Rajiv Menon -- ThunderGod (29 page)

Outside the stockade, Agni had gathered the men together and finished off what remained of Tajak's raiders. Only Shukra did not participate. He sat on the ground and stared out into the distance. He knew he had failed his people. Agni looked around for Vayu, but did not find him. He called out to the men to fan out and search for him. They found him unconscious on the field and brought him into the ashram.

Bhrigu was remarkably calm as he knelt beside the corpse of his daughter. Varuna stood by in support. Thanks to Maha, their victory had been comprehensive. Only two dead and about half a dozen wounded. The enemy had been comprehensively routed, slaughtered down to the last man. Bhrigu stood up and looked at Varuna who paid his last respects to the fallen girl.

'She had the spirit of a warrior within her.'

The father looked away into the distance with a wry smile.

'I never imagined such a warrior would spring from my loins. Perhaps it is best then that she died such a glorious death. Life might not have been kind to one such as her.'

Varuna knew the sage was right. Her spirit would have never been able to live the life of servitude that was expected from women in an ashram. Just then, Agni rushed in carrying an unconscious Vayu over his shoulder. Bhrigu asked for the warrior to be brought to one of the huts where he could examine him.

It did not take long for Bhrigu to find the reason behind Vayu's mysterious condition. There was no external sign of any wound or injury on him. Yet his heartbeat was so faint, a novice might have presumed he was dead. The sage turned to the two warriors.

'Did he use his divine powers during the battle?'

'Yes, Master. It was necessary.'

Bhrigu led the two of them outside.

'These powers that have been bestowed on you are like a double-edged sword. You must train and strengthen yourselves before you use it, or you could do yourselves irreparable harm.'

Agni looked at his own muscled body and then at Varuna's and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

'But we are Devas. We are strong.'

The sage laughed.

'I have no doubt of your physical prowess, but you must strengthen yourself from within. Goodnight for now, your training begins tomorrow.'

The next day, after the dead had been cremated, the boys lined up, ready for their first lesson. Vayu had made a speedy recovery and was able to join the other two. Bhrigu found a spot for them under an old fig tree and asked them to sit down cross-legged.

'Now, for one hour I would like you to sit down and empty your mind. Remove all thoughts from it.'

The three boys closed their eyes and began what was to become the hardest exercise they had ever done in their lives.

***

Sachi sat by the river, bathed in the light of a magnificent full moon. Though her cheeks were wet with tears, it did nothing to diminish her great beauty. It was the eve of her wedding, and all she could do was wrestle with the biggest dilemma of her young life. Every time she thought of her lover who was soon to be her husband, it was her dead father's face she saw. Nobody understood her plight, she felt, not even her own mother, whose soul appeared to have been drawn out of her. She walked around the house, silent, a living, breathing corpse.

She looked up at the moon; other than as an object of beauty, it held no particular significance for her. Like her people, the sun was all she worshipped. Yet in the last few days, she had felt drawn to it. It seemed to offer her some kind of comfort. Even as she gazed upon the beautiful orb in its full splendour, she saw something appear in the middle of it. It was a face of a woman of exquisite beauty. The face looked at her with a benevolent smile. Sachi bowed her head as she clasped her hands in prayer. Suddenly it became very clear to her what she had to do.

The royal wedding was just the occasion the citizens of Aryavarta needed to put all the sordid occurrences of the recent past behind them. Everyone in the city had gathered outside the Sabha for the ceremony, following which there was to be a grand sacrifice and feast. Nala and Travistr arrived just in time to join the wedding celebrations.

Mitra noticed the stranger and was immediately drawn by his aura. Their eyes met and the stranger nodded courteously. As Mitra returned the gesture, he realised that the stranger was an adept of the highest order. Like him, the man did not touch the wine. This was strange, given his warrior-like appearance and the occasion. He reminded himself to question Nala about him later. As he looked around the room, his eyes went to Madri, who sat still as a statue. Her eyes were vacant as they stared ahead; she did not partake of the food or the wine.

Mahisi more than made up for her friend's indifference by taking on the duties of the hostess. She had served up the choicest food and now had brought out some fine wine that she had preserved all these years for just this occasion. The wine soon got the bards going and the hall began to resound with the old songs of valour. One of them even sang about the duel between Indra and Pusan. Pusan and Vasu were not portrayed in a very kind light in the ballad and finally Indra had to have the drunken bard escorted out from the gathering.

Through it all, Sachi conducted herself with the utmost dignity. Mitra's heart went out to her. He could sense her grief even as she maintained her poise through the celebrations. Finally it was time for the groom and the bride to retire for the night. The gathering cheered and made ribald jokes about the groom's prowess. Indra thanked them and left with his bride.

It was well past midnight when the king made his way to the bridal chamber. Sachi sat on the bed bedecked in jewellery and fine silk as she awaited her husband. The entire chamber and the bed had been decorated with beautiful, fragrant flowers. She looked up as he entered and their eyes met; her beauty took his breath away.

Indra paused to admire the vision that presented itself to him. She continued to stare at him; her face was hard, not betraying any emotion. Gone was the girl who was his childhood playmate. This woman was unrecognisable to him, and he had to admit, eminently more fascinating. He hoped she would pass some sort of cheeky, irreverent remark to break the shadow of solemnity. All he wanted was to take her in his arms and show her how much he loved her. Then he remembered how much water had passed under the bridge since they had last met. He made a vow to himself that he would, in time, with his undying love, heal the wounds that he had caused her.

