Nasteya Read online

  These words, coming as they did from the king, caused Nasteya to swell with joy. However, it made Savaan seethe with anger. Savaan had hated Nasteya since birth, and now had another reason to envy him. All because Nasteya was the one who was loved more by mother, whose needs were looked after before the demands of Savaan and who was now gaining all the fame.

  Nonetheless, despite Savaan’s ill wishes, Nasteya’s fame spread far and wide. Tellings and re-tellings of the story of the boy who had single-handedly killed such a dangerous monster didn’t die down for another year, when a new tale arose.

  This time, I was a part of it too. One dark night, without the moon and the stars, Nasteya and I sneaked into the apple orchard which was in the vicinity of the guarded eastern gate between two fortified towers. Our pockets overflowing with red juicy apples, we crawled over the grass to keep out of sight of the watchmen. Right when we were almost out of there, strange voices arose and grew louder. Distant drumbeats followed. We turned to see one of the towers assaulted by a volley of flaming arrows. A moment later, a guard, his clothes in flames, the fire now crawling up to his face, came running into the little round balcony of the tower. In his panic, he fell over the edge, leaving a grey streak of smoke in his wake. His screams stopped as he hit the ground but the flames rose even higher. It didn’t take much time for us to realise that the barbarians of the Far East had attacked.

  ‘This is exactly what Godmother prophesied! “Rain of fire may we see. Trouble may rise from east on the third night”. She charged me with an errand to carry this message to the king yesterday,’ I said to Nasteya as we lay hidden.

  But Nasteya was less ready to give Godmother credit—‘She has flawed, which has rendered her conclusion meaningless,’ he said. ‘She said trouble may arise on the third night. That is why I never heed her prophecies. Anyhow, what consequences did she predict?’ Nasteya asked in a hurry.

  ‘None,’ I replied.

  ‘Let’s go then,’ he said and before I could make out what he was up to, he sprang towards the gate at full speed. Instinctively, I followed him.

  While one tower was burning, the other one was under attack. We sprang forward like deer, the path behind us sprinkled with apples from our pockets. Through a narrow opening in the gate, we could see a handful of our guards struggling hard against those barbarians; a few of our men lay motionless. Just as we reached, Nasteya stooped to pick up two fallen swords, one of which he passed to me. It was the first time I had ever held a sword, but I didn’t hesitate. There were not more than thirty barbarians, short statured yet fast and strong. We stood back to back and fought them. While Nasteya kept reducing their numbers, I didn’t even make a cut and rather kept a tight defense. Soon, we separated. I dashed up the embattled tower, speeding up its curling stairs, chased by two barbarians whose menacing growls made the hair on the back of my neck stand. At the top, except for a window, there was no way out. I turned and saw the two men grinning at me. Step by step they came forward, forcing me to lean against the edge of the window. One of them pounced on me but I feinted to my left and he fell out of the window. Now, only one was left. He thrust forward in anger but an arrow came through the window and went straight through his neck, felling him. He lay at my feet, lifeless. Peering over the window ledge, I saw Nasteya with a bow in his hand, corpses scattered all around him. The battle was over.

  This event was brought to the notice of the king the next morning by an injured guard and soon it too grew as a story among all the Aryans of Saarah. Nobody cared for the apples.

  ‘He’s either not mortal or those with divine power are his secret kindred,’ whispered the people of Saarah. Where Nasteya’s fame shot higher, I earned an entry into the soldier’s training camp.

  Nasteya was good at cooking up stories, but there was no denying that his courage was true and unlimited.

  These events that I speak of are as true as the sun and the moon. But there is a lot more to be told, a lot more than what still resides clear in my memory... Now let us leap back to the night of celebration.

  ‘That’s mine,’ I said pointedly on seeing him wearing my embroidered cloak.

  ‘Is it?’ he replied nonchalantly, ‘But when you gave it to me, not even once did you say you were only lending it, so, I kept it.’

  ‘It doesn’t even suit you,’ I lied. Nasteya was a man perfectly crafted and shaped by God himself. His hair, long black and thick, was like finest quality silk. His clear blue eyes glittered like morning stars in a white sky and the radiance of his skin and brawny body made him every woman’s dream.

