this is the first chapter of the book The chronicle of Sapta Sindhu by Aporva kala

1. BOOK-1 CHAPTER-1
THE TOY-MAKER OF MESOPOTAMIA.
It would be a while when the city of Nineveh reclaims its lost glory.
Today it is a city in ruins.
The Assyrian rule had been brought to an ignominious end by the wild tribes of
North Africa, Caucasus, Balkan and those from Mount Urartu, near Lake Van.
The glory of the rule of Assyrians, which had reached its zenith under the
leadership of Tigleth Pileser during 1100BC, lay decimated as the Armenian,
Chaldean and the Sutean tribal hordes moved in.
For next hundred years it would be the Dark Age, until Neo-Assyrian rule would
be established by Adad Niran-the second.
But for hundred years the world would be in a state of turmoil.
Situated on the banks of the river Tigris, the city of Nineveh was encircled by the
remains of the great wall of the state of Mesopotamia, with baked bricks sprayed
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2. across the river bank forming an embankment of sorts. A few of these large bricks
lay like tombstone on the shallow banks of the river, still some lay like isolated
islands; in a heap, forming huge mounds, which the Ninevehians called the seat of
wisdom. Why they named them thus was not known, but these mounds, of them,
now, there were several, had become the part of the legend of the dying city,
which lay in ruins and the fallen wall symbolized the present day annihilation as
much as it reminded of the glorious past; a past of prosperity and peace, of arts
and literature, of music and dance, of prayers in the fire temples and of the
worship of Goddess Ishtar ; providing a secure life behind the huge walls of the
city, away from the attacks of the nomadic tribes from the central Asia ,the
Zagros mountains, the Caspian sea region or from the forests surrounding the
lake Van.
Now, the city state was under constant attacks from the Armeans, Chaldeans and
Suteans warriors, adding to the general chaos and the anarchy which follows
when the central power loses its hold over the constituent states of the empire;
like it happens when the thread from a bead is pulled out spraying the tiny pearls,
which dance, hide and stray about, until someone comes to bind them again.
The Empire of Mesopotamia waited upon someone to unite the warring states.
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3. Why it had to be NOW?
A boy, not of more than seventeen seasons, but looking more of a handsome, red
haired man, wondered. It disturbs my creation he complained to no one in
particular, as he scratched one of the baked bricks and ran his hands over the
marking, must be the Sapta-Sindhu inspired one, he concluded and threw it with a
jerk. It flew with a swishing sound and fell in the river with a splash. Damn, he
swore, only if I could make it to the land of Melhua –through which flow many a
rivers, where I could learn the fine art of terracotta, sculpturing, weaving and
molding and be at peace with myself. My mother, though , has something against
me and wants me to be a warrior, but my father is a pious soul, carrying on with
his task of a metal smith, sometimes he makes wonderful bronze statues, but his
supervisor doesn’t allow him that luxury. Now, the poor old man crafts swords for
the impending war or whatever.
As if I care!! But mother wants me to be a warrior…He rued.
The boy wore his ambition with a resolve as he jumped from the brick mound,
arranged his green cotton Caftan and a red dotted head gear, pulled out his sling
from his waistband and arranged a round stone on the sling’s goatskin headed
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4. belt. He aimed at the river waters, pulled the strap and released it with a jerk. The
stone flew with a swirl and danced over the waters seven times before
immersing.
‘Seven’. He shouted gaily.
He hurried through the bazaar which was crowded with buyers and their wares;
mostly hill men with sheep, goats, peacocks and rabbits, exchanging them for
wheat, rice, salt, pulses and palm Jaggery.
Some Gutians and Medes tribal warriors stood on a vigil at the street corners for
no particular reason, eyeing each other with contempt and rancor.
The boy ran the full distance of the narrow streets, when he was accosted by
Nirroon, his uncle; a shabby, shaky man with a humped back weighing his carcass
down.
