Lord of the Living Ring

By Beldeu Singh

LORD OF THE LIVING RING is an amazing story of a young couple who fell in love at a bazaar at the foothills of the Himalayas.

Set in the 18th Century, the story also unfolds a Legend of a Sorceress who was defeated by a Saint.

........Is it a Story of Love or a Story On Love?......or.....Is it a Story of Good over Evil?......or ..... Is it about something more profound about Life On Earth ??? Read the book to find out !!!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Oct 19, 2005
• ISBN: 9781467023931

Beldeu Singh

ABOUT THE AUTHOR   Beldeu Singh grew up in the outskirts of a small town. He enjoyed an active and extremely happy childhood and wonderful teen years. Growing up was carefree and sometimes like all the positive experiences of Tom Sawyer, including building the tree house in the jungle and fishing in the rice fields.   He went on to complete the Masters degree in Physical Anthropology and continues to enjoy reading on other cultures as well including tribal medicine and practices, comparative religion and remains deeply interested in spirituality.   He enjoyed his corporate career until his boss left the company. He left his job after he found his new boss incompetent and utterly without the skill to bring out the best in people and without the skill to chart the business direction or build new business platforms. Nevertheless, his interest in insurance remained as active as always and he published his book titled “Insurance Law Manual - The Authoritative Guide”. He continues to write articles on law, management and marketing and in support of whistleblowers who contribute so much to the good in society.   He enjoys work in training and development, particularly in training design and workshop structure so that participants can contribute positively to their workplace and add value to their output. Occasionally, he is called to conduct training at institutions and colleges.   He has a special interest in paradigms and paradigm shifts, new product development, creating revolutions in business, cellular biochemistry, antioxidants and free radical damage and oxidative stress in disease conditions and aging.

Book preview

2005 Beldeu Singh. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 07/31/2015

ISBN: 978-1-4208-8526-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4670-2393-1 (ebook)

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

Nascent Love

CHAPTER TWO

Anarkali Comes Back

CHAPTER THREE

The Hearth And The Second Meeting

CHAPTER FOUR

Blitheful Love And Marriage

CHAPTER FIVE

Mundri’s Mother-in-law

CHAPTER SIX

Running A way From Home

CHAPTER SEVEN

The Horoscope Tells Of Reincarnation

CHAPTER EIGHT

The Enchanted Pottery

CHAPTER NINE

The Sermon On Love

CHAPTER TEN

Crossing The Himalayas

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Porus Meets Rabakh

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Lord Of The Living Ring Gives A Son

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The Clay Statues

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

In Search Of The Temple Of The Lord Of The Living Ring

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The Attainment And The Resurrection

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The Battle With The Ghoullyphs And The Sorceress

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Porus And Mundri Return To Their Village

CHAPTER ONE

Nascent Love

She was a twenty-four year old woman who was endowed with feminine fullness. She was a woman in love and a woman very devoted to her husband. After six years of marriage, Mundri and Porus were running away from home on two beautiful horses, a stallion and a brown mare.

Theirs was an arranged marriage, but not really so. At the age of eighteen, Porus had accompanied his father to the Mandi, which was a central bazaar at the foothills of the Himalayas. Villagers from the plains brought wheat on bullock carts to exchange for other items like salt and spices or sell the wheat for money. The hill people came from their villagers to sell fruits and vegetables which they brought on pack horses and mules.

Porus was a bright young man who computed very fast by moving his thumb on the phalanx of his fingers much like an abacus. His father usually brought him along to learn and help him in his trade. He amazed his father one day, when a few horse traders came to his village, which nestled on the side of a hill. The village was surrounded by orchards and vegetable farms.

Each fine animal is twenty-three pieces of copper and I have eleven to sell, said the burly horse tradesman. How much is that? asked Porus’s father. While the horse trader was figuring the total with his left hand lost in his thick beard, Porus ran his right thumb on his fingers and without a blink said softly to his father, Its two hundred and fifty-three coppers, Papa, or fourteen silvers and eleven coppers. The horse trader’s brother was working out the sum on the ground with the help of a short stick. It works out here to be two hundred and fifty-three, Sardar. Porus’s father looked at his boy, their eyes met, and they both smiled. He was pleased with his son. Porus’s father bought two stallions.

Porus had an ear for music. In the orchard and while carrying food to his father in a tiffin balanced on his head on a piece of cloth, Porus would play melodious tunes on his one-stringed violin made of a small baked clay pot and a piece of bamboo. He bought it at the Mandi a year ago.

His melodious tunes were a gift. The tunes announced his approach or presence. People would stop to listen. His mother was very proud of him and his musical talent. His relatives and friends liked him a lot.

When Porus accompanied his father to the Mandi on his sixteenth birthday, an argument had broken out among some traders. The family and their clans’ folk who sold salt and pepper were very keen to trade for a young brown mare but could not agree on the exchange. In the midst of the negotiation, a wheat trader and his uncle barged into the small crowd, loudly blaring their interest to purchase the mare. Right from behind, three women pushed in their cart full of fruits to steal the attention of the owner of the mare and his daughter. When Porus noticed this from afar, he stopped playing his one-stringed violin.

