and Dhruvini had already fanned out to support the other medical officers treating the injured
Suryavanshi soldiers.
Shiva turned to the right of the bed to see the bloodied tong that had been used to stretch
Sati’s innards to pull the arrow out. That tong would never be used again. It had been infected
with the agnibaan poison. No amount of heat or chemicals would make the instrument sterile
and safe again. Next to the tong lay the offending arrow, wrapped in neem leaves, where it
would stay for one full day, before being buried deep in a dry grave to ensure it would not
cause any more harm.
Shiva looked at Ayurvati, his eyes moist, unable to find the strength to ask the question that
raged in his heart.
‘I will not lie to you, my Lord,’ said Ayurvati, in the detached manner that doctors will
themselves into, to find the strength in traumatic circumstances. ‘It doesn’t look good. Nobody
in history has survived an agnibaan which has penetrated one of the vital organs. The poison
will start causing an intense fever in some time, which will result in the failing of one organ after
another.’
Shiva looked down at Sati and then up pleadingly. Ayurvati fought hard to rein in her tears
and keep her composure. She couldn’t afford to lose control. She had many lives to save in the
next few hours.
‘I am sorry, my Lord,’ said Ayurvati. ‘But there really is no cure. We can only give some
medicines to make her end easier.’
Shiva glared angrily at Ayurvati. ‘We are not giving up! Is that clear?’
Ayurvati looked at the ground, unable to meet Shiva’s eye.
‘If the fever is kept under control, then her organs will not be damaged, right?’ asked Shiva,
as a glimmer of hope entered his being.
Ayurvati looked up and said, ‘Yes, my Lord. But that is not a final solution. The fever caused
by an agnibaan can only be delayed, not broken. If we try and control the fever, it will come
back even stronger once the medicines are stopped.’
‘Then we will control the fever forever!’ cried Shiva. ‘I will sit by her side all my life if needed.
The fever will not rise.’
Ayurvati was about to say something to Shiva, but thought better of it and kept silent. She
would come back to Shiva in a few hours. She knew that Sati could not be saved. It was
impossible. Precious time was being wasted in this futile discussion. Time that could be used to
save other lives.
‘Alright, my Lord,’ said Ayurvati, quickly administering the medicines to Sati to keep her fever
down. ‘This should keep her fever down for a few hours.’
She looked up at Parvateshwar standing at the back for an instant. Parvateshwar knew that
keeping the fever down would only lengthen Sati’s agony. But he too felt the glimmer of hope
that Shiva felt.
Turning back towards Shiva, Ayurvati said, ‘My Lord, you too are injured. Let me dress your
wounds and I’ll leave.’
‘I am alright,’ said Shiva, not taking his eyes off Sati for an instant.
‘No, you are not, my Lord,’ said Ayurvati firmly. ‘Your wounds are deep. If they catch an
infection, then it could be life threatening.’
Shiva did not answer. He just kept looking at Sati and waved his hand dismissively.
‘Shiva!’ shouted Ayurvati. Shiva looked up at her. ‘You cannot help Sati if you yourself
singke
(singke)
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