When I Tell You A Story: Book 1 (Black River Trilogy)

by Himalaya Goswami

  step ahead, and continued, ‘What wil you do now, Mr Q?’.

  ‘Kil me?’ he took another step ahead, and Qadri stepped back. ‘You thought this

  il -fated stone would save you?’ He was a hand’s distance away from him. Mr Z

  bent, and pushed his inside his waist pocket. Qadri was shaking terribly, his

  eyebal s had stretched, and he could start crying anytime. ‘No, Mr Q. It wil ruin

  you,’ the intruder added, and pul ed out a tiny box from his inner pocket, and

  Qadri screamed at the peak of his voice.

  He was sure it would be a weapon of some sort, a dagger that would end his game

  with-in seconds. But once again, he was wrong. It was a pack of cigarettes.

  ‘Have one. You need them, chap.’

  ‘You don’t want to kil me?’ Qadri asked out of bewilderment.

  ‘Oh, no, Mr Q. why would i want that?’ He replied with a control ed enthusiasm,

  and pul ed out a smoke stick from pack for himself, and offered him again. This

  time, qadri took it.

  ‘What do you want then?’ Qadri asked as he lit up the two cigerettes. ‘And where

  have you come from?’

  ‘I am the messenger, and I am sent here by my father, Lord Angtoz, of planet

  Kray.’

  ‘Are you….an alien?’

  ‘What’s that?’

  Mr Z began strol ing around the room, staring at the wal s and equipments

  embedded in them. The air conditoner, wal clock, paintings, safety almirah, he

  galnced them al , thinking how rapidly human life had advanced. The last time he

  was here, it was just giant green creatures and tal trees on Earth. Qadri was

  watching his every move with ful attention.

  ‘Do you know,’ Mr Z fnal y came to the point, ‘what is the object you’re carrying

  inside that container?’ and pointed to the silver box under Qadri’s constant

  surveil ance.

  ‘Its the wish fulfil ing stone,’ he replied, taking pauses between words.

  Mr Z yawned at Qadri’s stupidity, and nodded his head sideways in negation. ‘Is it?

  Has it fulfil ed any of your wish?’

  ‘I have wished not to die tonight,’ Qadri said with a certain firmness in his tone.

  He was announcing his destiny, his choice.

  ‘Do you know the reason for al the evil in your world?’ Mr Z asked.

  ‘No. I don’t.’ He didn’t know, and neither did he care. That’s how with men is. They

  don’t care how something works until it works wel .

  ‘I must tel you this’

  Qadri shook his head in complete surprise, like a buffalo was asked to solve a

  problem of calculus.

  ‘You made the choice to not die tonight. But death is never certain. Nobody knows

  when they’re going to die. Everything is predetermined, and inevitable. You, your

  existence.’

  ‘I have seen the future, Mr Q, because is is already determined.’ Mr Z stated, and

  added, ‘and let me tel you this: A painful death awaits you.’

  ‘This must happen, Mr Q. The future must remain unaltered. Human have already

  gone far out of their way by making absurd choices. The cosmic system is about to crash. Those pack of fools cal ed Gods gave them the awareness, and look what

  they did to it? They’re axing the one big boat to build many tinier boats. They

  make wrong choices, and hence, the suffering.’

  ‘I’l never let you take it from me.’ Qadri didn’t gave a damn to what humans ha

  done, or what boat he was talking about. He had made his choice. And stated it

  clear and loud.

  ‘Give….them. .to….me,’ Mr Z said in a slow pace, seeing the obsession in Qadri’s

  eyes as he had seen before. It was the lust that had turned many hearts cruel.

  Mil ions died because of it, and it hadn’t had its fil of death yet. He knew how

  crucial it was to end the stone once and for al , the cause of al the chaos, the root

  of free wil and human freedom. Without the ability to make a choice, everything

  wil fal back under control. The peace wil be restored.

  And that was his mission, the glorious purpose by which he was bound.

  31

  The bel s at buddhist Monastery in Tibet were tingling by the push of wind. The

  wind was terrible, courtesy of the Himalayas. But it was not terrible enough to

  move the bel that was bigger than a normal human being. Its pendulum weighed

  60 kilograms, and the thickness of temple was more than an inch. It required a

  man high on adrenaline to pul the rope that moved the gong and the bel clucked.

  And its sound could be heard across miles.

  But the wind had managed to push the temple of bel to strike on the pendulum,

  not once, but many times, enough to wake up the Lama from his meditation.

  Lama came out, and saw the miracle. But it didn’t affect him. That’s how buddhists

  are. They seek to feel no difference between sadness and happiness.

  But the events happening behind his back did chil his nerves for a second. A

  mountain was trembling, shaking as it wanted to set something inside it free.

  //correct it

  The sky roared as Vyana initiated the process of passing the key-value pairs into

  the air, and the Butterfly effect began its effect. The vibrations in Delhi caused an

  explosion in the mountains of the Himalayas. An ice frozen mountain burst open

  from top and a huge bal appeared out of the cavity formed out of the burst open

  summit of the mountain. The bal was bigger than a cricket field, with three legs

  as its tripod stand. The three legs were thrusters.

