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BC. In what modern Indians mistakenly call the Indus Valley Civilisation. The inhabitants of that period called it the land of Meluha a near perfect empire. 'Shiva rocks. Just how much Shiva rocks the imagination is made grandiosely obvious in The Immortals of Meluha Shiva's journey from cool dude to. Amish Tripathi asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. This is a work Immortals of Immortals of Meluha - tarush raina.
The narrative unfolds in the immemorial land of Meluha, where reigns the Suryavanshi clan, a highly civilized society of rules, regulations and guidelines. Abiding by their just means of lifestyle, there is persistent fear of terrorist attacks from the Chandravanshis, a clan-less civilization allied with the heinous Nagas. Together, they conspire to steal the secret formula of the Suryavanshi holy drink, Somrasa. With this paranoia, there are whispers of a prophecy pertaining to a blue-throated man from the lands of Sapt-Sindhu who would rescue the Suryavanshis from their turmoil. Enter Shiva, a tribal patriarch from the mountains of Kailasa, who travels from his home territory to Meluha in search of safety and shelter.
The clouds hovering above Mansarovar had just parted to reveal the setting sun, the brilliant giver of life, drawing another day to a close. Shiva had seen a few sunrises in his twenty-one years, but sunset — he tried never to miss a sunset. On any other day, he would have relished the vista — the sun and the immense lake against the magnificent backdrop of the Himalayas stretching as far as the eye could see.
But not today. As he squatted on a narrow ledge extending out over the lake, the shimmering light reflected off the waters picked out the numerous battle-scars that marked his muscular body. On a normal day, Shiva would have smiled at this memory from a cheerful past, but today he turned to look back towards his village without the merest hint of joy. The slightly hump-backed Bhadra was alert, guarding the main entrance to the village. He cursed and kicked them awake. Shiva turned back towards the lake.
God bless Bhadra! At least he takes some responsibility. He brought the chillum made of yak-bone to his lips and inhaled deeply. Any other day, the marijuana would have dulled his troubled mind and allowed him some moments of solace. He looked left, towards the edge of the lake where the soldiers accompanying the strange foreign visitor were being kept under guard. With the lake behind them and twenty of his own soldiers watching over them, it was impossible for them to mount any surprise attack.
They let themselves be disarmed so easily. Others call it Meluha, but I call it Heaven. Today the Gunas, your tribesmen, fight for survival in this rough, arid land.
Meluha offers you a paradise beyond your wildest dreams — and we ask for nothing in return, save that you live in peace, pay your taxes and obey the laws of our land. He would certainly not be a chief in this new land — but would he really miss that so much? They would have to work every day for a living, but surely that would be better than fighting every day just to stay alive?
He took another puff and as the smoke cleared he turned to stare at the hut in the centre of his village, right next to his own, where the foreigner was housed. He had been told he would sleep more comfortably there, but in truth, Shiva wanted him close as a hostage.
Just in case. Almost every month we have to fight the Pakratis, just so we can keep our village on the shore of the Holy Lake — but they are growing stronger every year, forming new alliances with new tribes. We can beat the Pakratis, but not all the mountain tribes together.
If we move to Meluha, we can escape this pointless violence, maybe even start to live in some comfort. What could possibly be wrong with that? It sounds so good!
Shiva took one last drag, then knocked the ash from the chillum and rose quickly from his perch. Bhadra and his backup stood to attention as Shiva passed through the gates. Shiva frowned and gestured for Bhadra to ease up.
Why does he always treat me like this? Tall enough that a grown man could actually stand upright inside them, they were also strong enough to withstand the harsh mountain winds; they would last for three years before surrendering to the elements.
Shiva flung the empty chillum into his own hut as he strode past it to the one next door where he found the visitor sleeping soundly. Shiva remembered what his uncle — and his guru — used to say: "People do what their society rewards them for doing. If the society rewards trust, people will be trusting.
Shiva scratched his shaggy beard as he stared hard at the visitor, who had given his name as Nandi. Inventory on Biblio is continually updated, but because much of our booksellers' inventory is uncommon or even one-of-a-kind, stock-outs do happen from time to time.
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