Tribe of Brahma

Shiva was walking in the verdant gardens of the royal guest house. His things were

being moved into the royal guest house by Nandi and Kanakhala’s efficient aide. Shiva

sat down on a comfortable bench overlooking a bed of red and white roses. The

charming cool breeze in the open gardens brought a smile to his face. It was early

afternoon and the garden was deserted. Shiva’s thoughts kept going back to the

conversation he had had with the Emperor in the morning. Despite Daksha’s controlled

reaction, Shiva could understand that his blue throat was of great significance to the

Meluhans, even to the Emperor. It meant that the legend of the Neelkanth, whatever it

was, was not restricted to some small sect in Kashmir. If the Emperor himself took it so

seriously, all of Meluha must need the help of the Neelkanth.

But what the bloody hell do they want help for? They are so much more advanced than

us!

His thoughts were distracted by the sounds of a dhol , a percussion instrument and

some ghungroos , anklets worn by dancers. Someone seemed to be practising in the

garden. A hedge separated the dance pavilion from the rest of the garden. Shiva,

himself a passionate dancer, would normally have stepped in to move to the rhythm of

the beat, but his mind was preoccupied. Some words floated in from the group that was

dancing.

‘No my lady, you must let yourself go,’ said a distinguished male voice. ‘It’s not a chore

that you have to do. Enjoy the dance. You are trying too hard to remember all the steps

rather than letting the emotion of the dance flow through you.’

Then a lady’s voice interjected. ‘My lady, Guruji is right. You are dancing correcdy, but

not enjoying it. The concentration shows on your face. You have to relax a little bit.’

‘Let me get the steps right first. Then I can learn to enjoy them.’

The last voice made Shiva’s hair stand up on end. It was her. It was Sati. He quickly got

up and followed the sound of the voices. Coming up from behind the hedge, he saw Sati

dancing on a small platform. She had her hands raised rigidly to her sides as she

enacted the various movements of the dance. She danced in accordance with the steps

first to the left and then to the right. She moved her shapely hips to the side and placed

her hands precisely on her waist, to convey the mood of the dance. He was

mesmerised once again.

However, he did notice that though Sati was dancing all her steps correctly, the Guruji

was right. She was moving in a mechanical manner; the uninhibited surrender that is

characteristic of a natural dancer was absent. The varying emotions of bliss and anger

of the story being told were missing in her moves. And unlike a proficient dancer, Sati

wasn’t using the entire platform. Her steps were small, which kept her movements

constricted to the centre.

The dance teacher sat facing her and playing on a dhol to give Sati her beats. Her

companion Krittika sat to the right. It was the dance teacher who noticed Shiva first and

immediately stood up. Sati and Krittika turned around as well and were clearly

astonished to find Shiva standing in front of them. Unlike Sati, Krittika could not control

her surprise and blurted out, ‘Shiva?’

Sati, in her characteristic composed and restrained manner, asked sincerely, ‘Is

everything alright, Shiva? Do you need my help for something?’

How have you been? I’ve missed you. Don’t you ever smile?

Shiva continued to stare at Sati, the words running through his mind, not on his lips. A

smiling Krittika looked at Sati for her reaction. An even more serious Sati repeated, very

politely, ‘Can I help you with something, Shiva?’

‘No, no, I don’t need any help,’ replied Shiva as reality seemed to enter his

consciousness again. ‘I just happened to be in the area and heard your dancing. I mean

your talk. Your dance steps were not so hard that I could hear it. You were dancing very

accurately. Actually, technically it was all...’

Krittika interjected. ‘You know a bit about dancing, do you?’

‘Oh, not much. Just a little,’ said Shiva to Krittika with a smile, before turning rapidly

back to Sati. ‘My apologies Sati, but Guruji is right. You were being far too methodical.

As they say in the land that I come from, the mudras and the kriyas were all

technically correct. But the bhav or emotion was missing. And a dance without bhav is

like a body without a soul. When the emotions of the dancer participate, she would not

even need to remember the steps. The steps come on their own. The bhav is something

that you cannot learn. It comes to you if you can create the space in your heart for it.’

Sati listened patiently to Shiva without saying a word. Her eyebrows were raised slightly

as the barbarian spoke. How could he know more than a Suryavanshi about dancing?

But she reminded herself that he had saved her life. She was duty bound to honour him.

