The Secret of the Nagas
Page 48

Anandmayi remained silent. Smiling. Tears in her eyes. He had really pulled it together at the end.
‘It’ll be one hell of a great journey.’
Anandmayi lunged forward and kissed Parvateshwar hard. A deep, passionate kiss. Parvateshwar stood stunned, his hands to his side, taking in a pleasure he hadn’t ever imagined. After what seemed like a lifetime, Anandmayi stepped back, her eyes a seductive half-stare. Parvateshwar staggered, his mouth half open. Not even sure how to react.
‘Lord Ram be merciful,’ the General whispered.
Anandmayi stepped closer to Parvateshwar, running her hand across his face. ‘You have no idea what you have been missing.’
Parvateshwar just continued to stare at her, dumbfounded.
Anandmayi held Parvateshwar’s hand and pulled him away. ‘Come with me.’
It had been a week since the battle with the liger. The few surviving lionesses and the liger had not come back. They were still licking their wounds. The villagers of Icchawar were using the moments of peace to start tilling their lands, preparing for the seasonal crops. It was a time of unexpected joy and relief.
The Chandravanshi soldiers were recovering. Ganesh’s wounds were too deep. He still limped from the severe mauling his leg had taken. But he knew it was only a matter of time before he would be alright. He had to start preparing for the inevitable.
‘Maa,’ whispered Ganesh.
Sati looked at Ganesh, covering the dish she was cooking with a plate. She had spent the previous week listening to Kali share stories of Ganesh’s childhood, sharing in his joys and sorrows, understanding her child’s personality and character, right down to his favourite dishes. And she was satiating his stomach and soul with what she had learnt. ‘What is it, my son?’
Kali had just stepped up close as requested by Ganesh.
‘I think we have to start preparing to leave. I should be strong enough to travel in another week.’
‘I know. The food I’ve been giving you has some rejuvenating herbs. They’re giving you strength.’
Ganesh knelt and held his mother’s hand. ‘I know.’
Sati patted her son’s face lightly.
Ganesh took a deep breath. ‘I know you cannot come to Panchavati. It will pollute you. I will come to visit you regularly in Kashi. I will come in secret.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I have also sworn the Kashi soldiers to an oath of silence, on pain of a gruesome death,’ grinned Ganesh. ‘They’re terrified of us Nagas. They will not dare break this oath! The secret of my relationship with you will not be revealed.’
‘Ganesh, what in Lord Ram’s name are you talking about?’
‘I will not embarrass you. Your acceptance of me is enough for my soul.’
‘How can you embarrass me? You are my pride and joy.’
‘Maa...’ smiled Ganesh.
Sati held her son’s face. ‘You’re not going anywhere.’
Ganesh frowned.
‘You are staying with me.’
‘Maa!’ said Ganesh, horrified.
‘What?’
‘How can I? What will your society say?’
‘I don’t care.’
‘But your husband...’
‘He is your father,’ said Sati firmly. ‘Speak of him with respect.’
‘I meant no disrespect, Maa. But he will not accept me. You know that. I am a Naga.’
‘You are my son. You are his son. He will accept you. You don’t know the size of your father’s heart. The entire world can live in it.’
‘But Sati...,’ said Kali, trying to intervene.
‘No arguments, Kali,’ said Sati. ‘Both of you are coming to Kashi. We travel when you are strong enough to do so.’
Kali stared at Sati, at a loss for words.
‘You are my sister. I don’t care what society says. If they accept me, they will accept you. If they reject you, I leave this society too.’
Kali smiled slightly, teary eyed. ‘I was very wrong about you, didi.’
It was the first time Kali had called Sati her elder sister. Sati smiled and embraced Kali.
Chapter 17
The Curse of Honour
It had been ten days since the battle of the Madhumati. The ship carrying the now reconciled enemies — the Suryavanshis and Parshuram’s men — was anchored where the Madhumati broke off from the Branga. They were waiting for their comrades to sail upriver from Brangaridai and join them.
A Branga Pandit had been called aboard to preside over Parvateshwar and Anandmayi’s wedding. Bhagirath desired to conduct the ceremony at Ayodhya with regal pomp and grandeur befitting a princess. But Anandmayi would have none of it. She did not want to take any chances. Parvateshwar had taken his own sweet time to say yes and she wanted to have their relationship iron-tight ‘as soon as humanly possible.’ As Shiva had blessed the couple, all arguments about the hastiness of the ceremony had come to an end.
Shiva was standing at the ship railing, smoking with Veerbhadra.
‘My Lord!’
Shiva turned around.
‘By the Holy Lake! What are you doing, Parshuram?’ asked a horrified Shiva. ‘You should be resting.’
‘I’m bored, My Lord.’
‘But you were up for a long time yesterday for the wedding. Two days of continuous activity will be a bit too much. What does Ayurvati have to say?’
‘I will go back in a little while, My Lord,’ said Parshuram. ‘Let me stand next to you for some time. It soothes me.’
Shiva raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m not special. It’s all in your mind.’
‘I disagree, My Lord. But even if what you’re saying is true, I’m sure you will find it in your heart to let me indulge my mind if it doesn’t hurt anyone.’
Shiva burst out laughing. ‘You’re quite good with words for a...’
Shiva suddenly stopped.
‘For a bandit,’ grinned Parshuram.
‘I meant no insult. I apologise.’
‘Why apologise, My Lord? It is the truth. I was a bandit.’
Veerbhadra had become increasingly fascinated with this strange bandit. Intelligent, disturbed and ferociously devoted to Shiva. He spoke up, changing the topic, ‘You were delighted about General Parvateshwar and Princess Anandmayi’s wedding. I found that interesting.’
‘Well, they are completely different,’ said Parshuram. ‘In terms of personality, thought, belief and region. Actually, pretty much everything. They are polar opposites. Extremes of the Chandravanshi and Suryavanshi thought processes. Traditionally, they should be enemies. Yet they found love in each other. I like stories like that. Reminds me of my parents.’
Shiva frowned. He remembered the terrible rumour he had heard about Parshuram beheading his own mother. ‘Your parents?’
‘Yes, My Lord. My father, Jamadagni, was a Brahmin, a scholarly man. My mother, Renuka, was from a Kshatriya clan. Rulers who were vassals of the Brangas.’
‘So how did they get married?’ smiled Shiva.
‘Due to my mother,’ smiled Parshuram. ‘She was a very strong woman. My parents were in love. But it was her strength of character and determination that propelled their love to its logical conclusion.’
Shiva smiled.