Pralay- The Great Deluge Read online

  Published by VB Performance LLP in 2018

  Copyright © VB Performance LLP, 2018

  All Rights Reserved

  Vineet Bajpai asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this book.

  This is a work of pure fiction. Names, characters, places, institutions and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance of any kind to any actual person living or dead, events and places is entirely coincidental. The publisher and the author will not be responsible for any action taken by a reader based on the content of this book. This work does not aim to hurt the sentiment of any religion, class, sect, region, nationality or gender.

  PRALAY

  THE GREAT DELUGE

  ISBN : 9788193642405

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser and without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, physical, scanned, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations (not exceeding 200 words) embodied in critical articles or reviews with appropriate citations.

  Published by

  VB Performance LLP

  Sector 93A, Noida,

  Uttar Pradesh - 201304, India

  Email - [email protected]

  www.VineetBajpai.com

  Printed and Bound in India by

  Gopsons Papers Ltd.

  A-2 Sector 64, Noida - 201307, India

  Cover Design by

  Munisha Nanda

  To

  Vedika, Aditi & Vandita

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  DISCLAIMER

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  THE STORY SO FAR…

  DASHAVATARA

  PROLOGUE

  Somewhere near Rome, 2017: ‘DO YOU BELIEVE IT IS REALLY HIM?’

  HARAPPA, 1700 BCE: RAIN OF BLOOD

  Banaras, 2017: MRITYUNJAYA

  East of Harappa, 1700 BCE: ‘THESE DROPS OF WATER… I OWE YOU ’

  Banaras, 2017: BATTLE OF THE EXORCISTS

  Banks of the Indus, West of Harappa, 1700 BCE: A-SURA

  Banaras, 2017: BRAHMA RAAKSHASA

  Bithynian City (Modern-day Turkey), 325 AD: THE COUNCIL OF NICAEA

  East of Harappa, 1700 BCE: MAA…

  Banaras, 2017: THOSE MEN IN WHITE ROBES

  Banks of the Indus, West of Harappa, 1700 BCE: THE DEATH OF EVERY SON

  Banaras, 2017: TRIJAT KAPAALIK

  East of Harappa, 1700 BCE: THE GREATEST KING

  Banaras, 2017: KAPAAL ARPAN

  Harappa, 1700 BCE: THE MOUNTAINS OF MAYHEM

  Banaras, 2017: ‘WE MADE HIM A MONSTER’

  East of Harappa, 1700 BCE: THE BLACK TEMPLE

  Banaras, 2017: CONSTANTINE

  Harappa, 1700 BCE: HIS GREATEST SIN

  Banaras, 2017: THE NEW WORLD ORDER

  East of Harappa, 1700 BCE: PRALAY

  Banaras, 2017: THE DARK BROTHERHOODS

  Manhattan, New York City, 2017: ‘EVEN DEATH IS AFRAID OF THE WHITE MASK’

  Harappa, 1700 BCE: RITE OF THE BLUE FIRE

  Banaras, 2017: VIDYUT

  East of Harappa, 1700 BCE: THE DEBT

  Banaras, 2017: THE DARK BROTHERHOODS- PART II

  Harappa, 1700 BCE: CURSE OF THE BLOOD RIVER

  Banaras, 2017: REVENGE

  East of Harappa, 1700 BCE: ‘ITS LEGEND WILL REMAIN IMMORTAL’

  Banaras, 2017: THE LOST CIVILIZATION

  Harappa, 1700 BCE: SON AFTER SON, GENERATION AFTER GENERATION

  Banaras, 2017: THE DARK BROTHERHOODS- PART III

  Harappa, 1700 BCE: THE LAST PRINCESS OF MOHENJO-DARO

  Banaras, 2017: ‘TRIJAT WILL WAKE THE DEAD’

  East of Harappa, 1700 BCE: SATARUPA

  Banaras, 2017: RAKTBEEJ ANUSHTTHAN

  Harappa, 1700 BCE: EMPEROR OF THE BADLANDS

  Banaras, 2017: THE GREAT DWARKA SHASTRI

  East of Harappa, 1700 BCE: ‘YOU PASSED THE TEST’

  Banaras, 2017: ‘THEY WERE HIS DISCIPLES’