  ‘Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder,’ he replied. ‘Moreover, for me, you always mix your doses of criticism a little strong!’

  ‘Put it on and be quick,’ I said impatiently. ‘Time presses on. Everyone in the palace awaits you. Oh! Godmother will be waiting for us—first, we have to stop by her cottage to escort her to the palace.’

  ‘You go alone to her. I cannot breathe when she’s around,’ Nasteya commented with a frown. Godmother always set his teeth on edge. He was the only one in Saarah who did not like her. A long debate ensued that I finally won, and soon we rolled our carriage up the mound where Godmother’s cottage stood dark-edged against the grey sky. Godmother looked like she had been living for centuries. Her reputation in Saarah was due mainly to her ability to presage and foresee the future, an extraordinary power that had passed on to her from her ancestors. With bent back and face criss-crossed with wrinkles, she was the backbone of Saarah even at her ripe old age. It was believed that whatever she used to see wasn’t the future as it would inevitably be—yet she would foretell more than what would be necessary to guess what could be at hand, the outcomes of wars, the gender of an unborn child and other such events. More often than not, her house was lit by silver lamps that swung from the boughs of an ancient tree that screened her threshold— but when Nasteya and I reached, it was all dark. Not a single lamp had a flame. Weird, I thought!

  With a knock at the door I called for her—‘We have come, Godmother. Come out, please.’

  She yelled from inside, ‘No, don’t ask me, I won’t go anywhere, not for the celebrations. I sense that a cruel end draws nearer even as we talk. In the dark they will come and rob us out of our souls. No magic, no enchantments, not even Nasteya can help. You go celebrate the end. Go!’

  Her voice trembled with fear. Why would she say that? I was speechless while Nasteya gave me a bemused look. No doubt he was getting irritated; Godmother was always irritating for him.

  ‘Your words scare me, Godmother, and so does your dark house. Why don’t you just tell us plainly what you foresaw and who is coming?’ I asked in a single breath.

  ‘Those hooded terrorists, the White Demons. Oh! I fear to speak such an evil name. The wolf is at the door, brawny, pitiless and immense. I mean my words, and nothing is alterable. No preparations will be any help…’ Her words made my hair stand on end.

  ‘Stupid old hag! It’s just one of her silly tricks to miss out on the feast, you know that very well Vasu. It is exactly what she did on my eighteenth birthday. This is no different from what she predicted that day. But who came, save some stray sentinels from the north-west? The celebrations were halted and Saarah stood prepared, heeding her meaningless words. She ruined the day and she is doing the same now!’ Nasteya murmured in my ear. Aloud, he said: ‘Let them come Godmother, I am well-trained to take care of them! If they stop by here, will you please point them to the palace? As they say, the more the merrier! Let’s go Vasu, leave her alone. Or you may also stay if you wish to.’ Nasteya could be a little over-confident at times. It could be his terrible mistake if Godmother’s prophecy materialised. But, I chose to heed Nasteya’s words, which were at least comforting. And he did make some sense taking into account Godmother’s previous pranks.

  As we sped away down the hill and towards the palace, her voice followed us on the wind: ‘Be off for the last chapter of Saarah’s happy days! Enjoy, for one last time! Keep in
mind Nasteya, you’ll be helpless. What I saw, sadly, is fixed…’

  I was scared witless and tried hard to pay no heed to her alarming yet confusing words. I couldn’t tell if they were sincere or just a part of her skilled acting. I kept thinking about this. Even Nasteya couldn’t be right all the time, no matter how close to perfect he was. He was as mortal as Godmother.

