The Oath of the Vayuputras: Shiva Trilogy 3

Chapter 38

The Friend of God

The strategy that Tara had suggested worked like a charm. The Amartya Shpand was genuinely taken by surprise when Gopal entered their audience chamber without Shiva. When he raised the issue of Maharishi Bhrigu’s misuse of the daivi astras, they knew that they had been cornered. They had no choice but to grant Gopal an audience with the Mithra. That was the law.

The following day, Shiva and Gopal were led into the official audience hall and residence of the Mithra. It had been built at one end of the city, the last building abutting the Mountain of Mercy. Unlike the rest of Pariha, this structure was incredibly modest. It had a simple base made of stone, which covered the water channel that emerged from the mountain. On it were constructed austere pillars, which supported a wooden roof four metres high. On entry, one immediately stepped into a simple audience hall furnished with basic chairs and sombre carpets. The Mithra’s personal quarters lay farther inside, separated by stone walls and a wooden door. Shiva could sense that this was almost a stone replica of a large ceremonial tent, the wooden tent-poles having been converted to stone pillars and the cloth canopy into a wooden roof. In a way, this was a link to the nomadic past of Lord Rudra’s people, when everybody lived in simple, easily-built tents that could be dismantled and moved at short notice. Like a tribal leader of the old code, the Mithra lived in penurious simplicity while his people lived in luxury. The only indulgence that the Mithra had allowed himself was the beautiful garden that surrounded his abode. It was bountiful in its design, precise in its symmetry and extravagant in its colourful flora.

Shiva and Gopal were left alone in the audience hall, and the doors were shut. Within a few moments, the Mithra entered.

Shiva and Gopal immediately stood up. They greeted the Mithra with the ancient Parihan salute: the left hand was placed on the heart, fist open, as a mark of admiration. The right arm was held rigidly to the side of the body, bent upwards at the elbow. The open palm of the right hand faced outwards, as a form of greeting. The Mithra smiled genially and folded his hands together into the traditional Indian Namaste.

Shiva grinned, but remained silent, waiting for the Mithra to speak.

The Mithra was a tall, fair-skinned man, dressed in a simple brown cloak. A white hat covered his long brownish hair, with tiny beads wrapped around separated strands of his beard, much like all Parihans. Though the sack-like cloak made it difficult to judge, his body seemed strong and muscular. Of interest to Shiva were his delicate hands with long, slender fingers; like those of a surgeon rather than a warrior. But Shiva was most intrigued by the Mithra’s nose: sharp and long. It reminded him of his beloved mother.

The Mithra walked up to Shiva and held the Neelkanth by his shoulders. ‘What a delight it is to finally see you.’

Shiva noted that the Mithra didn’t even cursorily glance at his blue neck, something most people could not resist. The Mithra’s attention was focused on Shiva’s eyes.

And then the Mithra said something even more intriguing. ‘You have your father’s eyes. And your mother’s nose.’

He knew my father? And my mother?!

Before Shiva could react, the Mithra gently touched Shiva’s back, as he smiled at Gopal. ‘Come, let’s sit.’

As soon as they had seated themselves, the Mithra turned towards the Neelkanth, ‘I can see the questions that are running through your mind. How do I know your father and mother? Who am I? What was my name before I became the Mithra?’

Shiva smiled. ‘This eye-reading business is very dangerous. It doesn’t allow one to have any secrets.’

‘Sometimes, it’s important that there be no secrets,’ said the Mithra, ‘especially when such big decisions are being taken. How else can we be sure that we have taken the right step?’

‘You don’t have to answer if you don’t wish to. The questions running in my mind are not important to our mission.’

‘You’re right. You have been trained well. These questions may trouble your mind, but they are not important. But then, can we really carry out our mission with troubled minds?’

‘A troubled mind makes one lose sight of the mission,’ admitted Shiva.

‘And the world cannot afford to have you lose sight of your mission, great Neelkanth. You are too important for us. So let me answer your personal questions first.’

Shiva noticed that the Mithra had called him the Neelkanth, something which no Parihan had, until now.

‘My name is not important,’ said the Mithra. ‘I don’t hold that name anymore. My only identity is my title: the Mithra.’

Shiva nodded politely.

‘Now, how do I know your mother? Simple. I grew up with her. She was my sister.’

Shiva’s eyes opened wide in surprise. ‘You are my uncle?’

Mithra nodded. ‘I was your uncle before I became the Mithra.’

‘Why have I not met you before?’

‘It’s complicated. But suffice it to say that your father’s brother, Lord Manobhu, and I were good friends. I held him in deep regard. We’d decided to seal our friendship with a marriage between our two families. My sister went to live with Lord Manobhu’s brother in Tibet, after their wedding. And you were born from that union  .’

‘But my uncle had rebellious ideas...’ said Shiva, trying to guess why the Mithra had been forced to keep his distance from their family.

The Mithra shook his head. ‘Manobhu didn’t have rebellious ideas. He had inspiring ideas. But an inspiration before its time appears like a rebellion.’

