‘If this is the border province, how perfect must the rest of the country be?’ whispered Shiva in awe.

The Dal Lake was the site of an ancient army camp of the Meluhans. Upon the western banks of the lake, by the side of the Jhelum lay the frontier town that had grown beyond its simple encampments into the grand Srinagar. Literally, the ‘respected city’.

Srinagar had been raised upon a massive platform of almost a hundred hectares in size. The platform built of earth, towered almost five metres high. On top of the platform were the city walls, which were another twenty metres in height and four metres thick. The simplicity and brilliance of building an entire city on a platform astounded the Gunas. It was a strong protection against enemies who would have to fight up a fort wall which was essentially solid ground. The platform served another vital purpose: it raised the ground level of the city, an extremely effective strategy against the recurrent floods in this land. Inside the fort walls, the city was divided into blocks by roads laid out in a neat grid pattern. It had specially constructed market areas, temples, gardens, meeting halls and everything else that would be required for sophisticated urban living. All the houses looked like simple multiple-storeyed block structures from the outside. The only way to differentiate a rich man’s house was that his block would be bigger.

In contrast to the extravagant natural landscape of Kashmir, the city of Srinagar itself was painted only in restrained greys, blues and whites. The entire city was a picture of cleanliness, order and sobriety. Nearly twenty thousand souls called Srinagar their home. Now an additional two hundred had just arrived from Mount Kailash. And their leader felt a lightness of being he hadn’t experienced since that terrible day, many years ago.

I have escaped. I can make a new beginning. I can forget.

The caravan travelled to the immigrant camp outside Srinagar. The camp had been built on a separate platform on the southern side of the city. Nandi led Shiva and his tribe to the Foreigners’ Office, which was placed just outside the camp. Nandi requested Shiva to wait outside as he went into the office. He soon returned, accompanied by a young official. The official gave a practised smile and folded his hands in a formal namaste. ‘Welcome to Meluha. I am Chitraangadh. I will be your Orientation Executive. Think of me as your single point of contact for all issues whilst you are here. I believe your leader’s name is Shiva. Will he step up please?’

Shiva took a step forward. ‘I am Shiva.’

‘Excellent,’ said Chitraangadh. ‘Would you be so kind as to follow me to the registration desk please? You will be registered as the caretaker of your tribe. Any communication that concerns them will go through you. Since you are the designated leader, the implementation of all directives within your tribe would be your responsibility’

Nandi cut into Chitraangadh’s officious speech to tell Shiva, ‘Sir, if you will just excuse me, I will go to the immigrant camp quarters and arrange the temporary living arrangements for your tribe.’

Shiva noticed that Chitraangadh’s ever-beaming face had lost its smile for a fraction of a second as Nandi interrupted his flow. But he recovered quickly and the smile returned to his face once again. Shiva turned and looked at Nandi.

‘Of course, you may. You don’t need to take my permission, Nandi,’ said Shiva. ‘But in return, you have to promise me something, my friend.’

‘Of course, Sir,’ replied Nandi bowing slightly.

‘Call me Shiva. Not Sir,’ grinned Shiva. ‘I am your friend. Not your Chief.’

A surprised Nandi looked up, bowed again and said, ‘Yes Sir. I mean, yes, Shiva.’

Shiva turned back to Chitraangadh, whose smile for some reason appeared more genuine now. He said, ‘Well Shiva, if you will follow me to the registration desk, we will complete the formalities quickly.’

The newly registered tribe reached the residential quarters in the immigration camp, to see Nandi waiting outside the main gates; he led them in. The roads of the camp were just like those of Srinagar. They were laid out in a neat north-south and east-west grid. The carefully paved footpaths contrasted sharply with the dirt tracks in Shiva’s own land. He noticed something strange about the road though.

‘Nandi, what are those differently coloured stones running through the centre of the road?’ asked Shiva.

‘They cover the underground drains, Shiva. The drains take all the waste water of the camp out. It ensures that the camp remains clean and hygienic’

Shiva marvelled at the almost obsessively meticulous planning of the Meluhans.

The Gunas reached the large building that had been assigned to them. For the umpteenth time, they thanked the wisdom of their leader in deciding to come to Meluha. The three—storeyed building had comfortable, separate living quarters for each family. Each room had luxurious furniture including a highly polished copper plate on the wall on which they could see their reflection. The rooms had clean linen bed sheets, towels and even some clothes. Feeling the cloth, a bewildered Shiva asked, ‘What is this material?’

Chitraangadh replied enthusiastically, ‘It’s cotton, Shiva. The plant is grown in our lands and fashioned into the cloth that you hold.’

There was a broad picture window on each wall to allow the light and the warmth of the sun. Notches on each wall supported a metal rod with a controlled flame on top for lighting. Each room had an attached bathroom with a sloping floor that enabled the water to flow naturally to a hole which drained it out. At the right end of each bathroom was a paved basin on the ground which culminated in a large hole. The purpose of this contraption was a mystery to the tribe. The side walls had some kind of device, which when turned, allowed water to flow through.

‘Magic!’ whispered Bhadra’s mother.

Beside the main door of the building was an attached house. A doctor and her nurses walked out of the house to greet Shiva. The doctor, a petite, wheat-skinned woman was dressed in a simple white cloth tied around her waist and legs in a style the Meluhans called dhoti. A smaller white cloth was tied as a blouse around her chest while another cloth called an angvastram was draped over her shoulders. The centre of her forehead bore a white dot. Her head had been shaved clean except for a knotted tuft of hair at the back, called a choti. A loose string called a janau was tied down from her left shoulder across her torso to the right side.

Nandi was genuinely starded at seeing her. With a reverential namaste, he said, ‘Lady Ayurvati! I didn’t expect a doctor of your stature here.’

Ayurvati looked at Nandi with a smile and a polite namaste. ‘I strongly believe in the field-work experience programme, Captain. My team follows it strictly. However, I am terribly sorry but I didn’t recognise you. Have we met before?’

‘My name is Captain Nandi, my lady,’ answered Nandi. We haven’t met but who doesn’t know you, the greatest doctor in the land?’

‘Thank you, Captain Nandi,’ said a visibly embarrassed Ayurvati. ‘But I think you exaggerate. There are many far superior to me.’ Turning quickly towards Shiva, Ayurvati continued, ‘Welcome to Meluha. I am Ayurvati, your designated doctor. My nurses and I will be at your assistance for the time that you are in these quarters.’

Hearing no reaction from Shiva, Chitraangadh said in his most earnest voice, ‘These are just temporary quarters, Shiva. The actual houses that will be allocated to your tribe will be much more comfortable. You have to stay here only for the period of the quarantine which will not last more than seven days.’