Krittika, however, took offence at this caste-unmarked foreigner pretending that he knew

more about dancing than her mistress. She glowered at Shiva. ‘You dare to think that

you know more than one of the best dancers in the realm?’

Shiva gathered he may have caused some offence. He turned to Sati in all seriousness.

‘I am terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you in any way. Sometimes I just keep talking

without realising what I am saying.’

‘No, no’, replied Sati. ‘You did not insult me. Perhaps you are right. I don’t feel the

essence of the dance as much as I should. But I am sure that with Guruji’s guidance, I

will pick it up in due time.’

Seizing his chance to impress Sati, Shiva said, ‘If it is alright with you, may I perform the

dance? I am sure that I am not as technically correct as you. But perhaps, there may be

something in the sentiment that will guide me through the correct steps.’

That was wellput! She can’t say no!

Sati looked surprised. This was unexpected. ‘Umm, okay,’ she managed to say.

A delighted Shiva immediately moved to the centre of the stage. He took off the

angvastram covering his upper body and tossed it aside. Krittika’s quick anger at the

perceived insult to her mistress was forgotten quickly as she sighed at Shiva’s rippling

physique. Sati, though, began to wonder how Shiva would bend such a muscular body

into the contortions that were required for this style of dancing. Flexibility was usually

sacrificed by a human body at the altar of strength.

Playing lightly on his dhol, the Guruji asked Shiva, ‘Tell me the beat that you are

comfortable with, young man.’

Shiva folded his hands into a namaste, bent low and said, ‘Guruji, could you just give

me a minute please? I need to prepare for the dance.’

Dancing was something Shiva knew as well as warfare. Facing east, he closed his eyes

and bowed his head slightly. Then he bent down on his knees and reverentially touched

the ground with his head. Standing up, he turned his right foot outwards. Then he raised

his left leg off the floor in a graceful arching movement till the foot was above knee

height, as he bent his right knee slightly to balance himself. His left foot pointed in a

direction exactly between the bearing of his right foot and his face. Only a calm breeze

broke the almost deathly silence that enveloped the audience. The Guruji, Sati and

Krittika looked in amazement at Shiva. They did not understand what he was doing but

could feel the energy that Shiva’s stance was emanating.

Shiva raised both his arms in an elegant circular movement to the sides to bring them in

line with his shoulder. His right hand was moulded into a position like it was holding an

imaginary dumru , a small, handheld percussion instrument. His left hand was open with

its palm facing upward, almost like it was receiving some divine energy. He held this

pose for some time; as his glowing face showed that Shiva was withdrawing into his

own world. Then his right hand moved effortlessly forward, almost as if it had a mind of

its own. Its palm was now open and facing the audience. Somehow, the posture

seemed to convey a feeling of protection to a very surprised Sati. His left arm then

moved slowly from its shoulder height position to come in front of him with the palm

facing down. The left arm stopped moving when the hand was pointing almost directiy

at the left foot. Shiva held this pose for some time. And then began the dance.

Sati stared in wonder at Shiva. He was performing the same steps as her. Yet it looked

like a completely different dance. His hands moved effortlessly as his body moved

almost magically.

How could a body this muscular also be so flexible? The Guruji tried helplessly to get

his dhol to give Shiva the beats. But clearly that wasn’t necessary. For it was Shiva’s

feet which were leading the beat for the dhol!

The dance conveyed the various emotions of a woman. At the beginning it conveyed

her feelings of joy and lust as she cavorted with her husband. Then it conveyed her fury

and pain on the wrongful death of her mate. Even with Shiva’s rough masculine body,

he managed to convey the tender yet strong emotions of a grieving woman.

Shiva’s eyes were open. But the audience realised that he was oblivious to them. Shiva

was in his own world. He did not dance for the audience. He did not dance for

appreciation. He did not dance for the music. He danced only for himself. Rather, it

almost seemed like his dance was guided by a celestial force. Sati realised that Shiva

was right. He had opened himself and the dance had come to him.

After what seemed like an eternity the dance came to an end, with Shiva firmly shutting

his eyes. He held the final pose for a long time as the glow slowly left him. It was almost

like he was returning to this world. Shiva gradually opened his eyes to find Sati, Krittika

and the Guruji gaping at him in complete awe.

The Guruji was the first to find his voice. ‘Who are you?’

‘I am Shiva.’