  Harappa, 1700 BCE: THE LAST SAPTARISHI

  Outskirts of Banaras, 2017: KAALCHAKRA

  East of Harappa, 1700 BCE: SATYAVRATA MANU

  Outskirts of Banaras, 2017: A HUNDRED RITUAL PITS

  Harappa, 1700 BCE: THE DEVTA OF HARAPPA

  Outskirts of Banaras, 2017: PAATAAL

  East of Harappa, 1700 BCE: MANU’S ARK

  Harappa, 1700 BCE: VIVASVAN PUJARI

  Outskirts of Banaras, 2017: DEV-BALI - THE SACRIFICE OF A GOD

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  DISCLAIMER

  This novel is a work of pure imagination and fiction, written with the sole intention of entertaining the reader. While the content has several references to various religions, historical events, institutions, beliefs and myths, it is all presented with the only purpose of making a fictional story richer and more intriguing. The author is a believer in all faiths and religions, and respects them equally and deeply. He makes no claim to the correctness and veracity of any historical or mythological or contextual references used in the story.

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  The Dalai Lama once said, ‘Great love and great achievements involve great risk.’ Can’t say about the achievements yet, but his point about great love is beginning to make sense to me. And that is because of the tens of thousands of readers of Harappa.

  I wrote Harappa with creative abandon, penning down what my heart chose to. While I had written three business books in the past, Harappa was my first fiction novel. Therefore, I did not know what to expect from it. So I wrote with speed, courage and freedom. With the blessings of Maa Saraswati, the Goddess of Talent & Wisdom, the result was a book that made its way deep into the hearts of its readers.

  Harappa became an instant bestseller. To my delight and gratitude, I was inundated with emails, Facebook messages and tweets, and surrounded by people at literature festivals – thousands of readers expressing their adoration for the book, its characters and its intensity. It has been one of the most fulfilling times of my life.

  However, like Bruce Springsteen once said, ‘Sustaining an audience is hard. It demands a consistency of thought, of purpose, and of action...’. When I began writing the sequel Pralay, the chains of love were tying me down. The love showered on me by my readers. It was then that it dawned upon me that Pralay will now have to live up to the expectations of all those wonderful people. That was my Everest to climb.

  The book you hold in your hands has been written with a deep sense of affection and responsibility towards you - my reader. I sincerely hope you enjoy it as much as you appreciated Harappa.

  And please keep sending the emails, the tweets, the online reviews and the Facebook messages. They are my fuel.

  Utthishtha!

  Rise.

  Vineet Bajpai

  THE STORY SO FAR...

  Harappa, 1700 BCE – The devta of Harappa, the mighty Vivasvan Pujari, who has been revered for decades as the Surya of Harappa, is ambushed in a ruthless betrayal. His trusted friend and brother-in-law, the wise Pundit Chandradhar, succumbs to the malicious greed of Priyamvada - his beautiful wife, the Princess of Mohenjo-daro. Three blind black magicians from Mesopotamia, Gun, Sha and Ap arrive in Harappa at the invitation of Priyamvada and her evil man-at-arms, Ra
nga. The dark wizards poison the water sources of the city with their concoctions, driving its entire populace insane and violent.

  In the midst of the chaos, Vivasvan Pujari is indicted in a false accusation of the murder of Nayantara, Harappa’s most famous exotic dancer. The devta of Harappa is condemned to the mrit-kaaraavaas or the dungeons of the dead. His valiant son, the young Manu, joins forces with Pundit Somdutt, the chief architect of Harappa and the last remaining friend of Vivasvan Pujari. In the battle that ensues, Manu kills the vile Ranga in a spectacular duel. At the same time, the River of the Wise, the Saraswati, rises in unnatural and ominous spate, threatening to devour the whole of the Harappan civilization. Astronomers predict imminent doomsday. The devta’s gracious wife and Manu’s mother, Sanjna, becomes the target of the arrows of manic Harappan soldiers and breathes her last on the battlefield, dying in her son’s arms. At the behest of Somdutt, and his closest friend, the beautiful Tara, Manu rides out into the mist with his mother’s body in his lap. But even as he gallops into the haze, poison tipped arrows tear into the handsome Manu’s back and neck.

