Nasteya Page 19

  FROM LOTHAL TO MYOS HORMOS

  The day of departure came. On the previous day, upon Eshana’s repeated requests, King Vidhur had organised a marriage ritual. A priest was called who performed a plethora of recitals, mostly hymns, in the wake of which Nasteya and Eshana were tied in the eternal bond of marriage. The entire ceremony was kept personal with only few guests invited. However, it made Eshana happy.

  The day after dawned, with dark clouds heavy with the threat of rain. The carriages were all set. No bulls were required since Abhuva could pull all twenty of them with little effort. With ten carriages comprising food and other necessities and five carriages containing all the gold, the convoy set forth with a platoon of hundred well-trained soldiers. Nasteya wanted both Ayaan and Eshana to stay behind since he didn’t want them to face trouble, something that was unavoidable in our impending journey. But only death could part them from Nasteya— one loved him and the other wished to be like him. After having taken good care of all necessary tasks, Vedang summoned his only disciple, Bhrigu, to take charge of his position until he returned. The old man didn’t want to miss out on the adventure that he believed we were going on. After a yagna (a ritual), we set out for Lothal. All citizens of Mehrgarh stood lining the road that led us out of the city towards the eastern entrance. Nasteya and I rode in front, our horses striding at an equal pace. Two queues of horsemen rode parallel to the convoy on either side. Eshana, Vedang, Ayaan and Savaan were present in the main carriage. In front of us all marched Abhuva, pulling all carriages tied in line with cables that were wrapped around the giant’s tail. We travelled at a swift pace, journeying during the days and resting at nights. It took us exactly a month to enter the port city of Lothal. Absence of Kushya’s sword kept me uneasy, but nothing went wrong. From a high mound we saw the port city. A bright moon was shining above a streak of dark clouds parallel to the horizon, its reflection paving an ivory white carpet on the waters of the sea right up to the port. Lothal had an entrance similar to the one in the city. A brick wall encircled the entire town. All merchants, sailors and citizens stood alongside the road in our welcome. Abhuva was feared by some who saw the rakshasa for the first time. But Nasteya’s presence fascinated them more. The minister in charge of Lothal convinced us to stay for dinner and spend the night in his mansion. We gladly accepted the invitation.

  The day dawned. The rising sun imparted a golden hue to the sea water and that was when we could see the port clearly. The first sight that met our eyes at Lothal was the massive dockyard. The whole town was situated on a patch of high ground. The main warehouse had a little more than sixty wide rooms. Kiln-fired bricks were used in all the constructions. At the crack of dawn we went to the port with all the gold. A group of elephants in an ivory workshop amused Ayaan. The minister in charge introduced us to Sudeva who was believed to be the best captain and who would take us to Egypt. Sudeva was a middle-aged man of a short and sturdy build. His bald head sported a small cloth that was wrapped almost like a turban. He was generously kind to us but strangely despicable to his fellow sailors and workers. Sudeva showed us our ship. It was huge and had a long and narrow hull, a single sharp keel, a pointed prow and a high flat stern. It was built considering the long distance it would cover. An arrangement of varying sized spars formed multiple masts for better speed. Seemingly larger than many cargo ships, it had cabins extending from one end of the deck to another. Abhuva’s ship was different and had been built on special orders. It was like a vast plank floating on water with high and wide hulls and no cabins. Abhuva was meant to set sail on his own since he knew the directions. The entire port was swarming with citizens. First of all, the sailors first helped Abhuva’s vessel float out into the ocean. Abhuva roared and then bowed to Nasteya, took charge of the ship and sailed into the horizon. It was our time to depart. From a high podium at the back of the main deck, Nasteya joined his hands together in a namaste. The minister and all others bowed to him. A conch shell was blown. The ship set sail. ‘May the Gods be with you,’ the minister shouted and the whole crowd bellowed, ‘Long Live Lord Nasteya.’

  For the next few months, this ship would be our home. There was a group of twenty sailors who worked day and night under Sudeva’s supervision to keep the ship on right path and at the right speed. A handful of guards accompanied us. After going through severe sea sickness for the first fifteen days I finally developed a habit for the sea. Not even for one day did Ayaan miss his sword practice or the sunrise and sunsets. We were on the sea for three long months now. One evening, Nasteya and I were standing on the front deck talking and noticing a blanket of dark clouds unfurling towards us.

