Nasteya Page 12

  ‘You knew it every time I was flawed. Why did you not correct me?’ Nasteya asked.

  ‘I never wanted you to feel like I didn’t have faith in you. Moreover, I wanted you to learn from your mistakes yourself. Nasteya, you cannot be perfect. Even the Gods aren’t perfect. All I have to say for now is that you shouldn’t be hasty in taking decisions. Learn to be patient, my friend,’ I said.

  ‘I must absolve myself of my sin,’ Nasteya said to me.

  ‘But you have committed no sin that you are to be blamed for,’ I said.

  ‘Then why is my heart not at peace? I need to wash the stains with enemy’s blood. My ever-growing desperation to find the enemy now won’t let me sleep,’ Nasteya said.

  ‘The day isn’t far when we will find our enemy and avenge Saarah’s fall. You must relax for now,’ I said and Nasteya nodded.

  ‘Let’s go inside,’ I said.

  Soon after breakfast, we resumed our journey. The pale sky was stained with grey clouds that floated in a fast wind. The sun escaped fitfully from the breaking clouds. We walked without meeting a soul on our way. The Vitasta wasn’t flowing as ferociously as the day before.

  ‘What now?’ I asked Nasteya about the journey ahead.

  ‘Baka had instructed me that all we need to do is to go along the banks of the Vitasta River and we shall reach Mehrgarh within a few days and that is what we do. I reckon it isn’t long before we set foot in that foreign land,’ Nasteya answered.

  ‘I just hope we don’t have to greet White Demons on the way again,’ I said.

  ‘You still fear them?’ Nasteya asked at once pointing out what he did to them the last time.

  ‘It isn’t all about fear, Nasteya. We have a child with us...’

  ‘He is with us and he is safe and more than that, he’s brave, not a worrier like you,’ Nasteya replied with a fair intention of insulting me. Nasteya could do this to me all day. We trekked along the banks of the roaring Vitasta and the mountains were beginning to look less intimidating. The air grew less chilly. A wide stretch of green lay ahead of us, undulating in some places. Soon, a star was visible in the sky signalling the retreat of daylight. We had to stop and set up camp again. I wondered for how many days we would have to follow this schedule. Days like this passed until we finally reached plainer land on the morning of the fiftieth day. My fear of the reappearance of White Demons had long left me, though I still felt uneasy. Very thin strands of river mist were hanging above the dikes and the green fields. The banks of the Vitasta sank, as it reached the plains and became broader and shallower. I heaved a sigh of content, chiefly for having come out of the deep woods into the plains. We marched along the Vitasta uncertain of our direction and hoped to be in the right one.

  It had been a fine day but dark clouds were approaching when we finally walked on to plain land. The ground was fairly level and there was a little undergrowth. The water of a widened Vitasta was brown here. The leaves blew upwards in sudden gusts of wind and sudden squalls of rain began to fall from the overcast sky. We saw a wide open space on the further side as we waded through the river. We hurried through the wide open space as the water of distant seas poured all about us in form of heavy rain. Then we saw a small cluster of houses. Yellow light streamed out of their partly curtained windows. On the western side of the river, there seemed to be a small village. We hurried towards it desiring only to find a fire and a door between us and the night.

  Lomasa, leader of a small village Puru, gave us his consent to stay there until morning. His hospitality was heart-melting.

  A few men sang and danced and women from the neighbourhood came to help with the feast. As for us, the thought that there would finally be more on the table than just roasted fish was quite a lure. Ayaan was dancing and singing no less cheerfully than the other men. Soon, the women laid out all the dishes on the table. The feast went on for more than an hour and only tales of Lomasa’s forefathers were recited over dinner. Madhu, Lomasa’s wife, brought in sweet milk and sang songs in her melodious voice. Ayaan was half asleep by then. Soon, after some guidance about directions from Lomasa, we all went to sleep by the warm hearth. I reckoned it would be a glad morning and our setting out would be hopeful.

