‘But I just said I don’t want to.’
‘Shiva,’ said Sati, reverting to her usual tone. ‘I respect you immensely. Your valour. Your intelligence. Your talent. But you are not above the law. You have touched a vikarma. You have to get a shudhikaran. That is the law.’
‘Well if the law says that my touching that poor blind man is illegal, then the law is wrong!’
Sati was stunned into silence by Shiva’s attitude.
‘Shiva, listen to me,’ argued Brahaspati. ‘Not doing a shudhikaran can be harmful to you. You are meant for bigger things. You are important to the future of India. Don’t put your own person at risk out of obstinacy.’
‘It’s not obstinacy. You tell me, honestly, how can it harm me if I happened to touch a wronged man, who I might add, still loves his country despite the way he has been ostracised and ill-treated?’
‘He may be a good man Shiva, but the sins of his previous birth will contaminate your fate,’ said Brahaspati.
‘Then let them! If the weight on that man’s shoulders lessens, I will feel blessed.’
‘What are you saying Shiva?’ asked Sati. ‘Why should you carry the punishment of someone else’s sins?’
‘Firstly, I don’t believe in the nonsense that he was punished for the sins of his previous birth. He was just infected by a disease, plain and simple. Secondly, if it is my choice to carry the weight of someone else’s so called sins, why should it matter to anyone?’
‘It matters because we care about you!’ cried Brahaspati.
‘Come on Sati,’ said Shiva. ‘Don’t tell me you believe in this rubbish.’
‘It is not rubbish.’
‘Look, don’t you want me to fight for you? Stop this unfairness that your society has subjected you to.’
‘Is that what this is about? Me?’ asked Sati, outraged.
‘No,’ retorted Shiva immediately, then added. ‘Actually yes. This is also about you. It is about the vikarma and the unfairness that they have to face. I want to save them from leading the life of an outcast.’
‘I DON’T NEED YOUR PROTECTION! I CANNOT BE SAVED!’ shouted Sati, before storming out of the room.
Shiva glared at her retreating form in irritation. ‘What the hell is it with this woman?!’
‘She’s right Shiva,’ advised Brahaspati. ‘Don’t go there.’
‘You agree with her on this vikarma business? Answer with your heart, Brahaspati. Don’t you think it is unfair?’
‘I wasn’t talking about that. I was talking about Sati.’
Shiva continued to glare at Brahaspati defiantly. Everything in his mind, body and soul told him that he should pursue Sati. That his life would be meaningless without her. That his soul’s existence would be incomplete without her.
‘Don’t go there, my friend,’ reiterated Brahaspati.
The caravan left the river city of Kotdwaar on a royal barge led and followed by two large boats of equal size and grandeur as the royal vessel. Typical of the Meluhan security system, the additional boats were to confuse any attacker about which boat the royal family may be on. The entire royal party was in the second boat. Each of the three large boats was manned by a brigade of soldiers. Additionally, there were five small and quick cutter boats on both sides of the royal convoy, keeping pace and protecting the sides in case of an ambush.
‘When the monsoon is not active, my Lord,’ said Ayurvati, ‘the rivers are the best way to travel. Though we have good roads connecting all major cities, it cannot match the rivers in terms of speed and safety.’
Shiva smiled at Ayurvati politely. He was not in the frame of mind for much conversation. Sati had not spoken to Shiva since that fateful day at Kotdwaar when he had refused to undergo a shudhikaran.
The royal barge stopped at many cities along the river. The routine seemed much the same. Extreme exuberance would manifest itself in each city on the arrival of the Neelkanth.
It was a kind of reaction unnatural in Meluha. But then, a Neelkanth didn’t grace the land every day.
‘Why?’ asked Shiva of Brahaspati, after many days of keeping quiet about the disquiet in his troubled heart.
‘Why what?’
‘You know what I am talking about, Brahaspati,’ said Shiva, narrowing his eyes in irritation.
‘She genuinely believes that she deserves to be a vikarma,’ answered Brahaspati with a sad smile.
‘Why?’