‘So you were not forced by the Vayuputras to stay away from my family?’

‘Oh I was forced all right. But not by the Vayuputras.’

Shiva smiled. ‘Uncle Manobhu could be stubborn at times.’

The Mithra smiled.

‘When did you know that I was your long-lost relative?’ asked Shiva. ‘Did you have spies following me?’

‘I recognised you the moment I heard your name.’

‘Didn’t you know my name?’

‘No, Manobhu refused to tell me. Now I understand why. It was a clue he’d left for me. If you emerged at all, I would recognise you by your name.’

‘How so?’ asked Shiva, intrigued.

‘Almost nobody, even from amongst the Vayuputras, knows that Lord Rudra’s mother had had a special and personal name for him: Shiva.’

‘What?!’

‘Yes. Lord Rudra’s name means “the one who roars”. He was named so because when he was born, he cried so loudly that he drove the midwife away!’

‘I have heard that story,’ said Shiva. ‘But I have not heard the one about Lord Rudra’s mother calling him Shiva...’

‘It’s a secret that only a few Vayuputras are aware of. Legend holds that Lord Rudra was actually still-born.’

‘What?’ asked a genuinely surprised Gopal.

‘Yes,’ said the Mithra. ‘The midwife and Lord Rudra’s mother tried very hard to revive him. Finally, the midwife tried something very unorthodox. She tried to breast-feed the still-born Lord Rudra. Much to his mother’s surprise, the baby actually started breathing and, as history recalls, roared loudly.’

‘By the Holy Lake,’ whispered Shiva. ‘What a fascinating story.’

‘Yes, it is. The midwife walked away soon thereafter, and was never heard of again. Lord Rudra’s mother, who was an immigrant and a believer in the Mother Goddess Shakti, was convinced that the midwife had been sent by the Goddess to save her son. She believed her son was born as a body without life, a shava, whom Goddess Shakti had infused with life; therefore, she felt the Goddess had converted a Shava to Shiva, or the auspicious one. So she started calling her son Shiva, in honour of the Mother Goddess and in acknowledgement of the state in which her son was born.’

An enthralled Shiva listened in rapt attention to the Mithra.

‘So,’ said the Mithra, ‘the moment I heard your name, I knew that Manobhu had left a clue for me about you being the one he had trained.’

‘So you knew that Lord Manobhu was planning this?’

The Mithra smiled. ‘Your uncle and I made the medicine together.’

‘You mean the medicine that is responsible for my throat turning blue?’

‘Yes.’

‘But didn’t that have to be given to me at a specific time in my life?’

‘I’m assuming that is what Manobhu did, for here you are.’

‘But Lord Mithra, this is not the way the system was supposed to work, as an unfolding series of implausible coincidences. There are so many things that could have gone wrong. To begin with, I may not have been trained well. Or the medicine may not have been given to me at the right time. I may never have been invited to Meluha. And worst of all, I may not have stumbled upon the Somras as the true Evil.’

‘You’re right. This is not the way our Vayuputra system was designed to work. But Manobhu and I had faith that this is the way the universe’s system is supposed to work. And it did, didn’t it?’

‘But is it right to leave such significant outcomes to a roll of the universe’s dice?’

‘You make it sound as if it was all left to dumb luck. We didn’t leave it only to chance, Shiva. The Vayuputras were sure the Somras had not turned evil. Manobhu and I felt otherwise. Had Manobhu been alive, he would have guided you through this period, but in spite of his untimely death, Good prevailed. Manobhu always said let us allow the universe to make the decision, and it did. We decided to set in motion a chain of events, which would work out only if the universe willed it so. Frankly, I wasn’t sure. But I didn’t stop him. I just didn’t think his plan would succeed. I did help him in making the medicine, though. And when I saw the plan coming to fruition, I knew that it was my duty to do whatever I could to help.’

‘But what if I had failed? What if I hadn’t identified the Somras as Evil? Then Evil would have won, right?’

‘Sometimes, the universe decides that Evil is supposed to win. Perhaps a race or species becomes so harmful that it’s better to allow Evil to triumph and destroy that species. It has happened before. But this is not one of those times.’

Shiva was clearly overwhelmed by the number of things that could have gone wrong.

‘You are still troubled by something...’ said the Mithra.

‘I’ve talked to Panditji as well, about this,’ said Shiva, pointing to Gopal. ‘So much of what I have achieved in my mission can be attributed to pure luck; just a random turn of the universe.’

The Mithra bent forward towards Shiva and whispered, ‘One makes one’s own luck, but you have to give the universe the opportunity to help you.’

Shiva remained stoic, not quite convinced by the Mithra’s words.

‘You had every reason to turn away after arriving in Meluha for the first time. You were in a strange new land. Peculiar people, who were evidently so much more advanced than you, insisted on looking upon you as a god. You were tasked with a mission, the enormity of which would have intimidated practically anyone in the world. I’m sure that at the time, you didn’t even think you could succeed. And yet, you didn’t run away. You stood up and accepted a responsibility that was thrust upon you. That decision was the turning point in your journey against Evil, which had nothing to do with the twists and blessings of fate.’