  The machine rocketed up toward the sky, releasing bombs of smoke behind. They

  dashed above the clouds, moo

  Raman marked three spots on the view, and three pink lines emerged from the

  points and interconnected the three spots. The three lines formed an equilateral

  triangle covering t

  he entire affected region inside it, which was, actual y the entire city and

  neighbouring regions. The heart of India was under the triangle that began to

  glow. Raman moved his index finger pointed toward the portal he had just

  created. A thick bal of light sprouted from the node facing the north east and ran

  through the circuit, making every other node pop out the same bal . Two of them

  were in clockwise direction, and the third one was running opposite. The three

  bal s played pong# for sometime and merged themselves into each other, forming

  a huge bal of pink glitter. The glowing cluster began to melt, and diffused in the

  triangle, enhancing the portal’s size and breadth.

  ‘I am ready.’

  Ramon inhaled a deep breath. I am One with the Universe. When he exhaled after a long hold, he let out al that was unnecessary now. The grief of losing his master,

  the pain he had given to his love, the times her daughter was in tears because of

  his absence around her, he had forgiven himself for everything. The fear of losing

  his love was overtaken by the courage to get her back. Not a 10000 men can love you as i do. And above al , he was alive. After death, he had found life.

  Ramon created an imaginary bal by curving his palms and populated the bal

  with blue light. It was plasma, but far denser and fenced by shock waves around

  the bal . His eyes were beaming in blue, and so were his veins. His muscles had

  built up and were stretched, his chest broader and abs in shape.

  When the bal became the size of his hands, he threw the
bal up in air, not too

  hard and smashed it with his broad, bare hand as it fel back toward him.

  ‘And that's a smash, folks.’ The bal gained huge momentum and rocketed toward

  the node facing north west. The blue glow of plasma traveled through the half the

  city and hit the spot: the tiny ring at the node.

  ‘Did that hit?’ He screamed, glaring.

  The bal hit its spot. It fel # inside the pink ring as a basketbal would go# in a

  basket. He did it again, and again, firing a bal inside al the three nodes.

  The crowd had come up on the roofs to watch the show, some popped their head

  out of windows or balconies, the transparent glasses of corporate towers were

  captured by people to glare outside. The bosses were stil not interested. Nothing

  can entertain a zombie, except innocent people’s flesh and blood.

  ‘Beautiful ladies of New Delhi, and gentlemen, how about a magic trick?’

  No response. Is anybody even seeing me? He looked down, a few heads were turned toward him.

  ‘I…. CAN…. DISAPPEAR…. A. . CLOUD…’ he yel ed, and bent forward as he pul ed

  his voice with al his might.

  Ramon turned back and directed his hands towards the black clouds. ‘Misty, time

  to go home. Mommy’s waiting,’ he yel ed again, not loud as before and stretched

  his palms wide. Essokinesis enabled him to control anything, even the clouds and

  direct them into the three holes that were wide opened by now. He dragged a

  cluster of clouds and pushed it toward the portal one, and the massive gravity of

  the hole did the rest of the job. In the next two attempts, al the three holes were

  absorbing clouds as if a vacuum cleaner sucks dust.

  The view was incredible. A fountain it had become, of black smoke being

  swal owed by pink rings, and the smoke didn't come out of the other way. Science

  was romancing with the nature, in the garden of sky.

  The darkness began to fade and sunlight found its way on earth, dul at first but as

  the clouds diminished, the sun got his hold on the ground. Stretto appeared, and

  became a wal between a broken heart and a heart ful of rage, and hatred.

  The crowd cheered, the warmth of their lord refil ed the vital substance that had

  been emptied by fear and hopelessness.ux

  ‘He built those rings with his hands.’ said one of the man on the ground, who was

  watching Ramon for quite a long time by now.

  ‘And he stopped the rain in a minute.’

  ‘Four minutes,’ the curious man prompted.

  Out of nowhere, an airplane appeared in sight, heading toward the portal three,

  and before Ramon could redirect it, it was too late. The airplane, an indiGo

  passenger plane from Bangalore was now under the influence of the portal’s

  force. The plane lost its control, swung in air, took rounds and fel inside the ring,

  and disappeared.

  ‘They’l be out soon.’

  The evening sun bought with it a new light in the city. The rain had stopped,

  final y. And the clouds were gone too.

  But, where to?

  ‘Needed where they are-’ said his soul, her voice trembling, and cold.

  Ramon zoomed out the view and a map of India rendered in the sight. And the

  map’s boundaries were real. The dry spots of my country, please.

  And the view flashed, coloring the map in shades of green and yel ow.

  About turn, pinky triangle. And the massive rods connecting the rings began to

  turmoil. A sensation generated vibes of current in the edges and it rushed toward

  the rings. Al 3 of them. The rings thundered, and their il uminance increased for

  a moment, before they detached themselves from the two edges, took a turn so

  that they were upside down now, and attached themselves again. The triangle had

  turned upside down.

