the immortal of maluha

‘Of course,’ said Parvateshwar, as he moved his chair to the side.
‘The essential problem for us,’ said Parvateshwar, trying to quickly bring Shiva up to date, ‘is
the transport links between Meluha and Swadweep.’
‘There aren’t any, right?’
‘Right,’ answered Parvateshwar. ‘The Chandravanshis followed a “broken earth” policy after
their last defeat at our hands a hundred years back. They destroyed the entire infrastructure
that existed between Meluha and Swadweep. They depopulated their border cities and moved
them deeper into their empire. Forests grew where cities and roads used to be. There is no
river that flows from our territory to theirs. Basically, there is no way for our huge,
technologically superior, war-machines to be transported to the borders of Swadweep.’
‘That was their aim, obviously,’ said Shiva. ‘Your superiority is technology. Their superiority
is their numbers. They have negated your strength.’
‘Exatly. And if our war-machines are taken out of the equation, our one hundred thousand
strong army may get inundated by their million soldiers.’
‘They have a million strong army?’ asked Shiva, incredulous.
‘Yes, my Lord,’ said Vraka. ‘We can’t be absolutely sure, but that is our estimate. However,
we also estimate that the regulars in that army would not be more than a hundred thousand.
The rest would be part-timers. Essentially, people such as small traders, artisans, farmers and
any other without influence. They would be forcibly conscripted and used as cannon fodder.’
‘Disgusting,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘Risking the lives of Shudras and Vaishyas for a job that
should be done by Kshatriyas. Their Kshatriyas have no honour.’
Shiva looked towards Parvateshwar and nodded. ‘Can’t we dismantle our war-machines,
carry them to Swadweep and reassemble them?’
‘Yes we can,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘But that is technically possible only for a few. Our most
devastating machines which would give us the edge, like the long-range catapult, cannot be
assembled outside a factory’
‘The long-range catapult?’
‘Yes,’ answered Parvateshwar. ‘It can hurl huge boulders and smouldering barrels over
distances of over a kilometre. If used effectively, they can soften, even devastate, the enemy
lines before our cavalry and infantry charge. Basically, the role that elephants used to play
earlier.’
‘Then why not use elephants?’
‘They are unpredictable. No matter how long you train them, an army often loses control
over them in the heat of battle. In fact, in the previous war with the Swadweepans, it was their
own elephants who were their downfall.’
‘Really?’ asked Shiva.
‘Yes,’ answered Parvateshwar. ‘Our ploy of firing at the mahouts and generating
tremendous noise with our war drums worked. The Chandravanshi elephants panicked and ran
into their own army, shattering their lines, especially the ones composed of irregulars. All we
had to do was charge in and finish the job.’
‘No elephants then.’
‘Absolutely,’ said Parvateshwar.
‘So we need something that we can take with us and which can be used to soften their
irregulars in order to negate their numerical superiority.’
Parvateshwar nodded. Shiva looked into the distance, towards the window, where a stiff