Shiva looked across the lake at the setting sun. In the distance he spotted a pair of swans gliding over the shimmering waters. It appeared to Shiva as if the birds beheld the sight together; the setting sun cannot be enjoyed unless shared with the one you love.

He breathed deeply and picked up a pebble. When he was young, he could throw one such that it skipped off the surface of the lake. His record had been seventeen bounces. He flung the pebble, but he failed; it sank immediately into the lake with a plop.

I miss you.

Not a day passed in his life without his mind dwelling on his wife. He wiped a tear from his eye before turning back to look at the bonfires outside his village compound. A large crowd had gathered around the fires, eating, drinking and making merry.

Some members of his Guna tribe had followed him when he had returned to Kailash Mountain many years ago. In addition, nearly ten thousand people from across India had decided to leave their homes and migrate to the homeland of their Mahadev. Chief amongst them were Nandi, Brahaspati, Tara, Parshuram and Ayurvati. The deposed Ayodhyan ruler, Dilipa, who was still alive thanks to Ayurvati’s medicines; former Maika-Lothal governor Chenardhwaj and former Naga Prime Minister Karkotak had also migrated to the shores of the Mansarovar. Shiva’s followers had established new villages in close proximity to his. Seeing the massive contingent Shiva now commanded, even the Pakratis, the local Tibetans who had maintained a long-standing enmity with the Gunas, had made peace with the Neelkanth.

The fires reminded Shiva of one of the worst days of his life, the day he had destroyed Devagiri. Sati had been cremated on the same day, later on in the evening. But Shiva did not have memories of that event. He had been unconscious, having been battered by the neutron blast of the Pashupatiastra. He had been fighting for his life under Ayurvati’s care. What he knew about Sati’s cremation was from what Kali, Ganesh and Kartik had told him.

He had been told that a calm breeze had blown across the land, picking up the ashes from the ruins of Devagiri and scattering them around slowly. It was almost as if the ashes were trying to reach the waters of the Saraswati, to give some closure to the souls of the departed. Hazy specks had coloured the entire landscape around the Saraswati to a pale shade of grey.

The sandalwood pyre, lit by both Ganesh and Kartik, had taken some time to light, but once it did, it had raged like an inferno. It seemed as if even Lord Agni, the God of Fire, needed some coaxing to consume the body of the former Princess of Meluha. But once the task had begun, it must have been so painful for Lord Agni that he wanted to finish it as soon as possible.