‘Perhaps because of the manner in which she became a vikarma.’
‘How did it happen?’
‘It happened during her earlier marriage.’
‘What! Sati was married?!’
’Yes. That was around ninety years back. It was a political marriage with one of the noble families of the empire. Her husband’s name was Chandandhwaj. She got pregnant and went to the Maika to deliver the child. It was the monsoon season. Unfortunately, the child was stillborn.’
‘Oh my god!’ said Shiva, empathising with the pain Sati must have felt.
‘But it was worse. On the same day, her husband, who had gone to the Narmada to pray for the safe birth of their child, accidentally drowned. On that cursed day, her life was destroyed.’
Shiva stared at Brahaspati, too stunned to react. ‘She became a widow and was declared a vikarma the same day.’
‘But how can the husband’s death be considered her fault?’ argued Shiva. ‘That is completely ridiculous.’
‘She wasn’t declared a vikarma because of her husband’s death. It was because she gave birth to a stillborn child.’
‘But that could be due to any reason. Maybe there was a mistake that the local doctors committed.’
‘That doesn’t happen in Meluha, Shiva,’ said Brahaspati calmly. ‘Having a stillborn child is probably one of the worst ways for a woman to become a vikarma. Only giving birth to a Naga child would be considered worse. Thank god that didn’t happen. Because then she would have been completely ostracised from society.’
‘This has to be changed. The concept of vikarma is unfair.’
Brahaspati looked at his friend intensely. ‘You might save the vikarma, Shiva. But how do you save a woman who doesn’t want to be saved? She genuinely believes she deserves this punishment.’
‘Why? I’m sure she is not the first Meluhan woman to give birth to a stillborn. There must have been others before her. There will be many more after her.’
‘She was the first royal woman to give birth to a stillborn. Her fate has been a source of embarrassment to the emperor. It raises questions about his ancestry’
‘How would it raise questions about his lineage? Sati is not his birth daughter. She would also have come from Maika, right?’
‘No, my friend. That law was relaxed for families of nobility around two hundred and fifty years back. Apparently in the ‘national interest”, noble families were allowed to keep their birth-children. Some laws can be amended, provided ninety per cent of the Brahmins, Kshatriyas and Vaishyas above a particular chosen-tribe and job status vote for the change. There have been rare instances of such unanimity. This was one of them. Only one man opposed this change.’
‘Who?’
‘Lord Satyadhwaj, the grandfather of Parvateshwar. Their family had vowed not to have any birth children since this law was passed. Parvateshwar honours that promise to this day.’
‘But if the birth law could be changed,’ said Shiva working things out, ‘why couldn’t the law of vikarma?’
‘Because there aren’t enough noble families affected by that law. That is the harsh truth.’
‘But all this goes completely against Lord Ram’s teachings!’
‘Lord Ram’s teachings also say that the concept of the vikarma is correct. Don’t you want to question that?’
Shiva glanced at Brahaspati silently, before looking out over the river.
There is nothing wrong with questioning Lord Ram’s laws, my friend,’ said Brahaspati. ‘There were many times when he himself stood down because of someo
ne else’s rationale. The question is that what are your motives for wanting to change the law? Is it because you genuinely think the law itself is unfair? Or is it because you are attracted to Sati and you want to remove an inconvenient law which stands in your path.’
‘I genuinely think the vikarma law is unfair. I felt that from the moment I found out about it. Even before I knew Sati was a vikarma.’
‘But Sati doesn’t think the law is unfair.’
‘But she is a good woman. She doesn’t deserve to be treated this way.’
‘She is not just a good woman. She is one of the finest I have ever met. She is beautiful, honest, straight-forward, brave and intelligent — everything a man could want in a woman. But you are not just any man. You are the Neelkanth.’
Shiva turned around and rested his hands on the craft’s railing. He looked into the distance at the dense forest along the riverbanks as their boat glided across the water. The soothing evening breeze fanned Shiva’s long locks.
