Land of Pure Life

Chenardhwaj, the governor of Kashmir, wanted to broadcast to the entire world that the

Neelkanth had appeared in his capital city. Not in the other frontier towns like

Takshashila, Karachapa or Lothal. His Srinagar! But the bird courier had arrived almost

immediately from the Meluhan capital Devagiri, the abode of the gods. The orders

were crystal clear. The news of the arrival of the Neelkanth had to be kept secret until

the emperor himself had seen Shiva. Chenardhwaj was ordered to send Shiva along

with an escort to Devagiri. Most importantly, Shiva himself was not to be told about the

legend. ‘The emperor will appropriately advise the supposed Neelkanth

,’

were the exact words in the message.

Chenardhwaj had the privilege of informing Shiva about the journey. Shiva though, was

notin the most amenable of moods. He was utterly perplexed by the sudden devotion of

every Meluhan around him. Since he had been transferred to the gubernatorial

residence, where he lived in luxury, only the most important citizens of Srinagar,

had

access to him.

‘My Lord, we will be escorting you to Devagiri, our capital. It is a few weeks’journeys

from here,’ said Chenardhwaj as he struggled to bend his enormous and muscular

frame lower than he ever had.

I’m not going till somebody tells me what is going on! What the hell is this damned

legend of the Neelkanth?’ Shiva asked angrily.

‘My Lord, please have faith in us. You will know the truth soon. The emperor himself will

tell you when you reach Devagiri.’

‘And what about my tribe?’

‘They will be given lands right here in Kashmir, my Lord. All the resources that they

need to lead a comfortable life will be provided for.’

‘Are they being held, hostage?’

‘Oh no, my Lord,’ said a visibly disturbed Chenardhwaj. ‘They are your tribe, my Lord.

Ihad my way, they would live like nobility for the rest of their lives. But the laws cannot

be broken, my Lord. Not even for you. We can only give them what had been promised.

Over time my Lord, you can decide to change the laws you feel necessary.

Then we could certainly accommodate them anywhere.’

‘Please, my Lord,’ pleaded Nandi. ‘Have faith in us. You cannot imagine how important

you are to Meluha. We have been waiting for a very long time for you. We need your

help.’

Please help me! Please!

The memory of another desperate plea from a distraught woman years ago returned to

haunt Shiva as he was stunned into silence.

‘Your destiny is much larger than these massive mountains.’

Nonsense! I don’t deserve any destiny. If these people knew my guilt, they would stop

this bullshit instantly!

‘I don’t know what to do, Bhadra.’

Shiva was sitting in the royal gardens on the banks of the Dal Lake while his friend sat

at his side, carefully filling some marijuana into a chillum. As Bhadra used the lit stick to

bring the chillum to life, Shiva said impatiently, ‘That’s a cue for you to speak, you fool.’

‘No. That’s a cue for me to hand you the chillum, Shiva.’

‘Why will you not council me?’ asked Shiva in anguish. ‘We are still the same friends

who never made a move without consulting each other!’

Bhadra smiled. ‘No, we are not. You are the Chief now. The tribe lives and dies by your

decisions. It cannot be corrupted by any other person’s influence. We are not like the

Paris, where the Chief has to listen to whoever is the loudmouth on their council.

Only the chief’s wisdom is supreme amongst the Gunas. That is our tradition.’

Shiva raised his eyes in exasperation. ‘Some traditions are meant to be broken!’

Bhadra stayed silent. Stretching his hand, Shiva grabbed the chillum from Bhadra. He

took one deep puff, letting the marijuana spread its munificence into his body.

‘I’ve heard just one line about the legend of the Neelkanth,’ said Bhadra. ‘Apparently

Meluha is in deep trouble and only the Neelkanth can save them.’

‘But I can’t seem to see any trouble out here? Everything seems perfect. If they want to

see real trouble we should take them to our land!’

Bhadra laughed slightly. ‘But what is it about the blue throat that makes them believe

you can save them?’

‘Damned if I know! They are so much more advanced than us. And yet they worship me

like I am some god. Just because of this blessed blue throat’

‘I think their medicines are magical though. Have you noticed that the hump on my back

has reduced a little bit?’

‘Yes, it has! Their doctors are seriously gifted.’

‘You know their doctors are called Brahmins?’

