Immortals of Meluha

piece of bread and gruel. It looked like the kind of food distributed at cheap restaurants on the
donations of a few kindly or guilty souls. The kind of food that would not even be fed to animals
in Meluha.
Intense anger surged through Shiva. This old man was begging, nay suffering, at the doors
of Lord Ram’s abode and nobody seemed to care. What kind of government would treat its
people like this? In Meluha, the government assiduously nurtured all its citizens. There was
enough food for everyone. Nobody was homeless. The government actually worked. This old
man would not have had to endure this humiliation if he lived in Devagiri!
The anger in Shiva gave way to a flood of positive energy, as he realised that he had found
his answer. He knew now that Parvateshwar was right. Maybe the Chandravanshis were not
evil, but they led a wretched existence. The Suryavanshi system would improve their lives
dramatically. There would be abundance and prosperity all around when Parvateshwar honed
the moribund Chandravanshi administration. There will be some good that will come out of this
war. Maybe he had not made such a terrible mistake. He thanked Lord Ram. He thought he
had found his answer.
Fate, however, conspired to deny Shiva this small consolation. The old beggar noticed Shiva
staring at him. Shiva’s sympathetic eyes and compassionate smile caused the beggar ’s
haggard cheeks to spring to life, as he smiled in return. However, it wasn’t the smile of a
broken man begging for alms. It was the warm welcoming smile of a man at peace with
himself. Shiva was taken aback.
The old man smiled even more warmly while raising his weak hand with great effort. ‘Would
you like some food, my son?’
Shiva was stunned. He felt small against the mighty heart of the wretched man he had
thought was deserving of pity and kindness.
Seeing Shiva gaping, the old man repeated, ‘Would you like to eat with me, son? There is
enough for both.’
An overwhelmed Shiva could not find the strength to speak. There wasn’t enough food for
even one man. Why was this man offering to share what little food he had? It didn’t make
sense.
Thinking Shiva to be hard of hearing, the old man spoke a litde louder. ‘My son, sit with me.
Eat.’
Shiva struggled to find the strength to shake his head slightly. ‘No thank you, sir.’
The old man’s face fell immediately. ‘This is good food,’ he said, his eyes showing the hurt
he felt. ‘I would not offer it to you otherwise.’
Shiva realised that he had insulted the old man’s pride. He had just treated him like a
beggar. ‘No, no, that’s not what I meant. I know it’s good food. It’s just that I...’
The old man interrupted Shiva’s words with a warm grin. ‘Then sit with me, my son.’
Shiva nodded quietly. He sat down on the pavement. The old man turned towards Shiva and
placed the banana leaf on the ground, in between the two of them. Shiva looked at the bread
and watery gruel, which until moments back appeared unfit for humans. The old man looked up
at Shiva, his half blind eyes beaming. ‘Eat.’
Shiva picked up a small morsel of the bread, dipped it in the gruel and swallowed. It slipped
into his body easily, but weighed heavy on his soul. He could feel his righteousness being
squeezed out of him as the poor, old man beamed generously.
‘Come on, my son. If you are going to eat so litde, how will you maintain your big muscular