  *

  Climate change is real. If we pay attention to the signs of universe, we can see the

  our end. Yes. Unfortunate it is that homosapiens have gone out of the guided

  simulation and have created their own path. It is as if, al the humans were on a

  giant boat and everyone started building their own boats out of the big one, axing

  it down al the way from head to bottom.

  The law of karma, in the context of multiverses, works this way: Al humans are

  considered one entity, one flock. And the deeds of one, or a group of corrupt,

  crook humans have to be repaid by those whose hands are not dirty. The action of

  one makes the other one suffer, and we don't even know about it.

  Such a thing was happening in India. And the ones being affected were the

  churners of soil, laborious men who burn themselves in the Sun, and make the

  earth vomit gold, those who are unaffected by chil y winds at night that can freeze

  lungs. They are farmers, the producer of grains that becomes the source of energy

  for al lives, obvious it is. But we tend to forget the simple things, often.

  Madhu, a girl who had just begun to understand the world, was worried about

  something. She had stopped playing gutte with her friends, even stopped visiting

  shiva temple, which she never skipped, though she was just eight year old. It was

  her father who didn't let the little girl live in peace.

  It hadn't rain last year, and the water hadn't touched the soil of Hoshangabad#

  this year too. The canal was running dust in it, and so the Narmada river. Uttam

  looked at the sky every day, and dropped them down in disappointment. And this

  scared the little girl like she has witnessed a ghost. She had heard stories, of her

  friend’s father swal owing pesticide, and her neighbour uncle, who was also her

  father’s cousin, hanged himself with the ceiling fan that never got to operate.

  Everyday, she skipped school to watch her father secretly. And every evening,

  she’d wait for his return without blinking her eyes for even a second. She slept

  alongside her father, and once she went out midnight when she didn't find her

  daddy alongside her.

  It was evening, and her father hadn't arrived yet. The sun was about to settle

  down, and so was the little girl’s heart.

  Sweat dropped off her forehead, and her lips trembled, thinking about al the

  troubling stories she had heard.

  She rushed toward the field, crossing t he vil age pond and her s chool, and crossed

  the road that connected her vil age to the city.

  From a distance, she saw her f ather holding a r ope and looking toward the branch

  of the tree above. Girl’s little blue eyes were fil ed with t ears. Panicking, she ran as

  fast as she could, with her little feet burning in the boiling earth.

  The father saw her gushing, and as she approached him, he fil ed her in h

  is arms.

  The father, a farmer who had been expecting rain for two years, and had every

  strand of hair on his body in debt, could not hold back his tears. The father and

  daughter burst out into tears, then into kisses, and ended in apology.

  The girl, wrapped in her hero’s muscles, uttered a quick prayer to lord Shiva, to

  take away her father’s sufferings and burdens.

  And Shiva did respond to her prayers, instantly.

  *

  Raman directed his essakane toward the water fil ed in the streets of Delhi, and

  pul ed the water upwards toward the north east ring, which was closest to him.

  ‘Rise,’ he said and bo
lted across the city, with Stretto fol owing him. He reached

  closer to the second ring and directed the water upwards. And he did the same

  with the third ring.

  Three cyclones had been created at the ground surface, churning water inside

  them with the force of a turbine, and forced a stream of water upwards. The

  stream rushed up, size of a canal and disappeared upon entering the pink rings.

  The pressure was pul ing not just the water, but anything that fel under its

  influence. Vehicles, broken pieces of buildings, banners and hoardings, even

  people were not exempt from the pul . Things were being pul ed up, and this was a

  big trouble for Ramon.

  If they get in, they’d cause more damage than help.

  ‘Build the blockage, you have to.’ the voice said, almost dead.

  //show that raman is tired.

  ‘But i cannot create from nothing.’

  ‘Re-invent the wheel- you don't have to.’

  Raman quickly gathered his focus on the three inverted waterfal s and his sight

  updated itself accordingly. Mark al the people inside the streams. And the view spotted al the living beings heading toward the portal, in red.

  Let's begin.

  He shaped his hands in the form of a disc, and a pink disc appeared between his

  palms, glowing and vibrating with electric current. And he shot the disc at the

  first stream. The pink frisbee headed to its destination with sonic speed, and

  replicated itself into as many people trapped in the flow. He threw two more

  discs, at the remaining two poles and they replicated themselves too.

  The discs hit the people fiercely and pushed them out of the flow of stream. A

  man, who had reached the head of the portal was saved just in time, and the discs,

  after pul ing them out of the pressure zone turned to flying carpets that wrapped

  around people and rescued them back on Earth, delicately.

  The last act…

  The il usionist seems to be playing with his toys, but he is, in fact, playing with

  people’s minds. The last act is required because people don't enjoy cause as much

  as they enjoy the consequences. Just disappearing isn't enough, he has to bring

  them back.

  *

  Hoshangabad was about to witness a miracle. ‘I’l make a jhoola for you with this

  rope,’ father patted on her cheek, and headed to their home.