exact location. There was an elite team of soldiers called the Arishtanemi who protected the
road to Mount Mandar and the travellers on it. Except for the scientists of Mount Mandar, the
Arishtanemi and any person authorised by the Emperor, nobody was allowed to the mountain
or to know its location. If the Chandravanshi terrorists attacked Mount Mandar, all would be lost
for Meluha.
‘Who would we be meeting there, Kanakhala?’ asked Shiva.
‘My Lord, we would be meeting Brahaspati. He is the Chief Scientist of the empire. He leads
the team of scientists who manufacture the Somras for the entire country. Of course, they also
conduct research in many other fields. A bird courier has already been sent to him informing
him of your arrival. We will be meeting him tomorrow morning.’
‘Shiva nodded slightly, smiled at Kanakhala, and said, Thank you.’
As Nandi looked at the prahar lamp again, Shiva went back to his book. It was an interesting
manuscript about the terrible war that was fought many thousands of years ago, between the
Devas, the gods; and the Asuras, the demons — an eternal struggle between opposites: good
and evil. The Devas, with the help of Lord Rudra, the Mahadev, the God of Gods, had
destroyed the Asuras and established righteousness in the world again.
‘I hope you slept well, my Lord,’ said Kanakhala as she welcomed Shiva and Nandi into the
chamber outside Brahaspati’s office.
It was the beginning of the last hour of the first prahar. Days began early at Mount Mandar.
‘Yes, I did,’ said Shiva. Though there was a strange rhythmic sound on through the night’
Kanakhala smiled but did not offer any explanation. She bowed her head and opened the
door to let Shiva into Brahaspati’s office. Shiva walked in followed by Kanakhala and Nandi.
There were various strange instruments spread throughout Brahaspati’s large office, neatly
organised on tables of different heights. There were palm leaf notes alongside each of the
instruments where some experiments had clearly been conducted. The room was a restrained
blue. There was a large picture window in the corner which afforded a breathtaking view of the
dense forest at the foot of the mountain. At the centre, many simple, low seats had been
arranged together in a square. It was a frugal room, in line with a culture that celebrated
simplicity over style at every turn.
Brahaspati was standing in the centre of the room, his hands folded in a namaste. Of
medium height, much shorter than Shiva, his wheat-coloured skin, deep set eyes and well-
manicured beard gave Brahaspati a distinguished appearance. A clean shaven head, except for
the choti and a serene expression, gave his face an intellectual look. His body was slightly
overweight. His broad shoulders and barrel chest would have been markedly pronounced if they
had been exercised a bit, but Brahaspati’s body was a vehicle for his intellect and not the
temple that it is to a warrior or Kshatriya. Brahaspati wore a typical white cotton dhoti and an
angvastram draped loosely over his shoulders. He wore a janau tied from his left shoulder down
to the right side of his hips.
‘How are you Kanakhala?’ asked Brahaspati. ‘It has been a long time.’
‘Yes it has, Brahaspati,’ said Kanakhala, greeting Brahaspati with a namaste and a low
bow.