An Attempt at Steampunk

THE FLIGHT OF JUGGERNAUT

PRELUDE
According to Steampunk Magazine, ‘steampunk’ refers to a branch of science fiction that concerns itself with Victorian-era technology. Nowadays it is seen more as a burgeoning subculture that pays respect to the visceral nature of antiquated technology. My main objective was to write a steampunk story that felt more authentic – as though it were written in the past, speculating about the future. Another one of my objectives was to pay homage to one of my favourite authors, Jules Verne. Jules Verne is one of the pioneers of science fiction along with his contemporary H.G. Wells. Some of his best known works such as 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and Journey to the Centre of the Earth are good examples of steampunk literature.

CHAPTER I
IN WHICH RAM BAHADUR GIVES HIS MASTER A NEW DIRECTION TO CONSIDER
Sir John Dufferin was an enigmatic man, with many eccentricities. People at the local gymkhana often speculated about his past – how he had come to work in the Great Indian Peninsular Railway, how he retired as Chief Engineer and perhaps, the most mysterious of all, why he chose to stay behind in India after he retired when it was common knowledge that the Queen has bestowed upon him a large estate in Surrey.
No one knew much about him as he rarely spoke of himself. The only person who knew enough about Sir Dufferin was his faithful khansaman Ram Bahadur. Ram Bahadur had been with him ever since he alighted off the steamer from Aden at Bombay port. All people knew was that as an engineer for the Great Indian Peninsular Railway, he had spent many years travelling around the country drawing up rail routes through unmapped territories and had even been knighted by the Queen for his efforts for the East India Company.
After decades of travel and work, he had finally retired as Chief Engineer of the Great Indian Peninsular Railway. He settled down to a comfortable scholarly existence in his bungalow in Cawnpore cantonment. His home was filled with odd little relics and books and books of ancient Sanskrit text. And it was here that he spent most of his time poring over ancient scriptures. It was as though he was desperately searching for something, but no one knew what.
It was the spring of 1857. Sir Dufferin was sitting in his library hunched over sheets of Hindoo folklore. Presently, there was a knock at the door and Ram Bahadur came in bearing afternoon tea. “Already four o’ clock, Bahadur?” sighed Sir John
“Yes Sahib” responded the khansaman dutifully
“Where does the time go?”
“Not much progress with the structure, Sahib?”
“No Bahadur,” responded the Englishman sadly, “I am very close though. The scriptures that I have been looking at all have great descriptions of how the mechanics of the engine would work. I just wish I could see what it was supposed to look like.”
“Perhaps Sahib could be able to see what it is supposed to look like. Many Hindoo temples have sculptural depictions of what the chariots were supposed to look like. There is one famous one at Jaganath in the Orissa province.”
“I don’t think I have heard of this.”
“You must have Sahib. It is the chariot of the beloved deity, Lord Krishna. Religious zealots sometimes throw themselves under the unstoppable chariot in order to attain salvation.”
“Oh, you mean the juggernaut.”
“The very same, Sahib. It is one of the best preserved chariots structures still existing. Perhaps this could be a perfect way for Sahib to understand the structure.”
“So be it then. Make the arrangements Bahadur. We depart tomorrow.”
“Yes Sahib,” responded Ram Bahadur and left the room quietly leaving his master to his thoughts.

