Rajiv Menon -- ThunderGod (47 page)

***

Manu, the Lawgiver, stood on the mountaintop and watched the seven great rivers flow down into the parched plains of the Terai. The swift-flowing torrents of water gathered momentum as it came down the Himalayas and swept through the cities of the Harappan empire, including its capital. It destroyed everything in its wake till only a few mud brick walls and broken pottery remained as a mute testament to a once great civilisation. His dark eyes shone with feverish excitement as he turned to his three companions. Though he did not look very much older than the others, it was clear that he was the unquestionable leader.

'It is as it was foretold. The Danavas are now extinct, the waters are free and the cities of the dark ones have been destroyed. Our time has come, Vashishta. Go, bring those warriors back to our land with honour.'

One of his companions bowed low and went to do his bidding. The Lawgiver turned to the other two.

'Come! We must prepare for the arrival of these heroes and welcome them with warmth.'

One of them looked at his master incredulously.

'They are barbarians, my lord. They know little else other than the way of war. They might do to us exactly what they have done to the Danavas. I implore you, Master, please reconsider your decision and call back Vashishta.'

Manu turned to the other young man, the quiet one.

'What about you, Agastya? Do you share your friend's misgivings about these warriors?'

Agastya took his time to answer.

'It is too early for me to entertain any misgivings, my lord. I would prefer to trust your judgment in this case.'

Manu smiled as he addressed the first boy.

'Would you be willing to trust my judgment, Pulastya? Because I believe that these barbarians could be the answer to our problems.'

Pulastya bowed low in reverence and nodded his assent.

Manu was pleased as he led the two young men down the mountain. He was the fourteenth of his line, and if his illustrious predecessors were to be believed, the last. Like Kasyapa all those years ago, Manu's ancestor and namesake too had come to this land when a flood had destroyed Jambu, an island in the middle of the southern ocean. But unlike his northern predecessor, the first Manu had been better prepared when disaster struck his land. With him he had brought the future of his people. Hundred of the brightest and most beautiful young men and women had escaped with him on a ship. After sailing for many days they had found themselves on the estuary of a river he named Saraswati.

Manu named the land Bharata. Here he would establish the nation of the Aryas, or noble ones. But like Kasyapa, he had his task cut out for him. The land was filled with wild animals and fierce tribes who were not welcoming to strangers. Manu and his followers talked, fled and bartered their way through the hostile territory of the dark tribes. When he reached the great city of Harappa, he was given a grand welcome befitting his status as one of the most learned of men. He in turn gave the Harappans their script and the knowledge to work metal in exchange for the safe passage of his people to the mountains of the Himalayas, their present home.

There they had built a small settlement in one of the beautiful hidden valleys of Mount Meru and bided their time. When his body aged, Manu had used his powers gained from a lifetime of penance to reincarnate into another body of his own choosing. He had also attained the power to retain all that he had learned through his previous incarnations. So the present Manu shared the same soul and possessed all the knowledge from across seven generations of his predecessors.

Under his strict tutelage, the young men spent all their time in the pursuit of knowledge and academic excellence. He called them Brahmanas, the seekers of Brahman, the supreme consciousness. The women were encouraged to take up music and dance, along with perfecting skills like weaving, cooking and farming.

Like Kasyapa before him, Manu had been sent by his doomed people to re-establish their culture and way of life in a new, foreign land. In order to do that, he first had to find a way to subdue the hostile dark people who would never bend to him. For that he needed to breed a race of warriors such as the world had never seen. These warriors would be the cornerstone of a civilisation that would last till the end of time. It was for precisely this reason that he needed Indra and his Devas.

***

Indra stood on the hill, Vajra raised in triumph. The weapon had returned to his hand after beheading Vrtra. As the thick clouds swirled restlessly above him, Indra used the Vajra like a wand and directed the clouds south onto the parched plains of the Terai. The heavens opened up and the clouds burst, sending down a flood of rain. Thunder and lightning rent the sky. Indra's battle-weary soldiers looked to the heavens in apprehension. They had just about exhausted their last ounce of strength in combating the dragons; they hoped no fresh threat loomed there.

As he returned to the plateau, the torrents of water had slowed down to gentle streams. Indra's triumphant manner changed as he set foot on the plateau again. Amidst the fallen dragons lay scores of his warriors, limbs ripped from their bodies. The Yavanas had been slaughtered to the last man. Indra saw the mangled body of their commander, Yadu, as he lay across the back of a dead Danava. His arms were outspread and torn from his body. Yet they still gripped his spear and shield, signalling his defiance till the very end.

The Deva king saw the small band of victors huddled behind Varuna, Vayu and Agni. Atreya and Aryaman were tending to the wounded. He cast his eyes around for Soma, and to his relief found his friend and charioteer alive and well. He was mixing up another batch of his mysterious brew. Their grim faces told the story. Although the bards would record it as another one of Indra's glorious victories, every soldier still alive on that plateau knew they had not won. They had merely survived.

As night fell, the funeral pyres of the fallen warriors lit up the roof of the world. The exhausted soldiers, glad to be alive, slept soundly that night. Not so their king. Indra lay awake and mourned the loss of his once great army. He felt for the Vajra by his side. He could still feel the divine energy course through the weapon, but what use would it be to him without his troops. How would he replace such brave warriors? His ambition to conquer this great land all the way to the southern ocean would now only remain a dream.

He shut his eyes; the stench of the burning bodies enveloped his senses. He did not feel very godlike now; only like an extremely tired man. He prayed for sleep to come. Maybe sunrise would show him a way out of this predicament.