‘Stop and give the old man some support, I can’t walk through the streets, too
crowded for my liking and the fear of attack by the Thugs from the hills and across
the lakes keep me indoors, good I met you, come hurry up we have to go to the
Souk for vegetables and oil, your mother has asked me to bring the things, she is
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5. cooking some delicacy.’ He caught the boy’s fluttering Caftan and spoke in a harsh
tone.
‘I have to bake a few of my toys; then the sun will be too hot.’ The boy countered
with his soft whisper as he struggled to free himself from his uncle’s grip.
‘What bloody toys-voys? Get on with life boy; at you age I was married and had a
few kids, a family to feed and you wander like a useless cad. No way would you
live a life of a spoil brat, come along and help me carry your mother’s orders.’
Nirroon hissed.
The boy succeeded in freeing himself and jogged through the street, then took a
detour, entered a dark alley and ran into a vegetable vendor. He swore on the
hapless seller and cried, ‘Uncle I am going to be a toy maker, then I would trade
my toys with the Greeks and the rulers of Anatolia, I will be rich and marry a girl
from the Himalayas, I have heard they are beautiful and fair….’.H is voice trailed
him.
That was the last time he saw his uncle, Nirroon, the brother of his father.
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6. It was also the last time he had rushed to his mother and pilfered her half cooked
millet balls.
It was the last time he would pray to the Lord Ahura Mazda, the one on whom
her dead mother had a blind faith.
When the boy woke up, all was lost, his parents and the small shanty which
doubled up as their house and workshop. People talked about the blast and in
hushed tones tales of his mother running a secret organization to overthrow the
tribal rulers and re-establish the Assyrian rule, were told. A secret service agent
from the South- West of Mesopotamia visited them and laid a floral wreath on
the dead bodies of his parents; on behalf of the Emperor-in-hiding; he had said.
The boy grieved for days, his face grew pale and his eyes sunk deep into the holes.
With haggard look the boy roamed about the streets of Nineveh, pleading with
whomsoever he laid his eye on, to search for his mother. He made little figurines
of clay and carried them close to his chest, claiming them to be her mother.
‘Till, one day, when I had wandered deep into the desert and lay on the warm
sands, clinging on to my last breath, I was dead and I could see my own lifeless
body …
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7. ‘Then….’ A crowd chorus arose.
‘Then what, my mother’s Rooh came to me and ….
‘Rooh?’ A gruff voice broke the pause.
‘Yes, indeed, a spirit of my mother came and put me to sleep.’ The boy seemed
pleased with his story-telling skill.
‘And what did the Rooh, ordered you?’ The captain asked.
‘To spread a smile on the Earth.’ The boy replied.
‘And how do you intend to carry on with ..uhh..spreading smiles across the
globe?’
‘By making toys.’ The boy said with a calm dignity.
‘Ha..ha..ha….When I picked you up, from the river banks you were as good as
dead, with Eagles and vultures keen to nibble on whatever flesh stuck to your
carcass. So, it happens, dear boy that I am your savior and hence you owe me a
favor for all those goodies I feed you with and of course for saving you from
certain death. ’
‘Was I dead?’ The boy asked. ‘How did I reach the river banks, I was…
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8. ‘I don’t know who brought you to the river banks, but boy, l know, and I know it
as a fact, that if you are alive it is nothing short of a miracle.’ The tall, shriveled
man replied.
‘Yes, the Captain speaks the truth, you were dead, but you were brought back by
the broth of Annaria, our head cook, who fed you the liquid through a bamboo
pipe, thrust down your throat.’ A tall, bearded man added. ‘Indeed you owe us
your life, Sonny, we are your saviors.’ He boasted.
‘I add to your numbers and in these times of distress, any extra hand is a
welcome addition; that dear Captain of the seven seas explains your benevolence
towards me. Now it seems I have fallen in the hands of a bunch of pirates?’ The
boy surveyed his surroundings.
It was a dilapidated boat on which he found himself, surrounded by tall, long
bearded and shabby men.
‘Of course, we are short of men. Now, in a few days you will have a toned body—
you see boy, good food and hard work are the best exercise one can undertake,
so I am assigning you to be an oarsman of this ship.’ The captain sneered. ‘But
rest assured and I give you my word on it, that we are no pirates but freedom
fighters.’
