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which had been adorned by pillars around its entire circumference. The ornate roof was topped
by a giant triangular spire, like a giant ‘namaste’ to the gods. Elaborate sculptures were carved
upon every available space on the structure.
Shiva had spent many days in Meluha and all the buildings he had seen so far were
functional and efficient. However, this particular one was oddly flamboyant. At the entrance, a
signpost announced, Temple of Lord Brahma’. The Meluhans appeared to reserve their
creativity for religious places.
There was a small crowd of hawkers around the courtyard in the clearing. Some were
selling flowers, others were selling food. Still others were selling assorted items required for a
puja. There was a stall where worshippers could leave their footwear as they went up to the
temple. Shiva left his shoes there and walked up the steps. Entering the main temple, he stared
at the designs and sculptures, mesmerized by the sheer magnificence of the architecture.
‘What are you doing here?’
Shiva turned around to find a Pandit staring at him quizzically. His wizened face sported a
flowing white beard matched in length only by his silvery mane. Wearing a saffron dhoti and
angvastram, he had the calm, gende look of a man who had already attained nirvana, but had
chosen to remain on earth to fulfil some heavenly duties. Shiva realised that the Pandit was the
first truly old person that he had seen in Meluha.
‘I am sorry. Am I not allowed in here?’ asked Shiva politely.
‘Of course you are allowed in here. Everyone is allowed into the house of the gods.’
Shiva smiled. Before he could respond however, the Pandit questioned once again, ‘But you
don’t believe in these gods, do you?’
Shiva’s smile disappeared as quickly as it came.
How the hell does he know?
The Pandit answered the question in Shiva’s eyes. ‘Everyone who enters this place of
worship looks only at the idol of Lord Brahma. Almost nobody notices the efforts and the
brilliance of the architects who built this lovely temple. You, however, have eyes only for the
work of the architects. You have not yet cast even a glance upon the idol.’
Shiva grinned apologetically. You guessed right. I don’t believe in symbolic gods. I believe
that the real god exists all around us. In the flow of the river, in the rustle of the trees, in the
whisper of the winds. He speaks to us all the time. All we need to do is listen. However, I
apologise if I have caused some offence in not showing proper respect for your god.’
You don’t need to apologise, my friend,’ smiled the Pandit. There is no “your god” or “;my
god”. All godliness comes from the same source. Just the manifestations are different. But I
have a feeling that one day you will find a temple worth walking into just for prayer, not to
admire its beauty.’
‘Really? Which temple might that be?’
‘You will find it when you are ready, my friend.’
Why do these Meluhans always talk in bizarre riddles?
Shiva nodded politely, his expression pretending an appreciation for the Pandit’s words that
he did not truly feel. He thought it wise to flee the temple before his welcome was stretched
any further.
‘It’s time to get back to my rest house now, Panditji. But I eagerly look forward to finding the
temple of my destiny. It was a pleasure meeting you,’ said Shiva, as he bent down to touch the
Pandit’s feet.