Shiva’s questions were quickly forgotten as he reached the top and exclaimed with wonder at the sheer beauty of all that he beheld.

‘By the Holy Lake!’

He had just had his first vision of the exquisite, symmetrical gardens of Pariha. These artificial heavenly creations were so extraordinary that Parihans had named them Paradaeza, the walled place of harmony.

The Paradaeza extended along the central axis of the rectangular city, with buildings built around it. The park and the city extended all the way to the edge of a great mountain at the upper end of the valley, which had been named the Mountain of Mercy by the Asuras. A water channel emerged from the heart of the mountain, flowing through the garden in an unerringly straight line, filling up large square ponds intermittently. The ponds themselves had flamboyant fountains constructed in the centre, spewing water high into the air. The left and right halves of the gardens, divided by the water channel, were perfect mirror images of each other. The entire expanse was covered with a carpet of thick and carefully manicured grass, which provided the base around which flower beds and trees were arranged in perfect harmony. The flora had obviously been imported from around the world; roses, narcissus, tulips, lilacs, jasmine, orange and lemon trees dotted the landscape in poetic profusion.

Shiva was so lost in the beauty of the garden that he didn’t hear his friend call.

‘Lord Neelkanth?’ repeated Gopal.

Shiva turned to the Chief Vasudev.

‘We can always come back here, my friend. But for now, we need to retire to our guesthouse.’

Shiva and Gopal had been housed in the state guesthouse, reserved for elite visitors to Pariha. Here too, the duo encountered the Parihan obsession with beauty and elegance.

Dismounting from their horses, Shiva and Gopal strode into the building. The entrance led to a wide, comfortable veranda lined with neat rows of perfectly circular columns providing support to a great stone ceiling. The columns were coloured a vivid pink all the way to the top, at which point, near the ceiling, it contained discreet etchings of animal figurines. Shiva squinted to get a better look.

‘Bulls,’ remarked Shiva.

Bulls and cows were sacred amongst the Indians, central to the spiritual experience of life.

‘Yes,’ confirmed Gopal. ‘Bulls are revered by the Parihans as well. They’re symbolic of strength and virility.’

As they reached the other end of the veranda, they encountered three elegantly dressed Parihans. The one in front held out a tray with warm, moistened and scented towels. Gopal immediately picked one up and went on to wipe the accumulated dust and grime from his face and hands. Shiva followed his example.

A Parihan woman walked up to Gopal, bowed low and spoke softly. ‘Welcome, honoured Chief Vasudev Gopal. We can scarce believe our good fortune in hosting the representative of the great Lord Ram.’