Nasteya: The Aryan Saga

Singh

ONE

THE PROPHECY

The town of Saarah was buzzing with excitement. It was the night on which Nasteya would be honoured for all that he had done for the kingdom. For twenty years, right since his battle with the grotesque tentacled creature of the Southern Marshes when he was just seven, till his more recent efforts in defeating the White Demons, Nasteya had been the marvel of Saarah. His willingness to leap to the aid of anyone in need, added to his heroic aura.

In the weeks preceding the big day, tongues had begun to wag about the ceremony and the story was that on this day, Nasteya would be formally adopted by the king as his heir. Our mighty king, you see, was not blessed with a child and amongst the children in the court, Nasteya was his favorite. It was hard to believe that a king such as ours had no direct heir and the story behind this was a sad tale of love and grief. Songs in praise of the eternal love of King Anjaney and Queen Akshainee were still sung in Saarah. They spoke of how, when in his youth the king had gone to the great battle of Aryavarta, the queen had been poisoned by an enemy spy. To her ill fortune, she couldn’t even survive to see her king return from battle. His triumphant return was marred by the loss of his beloved queen and he sunk into never-ending grief. Though brave, young and capable of marrying any princess of any realm, he chose to live only with the beautiful memories of queen Akshainee.

Between the king and Nasteya was a bond born of mutual respect. Nasteya’s own limitless valour and exceptional leadership qualities were recognised by the king. Maybe I’m exaggerating a bit, but how can I not boast a little about the one who has been my best pal since childhood? Of course, he may have been brave, but in his everyday behaviour, he did not always display common sense—like on the night when the ceremony was about to begin and I was looking high and low for him.

‘It’s almost time, Maa and look at you, not even dressed yet!’ I yelled as I passed by my house. ‘Hurry up!’

The king had charged me with the task of managing the whole event and I still remember what a pain that was. It was the first time that I had been assigned a task of such importance, and I had worked my fingers to the bone in order not to disgruntle the king. But Nasteya was making it tough for me.

‘And by any chance, have you seen Nasteya?’ I asked my mother as I hurried past.

‘You know well where Nasteya would be at this time,’ she replied while doing her hair.

In the gathering dusk, I trotted along quickly towards the river, muttering and cussing. Nasteya, my chum, was more like a foe some times. If ever there were escapades that included both of us, trust me, I had the slightest share in bringing them about. Even then, I would be penalised more than him. He, after all, was the ‘golden’ one in everyone’s eyes. This really irritated me.

‘I’ll get my head slashed off for being late, and all because of you, Nasteya,’ I yelled when I saw him.

‘Simmer down Vasu. And don’t sweat, I’ll ask the king to go easy on you,’ he said and chuckled.

‘You’d better move now,’ I said and he stood up, saying: ‘All right, children, we’ll continue with the next part tomorrow. Until then, keep guessing what happened to that wild horse.’ And the children scampered off as soon as he gave them some coins.

As always, at dusk, Nasteya had been by the River Sarsuti, regaling his audience with tales of his acts of valour, highly exaggerated of course, but this mattered little to his fond and devoted young admirers. For them and for all the other folks, Nasteya was an idol, a hero. How did he earn such fame? There are many ways to answer that question. Let us take a leap into the past.

Seventeen years before this night of celebration, when we both were seven years old, Nasteya and I went south along with a convoy of traders. There were other kids of the town with us as well. All of us were excited as we were crossing the boundaries of Saarah for the first time, going so far away from our homes. It was a march of nine and thirty days with halts only at night, until we reached the marshes of the Mahanadi delta. As the fortieth day was drawing to its end and we were in the middle of the marshes with a faint moon glimmering high above the sunset, the traders suddenly halted.

‘I wouldn’t take that route unless there was no other alternative,’ one of the traders said in a tense voice full of fear. ‘It is nothing but suicide to attempt that path.’

‘All the alternatives have been tested,’ replied another. ‘Heavy rains in the east have filled the Mahanadi. Floods have destroyed the only two bridges and it would be a foolish decision to risk wading through the river with these children. I wish they had never come. And we cannot even return without some profits to show or we shall feel the wrath of king. We have to go around the marshes.’

