the immortal of maluha

‘Vayuputra?’ asked Shiva. The name sounded oddly familiar.
The Pandit placed his hand on Shiva’s shoulder. ‘Leave this for another time, my friend. I
think we have spoken enough for today. Go home. You need your good wife’s comforting
embrace. Tomorrow is another day. And your mission can wait till then. For now, go home.’
Shiva smiled. An enigmatic smile. Out of character with his simple Tibetan ways. But he had
become an Indian now. He leaned forward to touch the Pandit’s feet. The Pandit placed his
hand on his head to bless him, speaking gently, ‘Vijayibhav. Jai Guru Vishwamitra. Jai Guru
Vashishta.’
Shiva nodded, accepting the blessings with grace. He got up, turned and walked towards
the temple steps. At the edge of the platform, he turned around to look at the Pandit once
again. The Pandit sat on his haunches, touching his head reverentially to the ground that Shiva
had just vacated. Shiva smiled and shook his head slightly. Looking beyond the Pandit, he
gazed intently at the idol of Lord Ram. He put his hands together in a namaste and paid his
respects to the Lord.
His burden didn’t feel any tighter. But he felt strong enough to carry it.
He turned and started climbing down. At the bottom, he was surprised to find Sati leaning
against the statue of an apsara in the middle of the compound. He smiled. There was nobody in
the world whom he would rather see at this time.
Walking towards her, he teased, ‘Are you always going to follow me around?’
‘I know when you need to be alone,’ smiled Sati. ‘And when you need me.’
Shiva froze suddenly. He could see a robe flapping behind the trees, a short distance from
Sati. The light evening breeze gave away the position of the skulking man. Sati followed Shiva’s
gaze and turned around. A robed figure, wearing a Holi mask, emerged from behind the trees.
It is him!
Shiva’s heart started beating faster. He was still a considerable distance away from Sati.
The Naga was too close for comfort. The three stood rooted to their spots, assessing the
situation, evaluating the others next move. It was Sati who moved first. Shifting quickly, she
pulled a knife from her side-hold and flung it at the Naga. The Naga barely stirred. The knife
missed him narrowly, slamming hard into the tree behind him, burying deep into the wood.
Shiva moved his hand slowly towards his sword.
The Naga reached behind, pulled the knife out of the tree and in a strange act, tied it tightly
to his right wrist with a cloth band. Then he moved, quickly.
‘Sati!’ screamed Shiva, as he drew his sword and started sprinting towards his wife, pulling
his shield forward as he ran.
…to be continued