the immortal of maluha

was obviously a local. The captain trailed them with his platoon of thirty soldiers. After sprinting
for the larger part of half an hour, they finally reached the riverside to find a dazed woman
sitting on the ground. With heavy breaths, she was staring in shock at an imaginary vision in the
distance. There was blood all over her clothes, but strangely, no injury to her. There were many
footsteps that appeared to be coming out of the river and going back in.
The captain looked at the woman who had led them here with suspicious eyes. Turning to
his soldiers, he ordered, ‘Form a perimeter around the General and the Neelkanth. It could be a
trap.’
‘She was being eaten alive, I tell you,’ screeched the woman, absolutely stunned to see her
friend alive and unharmed.
‘No she wasn’t,’ said Shiva calmly. He pointed at the corpse of the crocodile floating in the
river. A large flock of crows had settled on the carcass, fighting viciously over its entrails.
‘Somebody just saved her from that crocodile.’
‘Whoever it was has rowed across the river, my Lord,’ said the captain, pointing towards the
heavy footmarks close to the river.
‘Why would a Naga risk his own life to save this woman?’ asked Shiva.
Parvateshwar seemed as surprised. This was completely unlike the usual blood thirsty
Nagas they had dealt with till now.
‘My Lords,’ said the captain, addressing both Shiva and Parvateshwar. ‘The women appear
safe. Perhaps it is not wise for everybody to stay here. If I have your permission, I will escort
these women back to their village and rejoin the caravan at Kotdwaar. You could retire to the
rest-house.’
‘All right,’ said Parvateshwar. ‘Take four soldiers with you just in case.’
Both Shiva and Parvateshwar walked back, baffled by this bizarre event.
It was late in the evening. Shiva, Brahaspati, Nandi and Veerbhadra sat quietly around the
camp fire. Shiva turned to see Sad sitting at a distance, on the rest-house veranda, along with
Ayurvati and Krittika, having a serious conversation. Parvateshwar as usual, moved among his
soldiers, personally supervising the security arrangements of the camp and the comfort of his
boys.
‘It’s ready, Shiva,’ said Veerbhadra, handing over the chillum to the Neelkanth.
Shiva brought the pipe up to his lips and pulled hard. He relaxed visibly. Feeling the need for
respite, he smoked some more before passing it back to his friend. Veerbhadra offered it to
Brahaspati and Nandi, who both declined. Brahaspati stared at Shiva who kept stealing glances
at Sati. He smiled and shook his head.
‘What?’ asked Shiva who had noticed Brahaspati’s gesture.
‘I understand your longing, my friend,’ whispered Brahaspati. ‘But what you are hoping for is
quite difficult. Almost impossible.’
‘When it’s so valuable, it can’t be easy. Can it?’
Brahaspati smiled and patted Shiva on his hand.
Veerbhadra knew what his friend needed. Dance and music. It always improved his mood.
‘Don’t people sing and dance in this wretched country.’