The matter was of great concern, yet those traders cared more about their trade than us.

‘Stick together and don’t stray out of our sight. You won’t find anything but deadly creatures in the shallow waters of these marshes,’ one of the traders warned all of us kids, turning all our curiosity into fear. He added fuel to the fire by reciting tales about traders who had succumbed to the dangers of these marshes. All he really wanted to do was to keep us silent, but even he wasn’t aware of the danger at hand.

The ground became damper as we went on. We had to carefully avoid small pools of muddy water to keep dry footed. Even the trotting horses slowed to a walk. With flies and mosquitoes, moths and blood-sucking parasites of different kinds, the marshes were nothing but treacherous to us. After one of the regular counts that were done at short intervals, one of the traders announced that a child was missing. The silence that had lasted till now was killed by the sudden eruption of chaos and everyone began searching frantically for the lost child, Anuj.

Soon, screams were carried to us by the wind and we dashed in the direction from where they came. Beyond a thick clump of trees, was a pool of dark green water. I shuddered with disgust at the touch of the unclean water on my feet, but there was more to the water than just slime. In the centre of the pool there was a creature with long and black leathery tentacles, one of which was wrapped around Anuj. He was struggling hard to escape. I don’t exactly remember how many tentacles it had, but surely more than twenty and that too, very long and strong. Great rings were widening outwards in the water from the point where the creature rested. Anuj screamed again. One of the traders attacked the creature with his bronze dagger. A long, wet tentacle crawled out from the water and its fingered end grasped the trader’s foot and overturned him. He was now slashing at the tentacles with his dagger. The annoyed creature tossed him away and twenty other arms came rippling out, making the dark unclean water boil. Another trader was taking all the kids away from the pool, but Nasteya broke out, snatching his dagger, and ran straight towards the marsh, diving into its dark green water. The groping tentacles writhed across the shallow water, came wriggling towards Nasteya and had him too. But Nasteya was quick in his actions—he sliced the tentacle and went back into the water. Anuj was still screaming at the top of his voice. All the other tentacles started thrashing the water restlessly.

There was no sign of Nasteya.

Then the splashing died away as the tentacles stopped coiling and the water started to become still. The limp tentacles now floated on the surface of water. A dead silence fell. Anuj freed himself and ran back to us, crying. There was still no sign of Nasteya. A minute later, he appeared, tearing apart the bosom of that lifeless monster—first, out came the dagger and then the hand that held it firmly, and then Nasteya, dripping with filthy translucent pale green scum. His eyes shone triumphantly. None of us could believe it, especially the traders.

Cleaning himself up, Nasteya swam out of the shallow water. We all gazed at him in absolute stunned silence.

‘Why are you staring at me? Do you want to wait until some other awful creature shows up? I’m too tired after this to handle another one,’ said Nasteya haughtily and made towards the horses while everyone was still staring at him.

Upon return to Saarah, the story of this escapade was shared even before unloading the horses. It spread like wildfire and within an hour, had reached the king’s ears. He was no less surprised than anyone else, and at once, he set off for Nasteya’s home. There, Nasteya was getting a good scolding from his mother who was furious with him for taking such a dangerous and, it seemed to her, foolhardy risk.

As the fleet of horses drew nearer, King Anjaney riding in front followed by his guards, all of us—Nasteya and his parents, Savaan, his brother, and Nasteya’s neighbours who were eavesdropping from a distance and I, bent our knees and bowed. In his mind, Nasteya thanked the king for saving him from the scolding that wouldn’t have stopped otherwise. The king’s horse paused in his stride, slowing to a walk and then it lifted his head and neighed when it stopped on the front lawn. The king dismounted and walked briskly towards us.

‘Damyanti, tidings have come to me concerning your son and his deeds,’ the king said to Nasteya’s mother. Then he turned his gaze to Nasteya and said, ‘Step forward.’

Nasteya took a few steps forward and said with his head still bow, ‘Of what service can I be to my king?’

