The Oath of the Vayuputras by Amish Tripathi
‘Shiva is not a Lord!’ screamed Daksha. ‘How dare you? Who are you loyal to, Kanakhala?’
‘Your Highness,’ said Bhrigu, his calm tone belying the menace beneath.
Daksha recoiled in fear.
‘Your Highness, perhaps it would be better if you retired to your personal chambers.’
‘But...’
‘Your Highness,’ said Bhrigu. ‘That was not a request.’
Daksha closed his eyes, shocked at the immense disrespect being shown to him. He got up and left his office, muttering under his breath about the respect due to the Emperor of India.
Bhrigu turned to Parvateshwar, unperturbed, as if nothing had happened. ‘General, what else does Vidyunmali say?’
‘The entire Saraswati fleet is under the Lord Neelkanth now. But it gets worse.’
‘Worse?’
‘The people of Mrittikavati have now pledged loyalty to him. The survivors of Vidyunmali’s army have been held prisoner in Mrittikavati. Fortunately for us, Vidyunmali managed to escape with five hundred soldiers and send this message.’
‘So the Neelkanth has stationed himself in Mrittikavati for now?’ asked Bhrigu, careful not to use the term ‘fraud Neelkanth’ in Parvateshwar’s presence. ‘Because he will have to commit his own soldiers to guard ours, right?’
‘No,’ said Parvateshwar, shaking his head. ‘Our army is being held prisoner by the citizens of Mrittikavati.’
‘The citizens?!’
‘Yes. So the Lord Neelkanth does not have to commit any of his own soldiers for the task. He has managed to take twenty-five thousand of our soldiers out of the equation but he still has practically his whole army with him. He has commandeered our entire Saraswati fleet. I’m sure he is making plans to sail up north even as we speak. Vidyunmali also writes about a fearsome corps of exceptionally well-trained elephants in the Lord’s army, which are almost impossible to defeat.’
‘Lord Ram, be merciful!’ said a stunned Kanakhala.
‘This is worse than we’d ever imagined,’ said Bhrigu.
‘But I don’t understand one thing,’ said Kanakhala. ‘How does the Lord have an army of one hundred thousand in Meluha, when a hundred and fifty thousand of his soldiers were in Ayodhya a few weeks back?’
‘Ayodhya?’ asked a surprised Bhrigu.
‘Yes,’ said Kanakhala and proceeded to tell him about the message she had just received from Ayodhya about the siege and the destruction of the Magadhan forces.
‘By the great Lord Brahma!’ said Bhrigu. ‘This means the Ayodhya army cannot sail past Magadh. They will have to march through the forest, which means it will take them forever to come to our aid.’
‘But I still don’t understand how the Lord Neelkanth has so many soldiers in Meluha,’ persisted Kanakhala. ‘The Branga and Naga armies together don’t add up to this number.’
The truth finally dawned on Bhrigu. ‘The Vasudevs have joined forces with Shiva. They are the only ones outside of the Suryavanshis and the Chandravanshis who can bring in so many soldiers. This also explains the presence of the exceptionally well-trained elephants Shiva used in the Battle of Mrittikavati. I have heard stories about the prowess of the Vasudev elephants.’
Bhrigu was not aware that the strongest strategic benefit of the Vasudevs was not their elephant corps, but their secretive Vasudev pandits hidden in temples across the Sapt Sindhu. These pandits were the eyes and ears of the Neelkanth, providing him with the most crucial advantage in war: timely and accurate information.
‘Lord Shiva will be here soon with a large army,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘And the three hundred thousand soldiers of Ayodhya will not reach us in time. He has played his cards really well.’
‘I do not have a military mind, General,’ said Bhrigu. ‘But even I can see that we are in deep trouble. What do you advise?’
Parvateshwar brought his hands together and rubbed his chin with his index fingers. He looked up at Bhrigu after some time. ‘If Ganesh decides to enter Meluha from the north, we are finished. There is no way we can defend ourselves against a two-pronged attack. Our engineers have been working hard at repairing the road that was ruined by the Yamuna floods. I’ll immediately send them instructions to leave the road as it is. If Ganesh chooses to cross from there, then we must make the journey difficult for him. Marching a hundred and fifty thousand strong army on a washed-out road is not going to be easy.’
