Was it the Neelkanth who attacked us?

Why would he attack us?

We are his people! He is our God!

Was it really him who banned the Somras and not a fraud Neelkanth? Did our Emperor lie to us? No, that cannot be...

Shiva stood tall on the stone podium, surveying the milling, excitable crowd. He allowed them to have a clear view of his uncovered blue throat, the neel kanth. Unarmed as ordered, Nandi, Veerbhadra and Parshuram stood apprehensively behind him.

‘Citizens of Mrittikavati,’ thundered Shiva. ‘I am your Neelkanth.’

Whispers hummed through the square.

‘Silence!’ said Nandi, raising his hand, quietening the audience immediately.

‘I come from a faraway land deep in the Himalayas. My life was changed by what I had believed was an elixir. But I was wrong. This mark I bear on my throat is not a blessing from the gods but a curse of Evil, a mark of poison. I carry this mark,’ said Shiva, pointing to his blue throat. ‘But my fellow Meluhans, you bear this scourge as well! And you don’t even know it!’

The audience listened, spellbound.

‘The Somras gives you a long life and you are grateful for that. But these years that it gifts to you are not for free! It takes away a lot more from you! And its hunger for your soul has no limit!’

A sinister breeze rustled the leaves of the trees that lined the square.

‘For these few additional transient years you pay a price that is eternal! It is no coincidence that so many women in Meluha cannot bear children. That is the curse of the Somras!’

Shiva’s words found ready resonance in Meluhan hearts, many of which had been broken by the long lonely wait for children from the Maika adoption system. They knew the misery of growing old without a child.

‘It is no coincidence that the mother of your country, the mother of Indian civilisation itself, the revered Saraswati is slowly drying to extinction. The thirsty Somras continues to consume her waters. Her death will also be due to the evil of the Somras!’

The Saraswati River was not just a body of water to most Indians; in fact, no river was. And the Saraswati was the holiest among them all. It was their spiritual mother.

‘Thousands of children are born in Maika with painful cancers that eat up their bodies. Millions of Swadweepans are dying of a plague brought on by the waste of the Somras. Those people curse the ones who use the Somras. They are cursing you. And your souls will bear this burden for many births. That is the evil of the Somras!’

Veerbhadra looked at Shiva’s back and then at the audience.