Immortals of Meluha

‘Perhaps I should leave, your Highness,’ said Parvateshwar. The time has come. With your
permission.’
‘Of course, Parvateshwar. Vijayibhavl,’ said Daksha. Turning towards Shiva, Daksha
continued, ‘My Lord, they have built a viewing platform for us on the hill at the back.’
‘Viewing platform?’ asked Shiva, perplexed.
‘Yes. Why don’t we watch the battle from there? You would also be in a better position to
direct the battle from there.’
Shiva narrowed his eyes in surprise. ‘Your Highness, my position is with the soldiers. On the
battlefield.’
Parvateshwar stopped in his tracks. Startled and delighted at having been proved wrong.
‘My Lord, this is a job for butchers, not the Neelkanfh,’ said a concerned Daksha. ‘You don’t
need to sully your hands with Chandravanshi blood. Parvateshwar will arrest that Naga and
throw him at your feet. You can extract such a terrible retribution from him that his entire tribe
would dread your justice for aeons.’
‘This is not about my revenge, your Highness. It is about the vengeance of Meluha. It would
be petty of me to think that an entire war is being fought just for me. This is a war between
good and evil. A batde in which one has to choose a side. And fight. There are no bystanders in
a dharmayudh — it is a holy war.’
Parvateshwar watched Shiva intently, his eyes blazing with admiration. These were Lord
Ram’s words. There are no bystanders in a dharmayudh.
‘My Lord, we can’t afford to risk your life,’ pleaded Daksha. You are too important. I am
sure that we can win this war without taking that gamble. Your presence has inspired us. There
are many who are willing to shed their blood for you.’
‘If they are willing to shed their blood for me, then I must be willing to shed my blood for
them.’
Parvateshwar ’s heart was swamped by the greatest joy an accomplished Suryavanshi could
feel. The joy of finally finding a man worth following. The joy of finding a man worth being
inspired by. The joy of finding a man, deserving of being spoken of in the same breath, as Lord
Ram himself.
A worried Daksha came closer to Shiva. He realised that if he had to stop the Neelkanth
from this foolhardiness, he would have to speak his mind. He whispered softly, ‘My Lord, you
are my daughter ’s husband. If something happened to you, she would be bereaved twice in one
life. I can’t let that happen to her.’
‘Nothing will happen,’ whispered Shiva. ‘And Sati would die a thousand deaths if she saw her
husband stay away from a dharmayudh. She would lose respect for me. If she weren’t
pregnant, she would have been fighting alongside me, shoulder to shoulder. You know that.’
Daksha stared at Shiva, broken, troubled and apprehensive.
Shiva smiled warmly. ‘Nothing will happen, your Highness.’
‘And what if it does?’
‘Then it should be remembered that it happened for a good cause. Sati would be proud of
me.’
Daksha continued to stare at Shiva, his face a portrait of agonised distress.
‘Forgive me, your Highness, but I must go,’ said Shiva with a formal namaste, turning to
leave.
Parvateshwar followed distracted, as if commanded by a higher force. As Shiva walked