‘No, no. Not the body. I meant who are you? ’

Shiva crooked his eyes together in a frown and repeated, ‘I am Shiva.’

‘Guruji, may I ask a question?’ asked Sati.

‘Of course you may.’

Turning to Shiva, Sati asked, ‘What was that you did before the dance? Was it some

kind of preparatory step?’

‘Yes. It’s called the Natarajpose. The pose of the Lord of dance!

‘The Nataraj pose? What does it do?’

‘It aligned my energy to the universal energy so that the dance emerges on its own.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Well, it’s like this: amongst our people, we believe that everything in the world is a

carrier of shakti or energy . The plants, animals, objects, our bodies, everything carries

and transmits energy. But the biggest carrier of energy that we are physically in touch

with is Mother Earth herself — the ground that we walk on.’

‘What does that have to do with your dance?’

‘For anything that you do, you need energy. You have to source the energy around you.

The energy comes from people, from objects, from Mother Earth herself. You have to

ask for that energy respectfully.’

‘And your Nataraj pose helps you to access any energy that you want?’ asked the

Guruji.

‘It depends on what I want the energy for. The Nataraj pose helps me to ask respectfully

for energy for a dance that wants to come to me. If I wanted the energy for a thought to

come to me, I would have to sit cross-legged and meditate.’

‘It seems that the energy favours you, young man,’ said the Guruji. ‘You are the Nataraj,

the Lord of dance! ’

‘Oh no!’ exclaimed Shiva. ‘I am just a medium of the boundless Nataraj energy. Anyone

can be the medium.’

‘Well, then you are a particularly efficient medium, young man,’ said the Guruji. Turning

to Sati, he said, ‘You don’t need me if you have a friend like him, my child. If you want to

be taught by Shiva, it would be my honour to excuse myself.’

Shiva looked at Sati expectantly. This had gone much better than he expected.

Say yes, dammit!

Sati however seemed to withdraw into herself. Shiva was starded to see the first signs

of vulnerability in this woman. She bowed her head, an act which did not suit her proud

bearing and whispered softly, ‘I mean no disrespect to anyone, but perhaps I do not

have the skills to receive training of this level.’

‘But you do have the skill,’ argued Shiva. ‘You have the bearing. You have the heart.

You can very easily reach that level.’

Sati looked up at Shiva, her eyes showing just the slightest hint of dampness. The

profound sadness they conveyed took Shiva aback.

What the hell is going on?

‘I am very far from any level, Shiva,’ mumbled Sati.

As she said that, Sati found the strength to control herself again. The politely proud

manner returned to her face. The mask was back. ‘It is time for my puja. With your

permission Guruji, I must leave.’ She turned towards Shiva. ‘It was a pleasure meeting

you again Shiva.’

Before Shiva could respond, Sati turned quickly and left, followed by Krittika.

The Guruji continued to stare at a flummoxed Shiva. At length, he bent low with a formal

namaste towards Shiva and said, ‘It has been my life’s honour to see you dance.’

Then he too turned and left. Shiva was left wondering at the inscrutable ways of the

Meluhans.

It was late in the morning the next day when Shiva and Nandi entered the private royal

office to find Daksha, Parvateshwar and Kanakhala waiting for him. A surprised Shiva

said, ‘I am sorry your Highness. I thought we were to meet four hours into the second

prahar. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.’

Daksha, who had stood up with a formal namaste, bowed low and said, ‘No, my Lord.

You don’t need to apologise. We came in early so that we wouldn’t keep you waiting. It

was our honour to wait for you.’

Parvateshwar rolled his eyes at the extreme subservience that his emperor, the ruler of

the greatest civilisation ever established, showed towards this barbarian. Shiva,

controlling his extreme surprise at being referred to as the ‘Lord’ by the emperor, bowed

low towards Daksha with a namaste and sat down.

‘My Lord, before I start off my monologue about the legend of the Neelkanth, do you

have any questions that you would like to ask?’ enquired Daksha.

The most obvious question came to Shiva’s mind first.

Why in the holy lake’s name is my blessed blue throat so important?

But his instincts told him that though this appeared to be the most obvious question, it

could not be answered unless he understood more about the society of Meluha itself.

‘It may sound like an unusual question your Highness,’ said Shiva. ‘But may I ask what

your age is?’

