Condemned Gods of Darrah Pir

30 kms north-west of our modern capital city, at the foot of great mountains lies the ruins of an ancient city, capital of an empire and the center of a great civilization that thrived on those hills some 2500 years ago. The locals call the site “Darrah Pir”.

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The siege continued, it continued for a incalculable period of time, it might be days, month, years … it might be centuries,.. The invaders, those barbarous tribes from north, seemed unstoppable, better horsemen and frighteningly effective with swords, one by one they conquered all major cities of the empire, sacked the imperial army in open field a few miles away before the last siege of the capital.

Those were definitely hard times, being cut off from its supplies, the once peaceful and adorned capital of the empire had turned into a ghost valley, and as the siege continued unprecedented fears grew among citizens, – the empire collapsed, the army sacked, soon the capital will fall too.

In a sad winter evening the king and his 11 years old son, the crown prince, were ascending the stairs of eastern tower of the city wall, as they reached the balcony the father and son stood by northern window. There was some thing appealingly sad in the environment, the sun was setting, the sky was cloudy, not a single star was visible, trees, walls and houses all were engulfed in a thick layer of darkness. To the farthest end they saw enemy camps with leaping flames of food cooking, soldiers were sporting and jubilating, their dark shadows are visible from that far a view, the festive mood of their merriment presented such a sorry contrast to the deadly silence of the city that saddened the boy.

At last sensing the burden of silence father opened his lips. Waving his hand pointlessly to the vast marshy valley ahead, he observed in a monotonic voice.

“Son, this was the place where our forefathers laid their camps before founding the capital, and here when the first stones of the city were laid who could imagine that it would be the capital of the great empire that will hold strong foot on trade routes to middle east and beyond and the access to the fertile basin of “Great River”, from here our ancestors extended their control over the mountainous tribesmen and even to vassals in southern lowlands. Mighty warriors and great administrators they were, bestowed by gods and acclaimed by their subjects; they ascend the throne with a divine right to rule and join the heavenly court of gods in posthumous life. Those were the king-gods of our ancestry”

At that moment the bells in the majestic temple of Nephu tolled for the evening service. The father and son turned their eyes to the center of the city where two majestic constructions stood side by side, the royal palace and the temple of Nephu. The majestic dome of the great altar shimmered with a dramatic glow in the bright of dying sun, priest and nobles gathered in the large corridors of the temple where fabulous idols carved in the shape of the ancestors of the ruling dynasty stood beside the deities of empire, and the ashes of their bones kept in large jars placed carefully by the walls. Nobles and priests used to wax it on their bodies as a thanks giving gesture for the bounties their gods and kings procured for them through centuries of war and trade booty. But this time it was not so vigorously done as it used to be but with a passive fulfillment of some thing which is inevitable and divinely ordained.

Watching this lifeless procession one could not but be astonished at how clearly yet invisibly the fate of the city was written on the faces of its citizens. The ceremony ended and the bells tolled again, this time in more pitiable manner, a worthless show that the gods of the empire had not abandoned its capital yet.

As the king turned to the prince, his eyes showed a journey through distant centuries to a history of migration, wars, conquests and glory, which dwelled in foregone memory.

He put his hand on the shoulder of the child and said

“Promise me one thing son”

The boy felt the grievance of his voice and replied

“What promise father”

“That you will restore our empire”

“I promise to restore the empire”

“That you will fight till the end and uplift the name of your ancestors, promise that you will die a king with an empire as large as your forefathers”

“I promise father”

The king embraced the boy and after a pause continued in a low whisper

“You must leave tonight”

“But where? Why?”

“To Nekau, the oracle says it, at the altar of Nephu and I had it in three consecutive nights. It says that we are at the bad turn of Chakra, the circle, and our empire will be perished …. our temples will be plundered and the ashes of our ancestors will be blown to dust, all to be dead ….” he continued with an expression of privately endured suffering. “But there will be one last soul that will be saved and escaped from chaos, only to avenge our defeat and restore the empire. And that soul is you my son, the heir of the throne … and therefore you must leave before the fall of the city”

The boy agitated, he was certainly in great pains.