‘Is what I’ve heard about what happened in the marshes all true?’ The words came out from behind King Anjaney’s thick white beard, but they were clear and commanding.

‘If Your Majesty has heard that I used my dagger to slay that monster with monstrous tentacles to save Anuj, then my king, then there’s no falsehood in it,’ Nasteya said.

Inquisitive about what had brought the king to Nasteya’s house, people had started to line up outside the house.

‘Are you not aware of what you’ve done? Only one who doesn’t fear death can show such bravery,’ the king said, praising Nasteya. Then, turning towards the boy’s parents he said, ‘His courage won’t go unrecognised. It seems that his destiny is not to be a craftsman like you but a well-trained warrior.’

These words, coming as they did from the king, caused Nasteya to swell with joy. However, it made Savaan seethe with anger. Savaan had hated Nasteya since birth, and now had another reason to envy him. All because Nasteya was the one who was loved more by mother, whose needs were looked after before the demands of Savaan and who was now gaining all the fame.

Nonetheless, despite Savaan’s ill wishes, Nasteya’s fame spread far and wide. Tellings and re-tellings of the story of the boy who had single-handedly killed such a dangerous monster didn’t die down for another year, when a new tale arose.

This time, I was a part of it too. One dark night, without the moon and the stars, Nasteya and I sneaked into the apple orchard which was in the vicinity of the guarded eastern gate between two fortified towers. Our pockets overflowing with red juicy apples, we crawled over the grass to keep out of sight of the watchmen. Right when we were almost out of there, strange voices arose and grew louder. Distant drumbeats followed. We turned to see one of the towers assaulted by a volley of flaming arrows. A moment later, a guard, his clothes in flames, the fire now crawling up to his face, came running into the little round balcony of the tower. In his panic, he fell over the edge, leaving a grey streak of smoke in his wake. His screams stopped as he hit the ground but the flames rose even higher. It didn’t take much time for us to realise that the barbarians of the Far East had attacked.

‘This is exactly what Godmother prophesied! Rain of fire may we see. Trouble may rise from east on the third night. She charged me with an errand to carry this message to the king yesterday,’ I said to Nasteya as we lay hidden.

But Nasteya was less ready to give Godmother credit—‘She has flawed, which has rendered her conclusion meaningless,’ he said. ‘She said trouble may arise on the third night. That is why I never heed her prophecies. Anyhow, what consequences did she predict?’ Nasteya asked in a hurry.

‘None,’ I replied.

‘Let’s go then,’ he said and before I could make out what he was up to, he sprang towards the gate at full speed. Instinctively, I followed him.

While one tower was burning, the other one was under attack. We sprang forward like deer, the path behind us sprinkled with apples from our pockets. Through a narrow opening in the gate, we could see a handful of our guards struggling hard against those barbarians; a few of our men lay motionless. Just as we reached, Nasteya stooped to pick up two fallen swords, one of which he passed to me. It was the first time I had ever held a sword, but I didn’t hesitate. There were not more than thirty barbarians, short statured yet fast and strong. We stood back to back and fought them. While Nasteya kept reducing their numbers, I didn’t even make a cut and rather kept a tight defense. Soon, we separated. I dashed up the embattled tower, speeding up its curling stairs, chased by two barbarians whose menacing growls made the hair on the back of my neck stand. At the top, except for a window, there was no way out. I turned and saw the two men grinning at me. Step by step they came forward, forcing me to lean against the edge of the window. One of them pounced on me but I feinted to my left and he fell out of the window. Now, only one was left. He thrust forward in anger but an arrow came through the window and went straight through his neck, felling him. He lay at my feet, lifeless. Peering over the window ledge, I saw Nasteya with a bow in his hand, corpses scattered all around him. The battle was over.

This event was brought to the notice of the king the next morning by an injured guard and soon it too grew as a story among all the Aryans of Saarah. Nobody cared for the apples.

‘He’s either not mortal or those with divine power are his secret kindred,’ whispered the people of Saarah. Where Nasteya’s fame shot higher, I earned an entry into the soldier’s training camp.

