‘S-H-I-V-A! HELP ME! DON’T LEAVE ME!’

An army of soldiers chased Sati, holding bloodied swords aloft. Each warrior was the exact likeness of Daksha. The area between Shiva’s brows began throbbing even more desperately. The fire within was struggling to burst through.

‘SATI!’ screamed Shiva, as he pulled the reins of his horse. He was not going to lose her again.

The horse balked at Shiva’s anxious command and refused to slow down.

‘SATI!’

Shiva desperately yanked at the reins. But the horse had a mind of its own. He was not going to either slow down or turn. The beast could sense the stench of death behind it.

Shiva pulled both his feet out of the stirrups and jumped to the ground, the speed of his fall making him lurch dangerously. He rolled quickly and was up on his feet in a flash.

‘SATI!’

The horse kept galloping ahead towards the safety line as Shiva turned around, drew his sword and ran to protect the mirage of his wife.

‘Baba!’ shouted Ganesh. ‘Come back!’

The blackish-red mark at the centre of Shiva’s forehead burst open and blood spewed out. He ran desperately towards his wife, roaring at the army of Dakshas who chased her.

‘LEAVE HER ALONE, YOU BASTARDS! FIGHT ME!’

The three Pashupatiastra missiles simultaneously exploded as planned, some fifty metres above the three platforms. A blinding burst of light erupted. Shiva’s army and the Devagiri refugees shielded their eyes, only to be stunned by what they saw of their own bodies. Glowing and translucent, blood, muscle and even bone were visible. They even saw a demonic flash within their bodies, an echo of the devastating blasts over Devagiri. Sheer terror entered their hearts.

Almost immediately thereafter, three bursts of satanic fire descended from the heights where the three Pashupatiastras had exploded. They tore into Devagiri fiendishly, instantaneously incinerating all three platforms. The great City of the Gods, built and nurtured over centuries, was reduced to nothingness in a fraction of a second.

‘Lord Ram, be merciful,’ whispered Ayurvati in absolute horror as she saw the massive explosion from aboard the ship that was carrying Sati.

As the fire ripped through Devagiri, giant pillars of smoke shot up from the site of the explosions. As Tara had predicted, the energy blasts of the three missiles seemed to attract each other. All the three pillars of smoke crashed into each other with diabolical rage, as thunder and lightning cracked through the destructive field. The unified pillar of smoke now shot higher; higher than anything that any living creature watching the explosion had ever seen. The smoke column rose like a giant and steeply inclined pyramid and then it exploded into a massive cloud about one kilometre high in the air. And just as instantaneously, the pyramid of smoke collapsed into itself, closeted permanently within the ruins of Devagiri.

Shiva, unmindful of the terrible devastation taking place in front of him, kept running forward, his sword drawn, his brow spouting blood at an alarming rate.

As soon as the pyramid of smoke collapsed, another silent blast occurred. As this blast of neutrons raced out, the sound of the initial explosion reached Shiva’s army cowering behind the safety line.

‘Baba!’ screamed Ganesh, as he jumped from the platform he was on and raced towards his horse.

The neutron blast was invisible. Shiva couldn’t see it. But he could feel a demonic surge rolling towards him. He had to save his wife. He kept running forward, screaming desperately.

‘SATI!’

His body was lifted high by the neutron blast wave. For a moment he felt weightless, and then the wave propelled him back brutally. His brow and throat were on fire, while blood spewed out from his mouth. He landed hard on the ground, flat on his back, his head jerking as he felt a sharp sensation on the crown of his head.

And yet, he felt no pain. He just kept screaming.

‘SA...TI...!’

‘SA...TI...!’

Suddenly, he saw Sati bending over him. There was no blood on her. No wounds. No scars. She looked just like she had on the day he’d met her, all those years ago at the Brahma temple. She bent forward and ran her hand along Shiva’s face, her smiling visage suffused with love and joy; a smile that always set the world right for him.

She touched the crown of Shiva’s head. The sharp sensation receded and was replaced by a calm that was difficult to describe. He felt like he had been set free. Strangely, his blue throat was not cold anymore. Equally strange was the realisation that his brow had stopped burning from within.

Shiva opened his mouth, but no sound emerged. So he thought of what he wanted to say.

Take me with you, Sati. There’s nothing left for me to do. I’m done.

Sati bent forward and kissed Shiva lightly on his lips. She smiled and whispered, ‘No, you are not done yet. Not yet.’

Shiva kept staring at his wife. I can’t live without you...

‘You must,’ said Sati’s shimmering image.

Shiva couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. Sati’s beautiful and calm face began to blur. He collapsed into a peaceful dream-like state. As he was descending the depths of consciousness though, he thought he heard a voice, almost like a command.

‘No more killing from now on. Spread life. Spread life.’

Chapter 54

By the Holy Lake

Thirty years later, Mansarovar Lake (at the foot of Mount Kailash, Tibet)

Shiva squatted on the rock that extended over the Mansarovar. Behind him was the Kailash Mountain, each of its four sides perfectly aligned with the four cardinal directions. It stood sentinel over the great Mahadev, the one who had saved India from Evil.

The long years and the tough Tibetan terrain had taken its toll on his body. His matted hair had greyed considerably, though it was still long and wiry enough to be tied in a traditional bun with beads. His body, honed with regular exercise and yoga, was still taut and muscular, but the skin had wrinkled and lost its tone. His neel kanth, the blue throat had not lost colour at all over the years. But it didn’t feel cold anymore. Not since the day he had been hit by the neutron blast from the Pashupatiastra that had destroyed Devagiri. The area between his brows didn’t burn or throb either; perhaps also due to the neutron blast. But it had taken on a darker hue, almost black, that contrasted sharply with his fair skin. It wasn’t an indistinct, indeterminate mark either. It looked like the tattoo of an eye; an eye with the lids shut. Kali had named it Shiva’s third eye, which stood vertical on his forehead, between his natural eyes.

Shiva looked across the lake at the setting sun. In the distance he spotted a pair of swans gliding over the shimmering waters. It appeared to Shiva as if the birds beheld the sight together; the setting sun cannot be enjoyed unless shared with the one you love.

He breathed deeply and picked up a pebble. When he was young, he could throw one such that it skipped off the surface of the lake. His record had been seventeen bounces. He flung the pebble, but he failed; it sank immediately into the lake with a plop.

I miss you.

Not a day passed in his life without his mind dwelling on his wife. He wiped a tear from his eye before turning back to look at the bonfires outside his village compound. A large crowd had gathered around the fires, eating, drinking and making merry.

Some members of his Guna tribe had followed him when he had returned to Kailash Mountain many years ago. In addition, nearly ten thousand people from across India had decided to leave their homes and migrate to the homeland of their Mahadev. Chief amongst them were Nandi, Brahaspati, Tara, Parshuram and Ayurvati. The deposed Ayodhyan ruler, Dilipa, who was still alive thanks to Ayurvati’s medicines; former Maika-Lothal governor Chenardhwaj and former Naga Prime Minister Karkotak had also migrated to the shores of the Mansarovar. Shiva’s followers had established new villages in close proximity to his. Seeing the massive contingent Shiva now commanded, even the Pakratis, the local Tibetans who had maintained a long-standing enmity with the Gunas, had made peace with the Neelkanth.