  The morning dawned bright and fair. The air was clean and the sky, rain-washed. The dew glimmered upon the yellow grass in the front garden. We were supposed to resume our journey and that was what we did after having breakfast at Puru and we were given food for the noon as well.

  We shouldered our packs again and walked on. Walking was not altogether easy now that the sun was our enemy and besides, we had heavy packs to carry. The afternoon sun was burning on our backs. The bushes were reluctant to let us through and the air was still. All that day, we plodded along until the cold and early evening. Days passed like this and the mighty Vitasta calmed down and widened its arms, welcoming the Sindhu River in its embrace. The land became drier and more barren. Still, we walked along its banks, crossing the lands of various tribes, some of whom fondly welcomed us while others redeemed taxes for our passage. We kept moving under the burning sun, drenched with sweat from head to toe until the sight of a huge wall stretching, it seemed, up to infinity came into sight.

  ‘Finally,’ Nasteya said while looking at it. We had reached the walls of Mehrgarh. We kept moving along the great wall till dusk, searching for an entrance, until we saw something that was a wonder in itself.

  ‘I hope it isn’t a mirage,’ Hira exclaimed the moment he saw it.

  EIGHTEEN

  THE MEHRGARHIAN WELCOMING

  It was a gate but not just any old gate. It was a gigantic gate with two sky-scraping watchtowers on either side. The towers, made of bricks, had window holes staring east and north and south, and each window was full of sleepless eyes. Upon its battlements patrols paced continuously. While I was looking at the spikes embedded on the face of the front bronze gate, a guard shouted from a window in the middle of the left watchtower, ‘Your identity?’

  I wondered how they would treat us if we said we weren’t civilians and had come from Saarah… But I realised in panic that we had no proof of any other identity either…

  ‘Traders,’ Savaan answered while I was still thinking of what to say. We had nothing to trade, what made him say we were traders?

  ‘Where from?’ the guard again shouted.

  ‘Open the gates please, we can’t hear you against the wind,’ Savaan called back. I had no idea what he was doing yet I trusted him, for Savaan was shrewd enough to handle such stuff. The guard, after a pause, ordered for the gates to be opened and when it happened we realised that it wasn’t a single huge gate. This bronze gate screened two barred wooden gates of the same shape and dimensions behind it and the last one looked like a colossal block of rock which was pulled up with the aid of hefty pulleys anchored at the top of both the watchtowers. All the gates were etched with carvings that we couldn’t understand. This gate-opening mechanism left me stunned and I hardly noticed the man who walked out of the gate followed by a few guards. He was clad in a white dhoti and a bronze armour that was carved as if something was written on it covered his torso. His long hair tied at the top of his head in the form of a bun sent long strands up to his neck. All other guards that trailed behind him were dressed in the similar way except that their armours bore no carvings. From the look on his face, I knew he wanted answers.

  ‘Traders!’ he said, examining us from head to toe and we nodded. ‘Where have you come from?’ he asked.

  ‘Saarah,’ Savaan replied.

  ‘Saarah! The one which now lies in ruins?’ he questioned suspiciously. ‘We’ve heard that nobody was found alive.’

  ‘We’re the only survivors,’ Savaan said.

  ‘Well, that makes you migrants, not traders,’ the strict-looking negotiator stated.

  ‘We trade and that’s how we make our living. So, this makes us traders, not migrants,’ Savaan replied confidently.

  ‘What is it that you carry in those bags?�
� the negotiator asked.

  ‘Spices, for trade,’ Savaan replied at once and the negotiator signalled one of his guards to check them. Thank God we collected enough spices on the way from different tribes. Savaan might have seen it coming.

  ‘They’re clean,’ the guard said after examining our bags.

  ‘Submit your swords and daggers and you’re free to go. But make sure that one of you reports to us here, each day. If not, guards will be set after you and you will be punished if caught,’ the negotiator instructed us and we did exactly what he said. We handed over all the weapons except one, which was hidden in a secret sac under the clothes in our bag—Kushya’s sword. Reporting to them daily would be an irritating job and Savaan tried to negotiate a way out of it when he was taking care of the official formalities: ‘Is there an alternative to this daily reporting?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, go back home,’ the negotiator replied boorishly.

