‘Excellent. Excellent,’ beamed Daksha as he moved on to the question that dominated his
mind. ‘What do you think of the Somras, my Lord? Isn’t it really the drink of the Gods?’
‘Yes your Highness. It does appear to be a miraculous drink.’
‘It is the basis of our civilisation,’ continued Daksha. ‘Once you have taken a tour of our land,
you will see the goodness of our way of life. I am sure you will find it in your heart to do
something to save it.’
‘Your Highness, I already think highly of your country. It truly is great and treats its citizens
well. I wouldn’t doubt that it is a way of life that is worth protecting. However, what I am not
sure about is what I can do. Yours is such an advanced civilisation and I am just a simple tribal
man.’
‘Faith is a very potent weapon, my Lord,’ said Daksha, his hands joined in supplication. ‘All
that is needed is for you to have as much faith in yourself as we have in you. I am sure that if
you spend a few more days in our country and see the effect that your presence has on our
people, you will realise what you can do.’
Shiva gave up arguing against Daksha’s childlike belief.
Brahaspati winked at Shiva before coming to his rescue. ‘Your Highness, Shiva looks tired to
me. It has been a long day. Maybe he should retire and we could meet tomorrow?’
Daksha smiled, ‘Perhaps you are right, Brahaspati. My apologies for troubling you, my Lord.
We will see you at breakfast. Have a good night.’
‘Good night,’ wished Shiva in return.
Sati waited quietly at the table as Daksha glanced nervously at the prahar lamp. To the left
were Kanakhala, Brahaspati and Parvateshwar. To his right was an empty chair. For the
‘Neelkanth’, thought Sati. Next to the empty chair sat Sati and to her right was her mother,
Veerini. Daksha had agonised deeply over the seating to get it exactly right.
Sati looked over the arrangements. A formal table and chairs for breakfast rather than the
preferred low table and floor cushions that Meluhans normally sat upon to eat. The beloved
banana leaf had been replaced by gold plates. The taste enhancing kulhads, or mud cups, had
been replaced by refined silver glasses. She thought that her father was really pulling out all
stops for this breakfast meeting. She had seen him pin his hopes on too many so-called
Neelkanths earlier. Miracle men who had turned out to be frauds. She hoped that her father
would not have to face disillusionment again.
The crier announced Shiva and Nandi. As Daksha rose with a reverential namaste to receive
the Lord, Parvateshwar rolled his eyes at the servile behaviour of his Emperor. At the same
instant, Sati bent down to pick up a glass that she had accidentally knocked over to the floor.
‘My Lord,’ said Daksha pointing to the people standing around the table. ‘Kanakhala,
Brahaspati and Parvateshwar, you already know. At the far right is my wife, Queen Veerini.’
Shiva smiled politely as he returned Veerini’s namaste with a formal namaste and a low
bow.
‘And next to her,’ said Daksha with a broad smile as Sati came up holding the glass she had
retrieved, ‘is my daughter, Princess Sati.’
The breath went out of Shiva as he looked at his life staring back at him. His heart beat a