‘Like Ayurvati?’ asked Shiva, passing the chillum back to Bhadra.

‘Yes. But the Brahmins don’t just cure people. They are also teachers, lawyers, priests,

any intellectual profession.’

‘Talented people,’ sniffed Shiva.

‘That’s not all,’ said Bhadra, in between a long inhalation.

‘They have a concept of specialisation. So in addition to the Brahmins, they have a

group called Kshatriyas, who are the warriors and rulers. Even the women can be

Kshatriyas!’

‘Really? They allow women into their army?’

‘Well, apparently there aren’t too many female Kshatriyas. But yes, they are allowed into

the army.’

‘No wonder they are in trouble!’

The friends laughed loudly at the strange ways of the Meluhans. Bhadra took another

puff from the chillum before continuing his story. ‘And then they have Vaishyas, who are

craftsmen, traders and business people and finally the Shudras who are the farmers

and workers. And one caste cannot do another caste’s job.’

‘Hang on,’ said Shiva. ‘That means that since you are a warrior, you would not be

allowed to trade at the marketplace?’

‘Yes.’

‘Bloody stupid! How would you get me my marijuana? After all, that is the only thing you

are useful for!’

Shiva leaned back to avoid the playful blow from Bhadra. ‘All right, all right. Take it

easy!’ he laughed. Stretching out, he grabbed the chillum from Bhadra and took another

deep drag.

We’re talking about everything except what we should be talking about.

Shiva became serious again. ‘But seriously, strange as they are, what should I do?’

‘What are you thinking of doing?’

Shiva looked away as if contemplating the roses in the far corner of the garden. ‘I don’t

want to run away once again.’

‘What?’ asked Bhadra, not hearing Shiva’s tormented whisper.

‘I said,’ repeated Shiva loudly, ‘I can’t bear the guilt of running away once again.’

‘That wasn’t your fault...’

‘YES, IT WAS!’

Bhadra fell silent. There was nothing that could be said. Covering his eyes, Shiva

sighed once again. ‘Yes, it was...’

Bhadra put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, pressing it gently, letting the terrible

moment pass. Shiva turned his face. ‘I’m asking for advice, my friend. What should I

do? If they need my help, I can’t turn away from them. At the same time, how can I

leave our tribe all by themselves out here? What should I do?’

Bhadra continued to hold Shiva’s shoulder. He breathed deeply. He could think of an

answer. It may have been the correct answer for Shiva, his friend. But was it the correct

answer for Shiva, the leader!

‘You have to find that wisdom yourself, Shiva. That is the tradition.’

‘O the hell with you!’

Shiva threw the chillum back at Bhadra and stormed away.

Itwas only a few days later that a minor caravan consisting of Shiva, Nandi and three

soldiers were scheduled to leave Srinagar. The small party would ensure that they

moved quickly through the realm and reached Devagiri as soon as possible. Governor

Chenardhwaj was anxious for Shiva to be recognised quickly by the empire as the true

Neelkanth. He wanted to go down in history as the governor who found the Lord.

Shiva had been made ‘presentable’ for the emperor. His hair had been oiled and

smoothened. Lines of expensive clothes, attractive ear-rings, necklaces and other

jewellery was brought to adorn his muscular frame. His fair face had been scrubbed

clean with special Ayurvedic herbs to remove years of dead skin & decay. A cravat

had been fabricated out of cotton to cover his glowing blue throat. Beads had been

cleverly darned on to the cravat to make it look like the traditional necklaces that

Meehanmen wore while on religious exercises. The cravat felt warm on his still cold

throat.

‘I will be back soon,’ said Shiva as he hugged Bhadra’s mother. He was amazed that

the old lady’s limp was a little less noticeable.

Their medicines are truly magical.

As a morose Bhadra looked at him, Shiva whispered, ‘Take care of the tribe. You are in

charge till I come back.’

Bhadra stepped back, starded. ‘Shiva you don’t have to that just because I am your

friend.’

‘I have to do it, you fool. And the reason I have to do i that you are more capable than

me.’

Bhadra stepped up and embraced Shiva, lest his frie notice the tears in his eyes. ‘No

Shiva, I am not. Not even my dreams.’