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9. ‘A ship!’ The boy cried. ‘This brig would disintegrate any time now.’
The man whom his men addressed as The Captain stared hard at him.
He was an old man of Ninety seasons with long silvery hairs and carried a scimitar,
engraved with strange faces and figures. A gold brocaded robe, which had lost its
shine but not its dignity hung loose on his frail figure. From the battle scared face,
though, his right eye shone like morning star; a black band covered his left eye.
‘I don’t know how I reached the banks, as I lost my consciousness in the
desert….and you say you found me….and my bag…how did you get my bag?’ The
boy asked.
‘It lay beside you when we found you among the ruins of the ill-fated wall.’ The
captain clarified. ‘What does it contain, some treasure of King Solomon?’ He
laughed hoarsely.
‘More than the entire treasure of the whole wide world of yours, Captain, it
contains my dream which I am keen to make my destiny. My mother…’
‘So, here we have one more of the tribe who dreams..ha..ha..ha…good one young
boy, at your age one can, but once you wake up you will find that you belong to a
category of slaves. But I would be fair with you, once we reach the ports of
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10. Suktagot dor, in the lands of Melhua, I would set you free and even help you get
immigration clearance, if you need it; that of course comes with a condition; if we
are able to complete our voyage, you see, this ship of ours is in its last rites. So
you can pray.’ The Captain stood up from the wooden plank on which he sat like a
King and caught hold of the dangling rope to climb up to the boat’s floor.
The boy struggled to get up but found his feet tied to an iron chain.
‘Hey..Captain..free me and I would prove that I have much more than to be a
mere slave in your ship ; I believe in my skill and art and I can repair
your..er..er….Brig..Ship…or whatever.’ The boy challenged him.
The captain continued his climb up to the deck, leaving the boy in the dark, dingy
hull of the boat. His loyal followers followed him.
‘Meer, should we free him o..r?’ He asked.
‘We do need a clown on this ship; the boy is a natural story-teller, a good comic
relief for our men.’ Meer grinned.
‘Ah..Hmm….’The boy has guts, the captain smiled and he has an instinct for
survival, like a well bred. He was as good as gone, lying under the killing sun, for
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11. god knows how many days and yet he hung on to life; good for him if he did. The
Rooh would be none other than Lord Ahura Mazada.
He rushed back to the Brig’s hold and shouted ‘Hey boy, that day Ahura himself
visited you through the Rooh and saved your life. Now pray and remember your
destiny is to be a slave and no more, uh..toy-maker, my foot.’
‘If it was HE, who saved me through a Rooh, then be assured I would make my
own destiny by following my dreams, I am blessed by HIM, of whom you talk with
such praise and piety.’ The boy shouted back. ‘And Captain, the Rooh was none
other than my mother, she is the God I believe in and not on your Ahura…’The
sobs of the boy reverberated in the hold, where he lay in the dark among rusted
arms, bags of cereals and decomposing vegetables.
But deep down he knew that he would have to use all his common sense to get
out of this mess. It was good the ship was sailing to the lands of Melhua, Ah!
Sheer luck! But what if the ship capsized before reaching the ports?
His sixth sense warded a greater danger. Horded of Gueitean pirates run amuck in
the gulf and on the waters of the Paschim Samudra. It would be high tides,
making it tough to navigate. He wiped his tears and pulled out his bag, he laid it
empty on the floor of the ship and surveyed its contents. A few round stones, a
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12. box of cotton strings and sewing needles, a chiseler, some other tiny tools gifted
by his father, an amulet and a few figs, dates and almonds. Oh! Mother, tears
reappeared on his innocent eyes, as he mumbled a prayer and then wore the
amulet on his neck.
And, dear Captain, the Rooh, of my mother, who had come to save me when I lay
dead, would come again to save me from your clutches.
Old man, you are wrong, one day I would be a Great Toy-maker, he smiled; his
mind working up one solution after another, till he reached the one which he was
looking for.
He kissed the amulet and looked upwards, praying silently to his mother.
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