder into the room, pushing the Parihan to the ground. Gopal, moving just as rapidly, shut the door and bolted it.

‘I’m a friend!’ spoke a feminine voice, her hands raised in surrender.

Shiva and Gopal stared at the woman on the ground, her face covered with a veil.

She slowly got up, keeping her eyes fixed on Shiva’s sword. ‘You don’t need that. Parihans do not kill their guests. It is one of Lord Rudra’s laws.’

Shiva refused to lower his blade. ‘Reveal yourself,’ he commanded.

The woman removed her veil. ‘You’ve seen me earlier, great Neelkanth.’

Shiva recognised the intruder immediately. It was the dark-haired mystery woman he had seen in the lobby while he’d been talking to Bahmandokht.

Shiva smiled. ‘I was wondering when I would see you next.’

‘I’ve come to help,’ said the woman, still unable to tear her eyes away from the sword. ‘So I’ll repeat that you really don’t need that. We Parihans will never break Lord Rudra’s laws.’

Shiva sheathed his sword. ‘What makes you think we need your help?’

‘For the same reason that you don’t need your sword here: we Vayuputras never break Lord Rudra’s laws. I am here to help you get what you came for...’

Shiva and Gopal joined the lady, having made her comfortable on the soft cushions.

‘What is your name?’ asked Shiva. ‘Why do you want to help us?’

‘My name is Scheherazade.’

Scheherazade was a name that harked back to ancient Parihan roots; a person who gives freedom to cities.

Shiva narrowed his eyes. ‘That is a lie. You are not from this land. What is your real name?’

‘I am a Parihan. This is my name.’

‘How can we trust you if you don’t even tell us your real name?’

‘My name has nothing to do with your mission. What the Amartya Shpand, the Vayuputra Council, think of your mission is what truly matters.’

‘And you can tell us what they think?’ asked Gopal.

‘That’s why I am here. I can tell you what you need to do to fulfil your mission.’



The Mithra was a ceremonial title for the chief of the Vayuputra tribe. It literally translated as ‘friend’; for he was the deepest friend of the Vayuputra God, the Ahura Mazda.

Ahura Mazda was a formless God, much like the Hindu concept of Parmatma. And Mithra was his representative on earth. Lord Rudra had mandated that the ancient title of Mithra be used for the Chief Vayuputra. Once a man became the Mithra, all his earlier identities were erased, including his old name. He even dissociated himself completely from his former family. Everyone was to know him thereafter as Mithra.

Mithra was in the antechamber of his office, when he heard a soft noise from the veranda. The nascent moon cast a faint light, impairing vision, but Mithra knew who it was as he walked over.

He heard a soft, feminine voice call out in a whisper, ‘Great Mithra, I have sent her to them.’

‘Thank you, Bahmandokht. The Vayuputras will be indebted to you in perpetuity, for you have helped our tribe fulfil our mission and our vow to Lord Rudra.’

Bahmandokht bowed low. There had been a time when she had loved the man who’d become the Mithra. But once he had assumed his office as the chief, the only feelings she had allowed herself were those of devotion and respect.

She stepped away quietly.

The Mithra stared at Bahmandokht’s retreating form and then returned to the antechamber. He sat on a simple chair, leaned back and closed his eyes. The ancient memory was still fresh in his mind, as if it had all happened yesterday – the conversation with his close friend and brother-in-law, Manobhu.

‘Are you sure, Manobhu?’ asked the Parihan, who would go on to become the Mithra.

The Tibetan feigned outrage as he looked at his friend and fellow Vayuputra.

‘I mean no disrespect, Manobhu. But I hope you realise that what we’re doing is illegal.’

Manobhu allowed himself a slight smile as he scratched his shaggy beard. His matted hair had been tied up in a bun with a string of beads, in the style favoured by his tribe, the fierce Gunas. His body was covered with deep scars acquired from a lifetime of battle. His tall, muscular physique was always in a state of alertness, ever ready for war. His demeanour, his clothes, his hair – all conveyed the impression of a ruthless warrior. But his eyes were different. They were a window to his calm mind, one that had found its purpose and was at peace. Manobhu’s eyes had always intrigued the Parihan, compelling him to become a follower.

‘If you are unsure, my friend,’ said Manobhu, ‘you don’t have to do this.’

The Parihan looked away.

‘Don’t feel pressured to do this just because you’re related to me,’ continued Manobhu, whose brother had married the Parihan’s sister.

The Parihan returned his gaze. ‘How does the reason matter? What matters is the result. What matters is whether Lord Rudra’s commandment is being followed.’

Manobhu continued to lock gaze with the Parihan, his eyes mirthful. ‘You should know Lord Rudra’s commandments better than I do. After all, he was a Parihan. Like you.’

