Immortals of Meluha

duel. However, there wasn’t enough time to expect a reply.
At long last, Jhooleshwar stood up. He was nervous about the agnipariksha, but appeared
composed. As per custom, he raised a balled fist to his heart and boomed: ‘Satya! Dharma!
Maan!’ An invocation to Truth. Duty. Honour.
The rest of the stadium rang in agreement. ‘Satya! Dharma! Maan!’
Tarak and Sati echoed. ‘Satya! Dharma! Maan!’
Jhooleshwar nodded to the stadium keeper who lit the ceremonial oil lamp with the holy fire.
The lamp spilled its fire on to the oil channel; the periphery of the central ground was aflame.
The ring for the pariksha had been set.
Jhooleshwar turned to Shiva. ‘My Lord, your instructions to start the duel.’
Shiva looked at Sati with a confident smile. Then turning to the stadium, he declared loudly,
‘In the purifying fire of Lord Agni, truth will always triumph!’
Tarak and Sati immediately drew their knives. Tarak held his knife in front of him, like most
traditional fighters. He had chosen a strategy that played to his strengths. Keeping his knife in
front of him allowed him to strike the moment Sati came close. He did not stir too much,
allowing Sati to make her moves in front of him.
Sati, breaking all known rules of combat, held her knife behind her. She shifted the knife
continuously from one hand to the other, while keeping a safe distance from her opponent. The
aim was to confuse Tarak about the direction of her attack. Tarak on the other hand was
watching Sati’s movements like a hawk. He saw her right arm flex. The knife was now in her
right hand.
Suddenly Sati leapt to the left. Tarak remained stationary. He knew that with her right hand
holding the knife, the leftward movement was a feint. She would have to move to the right to
bring her knife into play. Sure enough, Sati quickly moved to the right and brought in her arm up
in a stabbing motion. Tarak was prepared. Shifting his knife quickly to his left arm, he slashed
viciously, cutting Sati across her torso. It wasn’t a deep cut, but it appeared to hurt. A collective
gasp went out from the audience.
Sati retreated and rallied. She moved the knife to her back again, transferring it from one
hand to the other. Tarak kept a close eye on her arms. The knife was in her left hand. He
expected her to move to the right, which she did. He remained immobile, waiting for her to
swerve suddenly to her left. She did, swinging her left arm as she moved. Tarak acted before
her arm could even come close enough to do any damage. He swung ferociously with his right
arm and cut her deep in the left shoulder. Sati retreated rapidly as the congregation moaned in
horror. Some shut their eyes. They could not bear to look anymore. Most were praying
fervently. If it had to be done, let it be done swiftly and not in a slow painful manner.
‘What is she doing?’ whispered a panic-stricken Brahaspati to Shiva. ‘Why is she charging in
so recklessly?’
Shiva turned to look at Brahaspati, also noticing Parvateshwar ’s face. Parvateshwar had a
surprised, yet admiring grin on his face. Unlike Brahaspati, he knew what was going on. Turning
back to look at the duel, Shiva whispered, ‘She’s laying a trap.’
At the centre, Sati was still transferring the knife between her hands behind her back. She
feigned a move from her right to the left, but this time did not transfer the knife. She flexed her
left arm, keeping the right arm holding the knife loose and relaxed.
Tarak was watching Sati closely, confident that he was going to slowly bleed her to death.
He believed the knife was in her left hand. He waited for her to move right, then left, which she