by H. K Oby
The package that had been thrust into his hands was a brown paper bag, big enough to hold clothes. Rummaging inside it, he found an equally rusted key and opened the door, stepping into what he would have thought was the abode of a humble farmer from a small village in rural India if he was breaking and entering. All of the huts were round, with mud walls filled with imperfections, evidently made by hand. There was minimal furnishing inside; a bed made from wood, the surface an entangled knot of sturdy cloth created in a specific way to distribute the weight of anybody who slept on top. It was in the very center, flanked by a mud pot with a clay mug beside it. Unashamedly, he ran towards it, hoping that the same drink he had enjoyed so much before was present, but sadly, after the first gulp itself, he understood that it was just water, albeit water that was sweeter and more refreshing than any he had drunk so far.
Other than that, there was only a cupboard with two doors, one of them hanging on the hinges. It was as tall as him, but inside were just two empty racks caked over with dust.
Putting his hands on his hips, he looked around at the dwelling and sighed. Again, he wondered why they weren’t in the other part of the land, where they would definitely have had access to running water and more modern contrivances. He, himself, had never been very rich in his life, but he had still grown used to certain luxuries which he had never called luxuries until now.
The bed was called a madatha mancham, touted to be supremely comfortable even though it needed no quilt. As he stifled a yawn, it suddenly looked very inviting to him, so after checking inside the package and seeing that there was nothing else but some clothes, he put it inside the cupboard and moaned languorously as he settled down onto the bed.
Sleep came upon him almost abruptly, like a beast that had been stalking him for quite some time, but he kept it at bay for a few seconds when a thought came into his mind.
I’m in a foreign place, with hostile enemies who would love to catch me like this, defenseless. Should I really just ignore all that and go to sleep?
His answer made him chuckle.
Of course. They don’t need me to be defenseless if they want to do something to me… Right now, I’m a lamb to them, ready to be slaughtered if I take even the slightest misstep. Some sleep definitely won’t hurt.
Yawning again so wide that his jaw cracked, he turned on his side and let sleep take him under.
A loud clanging made him blink and wake up an unknown amount of time later. There were no windows in the hut, but the thatched roof made it so that a faint hint of the time outside filtered through. Right now, the cabin was well lit, so he could tell that the night had passed.
The clanging continued from somewhere nearby, but he was still in such a profoundly drowsy state that he wished he could go out and use whatever was being employed to make that sound to beat around the guy waking him up from such an excellent sleep. He kept his eyes mostly closed; he had even checked the hut peremptorily in such a quick fashion that no one would have seen him when he opened his eyes.
“Amazing. If he’s sleeping through that, he must definitely not be normal. Did he really bully you like that? He doesn’t look that violent.”
A woman’s voice almost made him jump onto his feet, but he controlled that instinct and waited. He remembered seeing that there was no way to lock the door from the inside, so anyone could just walk in if they wished to break all the rules of propriety and respect.
The clanging stopped. The voice that responded to the woman’s made a sudden flash of irrational anger appear in his mind.
“Yes! I also saw what happened afterward, but I was told not to tell anyone, so don’t ask. It is him, though. I can tell you that he is the cause behind everything that happened.”
It was the pipsqueak who had gone before Amin and been initiated where he had been rejected by all the gods. He knew that he shouldn’t really hold a grudge against him for that, but he did. Suddenly feeling petty, he got an idea that made him smile inwardly.
Abruptly, he jumped to his feet and roared, “Die!”
That same startled, high-pitched shriek he had already heard multiple times so far burst out of the rich kid, and the woman who had spoken before also screamed. Blinking to clear his eyes, Amin saw them both with their backs against the wall, their eyes closed as if they were children who believed that the monster hunting them would leave if they denied its existence.
Ha! That feels good! Sometimes, I just can’t help myself. Why should I? Especially when it’s so fun to be mean.
Chuckling, he said, “I could have killed you ten times over by now. What do you think a Rakshasa would have done?”
Both of them opened their eyes while Amin examined them. Rishi wore a white shirt and saffron-coloured baggy pants that flared out at his thighs and hugged his legs at his knees. The woman was wearing the same. Her hair had been tightly tied into a bun behind her head, its color a deep black that shone from the oil that had been massaged into it. She had a straight nose, high cheekbones, and thin lips. She was definitely pretty, but a scar on her neck from the edge of her jaw to the middle of her throat detracted from her beauty a little.
Remembering what that stupid keeper had said the day before, he consciously kept his eyes from roving over both of their pants and checking whether there were wallets he could steal. They took their sweet time to cover; even after opening their eyes and seeing that there was no one else but him, they looked around as if expecting a real monster to jump out from under his bed.
Finally, it was the woman who said, “You’re not a nice person. I don’t like you.”
She sounded almost sulky. With a laugh, Amin replied, “And I don’t like you because you barged into my room with no permission and stared at me while I was sleeping.”
The sudden blush elevated her beauty, like a painting given its final touches by a master. Yes, she was definitely pretty, and that immediately put him on guard.