CHAPTER II
IN WHICH THE PRIESTS AT THE JUGGERNAUT TEMPLE LEARN WHY THE BRITISH HAVE BEEN ABLE TO RULE THEIR COUNTRY
Sir John sat at the steps of the ancient Hindoo temple in a thoughtless daze of heat. This question had plagued him for so many years now – had the ancient Hindoos mastered the science of flight? It was a question he had stumbled upon on his second year in India, during an expedition into the Bombay Presidency.
In a tiny village near Nagpur, he had come across a Hindoo priest who described the flying chariots of Hindoo divinities to him. Unlike his other countrymen, Sir John Dufferin had taken the trouble to learn how to read ancient Sanskrit and one look at the ancient scriptures had told him that these weren’t just folktales – they were almost like instructions. Being an engineer, he had immediately tried to understand the mechanics behind it.
Over the course of his many expeditions for the Railways, he began to gather more and more evidence over the existence of this machine. With Ram Bahadur’s help, he had been able to understand the mythology he was reading. Luckily for Sir Dufferin, Ram Bahadur also had a strong understanding of Hindoo mythology being of a higher caste.
Ram Bahadur was a faithful servant and Sir Dufferin confided in him absolutely. Having been with Sir Dufferin for his many years, he was happy with his master’s sensitivity to his countrymen and so was always happy to help the Englishman with his many questions. He had been fortunate enough to have learnt English in the household of Lord Dalhousie, the previous Governor-General of India, and so was able to understand exactly how English lords thought.
Despite having aged himself, Ram Bahadur still retained his boyish enthusiasm for each new adventure they went on and this visit to Orissa province was no different. He came flying down the stairs, his turban slipping slightly crying “Sahib, Sahib, the priest has agreed to meet with you.”
Sir Dufferin rose calmly and with the same deliberate slow dignity of motion, turned to see his faithful servant approach. “Good work Bahadur. Did you ask him about the temple plans?”
“Sahib, I think he has them but he does not want to share information with an Englishman.”
“We shall have to convince him otherwise then. Let us meet with this servant of God now.”
Sir Dufferin, for his apparent obtuseness, was a very shrewd man when he wanted to be. It was this same shrewdness that his countrymen had used to slowly take control over the subcontinent. He spent many days at the temple drawing sketches and discussing mythology with the priests. Finally, the head priest called Sir John for an audience.
“What do you want from us, Sahib? Why do you haunt our temple grounds?” asked the old priest wearily.
“All I want is to see the scriptures of the temple history.” Responded Sir Dufferin resolutely.
“But why? It is not your dharma. It is not your religion. Why do you care?”
Sir John Dufferin hesitated and considered his response carefully. He wondered how much he should tell this native. Should he tell him that he, a foreigner, was planning to recreate a flying craft that had been developed by Indian people from two thousand years ago?
“I want to understand your culture and I want to help you keep it alive.” Said Sir John, earnestly.
The priest considered these words and studied the Englishman’s face. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Sir Dufferin, he turned and beckoned him to follow him into the inner sanctum of the shrine.
When they had reached the inner sanctum, the old priest pulled out a crumbling, faded manuscript. Sir John leaned in and his eyes grew very wide as he caught a glimpse of a drawing of the juggernaut chariot. This was what he had been seeking. It was the missing piece of the puzzle.

CHAPTER III
IN WHICH THE LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF THE LOCAL GYMKHANA UNDERESTIMATE THE SUPERIORITY OF THE HINDOOS
A week later back in Cawnpore, Sir John Dufferin, was sitting at the head of the long table at the Cawnpore Gymkhana. It was the gayest party that Cawnpore Fort had ever seen. All the Sahibs and their Memsahibs had turned out in all their glittering finery to celebrate the foundation laying of the first railway tracks in the Central Provinces.
The celebrations had been a bit sombre with everyone anxious about the situation of growing unrest among the sepoys. Over cocktails, the gathering had agreed that the main source of this unrest was the annexation of the kingdom of Oudh. There were many boisterous opinions exchanged and possible solutions were almost being drafted until the first course was served. And in the midst of all that good food, as is usually the case, the conversation died down for a while and the topic was forgotten.
However, the topic came up again during the main course. Loud-mouth and pompous, Lord Bradshaw voiced his opinions. “I can’t believe Col. Birch allowed the sepoys to grease their own Enfield cartridges. It’s preposterous - pandering to the savage Hindoo faith. Those barbarians would never get anywhere if it wasn’t for us.” There were murmurs of approval from around the table.
Sir Dufferin had a very phlegmatic temperament and was not prone to participate in controversy. However, his recent success in Juggernaut emboldened him to venture a response to Lord Bradshaw, “My dear fellow, isn’t it a tad rash to call it a ‘savage’ faith? I think the Hindoos were actually quite sophisticated in the past. A lot of their advancements lie forgotten in ancient scriptures that very few can decipher.”
“Poppycock, my good man.” Said Lord Bradshaw
“Surely Sir Dufferin does not mean to suggest that he thinks that the Hindoos are civilized folk.” Interjected Lady Dalhousie
“But Madam, consider the facts. We know they had an ancient civilization that was about as sophisticated as Renaissance England even before Christ. They have clearly established many important mathematical concepts like the zero. And their advancements in the field of medicine were...”
“That is ridiculous, Sir,” interrupted Sir Thomas Jeffries, “Can you name even one thing that they invented that we don’t have today?”
“Your misconception is understandable. I myself was unaware of their advancements until recently. As it turns out, the Hindoos mastered the science of flight way almost as early as 2000 B.C.”
“I think Sir Dufferin has had a little too much to drink, perhaps.” Laughed Lady Dalhousie.
“You do me injustice, Madam. I have seen this with my own eyes. In fact, I think I have nearly unlocked this secret myself.”
The room grew deadly silent. Everyone turned around to stare at Sir Dufferin, who continued speaking implacably as though nothing had happened. “I think I have managed to rebuild the ancient Hindoo flying craft,” asserted Sir Dufferin, “but this is presumptuous of me to assume that you will take my word for it. I should let you see for yourself.” And in an uncharacteristic move Sir Dufferin, shy and obtuse Sir Dufferin, walked to the centre of the room and invited the gathering to see the wondrous machine. “Ladies and Gentlemen, in a month’s time, I will unveil the ancient Hindoo flying machine and I invite you all to join me as I take the first ever human flight.”