  ‘There’s a storm coming,’ Nasteya said.

  ‘Sudeva will deal with it,’ I assured Nasteya. ‘It has been ten days since we’re sailing through the Gulf of Aden. No sign of those pirates.’

  ‘It’s the island of Naksos that worries my mind; we’ll deal with the pirates anyway,’ Nasteya replied.

  ‘Why are you so eager to meet your enemy?’ Vedang walked up to the deck and said.

  ‘I’m just eager to find answers,’ Nasteya replied. ‘As for our enemy, a certain end awaits them.’

  We now passed from underneath the dark clouds. The view ahead was foggy. A distant creaking fell on our ears. Sudeva hurried to the front deck, nervous. Our eyes were on the layers of fog ahead. Five parallel hulls became visible. The creaking sound of wood was now even louder. We could see high spars that supported wide and large black sails with something ominous inscribed all over them in a foreign language. A trumpet blew and those five large partially visible ships anchored. Our ship halted.

  ‘Persian… pirates,’ Sudeva stammered. Eshana, Ayaan and Savaan came out on the front deck.

  ‘My Lord, I will have to go to break words with their captain,’ Sudeva said.

  ‘I will go, you stay here,’ Nasteya said and signalled the sailors to lower the canoe. Eshana grasped Nasteya’s hand, her worried eyes asking him to take care. An affirming nod came from Nasteya.

  Nasteya, Vedang and I waited in our canoe, which we halted midway between our ship and theirs. We saw a group of men approaching in a boat. One man stood in front with his hands on his waist. ‘I thought he must be the captain. All of them wore long dark robes, curved swords hanging by their sides, black turbans untidily tied around their heads and veils covering their faces up to eyes that were lined with dark soot. They stopped their boat in front of us. The one in the front lowered his veil, proudly flaunting burn marks and battle scars on his dark skin. A patch of short beard on his chin was cut in an inverted conical shape. He told us he was Babak, the captain. He enquired from us about our names and purpose. A sudden change in his behaviour was noticeable when he came to know about Nasteya. He knew Nasteya was the one who defeated Rudra. Tidings had already reached distant lands. He started to compliment him. For a while he simply talked. And Vedang told him about the place we were headed to and the purpose that we had set out for. Babak looked concerned when Vedang mentioned Naksos and he warned us that we were going towards obvious death. He told us about the white-skinned demons who were called ‘Daivyas’. We knew he was talking about White Demons. Nasteya asked him about the island and he told us about the slaves that dwell there. That was all he knew. When we offered gold, he refused to take it.

  ‘What about the gold?’ Vedang asked out of curiosity.

  ‘Your fight is beyond gold and trade, beyond political tribulations. It is not between kings and kingdoms. It is a war between mankind and evil. We wish you succeed,’ Babak kept speaking as they sailed away from us, his eyes set on the man he revered. We simply stood in our boats, dumbstruck at the strangeness of this unexpected outcome.

  ‘Daivyas! Isn’t it similar to “Devas” in Sanskrit, which means Gods?’ I asked. Nasteya, Savaan, Eshana, Ayaan, Vedang and I sat in a semi-circle inside the cabin eating our lunch. A month-and-a-half had passed since our encounter with the pirates. Our ship was sailing northwards in the Erythraean Sea
. Vedang spoke, ‘During the dawn of the age of men, kingdoms of the east and the west were enemies. The ones who fought for our kingdoms were termed as Devas. Since Devas fought for us, they became our Gods. On the other hand, Devas fought against kingdoms of the near west, so they became evil to them. Since then, as time went on, “Devas” became a term to address good people in our lands and evil in western land. That is why those evil White Demons are called Daivyas. It is just a matter of language and beliefs.’

  ‘Evil remains evil, no matter what men name it,’ Savaan said.

  ‘And evil is every wise man’s enemy,’ Ayaan commented. Nasteya caressed Ayaan’s head in affection.

