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Shvetaketu could not believe his luck. The great Vishwamitra had arrived at his
gurukul for the second time this year! He rushed to the gates of the ashram as
the Malayaputras marched in.
'Namaste, Great One,' said Shvetaketu, smiling broadly, his hands joined
together in respect.
'Namaste, Shvetaketu,' said Vishwamitra, smiling just enough to not
intimidate his host.
'What an honour to have you call on our gurukul so soon after your last
visit.'
'Yes,' said Vishwamitra, looking around.
'It is unfortunate that my students are not here to gain from your presence,'
said Shvetaketu, his expression reflecting heartfelt regret. 'Most of them are
away on vacation.'
'But I believe a few have stayed back.'
'Yes, Illustrious One. Sita is here … And …'
'I would like to meet Sita.'
'Of course.'.
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Sita stood with Maharishi Vishwamitra near the balustrade at the edge of the
main deck of his anchored ship, facing the far bank of the Ganga. Vishwamitra
had wanted privacy, away from the curious eyes of the teachers in the gurukul.
A small brick-laid yagna kund was being readied by the Malayaputra pandits
on the main deck of the ship, a little distance away from Sita and Vishwamitra.
Sita was confused. Why does the Maharishi want to speak to me?
'How old are you now, Sita?'
'I will turn fourteen soon, Guruji.'
'That's not too old. We can begin, I think.''Begin what, Guruji?'
Vishwamitra took a deep breath. 'Have you heard of the institution of the
Vishnu?'
'Yes, Guruji.'
'Tell me what you know.'
'It is a title given to the greatest of leaders, who are Propagators of Good.
They lead their people into a new way of life. There have been six Vishnus in
this present Vedic age that we live in. The previous Vishnu was the great Lord
Parshu Ram.'
'Jai Parshu Ram.'
'Jai Parshu Ram.'
'What else do you know?'
'The Vishnus normally work in partnership with the Mahadevs, who are
Destroyers of Evil. The Mahadevs assign a tribe as their representatives once
their karma in a particular life is over. The tribe of the previous Mahadev, Lord
Rudra, is the Vayuputras who live in faraway Pariha. The Vishnu of our age
will work in close partnership with …'
'This partnership thing is not necessarily important,' interrupted
Vishwamitra.
Sita fell silent. Surprised. This was not what she had learnt.
'What else do you know?'
'I know that the previous Vishnu, Lord Parshu Ram, left behind a tribe as
well — the Malayaputras. And you, Maharishiji, are the chief of the
Malayaputras. And if a Vishnu must rise in our age, to fight the darkness that
envelops us, it must be you.'
'You are wrong.'
Sita frowned. Confused.
'The assumption you made in your last statement is wrong,' clarified
Vishwamitra. 'Yes, I am the chief of the Malayaputras. But I cannot be the
Vishnu. My task is to decide who the next Vishnu will be.'
Sita nodded silently.
'What do you think is the main problem corroding India today?'
'Most people will say Raavan, but I won't.'
Vishwamitra smiled. 'Why not?'
'Raavan is only a symptom. He is not the disease. If it hadn't been Raavan, it
would have been someone else torturing us. The fault lies in us, that we allow
ourselves to be dominated. Raavan may be powerful, but if we …'
'Raavan is not as powerful as the people of Sapt Sindhu think he is. But he
revels in this image of the monster that he has created for himself. That imageintimidates others. But that image is useful for us as well,' said Vishwamitra.
Sita didn't understand that last line. And, Vishwamitra chose not to explain.
'So, you say that Raavan is only a symptom. Then, what is the disease
afflicting the Sapt Sindhu today?'
Sita paused to formulate her thoughts. 'I've been thinking about this since
you spoke to us at the gurukul last year, Guruji. You said society needs balance.
It needs intellectuals, warriors, traders, and skilled workers. And that ideally,
the scale should not be tipped against any group. That there should be a fair
balance between all.'