  The devta of Harappa is dragged and tortured like an animal in the Great Bath of Harappa. He is skinned by the mad soldiers, pelted with stones and spat upon by the maniacal citizens of the once glowing metropolis. The devta, the Surya of Harappa – Vivasvan Pujari - swears vengeance. A man once known for his glowing and God-like appearance now looks ghastlier than the Devil himself. He looks up at the sky and screams out his last, bloodcurdling words to the masses of Harappa -

  ‘Listen, you who are already dead. Listen, you congregation of corpses. Listen, you fools.

  I am half-human, half-God!’

  Banaras, 2017 (present day) – Dwarka Shastri, the 108 year-old mystic leader of the Dev-Raakshasa Matth (God-Demon Clan) located in the ancient city of Banaras, is on his deathbed. He summons his highly successful, unusually handsome and supremely talented great grandson - the magnificent Vidyut to the matth. Before his departure from Gurgaon, Vidyut confesses to his beloved partner Damini and to his best friend Bala that he hails from an ancient and mystical bloodline of devtas. Upon reaching Banaras, Vidyut discovers that his arrival had been awaited for centuries. Among other loved ones like Purohit ji, Balvanta – the war General of the matth, and Govardhan - the clan’s physician, Vidyut also meets his childhood friend Naina. Naina has grown up to be an indescribably beautiful young woman, and Vidyut feels an inexplicable, magnetic attraction towards her.

  The great matthadheesh Dwarka Shastri reveals to Vidyut that their bloodline was the bearer of a primordial curse. And that Vidyut was the last devta, the prophesied saviour – not just of his own bloodline, of the matth or of Banaras – but of all of humankind. Just as Vidyut sets foot in Banaras, a mysterious man called Reg Mariani has a meeting in Paris with someone who is known not by his name but by his title – the Maschera Bianca. Reg hands over a note from his own superior, the Big Man, to the Maschera. The note has five words inscribed on it – ‘Kill that bloody Aryan boy!’ The Maschera Bianca or the White Mask is Europe’s most dreaded crime-lord. An innocent looking yet masterful assassin named Romi Pereira arrives in Banaras.

  The great Dwarka Shastri narrates the haunting story of Harappa to Vidyut, along with how a dark conspiracy hid the truth of the metropolis forever from Indians. He elucidates how the East India Company blew up the most precious remains of the lost civilization and deprived the sub-continent of its true, ancient glory. But most unexpectedly, the matthadheesh reveals to Vidyut that he is none other than the great Vivasvan Pujari – reincarnated 3,700 years later... to fulfill his ultimate destiny.

  Events unfold rapidly including a daring but failed attempt on Vidyut’s life, a magical moment where Naina presses her lips on those of a smitten Vidyut, the bubbly arrival of Damini at the matth, and an open invitation to the last devta by Romi - for a final confrontation on the Dashashwamedh ghaat. Ridden with suspicion directed at Naina, Vidyut unleashes himself on the mercenaries sent for him by the same veiled overlords who had hired Romi. Vidyut vanquishes the mercenaries singlehandedly, but not before getting shot at by his most trusted friend – Bala. Bala is captured, and the devta then goes after Romi across the dark ghaats of nighttime Banaras. The sophisticated assassin is held captive by Vidyut and bites into potassium cyanide – in his dying moments informing Vidyut that a force called the New World Order was coming for him...and for all of mankind.

  DASHAVATARA

  Dashavatara (daśāvatāra) refers to the ten divine avatars of Lord Vishnu, the God of preservation. According to Hindu mythology, Lord Vishnu descends upon this Earth time and again in the form of an omnipotent avatar, to restore cosmic order and establish the dominance of good over evil.

  Matsya

  (The Mighty Fish that salvaged all Creation)

  Kurma

  (The Turtle that helped churn the oceans for the nectar of immortality)

  Varaha

  (The Wild Boar that saved the Earth from drowning)

  Narsimha

  (The Half-human, Half-beast that slew an invincible demon)

  Vamana

  (The Dwarf who reclaimed two worlds)

  Parashurama

  (The Immortal Sage – the slayer of tyrants)

  Rama

  (The Prince of Ayodhya, the ideal man)

  Krishna

  (Warrior, lover, musician, statesman, creator, preserver & destroyer)

  Buddha

  (The Enlightened One)

  Kalki

  (The final avatar, the bearer of the blazing sword, the awaited...

  the dreaded...)