‘Shut up! Listen to me carefully,’ said Shiva as Bhai smiled sadly. ‘I don’t think the

Gunas are at any risk out here. At least not as much as we were at Mount Kailash. But

e\ then, if you feel you need help, ask Ayurvati. I saw her wl the tribe was ill. She

showed tremendous commitment save us all. She is worth trusting.’

Bhadra nodded, hugged Shiva again and left the room.

Ayurvati knocked politely on the door. ‘May I come in, my Lord?’

This was the first time she had come into his presence since that fateful moment seven

days back. It seemed like a lifetime to her. Though she appeared to be her confident

self again, there was a slightiy different look about her. She had the appearance of

someone who had been touched by the divine.

‘Come in Ayurvati. And please, none of this “Lord” business. I am still the same uncouth

immigrant you met a few days ago.’

‘I am sorry about that comment, my Lord. It was wrong of me to say that and I am willing

to accept any punishment that you may deem fit.’

‘What’s wrong with you? Why should I punish you for speaking the truth? Why should

this bloody blue throat change anything?’

‘You will discover the reason, my Lord,’ whispered Ayurvati with her head bowed. We

have waited for centuries for you.’

‘Centuries?! In the name of the holy lake, why? What can I do that any of you smart

people can’t?’

‘The emperor will tell you, my Lord. Suffice it to say that from all that I have heard from

your tribe, if there is one person worthy of being the Neelkanth, it is you.’

‘Speaking of my tribe, I have told them that if they need any help, they can request you.

I hope that is all right.’

‘It would be my honour to provide any assistance to them, my Lord.’

Saying this, she bent down to touch Shiva’s feet in the traditional Indian form of showing

respect. Shiva had resigned himself to accepting this gesture from most Meluhans but

immediately stepped back as Ayurvati bent down.

‘What the hell are you doing, Ayurvati?’ asked a horrified Shiva. You are a doctor, a

giver of life. Don’t embarrass me by touching my feet.’

Ayurvati looked up at Shiva, her eyes shining with admiration and devotion. This was

certainly a man worthy of being the Neelkanth.

Nandi entered Shiva’s room carrying a saffron cloth with the word ‘Ram’ stamped

across every inch of it. He requested Shiva to wrap it around his shoulders. As Shiva

complied, Nandi muttered a quick short prayer for a safe journey to Devagiri.

‘Our horses wait outside, my Lord. We can leave when you are ready,’ said Nandi.

‘Nandi,’ said an exasperated Shiva. ‘How many times must I tell you? My name is

Shiva. I am your friend, not your Lord’

‘Oh no, my Lord,’ gasped Nandi. ‘You are the Neelkanth. You are the Lord. How can I

take your name?’

Shiva rolled his eyes, shook his head slightiy and turned towards the door. ‘I give up!

Can we leave now?’

‘Of course, my Lord.’

They stepped outside to see three mounted soldiers waiting patiently, while tethered

close to them were three more horses. One each for Shiva and Nandi, while the third

was assigned for carrying their provisions. The well-organised Meluhan Empire had rest

houses and provision stores spread across all major travel routes. As long as there

were enough provisions for just one day, a traveller carrying Meluhan coins could

comfortably keep buying fresh provisions to last a journey of months.

Nandi’s horse had been tethered next to a small platform. The platform had steps

leading up to it from the other side. Clearly, this was convenient infrastructure for obese

riders who found it a little cumbersome to climb onto a horse. Shiva looked at Nandi’s

enormous form, then at his unfortunate horse and then back at Nandi.

‘Aren’t there any laws in Meluha against cruelty to animals?’ asked Shiva with the most

sincere of expressions.

‘Oh yes, my Lord. Very strict laws. In Meluha ALL life is precious. In fact there are strict

guidelines as to when and how animals can be slaughtered and...’

Suddenly Nandi stopped speaking. Shiva’s joke had finally breached Nandi’s slow wit.

They both burst out laughing as Shiva slapped Nandi hard on his back.

Shiva’s entourage followed the course of the Jhelum which had resumed its thunderous

roar as it crashed down the lower Himalayas. Once on the magnificent flat plains, the

turbulent river calmed down once again and flowed smoothly on. Smooth enough for the

group to get on one of the many public transport barges to sail quickly down to the town

of Brihateshpuram.