Pretty women have always caused trouble for me. I’ve never had a relationship in my life, but even when I tried, I made a fool of myself and got scammed. Me! Scammed! I still can’t believe it. I have to be careful.
Looking down like a kid caught stealing candy, she mumbled, “Can we call it even? I only came here because Rishi said he could show me the one being called outside ‘the greatest sinner to ever have entered Ayodhya’.”
Amin bristled as soon as he heard that tag. He didn’t know how, but he could tell that it was the handiwork of the keeper.
Raising his hand and pointing at them both, he screamed, “That’s not true! Narad said that people who sinned even more have been initiated with no hitch. It was definitely that mud-for-brains keeper who’s spreading rumors! I hate him!”
Both of them took a step back, startled by his anger, but a look passed between them when he said the name ‘Narad’.
“Now, why does that name sounds familiar? I’ve studied all the Hindu texts religiously, so I should know who you’re talking about. I’ve already heard of so many historical figures being real, and they’re all in important posts… If this person was present in the meeting that judged you, then he must be important, too. Can you describe him for me?”
The woman put one finger on her chin and assumed a thoughtful pose. She looked like she loved mysteries; he could see the excitement in her eyes while she waited with bated breath for his answer.
Folding hands, he said, “I could, but I don’t even know your name despite your rude entry into my home...”
Blushing again, she smiled and replied, “I am Amaira. It is nice to meet you. You’re the talk of the town; everyone can’t stop speculating what you must’ve done to cause such a reaction from the godly matrix.”
Nodding, he said, “I am Amin. For the record, no one knows what happened. I would appreciate it if you tell that to anyone who asks. I already have a bad reputation with the vanaras I don’t want to jeopardize my standing with anyone else. As for Narad... He had flowing locks of black hair, a string of beads around his n
eck, one in his hands, and his voice was that of a singer. Everyone else present did look scandalized when he asked me to call him by that name, as if it was something not done usually. What?”
He was forced to ask the question when Amaira’s eyes widened as if she had realized something, her jaw going slack as if she couldn’t believe her own thoughts. He looked at her with a puzzled expression, and a second later, one of disgruntlement when he realized that she had gotten the answer while he still had no clue.
Amin turned to Rishi and saw that he had no clue, either. He had nothing to say the guy; not right now, at least. The only reason he wasn’t throwing the guy out despite the unreasonable grudge he still felt was that it never hurt to have friends, especially friends you could throw under the bus when needed. He had seen movies where friendship was touted as precious and pure, but he honestly didn’t believe that. All of the incidents in his life so far had only convinced him of one thing: friends existed to be either in debt to you, or to give you a debt. They were someone you could hang out with, but never honestly share your innermost feelings, for why would they care? Why would anyone care for him when they had no relation to him, when they had no reason to give a rat's ass whether he lived or died? Friends existed to be used, or to use you if you were gullible enough, and that was it.
“Narada Muni! I can believe it! He is… Beyond a God! Legend says that he was created when Lord Brahma made the world we see now. He has existed since then, and time means nothing to him! He can see into the past, present and future, but he was cursed because he could easily ruin the world with his knowledge if he chose. He was cursed that even if he gave advice, no one would believe him! You met him! How was he?”
Amin’s eyebrows rose as he listened to Amaira. It made sense, now. The way everyone else showed him respect, the way he seemed to contain powers that the others were not capable of.
He also remembered what had happened when he had gazed into Narad’s eyes. Even if he discarded everything else, that experience was conclusive proof that he was no ordinary sage like the first elder. The curse confused him, though. If Narad came to him now and gave him advice, would he not follow it because it came from such an eminent source?
No… What if he’s setting me up?
Amin already saw the problem, but he was a special case. What about someone like Amaira, who stood with that reverence in her eyes? Wouldn’t she definitely follow whatever the man said?
Leaving the quandary for later, he said, “I don’t know what to say. Well, there are some things I can say, but this is hardly the time or the place.”
They had visited him out of curiosity, now, and he needed them to come back later if he wanted to solidify their relationship to enable him to use them if needed. He was a master at setting such hooks, at identifying what mattered to people and using it to target them.
Sure enough, frowning disappointedly, Amaira nodded.
Feeling a knot in his back, Amin stretched from side to side and asked, “What was that clanging, anyway?”
A look of horror flashed across both of their faces, and before he could say another word, they were out of the door. Narrowing his eyes, he walked to the door and looked out, but by then, itself, they were turning down the end of the road from the hut, apparently running as fast as they could.
Ducking back inside, he idly wondered whether he should follow them. It seemed a foolish thing to do; he hadn’t been told anything, so he shouldn’t be held responsible for not doing something he didn’t know he should.
He felt hungry, but there was no food around. He seldom ate much before a con, so it had been two days since a proper meal had gone into his stomach. Bending and touching his toes to begin his morning routine of exercise, he found himself recalling that sparring ground he had passed the day before and wondering whether that was where he might be expected.
He was done after fifteen minutes, a faint sheen of perspiration on his brow marking his exertion. Opening the package, he found the same clothes the other two had worn, but he felt like taking a bath, first.
