He sits still, unmoving and stern. The girl smiles and raises her arms to put her glowing garland on him. Although he is seated and she is standing, she needs to raise her arms high to get it over his head. ‘Gentle, gentle,’ whispers Kamadeva, drawing his bow. The very stillness of Siva, like the gumma, raises the hair on the nape of his neck. With her hands still on the vivid flowers, Parvati looks at his closed lids, smiling and expectant.

A sudden gust of wind rises in the trees around and the water in the lake stirs up. The still, tall trees start swaying and creaking. The red-gold-white vanishes as the flowers on Siva suddenly wither away. The whole world turns black, but Parvati grimly holds onto the crumbling flowers.

The churning wind causes the water in the lake to come crashing towards the shore. Kamadeva, trembling with sudden fear, moves quickly. He puts all five of his flower arrows on the bow, draws it and aims at Siva’s heart, just next to Parvati’s cheek, and lets them go straight and true to the mark.

Parvati feels something hard go past her cheek and hit the rock-like chest in front of her. Blood starts pulsing under her fingers and the hard black chest turns red and hot. She is afraid, but she stubbornly refuses to remove her fingers from the flowers on his chest. She keeps her eyes on his closed lids and, at last, as though her yearning had finally reached him, those heavy lids slowly open. She doesn’t drop her eyes, doesn’t even blink as Siva raises his lids and his eyes, endless wells of calm, slowly begin to show some awareness of things around him.

Now Kamadeva is frozen, as still as Siva had been. It is almost like Siva’s trance has been transferred to him, holding him prisoner, helpless and depleted. Ramani, staring at Kamadeva, feels a desolateness creeping up her body. As Siva’s eyes slowly come down to see her, Parvati’s eyes drop down in sudden shyness. She is unable to hold that suddenly blazing gaze, passionate and aware, intensely probing her soul. Her fingers tremble, but she puts up her chin and holds the withered garland more firmly.

Softly, swiftly, he breathes. Now she resolutely does not look at him. There is a warmth at the nape of her neck, like gentle fingers caressing her scalp through her thick braid, loosening it, taking all the mallige flowers out … She blinks. What is this sensation? Siva has not moved, nothing has moved. Should she look up and see him? But those eyes! She is terrified that she is already lost. But that is what she wants! She wants to be lost in his gaze, lost in his arms, lost in him. Why is she looking away?