Shiva looked at Gopal, whose demeanour suggested he was in full agreement with the Mithra.

‘You are giving me too much credit, Lord Mithra,’ said Shiva.

‘I am not,’ said the Mithra. ‘You are on course to fulfil my mission, without having taken any help from me. But I will not allow you to do that. You must give me the privilege of offering some help. Otherwise, how will I face the Ahura Mazda and Lord Rudra when I meet with them?’

Shiva smiled.

The Mithra looked directly into Shiva’s eyes. ‘But there are some things I must be sure of. What do you plan to do with the daivi astra?’

‘I plan to use it to threaten...’ Shiva stopped speaking as the Mithra raised his hand.

‘I’ve seen enough,’ said the Mithra.

Shiva frowned.

‘Thoughts move faster than the tongue, great Neelkanth. I know you will not use these terrible weapons of destruction. I can also see that the reason you will not do so is not just because of the Vayuputra ban but because you believe that these weapons are too horrifying to ever be used.’

‘I do believe that.’

‘But I cannot give you the Brahmastra.’

This was unexpected. Shiva had thought the discussion had been going his way.

‘I cannot give you the Brahmastra because it is too uncontrollable. It destroys anything and everything. Most importantly, its effect spreads out in circles. The worst destruction is in the epicentre, where everything living is instantly incinerated into thin air. While there is less destruction in the outer circles, the damage is still significantly widespread in the vicinity. So even if those outside the primary impact zone are not immediately killed, they suffer from the immense radiation unleashed by the astra. With Lord Bhrigu on the other side, he is sure to bet that you are using the weapon only as a threat, because you would not want to hurt your own army, which would most certainly be in the zone of radiation exposure.’

‘So what is the way forward?’

‘The Pashupatiastra. It is a weapon designed by Lord Rudra. It has all the power of the Brahmastra, but with much greater control. Its destruction is concentrated in the inner circle. Life outside this zone is not impacted at all. In fact, with the Pashupatiastra, you can even focus the effect in only one direction, leaving everyone else in the other directions safe. If you threaten to use this weapon, Lord Bhrigu will know that you can destroy Devagiri without endangering your people or the adjoining areas. Then the threat will be credible.’

This made sense. Shiva agreed.

‘But you cannot actually use the weapon, Neelkanth,’ reiterated the Mithra. ‘It will poison the area for centuries. The devastation is unimaginable.’

‘I give you my word, Lord Mithra,’ said Shiva. ‘I will never use these weapons.’

The Mithra smiled. ‘Then I have no problems in offering the Pashupatiastra to you. I will give the orders immediately.’

Shiva raised his chin as a faint smile played on his lips. ‘I think you had already made your decision about this, even before you met me, uncle.’

The Mithra laughed softly. ‘I am just Mithra. But you didn’t expect it to be so easy, right?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘I have heard stories about you, especially about the way you have fought your battles. You have behaved in an exemplary manner until now. Even when you could have gained by doing something wrong, you refrained from doing so. You didn’t fall prey to the logic of doing a small wrong for the sake of the greater good; of the ends justifying the means. That takes moral courage. So yes, I had already made up my mind. But I wanted to see you in any case. You will be remembered as the greatest man of our age; generations will look up to you as their God. How could I not want to meet you?’

‘I am no God, Lord Mithra,’ said an embarrassed Shiva.

‘Wasn’t it you who had said “Har Har Mahadev”? That all of us are gods?’

Shiva laughed. ‘You’ve got me there.’

‘We don’t become gods because we think we are gods,’ said the Mithra. ‘That is only a sign of ego. We become gods when we realise that a part of the universal divinity lives within us; when we understand our role in this great world and when we strive to fulfil that role. There is nobody striving harder than you, Lord Neelkanth. That makes you a God. And remember, gods don’t fail. You cannot fail. Remember what your duty is. You have to take Evil out of the equation. You shouldn’t destroy all traces of the Somras, for it may become Good in times to come, when it might be required once again. You have to keep the knowledge of the Somras alive. You will also have to create a tribe which will manage the Somras till it is required once again. Once all this is done, your mission will be over.’

‘I will not fail, Lord Mithra,’ said Shiva. ‘I promise.’

‘I know you will succeed,’ smiled the Mithra, before turning to Gopal. ‘Great Chief Vasudev, once the Neelkanth creates his own tribe, the Vayuputras will not remain in charge of fighting Evil anymore. It will be the task of the Neelkanth’s tribe. Our relationship with the Vasudevs will become like one between distant relatives rather than the one which has entailed a joint duty towards a common cause.’

‘Your relationship with the Vasudevs and with my country will exist forever, Lord Mithra,’ said Gopal. ‘You have helped us in our hour of need. I’m sure that, in turn, we will help Pariha if it ever needs us.’

‘Thank you,’ said the Mithra.