‘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.

CHAPTER 3

She Enters His Life

Nandi lay in a semi-conscious state for several hours as the medicines administered by the doctors worked on his body. Shiva sat by his side, repeatedly changing the wet cloth on his burning forehead to control the fever. Nandi kept babbling incoherently as he tossed and turned in his sleep, making Shiva’s task that much more difficult.

‘I’ve been searching... long... so long... a hundred years... never thought I.... find Neelkanth... Jai Shri Ram...’

Shiva tried to ignore Nandi’s babble as he focussed on keeping the fever down. But his ears had caught on to something.

He’s been searching for a hundred years?!

Shiva frowned.

The fever’s affecting his bloody brain! He doesn’t look a day older than twenty years!

‘I’ve been searching for a hundred years...,’ continued the oblivious Nandi. ‘...I found... Neelkanth...’

Shiva stopped for a moment and stared hard at Nandi. Then shaking his head dismissively, he continued his ministrations.

Shiva had been walking on a paved, signposted road along the River Beas for the better part of an hour. He had left the rest house to explore the area by himself, much against a rapidly recovering Nandi’s advice. Nandi was out of danger, but they had to wait for a few days nevertheless, so that the Captain could be strong enough to travel. There was not much Shiva could do at the rest house and he had begun to feel resdess. The three soldiers had tried to shadow Shiva, but he had angrily dismissed them. ‘Will you please stop trying to stick to me like leeches?’

The rhythmic hymns sung by the gentle waters of the Beas soothed Shiva. A cool tender breeze teased his thick lock of hair. He rested his hand on the hilt of his scabbard as his mind swirled with persistent questions.

Is Nandi really more than a hundred years old? But that’s impossible! And what the hell do these craqy Meluhans need me for anyway? And why in the name of the holy lake is my bloody throat still feeling so cold?

Lost in his thoughts, Shiva did not realise that he had strayed off the road into a clearing. Staring him in the face was the most beautiful building he had ever seen. It was built entirely with white and pink marble. An imposing flight of stairs led up to the top of a high platform, which had been adorned by pillars around its entire circumference. The ornate roof was topped by a giant triangular spire, like a giant ‘namaste’ to the gods. Elaborate sculptures were carved upon every available space on the structure.

Shiva had spent many days in Meluha and all the buildings he had seen so far were functional and efficient. However, this particular one was oddly flamboyant. At the entrance, a signpost announced, Temple of Lord Brahma’. The Meluhans appeared to reserve their creativity for religious places.

There was a small crowd of hawkers around the courtyard in the clearing. Some were selling flowers, others were selling food. Still others were selling assorted items required for a puja. There was a stall where worshippers could leave their footwear as they went up to the temple. Shiva left his shoes there and walked up the steps. Entering the main temple, he stared at the designs and sculptures, mesmerized by the sheer magnificence of the architecture.

‘What are you doing here?’

Shiva turned around to find a Pandit staring at him quizzically. His wizened face sported a flowing white beard matched in length only by his silvery mane. Wearing a saffron dhoti and angvastram, he had the calm, gende look of a man who had already attained nirvana, but had chosen to remain on earth to fulfil some heavenly duties. Shiva realised that the Pandit was the first truly old person that he had seen in Meluha.