Daksha looked in surprise at Kanakhala. Then turning back towards Shiva with an awed

smile, he said, ‘You are exceptionally intelligent my Lord. You have asked the most

pertinent question first.’ Crinkling his face into a conspiratorial grin, Daksha continued,

‘Last month I turned one hundred and eighty four.’

Shiva was stunned. Daksha did not look a day older than thirty years. In fact nobody in

Meluha looked old. Except for the Pandit that Shiva had met at the Brahma temple.

So Nandi is more than a hundred years old.

‘How can this be, your Highness?’ asked a flabbergasted Shiva. ‘What sorcery makes

this possible?’

‘There is no sorcery at all my Lord,’ explained Daksha. ‘What makes this possible is the

brilliance of our scientists who make a potion called the Somras, the drink, of the

gods . Taking the Somras at defined times not only postpones our death considerably,

but it also allows us to live our entire Eves as if we are in the prime of our youth —

mentally and physically’

‘But what is the Somras? Where does it come from? Who invented it?’

‘So many questions my Lord,’ smiled Daksha. ‘But I will try my best to answer them one

by one. The Somras was invented many thousands of years ago by one of the greatest

Indian scientists that ever lived. His name was Lord Brahma.’

‘I think there is a temple dedicated to him that I visited on the way to Devagiri. At a place

named Meru?’

‘Yes my Lord. That is where he is said to have lived and worked. Lord Brahma was a

prolific inventor. But he never took any of the benefits of his inventions for himself. He

was always interested in ensuring that his inventions were used for the good of

mankind. He realised early on that a potion as powerful as the Somras could be

misused by evil men. So he implemented an elaborate system of controls on its use.’

‘What kind of controls?’

‘He did not give the Somras freely to everyone,’ continued Daksha. After conducting a

rigorous country-wide survey, he chose a select group of adolescent boys of

impeccable character — one from each of the seven regions of ancient India. He chose

young boys so that they would live with him at his gurukul and he could mould their

character into selfless helpers of society. The Somras medicine was administered only

on these boys. Since these boys were practically given an additional life due to the

Somras, they came to be known as the dwija or twice born . With the strength of the

Somras, the training of Lord Brahma and the numerous other inventions that they

collectively produced, this group became more powerful than anyone in history. They

honed their minds to achieve almost superhuman intelligence. The ancient Indian title

for men of knowledge was Rishi . Since Lord Brahma’s chosen men were seven in

number, they came to be known as the Saptrishi ?

‘And these Saptrishis used their skills for the good of society’

‘Yes my Lord. Lord Brahma instituted strict rules of conduct for the Saptrishis. They

were not allowed to rule or to practice any trade — essentially anything that would have

caused them personal gain. They had to use their skills to do the task of priests,

teachers, doctors, amongst other intellectual professions where they could use their

powers to help society. They were not allowed to charge anything for their services and

had to live on alms and donations from others.’

‘Tough service rules,’ joked Shiva with a slight wink at Parvateshwar.

Parvateshwar did not respond but Daksha, Kanakhala and Nandi guffawed loudly.

Shiva took a quick look at the prahar lamp by the window. It was almost the third prahar.

The time that Sati would probably come out to dance.

‘But they followed their code of conduct stricdy my Lord,’ continued Daksha. ‘Over time,

as their responsibilities grew, the Saptrishis selected many more people to join their

tribe. Their followers swore by the same code that the Saptrishis lived by and were also

administered the Somras. They devoted their lives to the pursuit of knowledge and for

the wellbeing of society without asking for any material gain in return. It is for this reason

that society accorded these people almost devotional respect. Over the ages the

Saptrishis and their followers came to be known as the Tribe of Brahma or simply, the

Brahmins ’.

‘But as it usually happens with all good systems over long periods of time, some people

stopped following the Brahmin code, right?’

‘Absolutely, my Lord,’ answered Daksha, shaking his head at the all too familiar human

frailty. ‘As many millennia went by, some of the Brahmins forgot the strict code that Lord

Brahma had enforced and the Saptrishis propagated. They started misusing the

awesome powers that the Somras gave them for their own personal gains. Some

Brahmins started using their influence over large number of people to conquer

kingdoms and start ruling. Some Brahmins misused other inventions of the Saptrishis

and Lord Brahma to accumulate fabulous wealth for themselves.’

‘And some of the Brahmins,’ interjected Kanakhala with a particular sense of horror,

‘even rebelled against the Saptrishi Uttradhikaris ’.

