the immortal of maluha

‘And,’ continued Anandmayi, ‘his throat will turn blue when he drinks the Somras.’
An audible gasp escaped Shiva as his body stiffened. The world seemed to spin. Anandmayi
frowned, even more confused about the strange conversation.
Parvateshwar glowered fiercely at Anandmayi. ‘You are lying, woman! Admit it! You are
lying!’
‘Why would I…’
Anandmayi stopped in mid-sentence as she noticed Shiva’s cravat covered throat. The
arrogance suddenly vanished from her face. She found her knees buckling under her. Pointing
weakly with her hands, she asked, ‘Why is your throat covered?’
‘Take her out, Nandi!’ ordered Parvateshwar.
‘Who are you?’ shouted Anandmayi.
Nandi and Veerbhadra tried to pull Anandmayi out. With surprising strength, she struggled
against them. ‘Show me your throat!’
They held on to her arms and dragged her backwards. She kicked Veerbhadra in the groin,
causing him to fall back in pain as she turned towards Shiva once again. ‘Who the hell are you?’
Shiva stared down at the table unable to find the strength to even glance at Anandmayi. He
held his armrest tightly. It seemed to be the only stable thing in a world spinning desperately
out of control.
Veerbhadra staggered back, held her arms tighdy and pulled her back as Nandi held her by
the neck. Anandmayi bit Nandi’s arm brutally. As a howling Nandi pulled his arm back, she
screamed again, ‘Answer me, dammit! Who are you?’
Shiva looked up for one brief instant at Anandmayi’s tormented eyes. The pain they
conveyed lashed his soul. The flames of agony burned his conscience.
A shocked Anandmayi suddenly became immobile. The misery in her eyes would have
stunned the bravest of Meluhan soldiers. In a broken voice, she whispered, ‘You are supposed
to be on our side…’
She allowed herself to be hauled out by Nandi and Veerbhadra. Parvateshwar kept his eyes
down. He dared not look at Shiva. He was a good Suryavanshi. He would not humiliate his Lord
by looking at him at his weakest. Sati, on the other hand, would not leave her husband to suffer
alone, by not looking at him when he was at his weakest. She came to his side, touching his
face.
Shiva looked up, his eyes devastated with the tears of sorrow. ‘What have I done?’
Sati held Shiva tightly, holding his throbbing head against her bosom. There was nothing she
could say to alleviate the pain. She could just hold him.
An agonized whisper suffused the tent with its resonant grief. ‘What have I done?’