Maharishi Bhrigu, convinced as he was, that the maharishi would read his mind and realise that it was Daksha who had foiled the attack on Panchavati in an attempt to save his beloved daughter.
But this period of isolation had done wonders for Daksha and Veerini’s relationship. They were conversing, even confiding in each other once again, almost like the first few years of their marriage. Before Daksha had developed ambitions to become the ruler of Meluha.
Veerini walked up to her husband and placed her hand on his shoulder. ‘What are you thinking?’
Daksha pulled back from his wife. Veerini frowned. Then she noticed Daksha’s hands. He was holding an amulet that showed his chosen-tribe, the self-declared ranking within the caste hierarchy that is adopted by young men and women. It was a subordinate rank, a lowly goat. Many Kshatriyas felt that the goat chosen-tribe was so low that it did not entitle its members to be considered complete Kshatriyas. In Daksha’s case it was his father Brahmanayak who had selected his chosen-tribe, clearly reflecting his contempt for his son.
‘What’s the matter, Daksha?’
‘Why does she think I’m a monster? I got rid of her son for her own good. And we didn’t abandon Ganesh. He was well taken care of in Panchavati. And how can she imagine that I would even think of getting her husband killed? It wasn’t me.’
Veerini stayed silent. Now was not the time to confront her husband with the truth. Had he wanted to, he could have saved Chandandhwaj, Sati’s first husband. Daksha may not have got the killing done through commission, but he was complicit by omission. However, weak people never admit that they are responsible for their own state. They always blame either circumstances or others.
‘I’m saying once again, Daksha, let’s forget everything,’ said Veerini. ‘You have achieved all you wanted to. You are the Emperor of India. We cannot live in Panchavati anymore. We lost that opportunity long ago. Kali and Ganesh despise us. And I don’t blame them for it. Let us take sanyas, retreat to the Himalayas and live out the rest of our lives in peace and meditation. We will die with the name of the Lord on our lips.’
‘I will not run away!’
‘Daksha...’
‘Everything is clear to me now. I needed the Neelkanth to conquer Swadweep. He has now served his purpose. Sati will be back once he’s gone and we will be happy again.’
A horrified Veerini stared at her husband. ‘Daksha, what in Lord Ram’s name are you thinking?’
‘I can set everything right by...’
‘Trust me, the best thing to do is to leave all this alone. You should never even have tried to become emperor. You can still be happy if...’
‘Never tried to become emperor? What nonsense! I am the emperor. Not just of Meluha, but of India. You think some barbarian with a blue throat can defeat me? That a chillum-smoking, uncouth ingrate is going to take my family away from me?’
Veerini held her head in despair.
‘I made him,’ said Daksha. ‘And I will finish him.’
‘My Lord,’ exclaimed Parshuram. ‘Look.’
Shiva turned to look towards the dense forests beyond the palm tree clearing.
In the distance, they saw a sudden flight of birds flying off into the sky, obviously disturbed by massive movement. The approaching mass was effortlessly pushing trees aside as it forged through the forest.
‘They’re here,’ said Nandi.
Shiva turned around and spoke loudly. ‘Ganesh, lower the boats.’
Having left a majority of the soldiers onboard, Shiva and his entourage of two hundred were already at the clearing when enormous elephants burst through the jungle. They wore intricately carved, ceremonial forehead gear made of gold. The human handlers of the elephants, or mahouts, sat just behind the beasts’ heads and were secured into their position with ropes. They were covered from head to toe in cane armour, which protected them from the whiplash of the branches that the
But this period of isolation had done wonders for Daksha and Veerini’s relationship. They were conversing, even confiding in each other once again, almost like the first few years of their marriage. Before Daksha had developed ambitions to become the ruler of Meluha.
Veerini walked up to her husband and placed her hand on his shoulder. ‘What are you thinking?’
Daksha pulled back from his wife. Veerini frowned. Then she noticed Daksha’s hands. He was holding an amulet that showed his chosen-tribe, the self-declared ranking within the caste hierarchy that is adopted by young men and women. It was a subordinate rank, a lowly goat. Many Kshatriyas felt that the goat chosen-tribe was so low that it did not entitle its members to be considered complete Kshatriyas. In Daksha’s case it was his father Brahmanayak who had selected his chosen-tribe, clearly reflecting his contempt for his son.
‘What’s the matter, Daksha?’
‘Why does she think I’m a monster? I got rid of her son for her own good. And we didn’t abandon Ganesh. He was well taken care of in Panchavati. And how can she imagine that I would even think of getting her husband killed? It wasn’t me.’
Veerini stayed silent. Now was not the time to confront her husband with the truth. Had he wanted to, he could have saved Chandandhwaj, Sati’s first husband. Daksha may not have got the killing done through commission, but he was complicit by omission. However, weak people never admit that they are responsible for their own state. They always blame either circumstances or others.
‘I’m saying once again, Daksha, let’s forget everything,’ said Veerini. ‘You have achieved all you wanted to. You are the Emperor of India. We cannot live in Panchavati anymore. We lost that opportunity long ago. Kali and Ganesh despise us. And I don’t blame them for it. Let us take sanyas, retreat to the Himalayas and live out the rest of our lives in peace and meditation. We will die with the name of the Lord on our lips.’
‘I will not run away!’
‘Daksha...’
‘Everything is clear to me now. I needed the Neelkanth to conquer Swadweep. He has now served his purpose. Sati will be back once he’s gone and we will be happy again.’
A horrified Veerini stared at her husband. ‘Daksha, what in Lord Ram’s name are you thinking?’
‘I can set everything right by...’
‘Trust me, the best thing to do is to leave all this alone. You should never even have tried to become emperor. You can still be happy if...’
‘Never tried to become emperor? What nonsense! I am the emperor. Not just of Meluha, but of India. You think some barbarian with a blue throat can defeat me? That a chillum-smoking, uncouth ingrate is going to take my family away from me?’
Veerini held her head in despair.
‘I made him,’ said Daksha. ‘And I will finish him.’
‘My Lord,’ exclaimed Parshuram. ‘Look.’
Shiva turned to look towards the dense forests beyond the palm tree clearing.
In the distance, they saw a sudden flight of birds flying off into the sky, obviously disturbed by massive movement. The approaching mass was effortlessly pushing trees aside as it forged through the forest.
‘They’re here,’ said Nandi.
Shiva turned around and spoke loudly. ‘Ganesh, lower the boats.’
Having left a majority of the soldiers onboard, Shiva and his entourage of two hundred were already at the clearing when enormous elephants burst through the jungle. They wore intricately carved, ceremonial forehead gear made of gold. The human handlers of the elephants, or mahouts, sat just behind the beasts’ heads and were secured into their position with ropes. They were covered from head to toe in cane armour, which protected them from the whiplash of the branches that the
Similar Books