  ‘We’re at the port.’ Sudeva came down into the cabin announcing that our ship would dock in few minutes. A very long road connected the port to the city of Kairoh. The design and construction of the port was almost similar to the one at Lothal. Vedang was friends with the man who was the chief of the Aryan colony in Egypt. So he sent him a bird courier from the port, informing him of our arrival. Sudeva would stay in Kairoh for as long as we would. With little gold we were able to buy camels, carts and food for our journey to Kairoh. For nearly a month we journeyed on road through rough terrains and desert. A convoy of some performers who were also going to Kairoh to perform in some festival accompanied us. They were dark-skinned, tall and brawny Africans. At first you would mistake them for barbarians but they were extremely compassionate and breathtakingly talented. Ayaan enjoyed their company. On the morning of thirty second day since our departure from Myos Hormos, we entered the Nile valley. Located near the Nile delta, Kairoh was a densely populated city with thousands of minarets emerging from the citadels and poking into the sky. Besides countless strikingly beautiful citadels, there were many tombs and few pyramids. Triangular in shape, made of large blocks of rock, the pyramids were like silent sentinels overlooking the city. I marvelled at their skills in architecture. As we entered the city, I observed that almost every Egyptian wore a ‘shenti’ made of linen fabric tied around the waist and kept in place by a girdle. Women wore simple sheath dresses which they called ‘kalasiris’. Over this dress, some women wore shawls, capes or robes. Anklets, bracelets, collars and hair accessories were quite a trend. These people seemed fashionable.

  Vedang recognised his friend who stood at a distance clad in a similar Egyptian attire. The hot and dry climate had given his skin a permanent tan. He saw Vedang and came towards us. Some old injury made him limp as he walked. White streaks of hair fell on his shoulders from either side of his head. He was lean and tall. His name was Ekodar. When I first looked at him, little did I know that all answers that we had been seeking would unexpectedly come from this man.

  THIRTY-ONE

  YIMA’S BLOODLINE

  After the formal introduction and Vedang’s recitation of all the events that had unfolded in Mehrgarh, we reached the Aryan colony where Ekodar first took care of our weariness by sending in some beverages and fruits and then allotted us rooms for the night. Ekodar admired Nasteya and when everyone in the colony came to know about him, similar admiration came from one and all. Our deeds had turned into stories that were benefitting us in lands unknown. Soon, the night spread into the sky above.

  ‘So what brings you here, old man?’ Ekodar questioned Vedang at an after-dinner stroll through the city streets. Nasteya, Savaan and I had also accompanied these two old friends.

  ‘I intend to be a part of the adventure that these men are headed to,’ Vedang answered, pointing towards us.

  ‘It isn’t really an adventure,’ Nasteya said, ‘but if Vedang thinks it is, he surely won’t miss out on it at any cost.’

  ‘I’d like to know,’ Ekodar said, enquiringly.

  Nasteya began to narrate the entire story since Saarah’s fall. Ekodar just wouldn’t stop bombarding questions.

  ‘… and now we’re headed to Naksos. We have some unfinished business to take care of,’ Nasteya said as we walked through a street. Ekodar halted at once. His face bore a similar expression that had covered the Persian’s face when Nasteya mentioned about ‘Naksos’.

  ‘What is it?’ Vedang asked.

  ‘Do you… know… about Naksos?’ Ekodar muttered.

  ‘Yes… Daivyas! And that’s all we know,’ said Nasteya. Ekodar stood, quiet.

  Vedang reached out for him and shook him slightly. ‘What’s in your head?’ As if awakening from a nightmare to a more comforting reality, Ekodar sighed. A sky-scraping pyramid blocked out all the moonlight and I felt eerily cold.

  ‘I have been there,’ Ekodar said after a pause. ‘I know that place, the people and their pain. Those are dungeons of hell.’

  ‘You were a slave there?’ Vedang asked.

  ‘Anybody strolling at night near the northern delta of the Nile are kidnapped and offered to Naksos as slaves. There’s no solid proof if it is the Pharaoh who issues such orders or just some local tribes trying to stay safe from the wrath of Daivyas. A few years back, in the dark of the night, I was walking my way towards the sailor’s lodge when a blow at the back of my head knocked me unconscious. The next thing I remember is that I was forcefully being dragged out of the ship along with few other men and women. There was a high embattled wall along the island’s shore. It was Naksos. I spent a few months as a slave there. And then one lucky night, I broke out. Nobody had escaped the island before me. I did,’ Ekodar narrated.

  ‘Can you tell me everything you saw there? Everything,’ Nasteya asked restively.

  ‘Why are you so curious?’ Ekodar asked.

  ‘They’re enemy,’ Nasteya answered.

  ‘Perhaps an enemy you can never defeat,’ Ekodar added.

  ‘Why do you say so?’ Vedang asked.

