The commotion disturbed the god's meditation. He opened his eyes, saw a young girl with pleading tears, and asked, "Child, what brings you here?"

"Devta, I want my husband."

"I created a beautiful specimen — more than six feet tall, muscular, chiseled features on a honey colored face, radiant brown eyes, a good farmer and a champion wrestler — and gave it to you."

"He was a wonderful husband, but he was with me less than a week. The Yammas are taking him away, and I want him back," she pleaded.

"It's beyond my jurisdiction. I make the creatures. Vishnu maintains those, and Shiva destroys them. We don't mess in each other's work. You should approach Shiva."

She made a deep bow with folded hands. "Devta, where can I find god Shiva?"

"A few minutes ago, I found him leaving on his heavenly rounds."

"Did he ride the sacred bird?" she asked.

"No, he always prefers his favorite bull, Nandi."

She soaked god Brahma's feet with her hot tears and thanked him. God Brahma patted her back and said, "Child, my blessings are with you."

Suddenly, she felt enormous strength in her exhausted body; she had the blessings of two gods. She flew out of the court with full determination.

Soon, she heard the jangle of bells and flew toward them. When she came closer, she saw a white bull, bigger than ten elephants, flying over the fields. God Shiva, with his mountain of black hair decked with cobras, was enjoying the sight of his thousands of Yammas hauling in the dead. Different types of hissing snakes were coiled around his biceps and neck, and flames were shooting out of his nostrils. She knew that god Shiva had a cantankerous temper, but she had god Brahma's and god Vishnu's invocation, which provided her with the needed courage. She flew straight to the bull and blocked its path with her large wings.

The bull snorted.

God Shiva yelled, "Get out of Nandi's path, otherwise I will turn you into ashes."

She kissed the bull's feet and begged, "Mighty Devta, please release my husband."

"I've instructed the Yammas to bring him, and I never withdraw my orders."

She wiped her tears and cried, "Please show some mercy on a wretched girl."

"I can't. If I show compassion, I would never be able to do my job, and the world would become overcrowded. My agents collect millions daily, and I'm strict in the compliance of my decision."

Sheila refused to budge. God Shiva shook his head. The bull kicked her, and she was thrown many miles into the sky. Now blood covered her face and soaked her blouse.

She was devastated: she was severely injured and had lost her appeal. The image of her grandmother, who became a suttee by throwing herself on the burning pyre of her husband, flashed across her mind. She, however, didn't want to take that cowardly way out and resolved to die fighting with the Yammas.

After wiping the blood covering her eyes, she took a deep breath, prayed to god Vishnu, and flew toward the Yammas who were carrying her husband. On reaching them, she jumped on the stretcher, clung to her husband's body, and the blood from her bleeding face covered the corpse. One of the Yammas grabbed her hair and threw her into the air. She felt sharp pain, but was undaunted and again returned to the Yammas. This time, she noticed an old man with a white beard, clicking a rosary in his right hand and leading the group. She remembered the Scriptures— this saint controlled the Yammas and appeared when the heartless Yammas were in trouble. She found compassion in the eyes of this saintly figure and caught hold of his legs.

Taken by surprise, the saint pivoted and raised his arm to slap her, but he was hypnotized by her tearful, pleading eyes and blood covered face.

He lifted his rosary churning hand and said, "Child, what do you want?"

"The spirit of my husband," she begged.

"God Shiva has ordered me, and I'm helpless."