The Rudra Avenue ended at the base of a terrace. This platform though, unlike the ones built by the Meluhans, had not been constructed as protection against flood. The problem with water in Pariha was not one of excess but that of scarcity. The platform had been built to create a smooth base atop the rough, undulating, mountainous valley, allowing for the construction of massive structures upon it. The city of Pariha had been built on it.

Kurush, Gopal and Shiva approached the platform at the lowest point of the valley. The platform was at its tallest here, nearly twenty metres high. A massive ceremonial gate had been erected at what was obviously the only entry point into the city. The road was surrounded by high walls on both sides, and narrowed down as it led to the well barricaded gate. Looking admiringly around, the warrior in Shiva understood that the approach to the city gates perforce funnelled an attacking force into a narrow neck, thus making defence easy for the Parihans.

The massive ornate city gates had been hewn out of the local brown stone that Shiva had frequently seen en route. The gate itself was flanked on either side by large pillars, on which crouched two imposing creatures, as if ready to pounce in defence of their city. This unfamiliar creature carried the head of a man on the body of a lion and sprouted the broad wings of an eagle. Parihan pride was unmistakable in the features of the face: a sharp forehead held high, a hooked nose, neatly beaded beard, a drooping moustache and lengthy locks emerging from under a square hat. The aggressive, warrior-like visage was tempered somewhat by calm, almost friendly eyes.

Shiva noted that Kurush’s conversation with the gatekeeper was done. He walked back and spoke respectfully to Gopal. ‘My Lord, the formalities have been completed. Please accept my apologies that it took us so long to get here. Shall we?’

‘There’s no need for an apology, Kurush,’ said Gopal politely. ‘Let’s go.’

Shiva quietly followed Kurush and Gopal, keenly aware of the gatekeeper’s quizzical, perhaps even judgemental eyes.

They crossed a massive tiled courtyard, guiding their horses onto the cobbled pathway leading to the top of the platform. The gradient was gentle, making it easy to negotiate the single hair-pin bend they encountered. A few pedestrians sauntered along the accompanying steps, provided with long treads to facilitate the climb. All along the pathway, the rock face of the platform had been carved and painted. Against the relief of glazed tiles, sculpted Parihans gazed at passers-by with their distinguished features, long coats and square hats. As if from nowhere, water rippled down the centre of the rock face, leaving a lilting musical sound in its wake. Shiva made a mental note to ask Gopal the secret of this water source in the harsh desert.