‘I’ve told you before, my friend,’ said Brahaspati. ‘Because of that unfortunate blue throat, every decision you take has many ramifications. You have to think many times before you act.’
It was late in the night. The royal convoy had just set sail from the city of Sutgengarh on the Indus. The emotions at Sutgengarh had erupted in the now predictable routine of exuberance at the sight of the Neelkanth. The saviour of their civilisation had finally arrived.
Their saviour, however, was in his own private hell. Sati had maintained her distance from Shiva for the last few weeks. He was torn, experiencing pain and dismay at depths he didn’t think fathomable.
The convoy’s next stop was the famous city of Mohan Jo Daro or the Platform of Mohan. The city, on the mighty Indus, was dedicated to a great philosopher-priest called Lord Mohan, who lived in this region many thousands of years ago. Once he had met with the people of Mohan Jo Daro, Shiva expressed a desire to visit the temple of Lord Mohan. This temple stood outside the main city platform, further down the Indus. The governor of Mohan Jo Daro had offered to take the Lord Neelkanth there in a grand procession. Shiva however insisted on going alone. He felt drawn to the temple. He felt that it would have some solutions for his troubled heart.
The temple itself was simple. Much like Lord Mohan himself. A small non—descript structure announced itself as the birthplace of the sage. The only sign of the temple’s significance was the massive gates in the four cardinal directions of the compound. As instructed by Shiva, Nandi and Veerbhadra, along with their platoon, waited outside.
Shiva, with his comforting cravat back around his neck, walked up the steps feeling tranquil after a long time. He rang the bell at the entrance and sat down against a pillar with his eyes shut in quiet contemplation. Suddenly, an oddly familiar voice asked: ‘How are you, my friend?’
CHAPTER 14
Pandit of Mohan Jo Daro
Shiva opened his eyes to behold a man who was almost a replica of the pandit he had met at the Brahma temple, in what seemed like another life. He sported a similar long flowing white beard and a big white mane. He wore a saffron dhoti and angvastram. The wizened face bore a calm and welcoming smile. If it wasn’t for this pandit’s much taller frame, Shiva could have easily mistaken him for the one he had met at the Brahma temple.
‘How are you, my friend?’ repeated the pandit sitting down.
‘I am alright, Panditji,’ said Shiva, using the Indian term ‘ji’ as a form of respect. He couldn’t follow why, but the intrusion was welcome to him. It almost seemed as though he was drawn to this temple because he was destined to meet the pandit. ‘Do all pandits in Meluha look alike?’
The man smiled warmly. ‘Not all the pandits. Just us.’
‘And who might “;us” be, Panditji?’
‘The next time you meet one of us, we will tell you,’ said the Pandit cryptically. ‘That is a promise.’
‘Why not now?’
‘At this point of time, our identity is not important,’ smiled the Pandit. What is important is that you are disturbed about something. Do you want to talk about it?’
Shiva took a deep breath. Gut instinct told him that he could trust this man.
‘There is this task that I supposedly have to do for Meluha.’
‘I know. Though I wouldn’t dismiss the Neelkanth’s role as a “task”. He does much more than that.’ Pointing at Shiva’s throat, the Pandit continued, ‘Pieces of cotton cannot cover divine brilliance.’
Shiva looked up with a wry smile. ‘Well, Meluha does seem like a wonderful society. And I want to do all I can to protect it from evil.’
‘Then what is the problem?’
‘The problem is that I find some grossly unfair practices in this nearly perfect society. And this is inconsistent with the ideals that Meluha aspires to.’
‘What practices are you referring to?’ asked the Pandit.
‘For example, the way the vikarma are treated.’
‘Why is it unfair?’
‘How can anyone be sure that these people committed sins in their previous birth? And that their present sufferings are a result of that? It might be sheer bad luck. Or a random act of nature.’
‘You’re right. It could be. But do you think that the fate of the vikarma is about them personally?’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘No it isn’t,’ explained the Pandit. ‘It is about the society as a whole. The vikarma acceptance of their fate is integral to the stability of Meluha.’
Shiva frowned.
