Gopal pointed to the Suryavanshi soldier. ‘Lord Parvateshwar has sent a message. Maharishi Bhrigu has refused to leave the city.’

Kartik shook his head. ‘Why are the Meluhans so bloody eager to die?’

‘What do I do, Lord Kartik?’ asked the Suryavanshi.

‘Take me to Maharishi Bhrigu.’

A flickering sacrificial flame spread its light as best as it could in the night. Its reflection on the nearby Saraswati River aided its cause. Ganesh sat quietly on a patla, a low stool, with his legs crossed and his fleshy hands placed on his knees, his long fingers extended out delicately. He wore a white dhoti.

A barber was shearing Ganesh’s hair, while Ganesh kept chanting a mantra softly and dropping some ghee into the sacrificial flame.

Having removed all of Ganesh’s hair, the barber put his implement down and wiped his head with a cloth. Then he picked up a small bottle he had taken from Ayurvati, poured the disinfectant into his hands and spread it on Ganesh’s head.

‘It’s done, My Lord.’

Ganesh didn’t reply. He looked directly at the sacrificial flame and spoke softly. ‘She was the purest among them all, Lord Agni. Remember that as you consume her. Take care of her and carry her straight to heaven, for that is where she came from. She was, is and forever will be a Goddess. She will be the Mother Goddess.’

It was late in the night when a tired Shiva trudged back to his Sati. The Pashupatiastra was ready. There were just a few more tests that needed to be conducted. Tara was at it. The peace conference area was within the external blast radius of the Pashupatiastra, so Sati’s body would be moved from her icy tomb the next morning.

What nobody dared verbalise was that, without the Meluhan cooling mechanism, her body would start decomposing, and she would need to be cremated. That was something Shiva refused to contemplate.

Shiva opened the door of the inner chamber in the building, shivering at the sudden blast of cold air. He could see Ganesh, his son, standing next to the ice tower, holding his dead mother’s hand. His head had been shaven clean. The Lord of the Nagas was on his toes, his mouth close to his mother’s ear. Following an ancient tradition, he was whispering hymns from the Rig Veda into her ear.

Shiva walked up to Ganesh and touched his shoulder lightly. Ganesh immediately pulled up his white angvastram and wiped his eyes before turning to face his father.

Shiva embraced his son.

‘I miss her, baba.’ Ganesh held Shiva tightly.

‘I miss her too...’

Ganesh began to cry. ‘I abandoned her in her hour of need.’

‘You weren’t the only one, my son. I wasn’t there either. But we will avenge her.’

Ganesh kept sobbing helplessly.

‘I want to kill them all. I want to kill every single one of those bastards!’