He went to her and gathered her in his embrace. She buried her head in his shoulder as she tried to control the sob that escaped her lips. He hugged her as tightly as he dared and then slowly broke the embrace. She kept her gaze down so he could not see the sorrow in her eyes; it only served to enhance her fragile beauty.

As Indra looked upon the face of his bride, Sachi closed her eyes and struggled to hold back her tears. However, a drop found its way down her cheek. He held her face in his calloused hands as gently as he could. He was afraid their roughness would in some way blemish that flawless face. Then, he slowly leaned forward and kissed the teardrop away.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. He saw her pain--it stabbed at his heart like a knife. He drew her face to his and kissed her gently on the lips. Her mouth parted and her hands clutched at his shoulders. His breathing quickened as he broke away. Slowly he began to undress her, drinking in her beauty with his eyes.

Sachi lay back; she felt shivers of pleasure as his mouth and tongue moved all over her body. She grabbed his head and ran her fingers through his golden hair. Then she saw him loom over her, his perfect body shone like gold in the firelight. She felt a stab of pain as he entered her, then he gently began to move. Her breath caught and her fingernails dug into his back and drew blood. It only served to spur him on to move faster and harder. Then suddenly she woke as if from a dream. Her body stiffened; it took all her self-control to stop herself from pushing him away.

Indra's eyes were shut, his breath became ragged as he felt the muscles in his lower belly tighten and then he felt the sweet pleasure of its release. He fell on top of her and held her tightly in his arms. He felt his heart would burst from the love he felt for her at that moment. She gently pushed him off her. Indra held on to her and slowly drifted off to sleep. Sachi lay awake for a long time. The tears rolled down her face freely now and stained the pillow.

It was well into the next day when Indra stirred awake. He smiled as he recollected his nuptial night and reached across for his new bride. He felt his hand being rudely pushed away. Indra sat up in surprise; it was hardly the reaction he expected after that ethereal wedding night.

Sachi turned and looked at her husband, her eyes cold and naked with hate.

'My lord, I have done my duty as a daughter and fulfilled my father's final wish. I will bear you a son, but he will be yours in name only. He will rule this great land after your death. And I will dedicate my life to pray for that day to arrive soon.'

She pointed to the white sheepskin they had lain on in the night. In the middle of it was a bright red stain, her virginal blood.

'Show that to your subjects. Let them know that a Deva woman will always put her duties above her personal feelings. She will even give herself to the man she hates. But know this before you leave: the very thought of your touch sickens me. If you ever try to touch me again, I will kill you. I will poison you or stick a dagger into you while you sleep. I swear this on the souls of my father and brother.'

A broken-hearted Indra saw in her eyes that it would be hopeless to present any kind of argument. Sachi had made her decision. He picked up the sheepskin and walked out of the chamber. He did not look at her again so she would not see how deep were the wounds she had inflicted. Outside, the crowd broke into a cheer, which progressed to thunderous applause when he hung the bloodstained sheepskin on the fence. Indra walked away towards his tent amidst the cries of joy.

That evening, Mitra was surprised to learn that the new queen had summoned him. When he arrived at her quarters, a stranger greeted him at the door. A tall, thin man dressed in the white and gold robes of a priest. The man bowed low as he addressed Mitra. There was something vaguely familiar about his appearance.

'Greetings, oh most learned one! I am Makara, the new priest of the royal household. It will be my honour to escort you to Her Majesty's presence.'

As he stood before the new queen, Mitra could not shake off a sense of foreboding. Sachi's face was impassive as she spoke.

'Master Mitra, I need you to do something for me.'

'You only have to say the words, my lady. Your wish is my command.'

Sachi's beautiful face now wore a smug smile.

'It is my wish that you gather your belongings and leave Aryavarta this very moment. Speak to no one--just leave, and never return.'

Mitra could not believe what he was hearing. She read the unspoken question in his eyes.

'You are the closest thing that the king knows to a father. I wish from today that he should know what it feels like to lose a father, especially at the hands of one you love. For I shall be sure that he is informed that it is I who banished you.'

The thought of departure from Aryavarta did not trouble the seer. It had been in his thoughts ever since Indra had been crowned king. But to see such hate spring from the heart of the one person Indra truly loved saddened the old master. He bowed courteously and left.

***

Ishtar gazed into the depths of a crystal ball and watched Mitra walk away from Aryavarta. For the first time in ages, she laughed. She had spent the last many years locked away in her chambers on top of the ziggurat. The rigorous practice of meditation had increased her spiritual powers tremendously. She knew that it would not be long before her powers would be put to the ultimate test.

Fate had dealt her a stroke of good fortune by delivering Sachi to her. It had been child's play for Ishtar to gain control and influence her tormented mind. In one masterstroke, the goddess had removed Mitra from Indra's side and broken his heart. Now all that was needed from Sachi was to have Indra delivered to her. Their battle would be at a time and place of her choosing, and this time she would win.

10

Indra and Sachi carried on the charade of being the perfect couple in love. Not even Mahisi or Paras could tell there was anything amiss. True to her word, Sachi had told Indra why Mitra had left, but the populace of Aryavarta did not see the seer's sudden departure as anything unusual. They presumed he was off on another spiritual quest.

The king seemed a bit quiet and aloof on the few occasions he was seen in public, but his subjects and his soldiers assumed it was the maturity that had come with added responsibility. Indra spent all his spare time training alone on the banks of the river. He tried in vain to exhaust himself physically so he could fall asleep at the end of the day. The nights were unbearable, as he lay beside the woman he loved, unable to even reach out and touch her.