From there on, they went east by a well laid and marked road through Punjab, the heart

of the empire’s northern reaches. Punjab literally meant the land of the five rivers . The

land of the Indus, Jhelum, Chenab, Ravi and Beas. The four eastern rivers aspired to

grasp the grand Indus, which flowed farthest to the west. They succeeded

spectacularly, after convoluted journeys on the rich plains of Punjab. The Indus itself

found comfort and succour in the enormous, all embracing ocean. The mystery of the

ocean’s final destination though was yet to be unravelled.

‘What is Ram?’ enquired Shiva as he looked down at the word covering every inch of

his saffron cloth.

The three accompanying soldiers rode at a polite distance behind Shiva and Nandi. Far

enough not to overhear any conversation but close enough to move in quickly at the first

sign of trouble. It was a part of their standard Meluhan service rules.

‘Lord Ram was the emperor who established our way of life, my Lord,’ replied Nandi.

‘He lived around one thousand two hundred years ago. He created our systems, our

rules, our ideologies, everything. His reign is known simply as ‘Ram Rajya’ or ‘the rule

of Ram . The term ‘Ram Rajya’ is considered to be the gold standard of how an empire

must be administered, to create a perfect life for all its citizens. Meluha is still run

according to his principles. Jai Shri Ram.’

‘He must have been quite a man! For he truly created a paradise right here on earth.’

Shiva did not lie when he said this. He truly believed that if there was a paradise

somewhere, it couldn’t have been very different from Meluha. This was a land of

abundance, of almost ethereal perfection! It was an empire ruled by clearly codified and

just laws, to which every Meluhan was subordinated, including the emperor. The

country supported a population of nearly eight million, which without exception seemed

well fed, healthy and wealthy. The average intellect was exceptionally high. They were a

slightiy serious people, but unfailingly polite and civil. It seemed to be a flawless society

where everyone knew his role and played it perfectly. They were conscious, nay

obsessive, about their duties. The simple truth hit Shiva: if the entire society was

conscious of its duties, nobody would need to fight for their individual rights. Since

everybody’s rights would be automatically taken care of through someone else’s

duties . Lord Ram was a genius!

Shiva too repeated Nandi’s cry, signifying Glory to Lord Ram. ‘Jai Shri Ram.’

Having left their horses at the government authorised crossing-house, they crossed the

river Ravi, close to Hariyupa , or the City of Hari . Shiva lingered there admiring

Hariyupa at a slight distance, while his soldiers waited just beyond his shadow, having

mounted their freshly allocated horses from the crossing-house on the other side of the

Ravi. Hariyupa was a much larger city than Srinagar and seemed grand from the

outside. Shiva thought seriously about exploring the magnificent city but that would

have meant a delay in the trip to Devagiri. Next to Hariyupa, Shiva saw a construction

project being executed. A new platform was being erected as Hariyupa had grown too

populous to accommodate everyone on its existing platform.

How the hell do they raise these magnificent platforms?

Shiva made a mental note to visit the construction site on his return journey. At a

distance, Jattaa, the captain of the river crossing house, was talking to Nandi while he

was about to climb the platform to mount his fresh horse.

‘Avoid the road via Jratakgiri,’ advised Jattaa. ‘There was a terrorist attack there last

night. All the Brahmins were killed and the village temple was destroyed. The terrorists

escaped as usual before any backup soldiers could arrive.’

‘When in Lord Agni’s name will we fight back? We should attack their country!’ snarled a

visibly angry Nandi.

‘I swear by Lord Indra, if I ever find one of these Chandravanshi terrorists, I will cut his

body into minute pieces and feed it to the dogs,’ growled Jattaa, clenching his fists tight.

‘Jattaa! We are followers of the Suryavanshis. We cannot even think of barbaric warfare

such as that!’ said Nandi.

‘Do the terrorists follow the rules of war when they attack us? Don’t they kill unarmed

men?’

‘That does not mean that we can act the same way, Captain. We are Meluhans!’ said

Nandi shaking his head.

Jattaa did not counter Nandi. He was distracted by Shiva still waiting at a distance. ‘Is

he with you?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘He doesn’t wear a caste amulet. Is he a new immigrant?’

‘Yes.’ replied Nandi, getting uncomfortable answering questions about Shiva.