Nasteya was good at cooking up stories, but there was no denying that his courage was true and unlimited.

These events that I speak of are as true as the sun and the moon. But there is a lot more to be told, a lot more than what still resides clear in my memory... Now let us leap back to the night of celebration.

‘That’s mine,’ I said pointedly on seeing him wearing my embroidered cloak.

‘Is it?’ he replied nonchalantly, ‘But when you gave it to me, not even once did you say you were only lending it, so, I kept it.’

‘It doesn’t even suit you,’ I lied. Nasteya was a man perfectly crafted and shaped by God himself. His hair, long black and thick, was like finest quality silk. His clear blue eyes glittered like morning stars in a white sky and the radiance of his skin and brawny body made him every woman’s dream.

‘Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder,’ he replied. ‘Moreover, for me, you always mix your doses of criticism a little strong!’

‘Put it on and be quick,’ I said impatiently. ‘Time presses on. Everyone in the palace awaits you. Oh! Godmother will be waiting for us—first, we have to stop by her cottage to escort her to the palace.’

‘You go alone to her. I cannot breathe when she’s around,’ Nasteya commented with a frown. Godmother always set his teeth on edge. He was the only one in Saarah who did not like her. A long debate ensued that I finally won, and soon we rolled our carriage up the mound where Godmother’s cottage stood dark-edged against the grey sky. Godmother looked like she had been living for centuries. Her reputation in Saarah was due mainly to her ability to presage and foresee the future, an extraordinary power that had passed on to her from her ancestors. With bent back and face criss-crossed with wrinkles, she was the backbone of Saarah even at her ripe old age. It was believed that whatever she used to see wasn’t the future as it would inevitably be—yet she would foretell more than what would be necessary to guess what could be at hand, the outcomes of wars, the gender of an unborn child and other such events. More often than not, her house was lit by silver lamps that swung from the boughs of an ancient tree that screened her threshold— but when Nasteya and I reached, it was all dark. Not a single lamp had a flame. Weird, I thought!

With a knock at the door I called for her—‘We have come, Godmother. Come out, please.’

She yelled from inside, ‘No, don’t ask me, I won’t go anywhere, not for the celebrations. I sense that a cruel end draws nearer even as we talk. In the dark they will come and rob us out of our souls. No magic, no enchantments, not even Nasteya can help. You go celebrate the end. Go!’

Her voice trembled with fear. Why would she say that? I was speechless while Nasteya gave me a bemused look. No doubt he was getting irritated; Godmother was always irritating for him.

‘Your words scare me, Godmother, and so does your dark house. Why don’t you just tell us plainly what you foresaw and who is coming?’ I asked in a single breath.

‘Those hooded terrorists, the White Demons. Oh! I fear to speak such an evil name. The wolf is at the door, brawny, pitiless and immense. I mean my words, and nothing is alterable. No preparations will be any help…’ Her words made my hair stand on end.

‘Stupid old hag! It’s just one of her silly tricks to miss out on the feast, you know that very well Vasu. It is exactly what she did on my eighteenth birthday. This is no different from what she predicted that day. But who came, save some stray sentinels from the north-west? The celebrations were halted and Saarah stood prepared, heeding her meaningless words. She ruined the day and she is doing the same now!’ Nasteya murmured in my ear. Aloud, he said: ‘Let them come Godmother, I am well-trained to take care of them! If they stop by here, will you please point them to the palace? As they say, the more the merrier! Let’s go Vasu, leave her alone. Or you may also stay if you wish to.’ Nasteya could be a little over-confident at times. It could be his terrible mistake if Godmother’s prophecy materialised. But, I chose to heed Nasteya’s words, which were at least comforting. And he did make some sense taking into account Godmother’s previous pranks.

As we sped away down the hill and towards the palace, her voice followed us on the wind: ‘Be off for the last chapter of Saarah’s happy days! Enjoy, for one last time! Keep in mind Nasteya, you’ll be helpless. What I saw, sadly, is fixed…’

I was scared witless and tried hard to pay no heed to