let’s get back to our ship.’
‘Are you telling me Lord Bhrigu visited Ayodhya eight times in the last year?’ asked a surprised Surapadman.
The crown prince of Magadh maintained his own espionage network, independent of the notoriously inefficient Royal Magadh spy service. His man had just informed him of the goings-on in the Ayodhya royal household.
‘Yes, Your Highness,’ answered the spy. ‘Furthermore, Emperor Dilipa himself has visited Meluha twice in the same period.’
‘That, I am aware of,’ said Surapadman. ‘But the news you bring throws new light on it. Perhaps Dilipa was not going to meet that fool Daksha after all. Maybe he was going to meet Lord Bhrigu. But why would the great sage be interested in Dilipa?’
‘That I do not know, Your Highness. But I’m sure you have heard of Emperor Dilipa’s newly-acquired youthful appearance. Perhaps Lord Bhrigu has been giving him the Somras?’
Surapadman waved his hand dismissively. ‘The Somras is easily available to Swadweepan royalty. Dilipa doesn’t need to plead with a maharishi for it. I know Dilipa has been using the Somras for years. But when one has abused the body as much as he has, even the Somras would find it difficult to delay his ageing. I suspect Lord Bhrigu is giving him medicines that are even more potent than the Somras.’
‘But why would Lord Bhrigu do that?’
‘That’s the mystery. Try to find out. Any news of the Neelkanth?’
‘No, Your Highness. He remains in Naga territory.’
Surapadman rubbed his chin and looked out of the window of his palace chambers along the Ganga. His gaze seemed to stretch beyond the river into the jungle that extended to the south; the forests where his brother Ugrasen had been killed by the Nagas. He cursed Ugrasen silently. He knew the truth of his brother’s murder. Addicted to bull-racing, Ugrasen had indulged in increasingly reckless bets. Desperate to get good child-riders for his bulls, he used to scour tribal forests, kidnapping children at will. On one such expedition he had been killed by a Naga, who was trying to protect a hapless mother and her young boy. What he could not understand though was why a Naga would risk his life to save a forest woman and her child.
But the death had narrowed Surapadman’s choices. The Neelkanth would lead his followers against whoever he decided was Evil. A war was inevitable. There would be those who would oppose him. Surapadman did not care much about this war against Evil. All he wanted was to ensure that Magadh would fight on the side opposed to Ayodhya. He intended to use wartime chaos to establish Magadh as the overlord of Swadweep and himself as emperor. But Ugrasen’s killing had deepened his father King Mahendra’s distrust of the Nagas into unadulterated hatred. Surapadman knew Mahendra would force him to fight against whichever side the Nagas allied with. His only hope lay in the Nagas and the Emperor of Ayodhya choosing the same side.
Kanakhala waited patiently in the chambers of Maharishi Bhrigu at Daksha’s palace. The maharishi was in deep meditation. Though his chamber was in a palace, it was as simple and severe as his real home in a Himalayan cave. Bhrigu sat on the only piece of furniture in the room, a stone bed. Kanakhala therefore had no choice but to stand. Icy water had been sprinkled on the floor and the walls. The resultant cold and clammy dampness made her shiver slightly. She looked at the bowl of fruit at the far corner of the room on a small stand. The maharishi seemed to have eaten just one fruit over the previous three days. Kanakhala made a mental note to order fresh fruit to be brought in. An idol of Lord Brahma had been installed in an indentation in the wall. Kanakhala stared fixedly at the idol as she repeated the soft chanting of Bhrigu.
Om Brahmaye Namah. Om Brahmaye Namah.
Bhrigu opened his eyes and gazed at Kanakhala contemplatively before speaking. ‘Yes, my child?’
‘My Lord, a sealed
‘Are you telling me Lord Bhrigu visited Ayodhya eight times in the last year?’ asked a surprised Surapadman.
The crown prince of Magadh maintained his own espionage network, independent of the notoriously inefficient Royal Magadh spy service. His man had just informed him of the goings-on in the Ayodhya royal household.
‘Yes, Your Highness,’ answered the spy. ‘Furthermore, Emperor Dilipa himself has visited Meluha twice in the same period.’
‘That, I am aware of,’ said Surapadman. ‘But the news you bring throws new light on it. Perhaps Dilipa was not going to meet that fool Daksha after all. Maybe he was going to meet Lord Bhrigu. But why would the great sage be interested in Dilipa?’
‘That I do not know, Your Highness. But I’m sure you have heard of Emperor Dilipa’s newly-acquired youthful appearance. Perhaps Lord Bhrigu has been giving him the Somras?’
Surapadman waved his hand dismissively. ‘The Somras is easily available to Swadweepan royalty. Dilipa doesn’t need to plead with a maharishi for it. I know Dilipa has been using the Somras for years. But when one has abused the body as much as he has, even the Somras would find it difficult to delay his ageing. I suspect Lord Bhrigu is giving him medicines that are even more potent than the Somras.’
‘But why would Lord Bhrigu do that?’
‘That’s the mystery. Try to find out. Any news of the Neelkanth?’
‘No, Your Highness. He remains in Naga territory.’
Surapadman rubbed his chin and looked out of the window of his palace chambers along the Ganga. His gaze seemed to stretch beyond the river into the jungle that extended to the south; the forests where his brother Ugrasen had been killed by the Nagas. He cursed Ugrasen silently. He knew the truth of his brother’s murder. Addicted to bull-racing, Ugrasen had indulged in increasingly reckless bets. Desperate to get good child-riders for his bulls, he used to scour tribal forests, kidnapping children at will. On one such expedition he had been killed by a Naga, who was trying to protect a hapless mother and her young boy. What he could not understand though was why a Naga would risk his life to save a forest woman and her child.
But the death had narrowed Surapadman’s choices. The Neelkanth would lead his followers against whoever he decided was Evil. A war was inevitable. There would be those who would oppose him. Surapadman did not care much about this war against Evil. All he wanted was to ensure that Magadh would fight on the side opposed to Ayodhya. He intended to use wartime chaos to establish Magadh as the overlord of Swadweep and himself as emperor. But Ugrasen’s killing had deepened his father King Mahendra’s distrust of the Nagas into unadulterated hatred. Surapadman knew Mahendra would force him to fight against whichever side the Nagas allied with. His only hope lay in the Nagas and the Emperor of Ayodhya choosing the same side.
Kanakhala waited patiently in the chambers of Maharishi Bhrigu at Daksha’s palace. The maharishi was in deep meditation. Though his chamber was in a palace, it was as simple and severe as his real home in a Himalayan cave. Bhrigu sat on the only piece of furniture in the room, a stone bed. Kanakhala therefore had no choice but to stand. Icy water had been sprinkled on the floor and the walls. The resultant cold and clammy dampness made her shiver slightly. She looked at the bowl of fruit at the far corner of the room on a small stand. The maharishi seemed to have eaten just one fruit over the previous three days. Kanakhala made a mental note to order fresh fruit to be brought in. An idol of Lord Brahma had been installed in an indentation in the wall. Kanakhala stared fixedly at the idol as she repeated the soft chanting of Bhrigu.
Om Brahmaye Namah. Om Brahmaye Namah.
Bhrigu opened his eyes and gazed at Kanakhala contemplatively before speaking. ‘Yes, my child?’
‘My Lord, a sealed
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