the immortal of maluha

ecome unwell!’
The harsh tone had the desired effect. While Shiva did not move from his place, he let
Ayurvati dress his wounds. Ayurvati then quickly tended to Parvateshwar’s wounds and left the
hut.
Shiva looked at the prahar lamp in the hut. It had been three hours since Ayurvati had
removed the arrow. Parvateshwar had left the hut to look after the other injured and make the
preparations for setting up camp, since the convoy was going to stay in Koonj for some time.
That was Parvateshwar’s way. If he was confronted with an ugly situation that he could do
nothing about, he did not wallow in his misery. He would drown himself in his work so that he
did not have to think about the crisis.
Shiva was different. Many years back, he had sworn that he would never run from a difficult
situation. Even if there was absolutely nothing he could do. He hadn’t left Sati’s side for a
moment. He sat patiently by her bed, waiting for her to recover. Hoping for her to recover.
Praying for her to recover.
‘Shiva...’ a barely audible whisper broke the silence.
Shiva looked at Sati’s face. Her eyes were slightly open. Her hand had moved indiscernibly.
He pulled his chair closer, careful not to touch her.
‘I’m so sorry,’ cried Shiva. ‘I should never have got us into this fight.’
‘No, no,’ murmured Sati. ‘You did the right thing. Someone had to make our stand. You have
come to Meluha to lead us and to destroy evil. You did your duty.’
Shiva continued to stare at Sati, overcome by grief. Sati widened her eyes a bit, she was
trying to take in as much of Shiva as she could, in what she knew were her last moments.
Death is the ultimate destroyer of a soul’s aspirations. Ironically, it is usually the approach of
this very destruction which gives a soul the courage to challenge every constraint and express
itself. Express even a long-denied dream.
‘It is my time to go, Shiva,’ whispered Sati. ‘But before I go, I want to tell you that the last
few months have been the happiest in my life.’
Shiva continued to look at Sati with moist eyes. His hands developed a life of their own and
moved towards Sati. He checked himself in time.
‘I wish you had come into my life earlier,’ said Sati, letting out a secret that she hadn’t even
acknowledged to herself. ‘My life would have been so different.’
Shiva’s eyes tried frantically to restrain themselves, struggling against the despair that
needed an outlet.
‘I wish I had told you earlier,’ murmured Sati. ‘Because the first time that I am telling you will
also probably be the last.’
Shiva looked on at her, his voice choked.
Sati looked deeply into Shiva’s eyes, whispering softly, ‘I love you.’
The dam broke and tears poured down Shiva’s grief-stricken face.
‘You are going to repeat these words for at least another hundred years,’ sobbed Shiva.
‘You are not going anywhere. I will fight the god of death himself, if I have to. You are not going
anywhere.’