“Father, if this is the bad turn of chakra than I shall last with you here in the city”

“No son it is the destiny that you should follow, and we should submit to the will of gods, I have made all the arrangements”

It was hard for the little boy to resolve but the persistence of the king made its way, “Our vassals in Nekau are the ones we can trust most in these maters, for many generations their royal family gave their daughters in marriage to our sons as a token of their submission, and for you I have asked the hand of the daughter of their king with a place in his court which he has accepted, he has also got the permission for your passage through enemy siege. There you can stay till the time when you ascend the throne of Nekau and come back to restore our kingdom as the revelation says.”

The boy nodded his head in weak affirmation; his large beautiful eyes were filled with tears.

At the night fall the members of royal family and the prestigious wazirs of the court assembled at city gate to say their last farewell to the prince. A sorry departure it was. The mother almost invalid by the grief, hugged the son tenderly and pressed him to her breast, his two younger sisters were peeping out from their royal chariot, the king tried hard to conceal the shadows of mortal agony, he was staring motionlessly up at the city walls with those same dim, wavering, watery eyes that characterized his appearance in eastern tower. But here he gave the impression of being more shattered; and then – as though it cost him a mighty effort – he at last resolved to give his son the idols of two guardians from under world, taller one the protector from every form of death except fire and the smaller one the protector from all calamities of fire.

Finally the royal guards took charge and the carriage started trotting to the jungle soon to be vanished in the darkness. With heavy hearts and mechanical steps the crowd marched to their retiring chambers.

In the darkness of forest ahead, usually peaceful at night an escort was going by a ceaseless procession of men and horses, with such a passive trot that the leaves of the surrounding pine trees shook imperceptibly. They are heading towards Nekau, where a bride and a crown were waiting for the young prince.

The boy stared out in heavy gloom and summoned the commander of the guards.

“Tell me Hakor! Will you serve me in Nekau?”

“To the death my lord”

The boy leaned back satisfactorily, he placed the idols on his chest and closed the eyes, at that time he wondered about the home he was forced to leave and a new place where he has to find the destiny not for an individual but for a kingdom.

“I will come back”

He mumbled in half sleep.

Poor child!... did not know that it was a trap, that the king of Nekau betrayed his father, and there was an enemy ambush waiting for him in deep forest. It was in a flash of time, the attack was so quick that none of the guards had a chance of slight resistance; all of them fell in defending the prince. The boy was in deep slumber, he shuddered awake and sat up in darkness. Where on earth was he? What could account for the unending turmoil that interrupted his sleep? a split second later an enemy soldier entered the carriage and drag the child out by hairs, he kicked him to the ground, the two idols fell and lost in dirt, the soldier hulled him to the mound and laid him there, facing a view to the capital.

The sight of the city, his home was before the poor lad, he could even hear the bells of grand temple tolling in service -they are praying for his safe journey - and his father’s private chamber was still lighted, the boy could identify the shadowy figure behind light curtains, surely the king wished munifience on his son so that the empire might be restored. “On, on my son!” He seemed to be biding him “On, with never a glance over your shoulder! On through the rain and mud to Nekau! On, On my son! Touch the heart of whole wide world and fill it with admiration and awe if you would win throne for your descendants!”

The boy’s last cry was for help.

History has no record of the following events, it is only known that the city was soon fallen to enemy forces; whether after a peaceful surrender or a fierce bloodshed, no body knows. The conquerors set the city to fire as professed by the oracle and abandoned it for ever, but they ruled the entire region before their conversion to the faith.

And still today, in winter evenings, when a traveler walks through the rocky slopes of Darrah Pir and reach the pine clad mound; the chill in the air from the distant snow caped mountains whistles in ears like the sobs of a dying prince calling his gods desperately for help.