‘What else do you know?’
‘The Vishnus normally work in partnership with the Mahadevs, who are Destroyers of Evil. The Mahadevs assign a tribe as their representatives once their karma in a particular life is over. The tribe of the previous Mahadev, Lord Rudra, is the Vayuputras who live in faraway Pariha. The Vishnu of our age will work in close partnership with …’
‘This partnership thing is not necessarily important,’ interrupted Vishwamitra.
Sita fell silent. Surprised. This was not what she had learnt.
‘What else do you know?’
‘I know that the previous Vishnu, Lord Parshu Ram, left behind a tribe as well — the Malayaputras. And you, Maharishiji, are the chief of the Malayaputras. And if a Vishnu must rise in our age, to fight the darkness that envelops us, it must be you.’
‘You are wrong.’
Sita frowned. Confused.
‘The assumption you made in your last statement is wrong,’ clarified Vishwamitra. ‘Yes, I am the chief of the Malayaputras. But I cannot be the Vishnu. My task is to decide who the next Vishnu will be.’
Sita nodded silently.
‘What do you think is the main problem corroding India today?’
‘Most people will say Raavan, but I won’t.’
Vishwamitra smiled. ‘Why not?’
‘Raavan is only a symptom. He is not the disease. If it hadn’t been Raavan, it would have been someone else torturing us. The fault lies in us, that we allow ourselves to be dominated. Raavan may be powerful, but if we …’
‘Raavan is not as powerful as the people of Sapt Sindhu think he is. But he revels in this image of the monster that he has created for himself. That image intimidates others. But that image is useful for us as well,’ said Vishwamitra.
Sita didn’t understand that last line. And, Vishwamitra chose not to explain.
‘So, you say that Raavan is only a symptom. Then, what is the disease afflicting the Sapt Sindhu today?’
Sita paused to formulate her thoughts. ‘I’ve been thinking about this since you spoke to us at the gurukul last year, Guruji. You said society needs balance. It needs intellectuals, warriors, traders, and skilled workers. And that ideally, the scale should not be tipped against any group. That there should be a fair balance between all.’
‘And …’
‘So, why is it that society always moves towards imbalance? That’s what I was thinking. It gets unbalanced when people are not free to live a life that is in alignment with their innate guna, their attributes. It can happen when a group is oppressed or belittled, like the Vaishyas in Sapt Sindhu today. It makes those with Vaishya gunas frustrated and angry. It can also happen when you’re made to follow the occupation of your parents and clan, rather than what you may want to pursue. Raavan was born a Brahmin. But he clearly did not want to be a Brahmin. He is a Kshatriya by nature. It must have been the same with …’
Sita stopped herself in time. But Vishwamitra was staring directly into her eyes, reading her thoughts. ‘Yes, it happened with me too. I was born a Kshatriya but wanted to be a Brahmin.’
‘People like you are rare, Guruji. Most people surrender to the pressure of society and family. But it builds terrible frustration within. These are unhappy and angry people, living unbalanced, dissatisfied lives. Furthermore, society itself suffers. It may get stuck with Kshatriyas who do not possess valour, and cannot protect their society. It may get stuck with Brahmins who prefer to be skilled Shudras like medical surgeons or sculptors, and therefore will be terrible teachers. And ultimately, society will decline.’
‘You have diagnosed the problem well. So, what is the solution?’
‘I don’t know. How does one change society? How do we break down this birth-based caste system that is destroying our noble land?’
‘I have a solution in mind.’
Sita waited for an explanation.
‘Not now,’ said Vishwamitra. ‘I will explain one day. When you are ready. For now, we have a ceremony to conduct.’
‘Ceremony?’
‘Yes,’ said Vishwamitra, as he turned towards the yagna kund, which had been built at the centre of the main deck. Seven Malayaputra pandits waited at the other end of the deck. Upon a signal from Vishwamitra, they walked up to the yagna kund.
‘Come,’ said Vishwamitra, as he led her forward.
The yagna platform was built in an unorthodox manner, or at least one with which Sita was not familiar. It had a square, outer boundary, made of bricks. Encased within it was a circular inner boundary, made of metal.
‘This yagna kund represents a type of mandal, a symbolic representation of spiritual reality,’ Vishwamitra explained to Sita. ‘The square boundary symbolises Prithvi, the earth that we live on. The four sides of the square represent the four directions. The space inside the square represents Prakruti or nature. It is uncultured and wild. The circle within represents the path of consciousness; of the Parmatma. The task of the Vishnu is to find the Parmatma within this earthly life. The Vishnu lights a path to God. Not through detachment from the world, but through profound and spiritual attachment to this great land of ours.’
‘Yes, Guruji.’
‘You will sit on the southern side of the square.’
Sita sat in the seat indicated by Vishwamitra. The Chief Malayaputra sat with his back to the north, facing Sita. A Malayaputra pandit lit the fire within the circular inner boundary of the yagna platform. He was chanting a hymn dedicated to Lord Agni, the God of Fire.
A yagna signifies a sacrificial exchange: you sacrifice something that you hold dear, and receive benediction in return. Lord Agni, the purifying fire, is witness to this exchange between humans and the divine.
Vishwamitra folded his hands together into a Namaste. So did Sita. He began chanting a hymn from the Brihadaranyak Upanishad. Sita and the seven Malayaputra pandits joined in.
Asato mā sadgamaya
Tamasomā jyotir gamaya
Mrityormāamritam gamaya
Om shāntishānti shāntih
Lead me from untruth to truth
Lead me from darkness to light
Lead me from death to immortality
For Me and the Universe, let there be peace, peace, peace Vishwamitra reached into a pouch tied to his waist and withdrew a small scabbard. Holding it reverentially in the palm of his hand, he pulled out a tiny silver knife. He ran his finger over the edge, bringing it to rest on the tip of the blade. Sharp. He checked the markings on the handle. It was the correct one. He reached over the fire and handed the knife to Sita. It had to be passed from the northern to the southern direction.
‘This yagna will be sealed in blood,’ said Vishwamitra.