  After some time, Nasteya said: ‘Are you still thinking about what that old crone said, Vasu? Vasu, don’t you know her? She’s a sly old witch! Now if you don’t get your head out of the clouds, I’ll have to pull you back to earth by your leg. I will not let her ruin this night, nor do I want you to spoil your time thinking about her hoax and worrying your mind needlessly!’ Nasteya was yelling louder than the clip-clops of the horse that pulled our carriage with great speed along the winding streets of Saarah. Towards the north could be seen the turrets of the towers that marked the edges of the pentagonal body of the great palace, the central canopy roofing the pentagon being the tallest of all. All of them were brightly lit with a million white and yellow lanterns and the palace could be seen from all the three gates in the east, west and south walls of Saarah. In front of the high palace, the low brick houses and huts seemed to embrace the light that the palace cast down on them. The streets and houses were empty, for all the people of Saarah were present at the celebrations. But the harder I tried to turn my mind away from Godmother’s words, the louder they echoed inside me, setting all the bad memories of those White Demons in motion. Nasteya kept chatting while we made our way to the palace, but I hardly listened to him. An inexplicable fear stole over me as the evil faces of those White Demons flickered in my thoughts.

  They were like a shadow in the background of our memories, the White Demons, ominous and disquieting, the hooded barbarians with white skin that sparkled like crystal, bony skulls in the place of heads, rotten eyes clinging to their sockets and strands of slimy hair crawling with worms that peeped over their shoulders from either side. They were believed to arise from the mist. They were first sighted in our region some two decades ago from the day of celebration, when they exhibited their callous behaviour by killing the potters working on the outskirts of Saarah and leaving their cloven corpses suspended from the branches of peepal trees. Who sent them? Which realm did they belong to? No one could ever figure out.

  They grew notorious as Saarah’s mysterious enemy. On new moon nights, they attacked frequently but not openly. Their sudden attacks went on until one day, some five years ago from the night of celebration—when we trampled them in defeat like never before: It was early dawn and like all other newly recruited soldiers, Nasteya and I had been practising martial arts at the abandoned fortress outside the north boundary of Saarah, near the roaring waterfall of young Sarsuti. Under the pale sky, I saw them coming as they rode on their black horses down the grassy slopes of Parasa Hill, heading straight towards us. Their horses didn’t spare the fresh grass under their hooves. Behind the last line of them, was a thick curtain of smoke-like mist, dwindling in the morning air.

  Alarmed, I asked: ‘What are they?’

  ‘Enemy,’ Nasteya replied after a pause. ‘Gather all your strength. Attack them with all your might. Separate their heads from their bodies before they enter the city gates!’ Nasteya made this call and we all moved forward with our swords. He led us all into a sudden battle. The enemy sped towards us and drew closer and the striking of the swords sounded like thunder. Their swords were strong, made of a silver metal never seen in Saarah. But our strength was equal to theirs. Blood was being shed on both sides. Meanwhile, the people of Saarah still slept in their homes, unaware.

  The beast inside Nasteya roused, a beast that kept tossing the enemy, slaying them ruthlessly one after another and before I could raise my sword for another enemy, it was all over.

  Dust that started to settle over scattered blood spread on the field, its typical stench reminding us of our victory. But the White Demons’ unaccustomed visit to Saarah wasn’t the only unforeseen thing that happened that day—as we stood in the middle of the battlefield, we saw what our eyes refused to believe. Thick mist rose above the ground from nowhere and ebbed at once along with the dead bodies of the enemy and the only things left were their swords and shields, the only proof of the battle.

  Though our strength had increased over years since then, who doesn’t fear a combat? Someone or the other has to die and that was why I feared Godmother’s words. They were still rumbling inside me as we reached the palace.

  TWO

  LOVE, BETRAYAL AND MUTINY

  Under the dark sky dotted with glimmering stars, a snake charmer who sat outside the palace in front of the wide stairwell made two snakes dance to the tune of his flute. He was surrounded by admiring kids. A little girl walked on a rope at a safe height. A conjurer had surprising things up his sleeves. A juggler juggled almost anything that was not heavier than his own weight. These performers drew me but I wasn’t a child anymore and besides, we had no time to delay. We rushed into the palace that gleamed of gold from inside and were met by sour looks for our tardiness. Many high-ranking people who had been invited from outside the borders were amongst the guests. We made our way through the crowd (most of which was busy eating and drinking) and walked straight to the king’s dais where he sat on his royal throne of gold, studded with precious gems and imported pearls. To my surprise and comfort, our short-tempered king wasn’t annoyed at all with our late arrival. As usual, he was clad in a white dhoti and his golden mail shone under his embroidered kurta. A long and broad gold necklace, intricately worked, hung down his chest. His long white hair, flowing down from the golden coronet on his head, lay upon the shoulders of his golden cloak. His sword, the one that had seen many wars with him, leaned proudly against his throne in its golden silk scabbard. His old eyes were like wells of deep memory. We went on our knees and bowed.