Vashishta came upon the dead Danavas as the first rays of the sun hit the plateau. He saw scores of bodies strewn like giant boulders amidst the flat grassland. His heart was filled with enormous relief. Few men knew how much the fate of humanity had depended on the outcome of this battle. Had the Danavas won, it would not have been long before Vrtra got his horde to sweep down from these mountains and take back the world from the race of men. He saw the mutilated bodies of Indra's soldiers and said a prayer for their departed souls. This would have been the fate of every human on the planet had Indra lost this battle.

The Deva king had already sensed the arrival of Vashishta; his aura had revealed him to be a great man of knowledge. Indra stood outside his tent as Vashishta approached. He was amazed to see how young the sage was, but he had no doubts of the man's great wisdom.

Vashishta beheld the great king. He could sense Indra's divine strength and great power, yet oddly his soul seemed to be in turmoil. While this was normal in humans, it was quite unbecoming in a god. However, Manu had great hopes from Indra, and Vashishta was not one to question his master's instincts. He bowed low as he addressed the king.

'Greetings, Lord Indra, wielder of thunder, master of the clouds and the rain. I am called Vashishta. I come to you with an invitation from my master Manu, the Lawgiver. He requests your presence at his Sabha. He has planned a yajna in honour of your great victory.'

Indra smiled; perhaps the young sage's master would have some answers for him.

'I accept your master's invitation, oh wise one. Lead us to him.'

***

As Manu stood before his Sabha of Brahmanas, his heart swelled with pride. He was sure that the collective wisdom present there was more than any other place in the world. The front row had seven seats and was set a little away from the rest. Six of these seats were occupied by the brightest men in the gathering. These young men, through severe penance and austerities, had gained the right to be called Rishis. They were Atri, Angiras, Agastya, Bharadwaja, Gautama and Pulastya. The seventh, Vashishta, was escorting Indra there.

He addressed the gathering with great joy in his voice.

'Rishis and Brahmanas, it gives me great pleasure to inform you that Vrtra has been slain. The age of the Danavas is over and mankind will not have to fear the dragon any more.'

Manu was a great orator. He raised his staff high as the audience burst into cheers. He raised his other hand and the applause died down.

'It is time for us to breed the race of the Arya. Noble men who will go forth and conquer the world and fill it with the light of knowledge.'

The Rishis did not participate in the thunderous applause that followed the Lawgiver's words. They conferred amongst themselves before Gautama spoke.

'How do you propose to breed men for conquest from amongst us, Master? We are seekers of the Light. We can create men of knowledge, of wisdom, men who will teach the others your laws. But we cannot spring warriors from our loins.'

The audience was quiet; Gautama had made a fair point. Manu smiled, he had been expecting this question.

'On my invitation, Indra, king of the Devas and destroyer of Vrtra and his Danavas, makes his way to our land with his victorious army. No greater warriors exist on earth than these men. They will provide the solution to our problem.'

Atri and Angiras stood up indignantly.

'How can you treat our women like harlots and let them lie with these barbarians? They will defile the pure blood of our women.'

Manu tried to hide his irritation. It was he, after all, who had taught them not to accept any idea without a healthy debate.

'Why do you insult my intelligence? After all I have done to preserve the purity of our race, do you think I would do anything to defile it? These barbarians, as you call them, carry the bloodline of Kasyapa, the first Arya.'

A hush fell over the audience as they digested this piece of information. Atri and Angiras hurriedly sat down.

Pulastya now stood up to address the Lawgiver.

'Is that enough, my lord? Their history tells us that the blood of Kasyapa did nothing to tame their brutality. Brother slaughtered brother overcome by lust. What is to prevent them from unleashing the same savagery on us? They might rule us by force, make us abandon your laws and resort to their barbaric ways.'

Manu smiled affectionately at Pulastya.

'They will not have to use force. I will invite Indra to rule us.'

Voices of protest and dismay erupted from the gathering; the Rishis looked at their master in shock. Manu raised his hand and made a sign for silence, his audience was quick to oblige.

'I will invite the Devas to rule us not as men, but as gods. Gods, whose benevolence people will crave and whose wrath they will fear. We will be their priests, the conduit between them and the people. It is our laws that we will implement, but in their name.'

The protests died quickly and the audience was stunned into silence by the astuteness of their master. Manu addressed only the Rishis now, in a low voice.

'I need your assistance. We do not have much time and I do not want to keep Indra and his Devas in our land any longer than necessary.'

***

The Master walked through the deserted plateau surveying the aftermath of the battle. The smouldering funeral pyres of the Devas, Yavanas and Adityas cast a smoky pall of gloom over the battlefield. He grabbed a handful of ash and smeared it all over his body. He walked through scores of Danava dead till he came upon the fallen body of Vrtra. The Danava king lay in a pool of blood. The Master shut his eyes and prayed for the departed soul.

Vrtra, like many other accomplished beings of the time, had been his disciple. Travistr had hoped to alter his son's doomed destiny and had sent him to the Master as a child. The Danava had been a brilliant pupil till his hunger for power and his obsession to restore his race to their former glory corrupted his bright mind. He had turned away from his Master and transformed into this reptilian monster that now lay dead at his feet.

Some distance away lay the naked body of Ugra, the Gond. His belly had been ripped open by a Danava claw. Ugra had used the bloody stump of his left hand to hold his entrails in and continued to fight till he had finally collapsed from loss of blood and exhaustion. In spite of his agony, the warrior still clung to life; it was almost as if his soul did not want to leave his body.