the immortal of maluha

This was just a traditional question, which wasn’t actually supposed to be answered. Hence
there was an audible, collective groan when a voice cried out loudly, ‘I object’
Nobody needed to look to recognise where the voice came from. It was Tarak, an immigrant
from the ultra-conservative northwest regions of the empire. Since Tarak had come to
Karachapa, he had taken it upon himself to be the ‘moral police’ of this ‘decadent city of sin’.
Shiva strained his neck to see who had objections. He saw Tarak standing at the back, at
the edge of the puja platform, very close to Sati’s balcony. He was a giant of a man with a fair
face cut up brutally due to a lifetime of strife, an immense stomach and a miner’s bulging
muscular arms. He cut an awesome figure. It was obvious, without even looking at his amulets,
that Tarak was a Kshatriya who had made his living working in the lower rungs of the army.
Jhooleshwar glared at Tarak in exasperation. ‘What is it now? This time we have ensured
that we have not used the white Chandravanshi colours in our decorations. Or do you think the
water being used for the ceremony is not at the correct temperature as per the Vedas?’
The gathering sniggered. Parvateshwar looked at Jhooleshwar sharply. Before he could
reprimand the Governor for his cavalier reference to the Vedas, Tarak spoke up. ‘The law says
no vikarma should be allowed on the yagna platform.’
‘Yes,’ said Jhooleshwar. ‘And unless you have been declared a vikarma, I don’t think that
law is being broken.’
‘Yes it is!’
There were shocked murmurs from the congregation. Jhooleshwar raised his hand.
‘Nobody is a vikarma here, Tarak,’ said Jhooleshwar. ‘Now please sit down.’
‘Princess Sati defiles the yagna with her presence.’
Shiva and Parvateshwar looked sharply at Tarak. Jhooleshwar was as stunned as the rest
of the assembly by Tarak’s statement. ‘Tarak!’ said Jhooleshwar. ‘You go too far. Princess Sati
is confined in the guest-house, abiding by the laws of the yagna. She is not present on the
yagna platform. Now sit down before I have you whipped.’
‘On what charge will you have me whipped, Governor?’ yelled Tarak. ‘Standing up for the
law is not a crime in Meluha.’
‘But the law has not been broken!’
‘Yes it has. The exact words of the law is that no vikarma can be on the same platform
while a yagna is being conducted. The yagna is being conducted on the Dwitiya platform of the
city. By being on the same platform, the princess defiles the yagna.’
Tarak was technically correct. Most people interpreted that law to mean that a vikarma
could not be on the prayer ceremony platform. However, since Karachapa, like most Meluhan
cities, was built on a platform, a strict interpretation of the law would mean that Sati should not
be anywhere on the entire Dwitiya platform. To keep the yagna legal, she would either have to
move to the other platform of the city or outside the city walls.
Jhooleshwar was momentarily taken aback as Tarak’s objection was accurate in principle.
He tried a rally weakly. ‘Come, come Tarak. You are being too conscientious. I think that is too
strict an interpretation. I think...’
‘No, Shri Jhooleshwarji,’ reverberated a loud voice through the gathering.
Everybody turned to see where the sound came from. Sati, who had come out on her
balcony, continued. ‘Please accept my apologies for interrupting you, Governor,’ said Sati with
a formal namaste. ‘But Tarak’s interpretation of the law is fair. I am terribly sorry to have
disturbed the yagna. My entourage and I shall leave the city immediately. We will return by the