‘Saptrishi Uttradhikaris?’ inquired Shiva.

‘They were the successors to the Saptrishis my Lord,’ clarified Kanakhala. ‘When any

of the Saptrishis knew that he was coming to the end of his mortal life, he would appoint

a man from his gurukul as his successor. This successor was treated for all practical

purposes like the Saptrishi himself.’

‘So rebelling against the Saptrishi Uttradhikaris was like rebelling against the Saptrishis

themselves?’

‘Yes, my Lord,’ answered Kanakhala. ‘And the most worrying part of this corruption was

that it was being led by the higher chosen-tribe Brahmins like the eagles, peacocks and

the swans. In fact, due to their higher status, these chosen-tribes were actually not even

allowed to work under the Kshatriyas and Vaishyas, lest they get enticed by the lure of

the material world. Yet they succumbed to the temptations of evil before anyone else.’

‘And chosen-tribes like yours, the pigeons, remained loyal to the old code despite

working for the Kshatriyas?’ asked Shiva.

‘Yes, my Lord,’ replied Kanakhala, her chest puffed up with pride.

The town bell indicating the beginning of the third prahar sounded out loudly. All the

people in the room, including Shiva, said a quick short prayer welcoming the new time

chapter. Shiva had learnt some of the ways of the Meluhans. A Shudra came in, reset

the prahar lamp precisely and left as quiedy as he came. Shiva reminded himself that

anytime now Sati would start her dance in the garden.

‘So what revolution caused the change your Highness?’ asked Shiva turning to Daksha.

‘You, Parvateshwar and Nandi are Kshatriyas and yet you clearly have taken the

Somras. In fact I have seen people of all four castes in your empire look youthful and

healthy. This means that the Somras is now given to everybody. This change must have

obviously happened due to a revolution, right?’

‘Yes, my Lord. And the revolution was known as Lord Ram. The greatest emperor that

ever lived! Jai Shri Ram!’

‘Jai Shri Ram!’ repeated everyone in the room.

‘His ideas and leadership transformed the society of Meluha dramatically,’ continued

Daksha. ‘In fact, the course of history itself was radically altered. But before I continue

with Lord Ram’s tale, may I make a suggestion?’

‘Of course, your Highness.’

‘It is into the third prahar now. Should we move to the dining room and partake of some

lunch before continuing with this story?’

‘I think it is an excellent idea to have lunch your Highness,’ said Shiva. ‘But may I be

excused for some time? There is another pressing engagement that I have. Could we

perhaps continue our conversation tomorrow if that is suitable to you?’

Kanakhala’s face fell immediately while Parvateshwar’s was covered with a

contemptuous grin. Daksha, however, kept a smiling face. ‘Of course we could meet

tomorrow my Lord. Will the beginning of the second hour of the second prahar be all

right with you?’

‘Absolutely, your Highness. My apologies for this inconvenience.’

‘Not at all my Lord,’ said an ever smiling Daksha. ‘Can one of my chariots take you to

your destination?’

‘That’s very kind of you, your Highness. But I will go there myself. My apologies once

again.’

Bidding a namaste to everyone in the room, Shiva and Nandi walked quickly out.

Kanakhala looked accusingly at Daksha. The emperor just nodded his head, gesturing

with his hands for calm. ‘It’s all right. We are meeting tomorrow, aren’t we?’

‘My Lord, we are running out of time,’ said Kanakhala. The Neelkanth needs to accept

his responsibilities immediately!’

‘Give him time, Kanakhala. We have waited for so long. A few days is not going to

cause a collapse!’

Parvateshwar got up suddenly, bowed low towards Daksha and said, ‘With your

permission your Highness, may I be excused? There are more practical things that

need my attention as compared to educating a barbarian.’

‘You will speak of him with respect Parvateshwar,’ growled Kanakhala. ‘He is the

Neelkanth!’

‘I will speak of him with respect only when he has earned it through some real

achievements,’ snarled Parvateshwar. ‘I respect only achievements, nothing else. That

is the fundamental rule of Lord Ram. Only your karma is important. Not your birth. Not

your sex. And certainly not the colour of your throat. Our entire society is based on

merit. Or have you forgotten that?’

‘Enough!’ exclaimed Daksha. ‘I respect the Neelkanth. That means everybody will

respect him!’

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