‘And you’re going to Devagiri?’ asked an increasingly suspicious Jattaa, looking harder

towards Shiva’s throat. ‘I’ve heard some rumours coming from Srinagar...’

Nandi interrupted Jattaa suddenly. ‘Thank you for your help, Captain Jattaa.’

Before Jattaa could act on his suspicions, Nandi quickly climbed the platform, mounted

his horse and rode towards Shiva. Reaching quickly, he said, ‘We should leave, my

Lord.’

Shiva wasn’t listening. He was perplexed once again as he saw the proud Captain

Jattaa on his knees. Jattaa was looking directly at Shiva with his hands folded in a

respectful namaste. He appeared to be mumbling something very quickly. Shiva

couldn’t be sure from that distance, but it seemed that the Captain was crying. He shook

his head and whispered, ‘Why?’

‘We should go, my Lord,’ repeated Nandi, a litde louder.

Shiva turned to him, nodded and kicked his horse into action.

Shiva looked to his left as he rode on the straight road, observing Nandi goading his

valiant horse along. He turned around and was not surprised to see his three bodyguard

soldiers riding at exactly the same distance as before. Not too close, and yet, not too

far. He glanced back at Nandi, suspicious that the jewellery Nandi wore was not merely

ornamental. He wore two amulets on his thick right arm. The first one had some

symbolic lines which Shiva could not fathom. The second one appeared to have an

animal etching. Probably a bull. One of his gold chains had a pendant shaped like a

perfectly circular sun with rays streaming outwards. The other pendant was a brown,

elliptical seed-like object with small serrations all over it.

‘Can you tell me the significance of your jewellery or is that also a state secret?’ teased

Shiva.

‘Of course I can, my Lord,’ replied Nandi earnestly. He pointed at the first amulet that

had been tied around his massive arm with a silky gold thread. This is the amulet which

represents my caste. The lines drawn on it are a symbol of the shoulders of the

Parmatma, the almighty . This means that I am a Kshatriya.’

‘I am sure there are clearly codified guidelines for representing the other castes as well.’

‘Right you are, my Lord. You are exceptionally intelligent.’

‘No, I am not. You people are just exceptionally predictable.’

Nandi smiled as Shiva continued. ‘So what are they?’

‘What are what, my Lord?’

‘The symbols for the Brahmins, Vaishyas and Shudras.’

Well, if the lines are drawn to represent the head of the Parmatma, it would mean the

wearer is a Brahmin. The symbol for a Vaishya would be the lines forming a symbol of

the thighs of the Parmatma. And the feet of the Parmatma on the amulet would make

the wearer a Shudra.’

‘Interesting,’ said Shiva with a slight frown. ‘I imagine most Shudras are not too pleased

about their placement.’

Nandi was quite surprised at Shiva’s comments. He couldn’t understand why a Shudra

would have a problem with this long ordained symbol. But he kept quiet for fear of

disagreeing with his Lord.

‘And the other amulet?’ asked Shiva.

‘This second amulet depicts my chosen-tribe. Each chosen-tribe takes on jobs which fit

its profile. Every Meluhan, under the advice of their parents, applies for a chosen-tribe

when they turn twenty—five years old. Brahmins choose from birds, while Kshatriyas

apply for animals. Flowers are allocated to Vaishyas while Shudras must choose

amongst fishes. The Allocation Board allocates the chosen-tribe on the basis of a

rigorous examination process. You must qualify for a chosen-tribe that represents both

your ambitions and skills. Choose a tribe that is too mighty and you will embarrass

yourself throughout your life if your achievements don’t measure up to the standards of

that tribe. Choose a tribe too lowly and you will not be doing justice to your own talents.

My chosen-tribe is a bull. That is the animal that this amulet represents.’

‘And if I am not being rude, what does a bull mean in your rank of Kshatriya chosentribes?’

‘Well, it’s not as high as a lion, tiger or an elephant. But it’s not a rat or a pig either!’

‘Well, as far as I am concerned, the bull can beat any lion or elephant,’ smiled Shiva.

And what about the pendants on your chain?’

‘The brown seed is a representation of the last Mahadev, Lord Rudra. It symbolises the

protection and regeneration of life. Even divine weapons cannot destroy the life it

protects.’

‘And the Sun?’