‘Good idea.’
‘The Lord Neelkanth could be in Devagiri in a matter of weeks.’
‘It’s a good thing you have engaged the army in training exercises and simulations,’ said Bhrigu.
‘The Lord will not win here,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘That is my word to you, Maharishiji.’
‘I believe you, General. But what do we do about the Vasudev elephants? We cannot win against Shiva’s army unless we stop his elephants.’
‘What do you think, Shiva?’ asked Gopal.
Gopal, Sati and Kali were with Shiva in his chamber at Mrittikavati, conferring. They were re-evaluating their strategy in the light of the news received from Panini.
Kali was clear in her mind. ‘Shiva, I propose that you leave Mrittikavati and sail out to Pariha. If you can convince the Vayuputras to give you a lethal daivi astra, say the Brahmastra, this war will be as good as over.’
‘We cannot actually use these daivi astras, Your Highness,’ said Gopal. ‘It will be against the laws of humanity. We can only use such weapons as deterrents to make the other side see sense.’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Kali dismissively, ‘I agree.’
‘How long will the journey to Pariha take, Panditji?’ asked Shiva.
‘Six months at the minimum,’ said Gopal. ‘It could take even nine to twelve months if the winds don’t favour us.’
‘Then the decision is clear,’ said Shiva. ‘I don’t think going to Pariha at this stage makes sense.’
‘Why?’ asked Kali.
‘We have momentum and time on our side, Kali,’ said Shiva. ‘Ayodhya’s army cannot come into Meluha for another six to eight months at least. Ganesh and Kartik can reach the northern frontiers of Meluha within a few weeks. We will have a six-month window with two hundred and fifty thousand soldiers on our side against just seventy-five thousand on the side of Meluha. I like those odds. I say we finish the war here and now. In the time that it will take me to go to Pariha and return, the situation may have become very different. Also, don’t forget, all we know is that the Vayuputras are not with Maharishi Bhrigu. That does not necessarily mean that they will choose to be with us. They may well decide to remain neutral.’
‘That makes sense,’ agreed Sati. ‘If we conquer Devagiri and destroy the Somras factory, the war will be over regardless of what the Vayuputras choose to believe.’
‘So what do you suggest, Shiva?’ asked Gopal.
‘We should divide our navy into two parts,’ said Shiva. ‘I’ll move up the Saraswati and then north, up the Yamuna with a small sailing force of twenty-five ships. I’ll meet Ganesh and Kartik as they march down the Yamuna road and we’ll board their soldiers onto my ships. By sailing, we can get to Devagiri quicker, instead of waiting for them to march to the Meluhan capital. In the meantime, Sati will lead the other contingent of the navy, carrying our entire army from Mrittikavati up the Saraswati to Devagiri. Sati should leave three weeks after me so that we reach Devagiri around the same time. With two hundred and fifty thousand soldiers besieging Devagiri, they may actually see some sense.’
‘Sounds good in theory,’ said Kali. ‘But coordination may prove to be a problem in practice. There could be delays. If one of our armies reaches Devagiri a few weeks earlier, it may leave them weakened against the Meluhans.’
‘But Shiva is not suggesting that we mount an attack and conquer Devagiri as soon as either one of us reaches,’ said Sati. ‘We would just fortify ourselves and wait for the other. Once we have joined forces, only then should we attack.’
‘True, but what if the Meluh
‘I don’t see them stepping out of the safety of their fort,’ said Shiva. ‘The army that I will lead will have a hundred and fifty thousand soldiers who have just destroyed the mighty Magadhans; the Meluhans will not attack us with only seventy-five thousand soldiers. Sati’s army will have a hundred thousand, and don’t forget, she will also have the Vasudev elephants. So you see, even our separate armies are capable of taking on the Meluhans on an open field. General Parvateshwar has a calm head on his strong shoulders. He will know that it’s better for them to remain in the safety of their fort, rather than marching out and attacking us.’
‘But I get your point, Kali,’ said Sati. ‘If I reach early, I will encamp some ten kilometres south of Devagiri. There is a large hill on the banks of the Saraswati which can serve as a superb defensive position since it will give us the advantage of height. I will set up a Chakravyuh formation with our Vasudev elephants as the first line of defence. It will be almost impossible to break through.’