CHAPTER IV
IN WHICH SIR DUFFERIN CREATES HIS OWN JUGGERNAUT
Three weeks after this controversial banquet, Sir Dufferin found himself in a ramshackle shed on the outskirts of Cawnpore. Ram Bahadur had never seen his employer this determined or this worn out and approached Sir John hesitantly, “Perhaps Sahib would like to rest for some time. It has been two days since you ate or slept, Sahib.”
Sir Dufferin looked around dazed. “Good Lord! Has it really been two days Bahadur? Where does the time go?” Ignoring the odd sense of déjà-vu, Ram Bahadur insisted, “Yes Sahib. Now please sit down and have something to eat.”
As Sir Dufferin sat down to his first meal in two days, he still couldn’t get his mind away from the gleaming steel behemoth that he had been working on. “I think she is ready to fly Bahadur. What do you think?” Ram Bahadur did not answer. He was staring at the massive steel behemoth with the fascination of a little boy. How could this contraption move, thought Ram Bahadur, let alone fly. He examined the gleaming chariot that formed the centre of the frame and ran his hands over the levers and knobs that were to control the machine.
“Why don’t we test it out?” said Sir Dufferin rising from his repast. Together, he and Ram Bahadur wheeled the heavy structure out of the shed. They were quite isolated, in the middle of endless farmland – sugarcane fields as far as the eye could see. The steel wings that extended out from both sides of the main chariot gleamed in the sunlight. The main frame of the structure resembled a chariot of ancient times but with a roof overhead. There were two small seats inside in front of a large control panel that caught glimmers of sunlight here and there.
As soon as the machine had enough place to manoeuvre, the two men got inside the chariot. Sir Dufferin began to pull the different knobs and levers as Bahadur watched on in amazement. Slowly the steam motor in the rear of the chariot purred into life and Bahadur felt a peculiar sense of lightness as the frame slowly floated above the ground and hovered there for a few minutes. Sir Dufferin looked down at gap between the wheels and the surface and smiled, “Bahadur, it works.”
Ram Bahadur was speechless. He didn’t know what to say. He had never experienced such a thing before and was holding on to the sides for dear life as if the chariot was bucking violently even though it was floating steadily a few inches above the ground. “Shall we see how far it can go?” asked Sir Dufferin excitedly and without waiting for an answer, turned one of the brightly coloured knobs, pulled down a lever hard and the chariot jolted forward and upward.
Within minutes, they were hurtling forward at a height of three hundred metres. The usually calm and demure Sir Dufferin was cackling wildly with excitement as they sped over trees and endless sugarcane fields. The ancient flying craft, the Juggernaut, as he has christened it in his mind, was alight once again, after centuries. He couldn’t wait to reveal this invention to his colleagues at the Great Indian Peninsular Railway. They would be fascinated.
As they reached a constant altitude, he set the controls so that they would just fly straight instead of up or down. He couldn’t stop smiling. This was an elation he had never experienced. It was a strange sense of freedom – freedom from shackles of the earth but more importantly for him, freedom from his quest of so many years. Indeed, perhaps, the reason he was smiling so broadly was that at last, after so many years of searching he had at last found what he was looking for all these years in India.