‘My Lord, the sun represents the fact that I am a follower of the Suryavanshi kings —

the kings who are the descendants of the Sun’

‘What? The Sun came down and some queen...’ teased an incredulous Shiva.

‘Of course not, my Lord,’ laughed Nandi. ‘All it means is that we follow the solar

calendar. So you could say that we are the followers of the “path of the sun”. In practical

terms it denotes that we are strong and steadfast. We honour our word and keep our

promises even at the cost of our lives. We never break the law. We deal honourably

even with those who are dishonourable. Like the Sun, we never take from anyone but

always give to others. We sear our duties into our consciousness so that we may never

forget them. Being a Suryavanshi means that we must always strive to be honest, brave

and above all, loyal to the truth.’

‘A tall order! I assume that Lord Ram was a Suryavanshi king?’

‘Yes, of course,’ replied Nandi, his chest puffed up with pride. ‘He was the Suryavanshi

king. Jai Shri Ram.’

‘Jai Shri Ram,’ repeated Shiva.

Nandi and Shiva crossed the river Beas on a boat. Their three soldiers waited to cross

on the following craft. The Beas was the last river to be crossed after which stretched

the straight road towards Devagiri. Unseasonal rain the previous night had made the

crossing-house captain consider cancelling the day’s crossings across the river.

However the weather had been relatively calm since the morning, allowing the captain

to keep the service operational. Shiva and Nandi shared the boat with two other

passengers as well as the boatman who rowed them across. They had traded in their

existing horses at the crossing-house for fresh horses on the other side.

They were a short distance from the opposite bank when a sudden burst of torrential

rain came down from the heavens. The winds took on a sudden ferocity. The boatman

made a valiant effort to row quickly across, but the boat tossed violently as it

surrendered to the elements. Nandi stretched to tell Shiva to stay low for safety. But he

did not do it gently enough. His considerable weight caused the boat to list dangerously,

and he fell overboard.

The boatman tried to steady the boat with his rows to save the other passengers. Even

as he did so, he had the presence of mind to pull out his conch and blow an emergency

call to the crossing-house on the other side. The other two passengers should have

jumped overboard to save Nandi but his massive build made them hesitate. They knew

that if they tried to save him, they would most likely drown.

Shiva felt no such hesitation as he quickly tossed aside his angvastram, pulled off his

shoes and dived into the turbulent river. Shiva swam with powerful strokes and quickly

reached a rapidly drowning Nandi. He had to use all of his considerable strength to pull

Nandi to the surface. In spite of being buoyed by the water, Nandi weighed significantiy

more than what any normal man would. It was fortunate that Shiva felt stronger than

ever since the first night at the Srinagar immigration camp. Shiva positioned himself

behind Nandi and wrapped one arm around his chest. He used his other arm to swim to

the bank. Nandi’s weight made it very exhausting work, but Shiva was able to tow the

Meluhan captain to the shore soon as the emergency staff from the crossing-house

came rapidly towards them.

Shiva helped them drag Nandi’s limp body on to the land. He was unconscious.

The emergency staff then began a strange procedure. One of them started pressing

Nandi’s chest in a quick rhythmic motion to the count of five. The moment he would

stop, another emergency staff would cover Nandi’s lips with his own and breathe hard

into his mouth. Then they would repeat the procedure all over again. Shiva did not

understand what was going on but trusted both the knowledge as well as the

commitment of the Meluhan medical personnel.

After several anxious moments, Nandi suddenly coughed up a considerable amount of

water and woke up with a start. At first he was disoriented but he quickly regained his

wits and turned abruptly towards Shiva, screeching, ‘My Lord, why did you jump in after

me? Your life is too precious. You must never risk it for me!’

A surprised Shiva supported Nandi’s back and whispered calmly, ‘You need to relax, my

friend.’

Agreeing with Shiva, the medical staff quickly placed Nandi on a stretcher to carry him

into the rest house that was attached to the crossing-house. The other boat passengers

were looking at Shiva with increasing curiosity. They knew that the fat man was a

relatively senior Suryavanshi soldier, judging by his amulets. Yet he called this fair,

caste-unmarked man ‘his Lord’. Strange. But all that mattered was that the soldier was

safe. They dispersed as Shiva followed the medical staff into the rest house.

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