'And …'
'So, why is it that society always moves towards imbalance? That's what I
was thinking. It gets unbalanced when people are not free to live a life that is in
alignment with their innate guna, their attributes. It can happen when a group is
oppressed or belittled, like the Vaishyas in Sapt Sindhu today. It makes those
with Vaishya gunas frustrated and angry. It can also happen when you're made
to follow the occupation of your parents and clan, rather than what you may
want to pursue. Raavan was born a Brahmin. But he clearly did not want to be a
Brahmin. He is a Kshatriya by nature. It must have been the same with …'
Sita stopped herself in time. But Vishwamitra was staring directly into her
eyes, reading her thoughts. 'Yes, it happened with me too. I was born a
Kshatriya but wanted to be a Brahmin.'
'People like you are rare, Guruji. Most people surrender to the pressure of
society and family. But it builds terrible frustration within. These are unhappy
and angry people, living unbalanced, dissatisfied lives. Furthermore, society
itself suffers. It may get stuck with Kshatriyas who do not possess valour, and
cannot protect their society. It may get stuck with Brahmins who prefer to be
skilled Shudras like medical surgeons or sculptors, and therefore will be
terrible teachers. And ultimately, society will decline.'
'You have diagnosed the problem well. So, what is the solution?'
'I don't know. How does one change society? How do we break down this
birth-based caste system that is destroying our noble land?'
'I have a solution in mind.'
Sita waited for an explanation.
'Not now,' said Vishwamitra. 'I will explain one day. When you are ready.
For now, we have a ceremony to conduct.'
'Ceremony?'
'Yes,' said Vishwamitra, as he turned towards the yagna kund, which had
been built at the centre of the main deck. Seven Malayaputra pandits waited at
the other end of the deck. Upon a signal from Vishwamitra, they walked up tothe yagna kund.
'Come,' said Vishwamitra, as he led her forward.
The yagna platform was built in an unorthodox manner, or at least one with
which Sita was not familiar. It had a square, outer boundary, made of bricks.
Encased within it was a circular inner boundary, made of metal.
'This yagna kund represents a type of mandal, a symbolic representation of
spiritual reality,' Vishwamitra explained to Sita. 'The square boundary
symbolises Prithvi, the earth that we live on. The four sides of the square
represent the four directions. The space inside the square represents Prakruti
or nature. It is uncultured and wild. The circle within represents the path of
consciousness; of the Parmatma. The task of the Vishnu is to find the
Parmatma within this earthly life. The Vishnu lights a path to God. Not through
detachment from the world, but through profound and spiritual attachment to
this great land of ours.'
'Yes, Guruji.'
'You will sit on the southern side of the square.'
Sita sat in the seat indicated by Vishwamitra. The Chief Malayaputra sat with
his back to the north, facing Sita. A Malayaputra pandit lit the fire within the
circular inner boundary of the yagna platform. He was chanting a hymn
dedicated to Lord Agni, the God of Fire.
A yagna signifies a sacrificial exchange: you sacrifice something that you
hold dear, and receive benediction in return. Lord Agni, the purifying fire, is
witness to this exchange between humans and the divine.
Vishwamitra folded his hands together into a Namaste. So did Sita. He began
chanting a hymn from the Brihadaranyak Upanishad. Sita and the seven
Malayaputra pandits joined in.
Asato mā sadgamaya
Tamasomā jyotir gamaya
Mrityormāamritam gamaya
Om shāntishānti shāntih
Lead me from untruth to truth
Lead me from darkness to light
Lead me from death to immortality
For Me and the Universe, let there be peace, peace, peace
Vishwamitra reached into a pouch tied to his waist and withdrew a small
scabbard. Holding it reverentially in the palm of his hand, he pulled out a tiny
silver knife. He ran his finger over the edge, bringing it to rest on the tip of the
blade. Sharp. He checked the markings on the handle. It was the correct one. He
reached over the fire and handed the knife to Sita. It had to be passed from thenorthern to the southern direction.