The Parihan stole a look at the back of the room nervously, where a diabolical mixture was boiling inside a vessel, the fire below it steady and even.

Manobhu stepped forward and put his hand on the Parihan’s shoulder. ‘Trust me, the Somras is turning Evil. Lord Rudra would have wanted us to do this. If the council doesn’t agree, then the hell with them. We will ensure that Lord Rudra’s commandments are followed.’

The Parihan looked at Manobhu and sighed. ‘Are you sure that your nephew has the potential to fulfil this mission? That he can one day be the successor to Lord Rudra?’

Manobhu smiled. ‘He’s your nephew too. His mother is your sister.’

‘I know. But the boy doesn’t live with me. He lives with you, in Tibet. I have never met him. I don’t know if I ever will. And you refuse to even tell me his name. So I ask again: Are you sure he is the one?’

‘Yes,’ Manobhu was confident in his belief. ‘He is the one. He will grow up to be the Neelkanth. He will be the one who will carry out Lord Rudra’s commandment. He will take Evil out of the equation.’

‘But he needs to be educated. He needs to be prepared.’

‘I will prepare him.’

‘But what is the point? The Vayuputra council controls the emergence of the Neelkanth. How will our nephew be discovered?’

‘I’ll arrange it at the right time,’ said Manobhu.

The Parihan frowned. ‘But how will you...’

‘Leave that to me,’ interrupted Manobhu. ‘If he is not discovered, it will mean that the time for Evil has not yet come. On the other hand, if I’m able to ensure that he is discovered...’

‘...then we will know that Evil has risen,’ said the Parihan, completing Manobhu’s sentence.

Manobhu shook his head, disagreeing partially with his brother-in-law. ‘To be more precise, we would know that Good has turned into Evil.’

The conversation was interrupted by a soft hissing sound from the far corner of the room. The medicine was ready. The two friends walked over to the fire and peered into the vessel. A thick reddish-brown paste had formed; small bubbles were bursting through to the surface.

‘It only needs to cool down now. The task is done,’ said the Parihan.

Manobhu looked at his brother-in-law. ‘No, my friend. The task has just begun.’

The Mithra breathed deeply as he came back to the present. He whispered, ‘I never thought that our rebellion would succeed, Manobhu.’

He rose from his chair, walked over to the veranda and looked up at the sky. In the old days, his people believed that great men, once they had surrendered their mortal flesh, went up to live among the stars and keep watch over them all. Mithra focused his eyes on one particular star and smiled. ‘Manobhu, it was a good idea to name our nephew Shiva. A good clue to help me guess that he is the one.’



‘To begin with, let me tell you that most of the Vayuputras are against you,’ said Scheherazade.

‘That’s not really much of a secret,’ said Shiva wryly.

‘Look, you can’t blame the Vayuputras. Our laws state very clearly that only one of us, from amongst those who’re authorised by the Vayuputra tribe, can become the Neelkanth. You have emerged out of nowhere. The laws don’t allow us to recognise or help someone like you.’

‘And yet, you are here,’ said Shiva. ‘I don’t think you’re working alone. You were standing right at the back, almost hidden, when I saw you in the lobby. I bet you are not a fully-accepted Parihan. I can’t see someone like you having the courage to do this all by yourself. Some powerful Parihans are putting you up to it. Which makes me believe that some Vayuputras realise what I am saying is true, that Evil has risen.’

Scheherazade smiled softly. ‘Yes. There are some very powerful Vayuputras who are on your side. But they cannot help you openly. Unlike most of the earlier Neelkanth pretenders, your blue throat is genuine. This leads to one inescapable conclusion; some Vayuputra has helped you many decades ago. Can you imagine the chaos this has caused? There were unprecedented accusations flying thick and fast after your emergence; people within Pariha were accusing each other of having broken Lord Rudra’s laws and helping you clandestinely when you were young. It was tearing the Vayuputras apart till Lord Mithra put an end to it. He held that our tribe has not authorised you as the Neelkanth and perhaps it was the doing of someone from within your own country.’

‘So, if any Vayuputra helps me, he will be seen as the traitor who started it all, many years ago.’

‘Exactly,’ answered Scheherazade.

‘What is the way out?’ asked Gopal.

‘You, My Lord Chief Vasudev, must lead the mission,’ said Scheherazade. ‘Lord Shiva must stay in the background. Don’t ask for assistance to be provided for the Neelkanth, but to you as a member of the Vasudev tribe, seeking justice. They cannot say no to a just demand from the representative of Lord Ram.’

‘I am sorry? I didn’t understand.’

‘What does the Neelkanth need, Lord Gopal?’ asked Scheherazade. ‘He needs the Brahmastra to threaten Meluha...’

‘How did you...’