  PROLOGUE

  ‘They are all going to die...’ mumbled Manu to himself. ‘And I will die with them.’

  These desperate souls, these young men and women, the infants, the old and the destitute, this entire collective that I promised to protect forever, will be crushed like ants.

  Manu now realized the ghastly reality of his daring enterprise fully for the first time. Till this horrifying moment of truth, he had been way too immersed in carrying out the bizarre yet fateful commandment of the mystical Master of the ocean-tribe.

  The fiery young leader of this nearly deranged, ragtag architectural force froze as he saw the gigantic vessel tilt beyond the endurance of the twenty thousand jute chords and tree-vines holding it aloft. The violent, monstrous waves of the river-sea were pounding on the biggest ship mankind had ever built. And the vicious flood was going to sink it.

  Does this murderous deluge know what irreplaceable cargo this last boat carries?

  That the final, universally destructive flood was incoming was not hard to tell. The dark, reddish-purple clouds, that appeared like some insane celestial painter had dyed the skies with the color of stale blood, enveloped all of known Earth. The maddening roar of Indra’s thunder and the unnatural tempest of violently lashing rain had now announced the apocalypse, the final end. Droplets the size of tiger fangs were falling from the skies, transforming into a piercing shower of agonizing water-arrows as they struck Manu and his devoted followers. Every drop hitting the skin of the Manu-Shishyas or Manushyas was like an invisible spear penetrating through. What this militia of valiant men and women was trying to tug at and balance on the furious waters was not a regular boat anyway.

  It was the last boat. Not the last boat from a harbour. Not the last boat of a fleet. Not the last vessel to leave a port for the season or a sailor rowing away for the night.

  It was the last boat for creation itself. It was the nauka (boat) where Prithvi (Mother Earth) herself was going to take refuge. Along with the seeds of all her flock.

  It was the great warrior, priest, ascetic, philosopher and king

  Manu’s ultimate deliverance.

  It was his ark.

  Manu’s Ark.

  The fearless struggle of over one hundred thousand men and women against a vessel, the expanse of which even the Gods could not imagine, was a spectacle that had never been seen before
on the planet. And would never be seen after, even till the end of time. Manu’s gigantic ark was the size of a glorious city. But its purpose was the noblest that mankind could ever fathom.

  It was a doorway. The only bridge of continuity. From a decaying ancient world...to the new dawn of resurrection. It embodied a fierce contest between Armageddon at the behest of nature and the survival instinct of man. Humanity was not going to perish without a fight – a fight that even the heavens would remember. But despite this heroic endeavor, a lot was going to be lost. Eons of precious and irreplaceable wisdom acquired by the human race was not going to pass through this portal of sorts between different universes, even though it was all going to unfold on the same planet. Ancient alchemy, medicine, aviation, occult sciences, architecture, weaponry and spirituality were all going to disappear forever, drowning in the aftermath of the great deluge, to the bottom of the mighty oceans in spate.

  And yet the Ark was the last ray of hope for life, as Aryavarta knew it. Much as Man is dumbfounded by God’s profound conceptions like the stars, the galaxies and the constellations being the symbols of His divine workmanship, the greatest of the Lord’s creations is undoubtedly life. Magnificent, resilient...life. Beings that feel pain, give birth, weep tears and love boundlessly. Beings that mirror the image of the Gods themselves. And it was this creation that needed to be saved.

  Above all.

  The thick, twisted, drenched ropes and vines were now cutting into the arms, necks and flesh of Manu’s militia. The tearing force exerted by the ropes, harnessing the toppling boat as big as a floating city, was breaking their fingers, dislocating their shoulders and ripping into their forearms and biceps. Men, women and children fought on alike against the formidable onslaught of the unimaginable weight of their adversary. They were all made of destructible blood and bones, whereas the Nauka was made of heavy wood, reinforced copper and rock-stone – so enormous that the people pulling the ropes in the water could not even get a glimpse of the mast of this massive vessel, even if they looked straight up at the grotesque skies.