  Taking out a sack of gold coins and opening it in front of him, Savaan said with a grin, ‘There’s always an alternative.’ For a moment the guard stared at Savaan. Finally accepting the bribe surreptitiously, he said, ‘You earned your alternative but it will cost you your life if anyone else hears about this.’

  My faith in Savaan’s ability to make a clean road for us through this foreign land was justified. We walked into the city and right after we passed through the fourth gate, I asked Savaan, ‘What if he had have rejected the bribe and punished us for such a sin?’

  ‘You can’t be a good minister, Vasu, unless you are a keen judge of personality,’ Savaan replied.

  I realised that we had entered the city. It was crowded with people going about their business, people gathered outside shops, people bidding for sheep. We kept walking, taking in everything in that city that was new to us. The way we were dressed was quite different from the others and we were receiving interested looks from those who glanced at us. The city’s lanes formed a confusing network all around us and we had no idea where to go. The lanes were paved with equal-sized bricks. There were footpaths lining all the lanes and just under them lay the drains. The city was divided into a webbed structure of brick houses of similar shape, size and height. From the balconies of square brick houses, startled citizens peered out of their windows to gape at us. We must have seemed quite outlandish to them.

  ‘Do I look funny?’ I asked Nasteya.

  ‘You always look funny,’ he grinned, and everyone else chuckled.

  ‘We should worry about finding a place to stay,’ Savaan said. ‘A safe place to keep Kushya’s sword.’

  As if alerted by Savaan’s words, an old man turned and walked towards us, folded his hands together and said, ‘Namaste.’ It was a gesture for a formal greeting. ‘Are you men looking for a place to stay?’

  Nasteya turned to him and asked, ‘Can you help us with that?’

  ‘Certainly, I rent houses and I guess I have one vacant,’ he replied.

  ‘Then it will not be vacant any more, we take it,’ Nasteya said, accepting his offer without even attempting to bargain the rent. This was easy.

  The man was bent-backed, old, the lower half of his body covered with a white cotton cloth, the upper half naked. There was a beaded rosary in his hand and a similar one wrapped around his neck. He led us through a dense network of constricted lanes crowded with houses, shops and people who stared at us, which had started annoying me by then. But I had to admit, the architecture was remarkable! The brick houses were mud-coloured and so was everything in that city. The lanes were narrow and branched from a broad, straight road lined by houses of uniform height. There were carvings etched into the walls of those houses. The parapets on the roof of the houses looked like they were the only things that architects cared about. It was as if every house’s roof told a tale. Three to four buildings that were situated at a distance and were taller than everything in the city could easily be seen.

  ‘That gate in the east is a work of superb craftsmanship,’ I said, attempting to draw the old man into conversation.

  ‘Save your admiration for the central palace, young man, if you are lucky enough to have a chance to see it,’ said the old man in his firm yet weary voice.

  The old man’s walk was brisk and when he turned into a lane to our left, so did we. At the far end of that lane, we saw some guards who had encircled a young girl. She seemed annoyed by their lewd banter but helpless to do anything about it—and nobody else seemed to be bothered at all by her plight. But it wasn’t possible for Nasteya to close his eyes to it. Even to me, it was not something to be ignored.

  ‘How beastly those men are!’ I commented.

  ‘It’s quite natural; she’s from the Resistance,’ the old man replied. He seemed like he cared but his age wouldn’t let him help her.

  Before I could ask him what he meant, Nasteya had made his way towards the guards… I wanted to stop him because I didn’t want him to interfere in some issue that might jeopardise our stay in this foreign land, but I knew that would be useless so I remained quiet. Nobody could stop Nasteya from following what, according to him, was the call of duty. Another hasty decision, I thought.

  ‘What are you men up to?’ he shouted from behind. The guards turned around and stared at him.

