Brahaspati spoke up. ‘The slope with the trees is probably the remnant of a very long ramp that was used to carry that stone cupola to the top of the hill.’

Shiva smiled at the precise engineering skills of the Vasudevs. He had known his mysterious advisors for years. He looked forward to finally meeting their leader.

Daksha gazed at the full moon reflected in the shimmering Saraswati waters. He was standing by the large window of his private palace chamber. He had increasingly isolated himself in the last few months, avoiding meeting people as far as possible. He was especially terrified of meeting Maharishi Bhrigu, convinced as he was, that the maharishi would read his mind and realise that it was Daksha who had foiled the attack on Panchavati in an attempt to save his beloved daughter.

But this period of isolation had done wonders for Daksha and Veerini’s relationship. They were conversing, even confiding in each other once again, almost like the first few years of their marriage. Before Daksha had developed ambitions to become the ruler of Meluha.

Veerini walked up to her husband and placed her hand on his shoulder. ‘What are you thinking?’

Daksha pulled back from his wife. Veerini frowned. Then she noticed Daksha’s hands. He was holding an amulet that showed his chosen-tribe, the self-declared ranking within the caste hierarchy that is adopted by young men and women. It was a subordinate rank, a lowly goat. Many Kshatriyas felt that the goat chosen-tribe was so low that it did not entitle its members to be considered complete Kshatriyas. In Daksha’s case it was his father Brahmanayak who had selected his chosen-tribe, clearly reflecting his contempt for his son.

‘What’s the matter, Daksha?’

‘Why does she think I’m a monster? I got rid of her son for her own good. And we didn’t abandon Ganesh. He was well taken care of in Panchavati. And how can she imagine that I would even think of getting her husband killed? It wasn’t me.’

Veerini stayed silent. Now was not the time to confront her husband with the truth. Had he wanted to, he could have saved Chandandhwaj, Sati’s first husband. Daksha may not have got the killing done through commission, but he was complicit by omission. However, weak people never admit that they are responsible for their own state. They always blame either circumstances or others.

‘I’m saying once again, Daksha, let’s forget everything,’ said Veerini. ‘You have achieved all you wanted to. You are the Emperor of India. We cannot live in Panchavati anymore. We lost that opportunity long ago. Kali and Ganesh despise us. And I don’t blame them for it. Let us take sanyas, retreat to the Himalayas and live out the rest of our lives in peace and meditation. We will die with the name of the Lord on our lips.’

‘I will not run away!’

‘Daksha...’

‘Everything is clear to me now. I needed the Neelkanth to conquer Swadweep. He has now served his purpose. Sati will be back once he’s gone and we will be happy again.’