‘What any successful society needs, O Neelkanth, is flexibility with stability. Why would you need flexibility? Because every single person has different dreams and capabilities. The birth son of a warrior could have the talent to be a great businessman. Then society needs to be flexible enough to allow this son to change his vocation from his father’s profession. Flexibility in a society allows change, so that all its members have the space to discover their true selves and grow to their potential. And if every person in a society achieves his true potential, society as a whole also achieves its true potential.’
‘I agree.’
But what does this have to do with the vikarma?
‘I’ll come to the obvious question in a bit. Just bear with me,’ said the Pandit. ‘If we believe that flexibility is key to a successful society, the Maika system is designed to achieve it in practice. No child knows what the professions of his birth-parents are. They are independent to pursue what their natural talent inspires them to do.’
‘I agree. The Maika system is almost breathtakingly fair. A person can credit or blame only himself for what he does with his life. Nobody else. But this is about flexibility. What about stability?’
‘Stability allows a person the freedom of choice, my friend. People can pursue their dreams only when they are living in a society where survival is not a daily threat. In a society without security and stability, there are no intellectuals or businessmen or artists or geniuses. Man is constantly in fight or flight mode. Nothing better than an animal. Where is the chance then to allow ideas to be nurtured or dreams to be pursued? That is the way all humans were before we formed societies. Civilisation is very fragile. All it takes is a few decades of chaos for us to forget humanity and turn into animals. Our base natures can take over very fast. We can forget that we are sentient beings, with laws and codes and ethics.’
‘I understand. The tribes in my homeland were no better than animals. They didn’t even want to live a better life!’
‘They didn’t know a better life was possible, Neelkanth. That is the curse of constant strife. It makes us forget the most beautiful part of being human. That is why society must remain stable so that we don’t put each other in a situation of having to fight for survival.’
‘All right. But why would letting people achieve their potential cause instability? In fact, it should make people happier with their lives and hence society would become increasingly steady.’
‘True, but o
nly partially. People are happy when they change their lives for the better. But there are two situations in which change can lead to chaos. First, when people face a change by others, situations that they cannot understand. This scares them almost as much as the fear of death. When change happens too fast, they resist it.’
‘Yes, change forced by others is difficult to accept.’
‘And too rapid a change causes instability. That is the bedrock of Lord Ram’s way of life. There are laws which help a society change slowly and allow it to remain stable. At the same time, it allows its citizens the freedom to follow their dreams. He created an ideal balance of stability and flexibility.’
‘You mentioned a second situation...’
‘The second is when people cannot make the transition they want to improve their lives for reasons beyond their control. Say there is an exceptional warrior who loses his hand-eye coordination due to a disease. He is still a fighter, but not extraordinary any more. The odds are that he will be frustrated about what he perceives as injustice meted out to him. He is likely to blame his doctor, or even society at large. Many such discontented people can become a threat to society as a whole.’
Shiva frowned. He didn’t like the logic. But he also knew that one of the main reasons the Pakratis had rejected the peace offer by his uncle years ago was because their diseased and old chief was desperate to live up to his initial reputation of being an exceptional warrior who could have defeated the Gunas.
‘Their combined rage can lead to unrest, even violence,’ said the Pandit. ‘Lord Ram sensed that. And that is why the concept of Vikarma came into being. If you make a person believe that his misfortune in this birth is due to his sins in his previous birth, he will resign himself to his fate and not vent his fury on society at large.’
‘But I disagree that ostracising the vikarma can work. It would lead to more suppressed anger.’
‘But they are not ostracised. Their living is subsidised by the government. They can still interact with family members. They are allowed to gain personal excellence in their chosen fields, wherever possible. They can also fight to protect themselves. What they can’t do is ever be in a position to influence others. And this system has worked for one thousand years. Do you know how common rebellion was in India before Lord Ram created this empire? And most of the times, the rebellions were not led by farsighted men who thought they would create a better way of life for the common man. They were led by men discontented with their lot in life. People very much like the vikarma. And these rebellions usually caused chaos and decades went by before order was restored.’