CHAPTER V
IN WHICH SIR DUFFERIN AND RAM BAHADUR WITNESS THE BEGINNING OF THE END
Two hours later, Sir Dufferin began to notice the Juggernaut dipping slowly. The steady purr of the motor was beginning to weaken. Sir Dufferin quickly pulled at the controls and began to descend toward the surface. As they came lower, Ram Bahadur, noticed that they were just outside a large city of some sort. He was unable to identify which city it was though. In fact, he had completely lost his bearings.
When the flying craft was ten metres from the ground, the engine finally gave one last sputter and then died completely. The Juggernaut plummeted to the earth with both occupants screaming and holding on to each other for dear life. It landed with a deafening noise and Sir Dufferin and Ram Bahadur were hurtled into the front panel and then to the back of the heavy steel frame.
Bruised, battered and disoriented, master and servant emerged from the wreckage. As they began to assess the damage to the Juggernaut, they heard an uproar in the distance. It sounded like shrieks of agony and pain – it sounded like a war. “Good heavens, what was that?” said Sir Dufferin.
“I don’t know Sahib, but I think we should head into that nearby town and find out.”
“Do you know where we are Ram Bahadur?” asked Sir Dufferin. For the first time, Ram Bahadur thought he heard a hint of fear in that voice. It was a fear that he could not explain, nor could he allay.
They walked through more sugarcane fields in the direction of the screams, even though their instinct told them to go the other way. Within ten minutes they had reached a road and began to see houses but all of them were deserted. Suddenly, Sir Dufferin’s eye glanced up at the now overcast sky and saw plumes of smoke rising from the city ahead. He pointed them out to Ram Bahadur.
“Sahib, I have a bad feeling about this. Maybe you should stay here while I go into the city and see what is happening.”
“No, my good man. I will come with you.”
The two men continued down the road. Eventually a road sign informed them that they were in the city of Meerut, four hundred and five kilometres north-west of Kanpur. They did not have to marvel at the distance they had covered by air as suddenly they saw a man running towards them. As he drew nearer, they saw that he was English, obviously a junior officer. His uniform was ripped and bloodstained and his eyes had a wary look about them. But seeing that the approaching party contained an Englishman, he limped towards them.
“Whatever happened to you, my good man?” asked Sir Dufferin of the soldier.
“Haven’t you heard? The sepoys are revolting. They have already shot three English officers and have gone on a rampage through the cantonment. They are attacking all Europeans, even the women and children. I just barely escaped with my life.” said the injured man.
Ram Bahadur turned to Sir Dufferin worried, “Sahib, you should leave this place. It is not safe for you.”
“No Bahadur. I cannot abandon my countrymen this way. Surely there will be some way of reasoning with the sepoys. I am sure we can negotiate with them. I must go to see the commanding officer of Meerut Cant.”
“But Sahib...” protested Ram Bahadur.
“No Bahadur. I will go to Meerut. In the meantime, I want you to take this officer to safety. Rampur is not far from Meerut. The Nawab has always sympathized with the Queen’s views.” said Sir Dufferin, very firmly. Having said that, he turned on his heel and left Ram Bahadur and the junior officer there by the side of the road leading to Meerut and marched into hell.
Ram Bahadur never saw his employer again, nor did he ever get to behold the mysterious flying craft, the Juggernaut, ever again. He died on the way to Rampur, trying to protect the young officer in front of a mob of sepoys that was patrolling the highways. Mysteriously enough, no one ever found the wreckage of the Juggernaut. No one ever learnt of the technological leaps and bounds that been made and no one grieved at their loss. The ancient Hindoos might say that it was just not Sir Dufferin’s destiny to share his invention with the world. Whatever the reason, the secret of flight remained lost like the mysterious Juggernaut that revealed it.