  ‘The legend says so,’ Ekodar answered, ‘Myth or folklore, the slaves believe in the legend. No common man can defeat the Daivya king—Daivatma. Many tried and failed. He is invincible.’

  ‘What does the legend say?’ Savaan asked.

  ‘Yes, tell us all about it,’ Vedang asked. After a pause, Ekodar spoke, ‘Do you know about the Great War that broke out four hundred years ago when all dark forces allied?’

  ‘And a warrior was chosen… won overnight with the aid of a powerful weapon,’ Nasteya narrated so that Vedang could know too, ‘And when the weapon’s enthralling power grew heavy on that warrior, corrupting him, he started misusing it. He became more evil than the evil he once fought. Lord Kushya stopped that warrior by getting him assassinated and taking that weapon— Kushya’s sword.’

  ‘That warrior was Daivatma,’ Ekodar said, ‘It is true the eagle lord took the sword from him. He did it with the help of a man who is known as Yima among the slaves of Naksos. But Daivatma was never assassinated. The bearer of the sword could only die a natural death or could be killed by Kushya’s sword, which again, a bearer could do. Or, the destruction of the sword ensures the death of all its bearers and vice versa. So, to kill Daivatma, Yima could have killed him with the sword but Daivatma’s death would have also led to the sword’s destruction and eventually, Yima’s death as well. It is oddly interconnected. Lord Kushya didn’t want Yima to die since he was the only man strangely unaffected by the sword’s capability. So, Daivatma was cast away in a prison on the island of Naksos. But nobody knew Daivatma had knowledge of hypnotism and was capable of dark and malicious experimentation. After years of conducting experiments on men, Daivatma raised the Daivyas or ominously metamorphosed humans. He carried out similar experiments on himself to avoid death and attain immortality. Women on the island were used to give birth to more and more Daivyas. An army was being raised.’

  Other than heeding the words that Ekodar spoke, I pondered over the strange correlation that existed between the Kushya’s sword and its bearers. Both the sword and the bearers were interdependent for existence. Death of even one bearer meant the destruction of the sword and consequently, the death of all bearers.

  ‘The legend also says that once when a soothsayer prophesied that Daivatm
a would be killed by the one who belonged to Yima’s bloodline, he started sending Daivyas to distant lands to search and kill all families who were descendants of Yima. One such family was abducted and brought to the island some twenty years ago. It is said that the family perished in a futile attempt to escape. Some still believe that before dying, the mother was able to hand over her child to Lord Kushya who sent the child away to safer lands. The mother is remembered as “the lady with the crescent moon”. The slaves still wait for that child to return as their saviour.’

  Dumbfounded by this strange game of fate, Nasteya stepped back when he comprehended the connection between the legend and him. I looked at Nasteya. He was the one from Yima’s bloodline. He was the child whom Lord Kushya had saved. Everything started to make sense. This journey seemed like it was meant to happen. A bigger purpose awaited Nasteya, much bigger than retribution.

  ‘He killed my parents. He killed the ones who brought me into this world and the ones who raised me. He killed them,’ Nasteya spoke slowly, his eyes incandescent with rage. Ekodar stared hard at Nasteya, confused. ‘Your parents?’ he asked.

  ‘I am the child who was saved by Lord Kushya two decades ago,’ Nasetya spoke, ‘I am the bearer of the sword.’

  Ekodar’s legs suddenly became so feeble that they failed to keep him standing. He was taken aback. There was no way he couldn’t feel the truth in Nasteya’s voice.

  Vedang was equally amazed. Though he knew all about Nasteya, he was amazed at the way the legend was connected to his friend. Nasteya was drenched in sudden irrepressible anger, like a volcano before eruption. He stood there evaluating all that Ekodar had told us. Kushya’s sword connected both Daivatma and Nasteya.

  ‘Have you met Daivatma?’ Nasteya asked Ekodar.

  ‘All newly enslaved men are sent to Daivatma who then decides which slave is best for which task. I was in front of that devil. But I couldn’t look at him. I feared him, all men did. He was sheer evil. His voice was deep and menacing. He was black, as black as darkness. Some fifty daivyas bent on their knees served as his platform. It was as if Daivatma exuded evil all about him. Vapours or mist surrounded him. Fumes came out of his armor and cloak. A giant animal’s ribcage made up his armor. This is all I remember.’