wished that Shiva would rise to be a Mahadev and lead them to victory against the
Chandravanshis. However, Parvateshwar had learned through long years of experience that
while many men tried to rise up to Lord Ram’s level, none had ever succeeded. Parvateshwar
had laid hopes on a few such men in his youth. And he had always been disillusioned at the
end. He was simply preparing himself for another such expected disappointment from Shiva. He
didn’t plan to be left without a backup if Shiva refused to fight the battle against the
Chandravanshis.
The war council sat silently as Daksha read the letter that had come back from Swadweep
— from the court of Emperor Dilipa. Daksha’s reaction upon reading the letter left no doubt as
to the message it contained. He shut his eyes, his face contorted in rage, his fist clenched tight.
He handed the letter over to Kanakhala and sneered, ‘Read it. Read it out loud so that the
whole world may be sickened by the repugnance of the Chandravanshis.’
Kanakhala frowned slightly before taking the letter and reading it out loud. ‘Emperor Daksha,
Suryavanshi liege, protector of Meluha. Please accept my deep condolences for the dastardly
attack on Mount Mandar. Such a senseless assault on peaceful Brahmins cannot but be
condemned in the strongest of terms. We are shocked that any denizen of India would stoop to
such levels. It is, therefore, with surprise and sadness that I read your letter. I assure you that
neither me nor anyone in my command has anything to do with this devious attack. Hence I
have to inform you, with regret, that there is nobody I can hand over to you. I hope that you
understand the sincerity of this letter and will not make a hasty decision, which may have
regrettable consequences for you. I assure you of my empire’s full support in the investigation
of this outrage. Please do inform us of how we can be of assistance to you in bringing the
criminals to justice.’
Kanakhala took a deep breath to compose herself. The anger over the typically
Chandravanshi doubletalk was washing right through her, making her regret her earlier stand.
‘It’s personally signed by the Emperor Dilipa,’ said Kanakhala, completing her reading of the
letter.
‘Not Emperor Dilipa,’ growled a fuming Daksha. ‘Terrorist Dilipa of the Empire of Evil!’
‘War!’ arose a cry from the council, unanimous in its rage.
Daksha looked over at a scowling Shiva who nodded imperceptibly.
‘War it is!’ bellowed Daksha. ‘We march in two weeks!’
The bracelet seemed to develop a life of its own. It had swelled to enormous proportions,
dwarfing Shiva. Its edges were engulfed in gigantic flames. The three colossal serpents, which
formed the Aum, separated from each other and slithered towards Shiva. The one in the
centre, while nodding to the snake on its left, hissed, ‘He got your brother. And the other one
will soon get your wife.’
The serpents to the left and right scowled eerily.