‘I know that hill,’ said Shiva to Sati. ‘That is exactly where I will camp as well if I happen to reach before you do.’
‘Perfect.’
‘There is no respite from the speed, is there, My Lord?’
Shiva and Parshuram stood on the deck of his lead ship, battling to keep their eyes open against the onslaught of the wind upon a speedily moving object.
The fleet was racing up the Saraswati, skeletally staffed as it was, with just two thousand soldiers, not giving any opportunity for the Meluhans to launch small strikes. While none of the cities on the Saraswati were prepared for naval warfare – since the Meluhans never expected such an attack – Shiva had decided to not tempt fate. The Meluhans were not wanting in honour and courage. As an additional precaution, he had also inducted many of the courageous Naga soldiers into his navy. Kali, the Queen of the Nagas, was travelling in the rearguard ship of the convoy.
Shiva smiled. ‘No Parshuram, there will be no respite. Speed is of the essence.’
In keeping with Shiva’s orders, there had been no breaks in the rowing. Four teams had been set up on gruelling six-hour shifts. The timekeepers, beating on the drums to set the rhythm for the rowers, maintained it at battle-ramming speed. Shiva did not want to trust the unpredictable winds with determining how fast they moved. In the interest of fairness, Shiva had also added his own name to the roster for rowing duties. His six hours of rowing for the day were to come up soon.
‘It’s a beautiful river, My Lord,’ said Parshuram. ‘It’s sad that we may have to kill it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘My Lord, I have been researching the Somras. Lord Gopal has explained many things to me. And an idea has struck me...’
‘What?’
‘The Somras cannot be made without this,’ said Parshuram, pointing to the Saraswati.
‘Brahaspati tried that, Parshuram... He tried to find some way to make the Saraswati waters unusable. But that didn’t work, remember?’
‘That’s not what I meant, My Lord. What if the Saraswati didn’t exist? Neither would the Somras, would it?’
Shiva observed Parshuram closely with inscrutable eyes.
‘My Lord, there was a time when the Saraswati, as we know it today, had ceased to exist. The Yamuna had started flowing east towards the Ganga. Saraswati cannot exist without the meeting of the Yamuna and the Sutlej.’
‘We cannot kill the Saraswati,’ said Shiva, almost to himself.
‘My Lord, for all you know, maybe that’s what Nature was trying to do more than a hundred years ago, when an earthquake caused the Yamuna to change its course and flow into the Ganga. If Lord Brahmanayak, the father of the present emperor, had not changed the Yamuna’s course to flow back into the Sutlej and restore the Saraswati, history would have been very different. Maybe Nature was trying to stop the Somras.’
Shiva listened silently.
‘We don’t have to think the Saraswati would be dead. Its soul would still be flowing in the form of the Yamuna and the Sutlej. Only its body would disappear.’
Shiva stared at the Saraswati waters, perceiving her depths. Parshuram had a point but Shiva didn’t want to admit it. Not even to himself. Not yet, anyway.
Chapter 29
Every Army Has a Traitor
‘Any news, Ganesh?’ asked Bhagirath.
Bhagirath and Chandraketu had just joined Ganesh and Kartik on the lead ship. The massive navy was sailing up the Ganga en route to Meluha from the north. Farther ahead, they were to take the Ganga-Yamuna road. They had slowed down only for a few hours to allow a boat to rendezvous with them. The boatman carried a message from a Vasudev pandit.
‘I’ve just received word that my father’s army has conquered Mrittikavati,’ said Ganesh.
Chandraketu was thrilled. ‘That is great news!’
‘It is indeed,’ answered Ganesh. ‘And it gets even better; the citizens of Mrittikavati have been won over to my father’s side. They have imprisoned what was left of the Meluhan army in the city.’
‘And, have they discovered the location of the Somras factory?’ asked Bhagirath.
‘Yes,’ said Kartik. ‘It’s Devagiri.’
‘Devagiri? What are you saying? That is so stupid. It’s their capital. One would think that the factory would be built in a secure, secret location.’
‘But they could have built this factory only within cities with large populations, right? And if so, which city would be better than Devagiri? They must have assumed that they could certainly keep their capital safe.’