Other calls of nature were also starting to bother him, and after taking another look around the hut, he hoped that he wasn’t expected to relieve himself in a pit that he would have to dig with his own hands.
He had endured worse, but he honestly wasn’t in the mood. Walking out of the hut, he heaved a sigh of relief when he saw a small square shack in the distance, right up against the forest.
When he reached it, he realized that it is actually a row of shacks, all of which were empty, their doors standing ajar. Peeking into one, he smiled when he saw a western bathroom, albeit set up in the mud. There was still no flowing water, but a small concrete tub was filled to the brim with a mug made from leaves floating on top.
Ah, guess I’ll have to make do.
After relieving himself, he walked back to the hut and rummaged inside the package for something he had felt before. A bunch of twigs wrapped in a vine fell out when he shook it. Picking one up, he looked at it oddly before remembering a scene from a movie he had seen long back.
Putting it in his mouth, he scrubbed his teeth and nodded to himself when he tasted something sour.
Traditional as traditional gets. Before brushes, people used twigs from a specific plant to clean their teeth…but that stopped ages ago. Yet here I am, thrown back into that time, except for the bathroom. I wonder what the story is behind it?
There were no dustbins anywhere, so he walked back to the forest to throw the twig. Near the shacks, hidden in the trees, he had spotted another large tub, and that was where he went to take a bath.
He relaxed in the cool water for a while, staring up into the canopy made by the trees all around, feeling the sun on his skin where it pierced through the leaves, looking like golden swords lit from within by swirling, glittering motes of dust. He reflected on everything that had happened so far and had an internal pep talk of the sort he gave to his underlings before a scam.
I’m here, but I’m hanging by my teeth. I should do everything perfectly. Even the most minor reason could throw me back into that car. They mentioned trials; they should be my target. After that speech, I should probably aim to top them, but I’ll be happy if I pass. It’s a big deal that I don’t have a siddhi, but I must have faced worse odds before, right? Yeah, that Anand must just be someone really negative. How hard can it be?
He put on the clothes in the package when he was satisfied. There had been no means to scrub his skin, so he had resorted to using his hands, but he still felt clean.
Drying himself was a problem, but he solved it using a large leaf he found on the ground. Wearing those baggy trousers and remarking about the fact that the saffron color seemed to be a theme throughout this land, he strode to his hut and stopped, having no idea what he was supposed to do next.
He had been hoping that there would be someone here by now who would help him settle in, who would tell him what he was supposed to do. If no one had come yet, there was almost no chance that he would accomplish anything by waiting, so he set off down the road in the direction where those two had gone before.
The mud road outside his hut connected to a large one. This looked like the central thoroughfare, its entire length and width trampled by hundreds upon hundreds of feet. He didn’t know which direction to go, but a quick examination of the ground told him the direction most of those who had passed the road in the morning were headed. Folding his hands behind his back, he set off at a leisurely pace, casually whistling to himself while he took in his surroundings.
There was nothing to be gleaned from the rows and rows of huts, each of them similar to the rest, with no detail whatsoever to set them apart. He sped up, soon, when he heard voices coming from somewhere beyond. A minute later, the road widened into a massive clearing with not a hint of vegetation. The huts ended beside him, and the clearing was filled with who must definitely be their inhabitants.
Hundreds of men and women were sweating it out under the sun, sparrin
g, practicing, running, and in one case, jumping. That last case happened to be the two who had run away from his hut before; they were making a circuit of the clearing, but by jumping like frogs, taking care not to take a single normal step.
“Ah, a new record! Three hours late! You two, you can stop. The rules are strict: the one who comes last inherits the punishment from all the rest. Go find Bhargav; he will give you an introduction to what we do here. And you, sir. To the center. Everyone, gather around!”
Amin gave a start. The clearing was so large that he couldn’t even see its outer edge. There was definitely enough space to fit two football grounds here, but the voice that had just erupted felt like it was coming from right beside him.
Wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into now, he walked forward, noticing the snickers and the genuine pity being shown by most around him who all kept their distance, walking in the same direction as he but trying to stay as far apart as possible, as if to show that they had no relation with him.
“When I give an order, you run, not walk! Run!”
The shout was so loud that he ran before he even understood what he was doing. The others reacted in the same way; at a dead run, they all reached a rope so thick that it was bigger than Amin’s arm, and that was where they stopped.
Amin crossed it and ran forward before slowing down on noticing that he had left the others behind. The rope made a ring, and in the middle of the circle stood one of the largest man had ever seen in his life.
He stood at least 8 feet tall, with a bald head, bushy eyebrows, and stubbed nose that looked like it had been broken one too many times. He was topless, wearing only those baggy breaches that were so big that Amin swore he could wear just half of them to cover his entire body.
The keeper had looked muscular, but this man put that judgmental idiot to shame. Not a scrap of fat or hair was present anywhere on his body; it was a festival of just muscle muscle and muscle, glistening with sweat while veins popped all over, the vasculature looking almost freaky and inhuman to Amin who had never seen the sort anywhere else.