As Porus and his father approached the scene, it was a pandemonium of words, as men and woman paced forwards and backwards and in semi-circles. They all wanted the attractive mare. In its spring of youth, the mare was tall and a magnificent sight. She had a beautiful white mark on her forehead that made her look so naturally embellished.

Porus had never seen a mare like that. He wanted to own it right away. He gently nudged his father’s hand. His father looked at him and Porus nodded his head followed by a nod from his father but the crowd was getting bigger and the pandemonium stood in the way of negotiating an exchange or trade.

Porus scratched his cheek, took out his one-stringed violin and played the most melodious tune. A moment later, the din of pandemonium began to die out. The crowd listened and was overcome by the melody, which seemed to come from nature itself. The din gave way to pin-drop silence and Porus played his spirits. He played the full melody, as he knew it. As he neared the end, the mare took a few elegant strides towards him and culminated his tune with a neigh. And the silence of the crowd broke into a joyous applause.

The owner of the magnificent mare was Mundri’s father but she raised the mare. She was holding her father’s hand while Porus ringed the air with his melody. As the applause softened, Mundri squeezed her father’s hand and said, Anarkali likes him. Ask if he will buy Anarkali. So, Mundri’s father walked towards Porus with a beaming face that lit up the face of Porus’s just as much. Even before Mundri’s father could say anything, Porus’s father clasped his hand, held it tight and told him Yes, yes, we want your mare. Tell me the price. Tell me the price, he said to Mundri’s father.

I will tell you the price, Sardarji, if your boy would like to have Anarkali, insisted Mundri’s father as an important condition of sale. Well, my boy, do you like horses? asked Mundri’s father. I like horse’s, sire…. I like horses but I love Anarkali… she is more lovely than any mare I have laid eyes on, said Porus who could not contain his excitement on the possibility of owning Anarkali. Mundri beamed a charming smile and before it wore long on her pleasant face, Porus blurted, Anarkali would be a perfect bride for our two Persian stallions! His father’s jaw dropped but on seeing that the whole crowd had burst into a tickled laughter, he joined Mundri’s father in a laughing bear hug and Porus knew the deal was done. Anarkali was a beautiful name which meant the flower of the pomegranate.

While their father sealed the deal with a hug, Porus saw Mundri caught in the laughter and she blushed. He quickly glided towards her in a few fleeting steps and majestically planted the words, You look like a princess but you appear like a queen when you laugh, in her ear, and his eyes looked up towards his eyebrows to seek more inspiration. And it came. You are a per-feet bride, he whispered, Will you be my Anarkali? Ah…yes I am not a mare am I? she retorted softly with her nose poking into his. No…no…no, he protested softly, You are the queen of flowers. Hmm… is that all, Mundri replied in soft cheekiness as she looked at him through the side of her eyes. How can the queen of flowers be a bride? she asked with intellectual charm. Oooops, he said softly to himself, I see it, I see it, he quickly whispered into the other ear as he held it in his right hand, You are the Queen of my Heart. Mundri blushed and her pupils dilated slightly as she pointed to their fathers. You must get them to hug again next year she uttered rather gleefully. Porus, Porus… my name is Porus, Porus added, while she walked with a deliberate sway in her hips. And, I am Mundri she let him know with her head turned. And, Porus knew his life had changed. The queen of his heart was as much a part of him as his music and his life.

Their fathers had concluded the exchange. As it was customary they settled in for a cup of tea and chatted their hearts away. Mundri and Porus joined in. The tea stall was just next to where the pandemonium of Anarkali’s buyers had taken place, in the shade of a twenty-foot mud wall, which was part of an old fort that was weathering away.

After the tea had been sipped, the two families parted to shop around in the mandi. Porus and his father had more fruits and vegetables to sell which they must sell before sun down and return home into the hills with the other villagers. It was safer to travel in small groups than to travel alone.

Mundri chose a maroon scarf with blue and yellow flowers. Her father bought two sets of bangles for her, which a bride wore on her wedding day. Parents in yonder days bought item by item with each successful trade and accumulated them for their daughter’s use on the day of the wedding or to take them as gifts to start a new life.

Porus was busy for two full hours as he was busy helping his father in the brisk trade. His father was very pleased with his trade as well as Anarkali. Many other traders stopped to look at Anarkali and offered to exchange but Porus would tell them that Anarkali is not for sale. For his help, his father gave him a small sum of money and ordered him to be back before the village folk leave for their village in the hills.

The money in his palm flooded his mind with a single thought. Porus made his way to the vendors of rings and bangles. He picked one ring with a glowing ruby-like gemstone. How much is this mundri, he asked very politely. A full-half silver, my boy, the women replied in a gentle voice. But mataji that’s all I have, Porus said in earnest. My boy, think of the woman who will wear it and bear your children. One-half silver is nothing, the elderly women said in a way that parted more than wisdom. Her wrinkled face told the story of many journeys of life and it looked very motherly. Porus became swelled with love as he thought of Mundri. I’ll take it, he said happily and paid by gently putting the silver coin in her hand and clasped it with his own. Porus walked briskly in the bazaar with the spirit of a lark, as he went about looking for Mundri hoping that she and her father would still be