‘So what are our orders now?’ asked Chandraketu.
‘The Meluhans have only seventy-five thousand soldiers in Devagiri,’ said Ganesh. ‘So we’re going to launch a coordinated attack.’
‘What are the details of the plan?’
‘We’re to sail up the Ganga and reach the Ganga-Yamuna road. We will then march to Meluha. My father is going to sail up the Yamuna in a fleet to meet us as we march. Together, we will then sail down to Devagiri. My mother, in the meantime, will arrive with the hundred thousand soldiers under her command.’
‘So we will have two hundred and fifty thousand soldiers, all fired up with the fervour of recent victories, against seventy-five thousand Meluhans holed up on their platforms,’ said Bhagirath. ‘I like the odds.’
‘That’s exactly what baba must have said!’ grinned Kartik.
‘You are going to give me the answer I want,’ growled Vidyunmali, ‘whether you like it or not.’
A Vasudev major, captured from Shiva’s army, had been tied up on a moveable wooden rack with thick leather ropes. The stale air in the dark dungeon was putrid. The captured Vasudev was already drenched in his own sweat, but unafraid.
The Meluhan soldiers standing at a distance looked at Vidyunmali warily. What their brigadier was asking them to do was against the laws of Lord Ram. But they were too well-trained. Meluhan military training demanded unquestioning obedience to one’s commanding officer. This training had forced the soldiers to suppress their misgivings and carry out Vidyunmali’s orders until now. But their moral code was about to be challenged even more strongly.
Vidyunmali heard the Vasudev whispering something again and again. He bent close. ‘Do you have something to say?’
The Vasudev soldier kept mumbling softly, drawing strength from his words. ‘Jai Guru Vishwamitra. Jai Guru Vashishta. Jai Guru Vishwamitra. Jai Guru Vashishta...’
Vidyunmali sniggered. ‘They aren’t here to help you, my friend.’
He turned and beckoned a startled Meluhan soldier. The brigadier pointed at a metallic hammer and large nail.
‘My Lord?’ whispered the nervous soldier, knowing full well that to attack an unarmed and bound man was against Lord Ram’s principles. ‘I’m not sure if we should...’
‘It’s not your job to be sure,’ growled Vidyunmali. ‘That’s my job. Your job is to do what
‘Yes, My Lord,’ said the Meluhan, saluting slowly. He picked up the hammer and nail. He walked slowly to the Vasudev and placed the nail on the captive’s arm, a few inches above the wrist. He held the hammer back and flexed his shoulders, ready to strike.
Vidyunmali turned to the Vasudev. ‘You’d better start talking...’
‘Jai Guru Vishwamitra. Jai Guru Vashishta...’
Vidyunmali nodded to the soldier.
‘Jai Guru Vishwamitra. Jai Guru... AAAAHHHHHHHHH!’
The ear-splitting scream from the Vasudev resounded loudly in the confines of the dungeon. But this deep, abandoned underground hell-hole, somewhere between Mrittikavati and Devagiri, had not been used in centuries. There was nobody around to hear his screams except for the nervous Meluhan soldiers at the back of the room, who kept praying to Lord Ram, begging for his forgiveness.
The soldier kept robotically hammering away, pushing the nail deep into the Vasudev’s right arm. The Vasudev kept screaming up to a point where his brain simply blocked the pain. He couldn’t feel his arm anymore. His heart was pumping madly, as blood came out in spurts through the gaping injury.
Vidyunmali approached his ear as the Vasudev breathed heavily, trying to focus on his tribe, on his gods, on his vows, on anything except his right arm.
‘Do you need some more persuasion?’ asked Vidyunmali.
The Vasudev looked away, focusing his mind on his chant.
Vidyunmali yanked the nail out, took a wet cloth and wiped the Vasudev’s arm. Then he picked up a small bottle and poured its contents into the wound. It burned deeply, but the Vasudev’s blood clotted almost immediately.
‘I don’t want you to die,’ whispered Vidyunmali. ‘At least not yet...’
Vidyunmali turned towards his soldier and nodded.
‘My Lord,’ whispered the soldier, with tears in his eyes. He had lost count of the number of sins that he was taking upon his soul. ‘Please...’