  ‘We’re playing. You mind your own business, young man,’ one of the guards shouted impolitely.

  ‘You call this a game—twelve men against a single woman? Let me play from the lady’s side then,’ Nasteya said. The victim, that girl looked at Nasteya in wonder. The guards growled in outrage and I got the feeling that trouble was inevitable.

  ‘Don’t make me break your legs,’ a guard said angrily, stepping forward.

  ‘Is that a part of the game too? Well, come and try,’ Nasteya replied, provoking him.

  ‘Stop it, Nasteya!’ I whispered.

  ‘Worrying about your friend, eh?’ the old man said, to which I replied, ‘Not about him, I’m worried about those guards.’

  After Nasteya had said those words, a guard came forward and punched him in his face. He stood his ground and then said, ‘My turn.’

  Nasteya’s punch knocked the guard backwards, making him spin in the air. It was obvious that the other guards would attack Nasteya, so I ran to help him even though my help wasn’t needed. It was just a matter of time before all the guards were flat on the ground. The girl picked her black robe and wrapped herself in it before Nasteya could even look at her.

  To our surprise, she simply ran away without even thanking us. While Nasteya’s eyes followed her until she went out of sight, I realised that the archers on the rooftops had their arrows already fitted to their strings and one of them was saying: ‘Don’t celebrate your victory yet. If you don’t put your hands behind your back immediately, these archers would love to kill you.’

  Our capture was certain and we knew that any struggle would be in vain. We had to surrender and what I had feared was most likely going to happen—we would be arrested. I had warned Nasteya earlier. A few guards came to us and forced us to kneel down by kicking the backs of our knees. Then they tied our hands and blindfolded us.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I spoke while they dragged us into a cart.

  ‘Whatever you want to say, say it in front of the king. Until then, keep your mouth shut,’ a guard said.

  It was all dark in front of my eyes. The road was bumpy and all I could hear was the sound of galloping horses. But soon, the cart stopped and we were pulled down. We were being taken somewhere.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Nasteya asked out of frustration as we stumbled along.

  ‘You will know soon,’ a guard replied.

  I wondered miserably if they were going to hang us in public or murder us in some dark cell—it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. When they removed the blindfold, the dazzling sunlight made it hard for me to open my eyes, but after a moment I could see everything. The first thing I saw was a sandy arena in the centre of which we stood, and at about twenty feet from us, st
ood a man dressed differently from the guards, in white clothes with gold chains hanging down his neck to his torso. A bunch of guards stood right behind him. His hands were clasped behind him. He had a white cloth wrapped around his head, like a turban. I didn’t know who he was until the guards standing next to us folded their hands in, went down on their knees and one of them whispered to me and Nasteya, ‘Kneel down you fools; you face the ever powerful priest-king.’

  I looked into Nasteya’s eyes and he said, ‘Do what they say,’ so we kneeled down. We remained in that same position until the guards stood up. The ‘priest-king’ took a step forward and gazed at us and then took another step forward and said with a cunning smile, ‘If I’m not wrong, you’re from the north and I can see you’ve already started making friends in this foreign land. I’m afraid nobody made you aware of the consequences…’ And then he turned to the guards and said, ‘Explain!’

  ‘My king, we’ve brought them here on charges of assaulting our men,’ a guard responded with his eyes unseeingly fixed on the ground. Taking a quick look at the guards lined up a few steps behind us, the ones who were earlier beaten up by me and Nasteya, the priest-king said, ‘You two men have made me reconsider the remuneration that my soldiers get. They’re being paid too much to get beaten up by strangers!’ He then went to those guards with his hands still clasped behind him. Those guards were too ashamed to make eye contact with him and said, ‘You’re very brave, I must say, to show your filthy faces after everything that has happened. I hope you all know how to wield hammers because you’ll work as labourers for a fortnight before you join the defense force again.’

  I marked the king as having a vindictive nature and worried about the way he would punish us… But what he said to us next made our jaws drop.