‘But tell your mother at least.’

‘A word of honour does not stop at a mother’s door.’

‘Didi is suffering. I thought you’d do anything for her.’

‘I will. She can live without me but not without the Mahadev. She’s not letting me leave because of her guilt at not being there for me earlier.’

‘What are you saying? You will leave? ’

‘Yes. In another ten days. Once the Meluhan General and the Chandravanshi Princess’ wedding celebrations are done. Then father can return home.’

‘Your mother will not allow this.’

‘It doesn’t matter. I will leave. I will not be the reason for my parent’s separation.’

‘Your Highness,’ said Kanakhala, the Meluhan Prime Minister. ‘It is not advisable for you to leave for Swadweep without a formal invitation. It is against protocol.’

‘What nonsense,’ said Daksha. ‘I am the Emperor of India. I can go wherever I please.’

Kanakhala was a loyal Prime Minister. But she did not want her Emperor to commit any act which would embarrass the Empire. ‘But the terms of the Ayodhya treaty are that Swadweep is only our vassal and has direct control over its own territory. Protocol dictates that we seek their permission. They cannot deny permission. You are their Lord. But it’s a formality that must be completed.’

‘No formalities needed. I’m just a father going to meet his favourite daughter!’

Kanakhala frowned. ‘Your Highness, you have only one daughter.’

‘Yes. Yes. I know,’ said Daksha, waving his hand dismissively. ‘Look I am leaving in three weeks. You can send a messenger to Swadweep asking for permission. All right?’

‘Your Highness, bird couriers are still not set up in Ayodhya. You know how inefficient those people are. And Ayodhya is further than Kashi. So even if the messenger leaves today, he will reach Ayodhya in a little over three months. You will reach Kashi at the same time.’

Daksha smiled. ‘Yes, I will. Go and make the arrangements for my departure.’

Kanakhala sighed, bowed and left the chambers.

The Emperor of Swadweep, Dilipa, had planned grand festivities to celebrate the wedding of his daughter Anandmayi with Parvateshwar. But the unexpected bitterness between the Mahadev and his wife had soured the mood. However, the pujas could not be cancelled. It would be an insult to the gods. While all the parties had been put on hold, the pujas to the elemental gods Agni, Vayu, Prithvi, Varun, Surya and Som were to proceed as planned.

The puja for the Sun god was being conducted at the Surya temple on the Sacred Avenue, just a little South of Assi Ghat. A grand platform had been erected on the road, directly overlooking the temple. Shiva and Sati were seated next to each other on specific thrones designed for them. Unlike their earlier public appearances, they were sitting stiff and apart. Shiva was not even looking at Sati, righteous anger still radiating from every pore in his body. He had only come for the puja and would return to the Branga residence as soon as it was over.

Every citizen of Kashi, who had never seen Shiva’s temper, was deeply troubled. But none more than Kartik. He had been pestering both his parents to get back together. Knowing Kartik would get even more insistent if he saw the both of them together, Shiva had told Krittika to take Kartik to the park adjoining the nearby Sankat Mochan temple.

Next to Shiva on the platform built for the thrones, were Kali, Bhagirath, Dilipa, Athithigva and Ayurvati. Parvateshwar and Anandmayi were at the temple platform, where the Surya Pandit helped them consecrate their love with the purifying blessings of the Sun God.

To avoid an embarrassing situation, Ganesh had wisely declined his invitation to the puja.

While all of Kashi was at the puja, Ganesh sat by himself at the Sankat Mochan temple. He had first gone to the adjoining park to meet his little brother for the first time in ten days, carrying a sack full of mangoes. After a lively thirty minutes, Ganesh had retired to the temple, leaving Kartik to play with Krittika and his five bodyguards. He sat there quietly, gazing at Lord Hanuman, the most ardent devotee of Lord Ram.

Lord Hanuman was called Sankat Mochan for a reason. People believed he always helped his devotees in a crisis. Ganesh thought that even Lord Hanuman would find it impossible to help him get out of this mess. Neither could he imagine a life without his mother nor could he bear it if he became the reason for his parents living separately. He had decided to leave Kashi the next day. But he knew that he would spend the rest of his life pining for his mother, now that he had experienced her love.

He smiled as he heard the loud cacophony of Kartik’s boisterous antics in the park.

The carefree laughter of a soul strongly nourished by his mother’s love.

Ganesh sighed, knowing such carefree laughter would never be a part of his destiny. He drew out his sword, pulled a smooth stone and started doing what Kshatriyas usually do when they have nothing else to do: Sharpen their blades.

So lost was Ganesh in his thoughts that he paid heed to his gut instinct quite late. Something strange was happening in the park. He held his breath and listened. And then it hit him. The park had gone absolutely quiet. What had happened to the loud laughter of Kartik, Krittika and his companions?

Ganesh got up quickly, put his sword into his scabbard and started walking towards the park. And then he heard it. A low growl, followed by a deafening roar. The kill was nigh.

Lions!

Ganesh drew his sword and started sprinting. A man was stumbling towards him. One of the Kashi soldiers, who was slashed across his arm. The clear markings of sharp claws.

‘How many?’ Ganesh was loud enough for the soldier to hear even at a distance.

The Kashi soldier did not respond. He just stumbled forward, shell-shocked.

Ganesh reached him in no time, jolted him hard and repeated again. ‘How many?’

‘Thr...ee,’ said the soldier.

‘Get the Mahadev!’

The soldier still looked shocked.

Ganesh shook him again. ‘Get the Mahadev! Now!’

The soldier started running towards the Sun temple as Ganesh turned towards the park.

The Kashi soldier knew what he was running away from and yet his feet were unsteady. Ganesh knew what he was running towards, but his pace was sure and strong.

He used a side stone as leverage to leap over the park fence without a sound.

He landed on the other side, close to a lioness busy crushing the broken neck of a soldier between her jaws, asphyxiating an already dead man. Ganesh slashed at her as he ran by, cutting through a major vein on her shoulder. Blood poured out of the lioness’ wound as Ganesh raced towards Krittika, another Kashi soldier and Kartik, who were at the centre of the garden. Two other soldiers were lying dead in a far corner. Judging from their positions, they were probably the first to be killed.

Ganesh dashed to Krittika’s side. They were hemmed in from one side by a lioness and a massive liger.

Bhoomidevi be merciful! They have followed us from Icchawar!

The other side was blocked off by the lioness whose shoulder was bleeding profusely after Ganesh’s blow.

Kartik, his wooden sword drawn, was ready for battle. Ganesh knew Kartik was childishly brave enough to charge at the liger with just his wooden sword. He stood in front of his brother, with Krittika on one side and the soldier on the other.