'This yagna will be sealed in blood,' said Vishwamitra.
'Yes, Guruji,' said Sita, accepting the knife with both hands as a mark of
respect.
Vishwamitra reached into his pouch and retrieved another small scabbard.
He pulled out the second knife and checked its blade. Perfectly sharp. He
looked at Sita. 'The blood must only drop within the circular inner boundary
of the yagna kund. Under no circumstances must it spill in the space between
the metal and bricks. Is that clear?'
'Yes, Guruji.'
Two Malayaputra pandits approached them silently and handed two pieces of
cloth each to Vishwamitra and Sita. Each had been doused in neem-juice
disinfectants. Without waiting for further instructions, Sita placed the sharp
knife-edge on her left palm and folded her hand over the blade. Then, in a
swift, clean motion, she pulled the knife back, cutting open the skin from edge
to edge. Blood dribbled freely into the sacred fire. She did not flinch.
'Arrey, we needed just a drop of blood,' exclaimed Vishwamitra. 'A little
nick would have been enough.'
Sita looked at Vishwamitra, unperturbed. She pressed the disinfectant cloth
into her injured hand, careful not to spill any blood.
Vishwamitra quickly pricked his thumb with the knife edge.
He held his hand over the inner boundary of the yagna kund, and pressed his
thumb to let a drop of blood fall into the flames. Sita also held out her left hand
and removed the cloth, letting her blood drip into the fire.
Vishwamitra spoke in a clear voice. 'With the pure Lord Agni as my witness,
I swear that I will honour my promise to Lord Parshu Ram. Always. To my last
breath. And beyond.'
Sita repeated the words. Exactly.
'Jai Parshu Ram,' said Vishwamitra.
'Jai Parshu Ram,' repeated Sita.
The Malayaputra pandits around them chimed in. 'Jai Parshu Ram.'
Vishwamitra smiled and withdrew his hand. Sita too pulled her hand back
and covered it with the disinfectant cloth. A Malayaputra pandit walked up to
her and tied the cloth tight around her hand, staunching the blood flow.
'It is done,' said Vishwamitra, looking at Sita.
'Am I a Malayaputra now?' asked Sita expectantly.
Vishwamitra looked amused. He pointed to Sita's knife. 'Look at the
markings on your knife.'
Sita picked up the silver knife. Its blade-edge was stained with her blood. Sheexamined the handle. It had three intricate letters engraved on it. Sages of yore,
in their wisdom, had suggested that Old Sanskrit should not have a written
script. They felt that the written word was inferior to the spoken; that it reduced
the ability of the mind to understand concepts. Rishi Shvetaketu had had
another explanation: the sages preferred that scriptures were not written down
and remained oral so that as times changed, they could change easily as well.
Writing things down brought rigidity into the scriptures. Whatever the reason,
the fact was that writing was not valued in the Sapt Sindhu. As a result, there
were many scripts that existed across the land. Scripts that changed from time
to time and place to place. There was no serious attempt to develop a standard
script.
The word on the handle was written in a common script from the upper
reaches of the Saraswati River. Sita recognised it.
The symbols represented Parshu Ram.
'Not that side, Sita,' said Vishwamitra. 'Turn it around.'
Sita flipped the knife. Her eyes widened with shock.
The fish was the most common symbol across all scripts in India. A giant
fish had helped Lord Manu and his band escape when the sea had devastated
their land. Lord Manu had decreed that the great fish would be honoured with
the title of Lord Matsya, the first Vishnu. The symbol of the fish represented a
follower of the Vishnu. This was the symbol on Vishwamitra's knife handle.
But the symbol on Sita's handle was a modified version. It was a fish, no doubt,
but it also had a crown on top.
The fish symbol minus the crown on it meant that you were a follower of the
Vishnu. But if the fish symbol had a crown on top, it meant that you were the
Vishnu.
Sita looked at Vishwamitra, bewildered.
'This knife is yours, Sita,' said Vishwamitra softly.
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