  ‘Ah! There you are, my brave warriors, but you’re late. Never mind,’ the king said and blessed both of us when we touched his feet. He called for drinks and asked, ‘Where’s Godmother? Were you not supposed to bring her to the palace?’

  ‘She refused to come,’ I said. ‘She fears some kind of…’

  But before I could complete my sentence, Nasteya interrupted, saying, ‘You know her attitude towards me as well as I do, my king. Had this celebration not been in my honour, she would have happily come.’ How could Nasteya be so sure?

  I picked up a glass of wine from the tray of a passing servant but the first sip was ruined by the nasty expression I caught on the face of Nasteya’s brother, Savaan, chief of the king’s council. He was staring at his brother as Nasteya chatted with the king. Though he stood at some distance, he was shrewd enough to lip-read what they were saying even as his prying ears picked up indiscreet conversation. For years he had envied his own brother. The reason for this was not known to me—but I guessed that he was jealous of Nasteya’s ever-increasing fame and never-ending esteem. On the other hand, Nasteya adored Savaan, sacrificing his needs for the fulfillment of Savaan’s wants. There seemed to be no reason for jealousy, yet Savaan was envious and had been since childhood. As I watched the dark expressions passing over Savaan’s face, I prayed that he wouldn’t decide to create any mischief. But prayers are not always heard.

  ‘Eat something now for I have announcements to make,’ the king said.

  ‘Even as you speak of this, I feel all my hunger has already fled. Even just the thought of these announcements is enough,’ replied Nasteya.

  ‘But you must be hungry,’ said the king.

  ‘I was, but now I hunger only to listen to what you have to announce. We have the whole night ahead of us to eat and drink merrily, if your announcements leave some hunger and thirst to be quenched,’ said Nasteya.

  The king then turned towards those gathered in the hall and said, ‘Citizens of Saarah…’

  All of them turned towards him and silence fell. Then the king continued: ‘All of us are aware of the reason why we
have assembled here tonight, aren’t we? Tonight is solely dedicated to a man whom we all know very well, a man more courageous than other men, a man who is blessed with powers granted by the Gods themselves— Nasteya!’ The king patted Nasteya’s back. ‘All that he has ever done, for us and for Saarah, you all know. But crediting him for his patriotism isn’t enough… At some point in time, even before he grew to be a man, he has been at the service of almost every one of you. Am I correct, Anuj?’

  Anuj sat twenty feet away from us, drinking deep draughts from his wine glass and eating meat as if he was starving after a long journey through the desert. For a moment, Anuj sat unmoving, caught unawares, knowing that others were looking at him… And then he said with counterfeit glee, ‘My king, for that I thank Nasteya every time I see him. Not to his face, perhaps, but in my mind, I do.’ And then he went back to his plate.

  ‘Nasteya has been leading our men to victory in every battle since he joined the army. It is rightly said that valour cannot be computed by stature. At a very small age he began to set examples to be followed by men for years to come…I’m not blessed with a son who could have succeeded me but when I see Nasteya, it comes to me that if I had had a son, he wouldn’t have been different. So, I declare that on the forthcoming full moon night, I will proclaim Nasteya heir to my throne…’ A sudden outburst of approval came from the listeners. ‘Besides, I’m too aged now to go on with the kingship. In front of you, stands your future king!’ And everyone applauded. After this announcement, which wasn’t much of a surprise to most, the king turned to Nasteya and said, ‘Though I don’t doubt your valour, try your best to never let me down, son.’

  ‘I won’t, not until I live,’ replied Nasteya confidently. The king kissed his forehead in blessing.

  As the citizens and guests murmured in approval or consternation, Mayoor, one of the members of the king’s council, approached the king and stuttered, ‘Pardon my words, my king, but do you not think that the council should have been consulted before such an announcement?’ From his tone and the way Savaan’s cautious gaze followed him, it was clear to me that the words Mayoor spoke were not his own.