‘With due respect, don’t ask superfluous questions, Lord Gopal. What Lord Shiva and you need is obvious. We have to devise the best way for you to get it. If you ask for the Brahmastra so that you can fight Evil, then you will open yourself to questions as to Lord Shiva’s legitimacy in deciding what Evil is, for we all know that he has not been authorised or trained by the Vayuputras. Instead, seek redress for a crime committed on Indian soil by a person who the Vayuputras have supported in the past. And what crime was that? The unauthorised use of daivi astras.’

‘Lord Bhrigu...’ said Gopal, remembering the great maharishi’s use of the divine weapons in Panchavati.

‘Exactly. The laws of Lord Rudra make it clear that for the first unauthorised use of daivi astras, the punishment is a fourteen-year exile into the forests. A second unauthorised use is punishable by death. Many in the council agree that Lord Bhrigu has got away lightly, despite having used daivi astras.’

‘So the Vasudevs are to present themselves as the ones enforcing the justice of Lord Rudra?’

‘Exactly. It is impossible for a Vayuputra to say no to this. You should state that the law on the daivi astra ban was broken and those who did this – Lord Bhrigu, the Emperor of Meluha and the King of Ayodhya – need to be punished. And, the Vasudevs have decided to mete out justice.’

‘And we can tell the Vayuputras,’ said Shiva, completing Scheherazade’s thought, ‘that they may well have more reserves of daivi astras. So we need the Brahmastra to encourage them to do the right thing.’

Scheherazade smiled. ‘Use the laws to achieve your objective. Once you have the Brahmastra, use it to threaten the Meluhans. Evil must be stopped. But I’ve been asked to tell you that you shouldn’t...’

‘We will never use the Brahmastra,’ said Gopal, interrupting Scheherazade.

‘It’s not just about the laws of Lord Rudra,’ added Shiva. ‘Using a weapon of such horrifying power goes against the laws of humanity.’

Scheherazade nodded. ‘When you meet the council, insist on speaking with Lord Mithra in private. Tell them it is a matter of the daivi astra law being broken. Say that the Vasudevs cannot allow those who broke Lord Rudra’s law to go unpunished. That will be enough. It will then be a private conversation between Lord Mithra and the two of you. You will get what you want.’

Shiva smiled as he understood who amongst the Vayuputras was helping him. But he was still intrigued by Scheherazade, or whatever her real name was.

‘Why are you helping us?’ asked Shiva.

‘Because I’ve been told to do so.’

‘I don’t believe that. Something else is driving you. Why are you helping us?’

Scheherazade smiled sadly and looked at the carpet. Then she turned towards the balcony, staring into the dark night beyond. She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and turned back towards Shiva. ‘Because there was a man whom I had loved once, who had told me that the Somras was turning evil. And I didn’t believe him at the time.’

‘Who is this man?’ asked Gopal.

‘It doesn’t matter anymore,’ said Scheherazade. ‘He is dead. He was killed, perhaps by those who’d wanted to stop him. Ending the reign of the Somras is my way of apologising...’

Shiva leaned towards her, looked straight into Scheherazade’s eyes and whispered, ‘Tara?’

A stunned Scheherazade pulled back. Nobody had called her by that name in years. Shiva continued to observe her eyes.

‘By the Holy Lake,’ he whispered. ‘It is you.’

Scheherazade did not say anything. Her relationship with Brahaspati had been kept a secret. Many amongst the Parihans believed that the Somras was still a force for Good, and that the former chief scientist of Meluha was deeply biased and misguided about it. Tara would have preferred not having to live in Pariha as Scheherazade. But her presence here had served a purpose for her guru, Lord Bhrigu. Believing Brahaspati was dead, she had found no reason to return to her homeland.

‘But you are Lord Bhrigu’s student,’ said Shiva. ‘Why are you going against him?’

‘I’m not Tara.’

‘I know you are,’ said Shiva. ‘Why are you going against your guru? Do you believe that it was Lord Bhrigu who got Brahaspati killed at Mount Mandar?’

Scheherazade stood up and turned to leave. Shiva rose quickly, stretched out and held her hand. ‘Brahaspati is not dead.’

A dumbstruck Scheherazade stopped dead in her tracks.

‘Brahaspati is alive,’ said Shiva. ‘He is with me.’

Tears poured from Scheherazade’s eyes. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

Shiva stepped forward and repeated gently. ‘He is with me. Your Brahaspati is alive.’

Scheherazade kept crying, tears of confused happiness flowing down her cheeks.

Shiva gently held her hand in his own. ‘Tara, you will come back with us when we’re done here. I’ll take you back. I’ll take you back to your Brahaspati.’

Scheherazade collapsed into Shiva’s arms, inconsolable in her tears. She would be Tara once again.