by H. K Oby
If I think about it, there is only one other thing I can do. I can tell the truth and hope for the best. In comparison, Rishi’s plan does sound better, and honestly, I would have come up with something similar, myself. But didn’t the supervisor say that their hearts are pure? Should I even consider that?
He set his foot down in the foliage, the stones that made up the base of the library peeking into view and a few vanaras also coming into his vision, none of them having noticed him yet.
Pure. What does it mean to have a pure heart? When making up a plan, it is always best to put oneself in the target's shoes and think. If I had a pure heart, what would work on me? What would connect to me more? The truth, or a story that will have a better impact on me, but might not ring so true?
He was only two steps away from where the vanaras would see him. He moved his leg forward, telling himself he should make up his mind quickly as even turning back from where he stood would attract the attention of the monkey race.
All of this is nonsense. The truth. How often has the truth really helped me out? What is the point of the truth? Someone with my life would never rely on it. Yes. This world is the same as the one outside. Nothing has happened to change my mind about this, so I should trust the same instincts and live just as I lived there.
He took that last step, and an echo of a thought appeared in his mind for the second time.
I WANT TO BE FREE!
He paused and froze, the vanaras beginning to notice him, again, the first ones to see and recognize him beginning to stare and open their mouths.
There it is again! My mind has never failed me. If I’m remembering that moment, there must be a point. I was free, then. I was sure I was dead, and I just wanted to be free! How would I act if I really were free? If I really did have no chains tying me to who I was, nothing stopping me from who I might have been if I hadn’t been forced into the life I lead?
He almost didn’t register the shouts of the vanaras which were quickly starting to spread. They managed to distract him, though, a moment later, and he forced his thoughts to speed up.
All of this is well and good, but I don’t have time! This feels important, but I can’t think of it now. I have to make a choice. The truth, or a lie? Their hearts are pure! Their hearts are free! Ah, screw it! When in doubt, lie!
Yet, the words that came out of his mouth were not the ones he had formed in his mind.
“I knew nothing, okay! I had just been rejected by the gods in such a violent manner, and I was scared for my life! I didn’t even know what Ayodhya was! I just wanted to find out more! Is that so bad? Did you never feel like there were so many questions in your head that they were swimming like worms in your belly? How about you? You?”
Just thinking of that time he had spent locked in that cell made him vent the frustration he had felt then. He pointed vaguely at a few of the vanaras who had been running towards him with their fists in the air, ready to pummel him into oblivion, but who had stopped, listening to his angry outburst.
They lowered their hands, now, and looked at each other doubtfully. Then, one in the middle of the group spoke up, raising his hand as if he was in a class.
“I know it! A couple of years ago, my brother and Avantika went into a few bushes. A minute later, those bushes were shaking, but there was no wind! I wanted to know what game they were playing, but no one would tell me for the longest time! It really did feel as if worms were swimming in my stomach! I might have lied, too, if I could get answers!”
Amin felt his cheeks burning when he realized what the vanara was speaking about. Suppressing the dirty thoughts that came with the realization, he nodded as if agreeing with him. Peeking through the gaps made by those in front of him, Amin saw a few vanaras around the speaker gasp and move away, as if he had a disease of some sort.
“Hey, the same thing happened to me! Maybe I would’ve done it, too! Okay, I wouldn’t have lied, but if someone assumed something, I wouldn’t have said anything! That’s what he did, right? That’s not so bad!”
This was someone in a different group, shouting from the green rooftop of the library. Those around him started to move away, too, but some of them stopped halfway and stared with their eyes losing focus, seemingly thinking on the vanara’s words.
“If that’s the case… I have to admit I would have done it, too.”
“Yes, me too!”
“And me, but I was curious about why I was getting weird thoughts when I was playing with a few female friends.”
“I went through that too! Oh, I would have let assumptions be made without a thought!”
It was as if he had opened sluice gates. More than half of the vanaras present started to speak up simultaneously, the clamor getting so loud at one point that he had to close his ears, and at least half of the rest looked like they wanted to speak, too, but were feeling shy. In all the din, he was forgotten, and only a pat on his left made him realize that his two companions had popped up beside him some time ago.
The pat was from Amaira. Turning to her, he saw her beaming.
His mind went blank when she jumped into his arms with lightning speed, whispered that she was proud of him for telling the truth and left before he could even take a breath. She chuckled when she saw him frozen like a deer in headlights, then smiled knowingly as if she was loving the effect she was having on him.
That smile is dangerous. That smile is dangerous! Snap out of it, dammit!
“What is going on here?”
A thunderous shout made all three of them turn to the clearing around the library. The supervisor had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, the crimson tassels draped over his hand shining in the late afternoon sun, his face an angry visage of a sage who had given in to rage.
The vanaras all went silent. Folding his hands, the supervisor pointed at one.
Concisely, a summary was given, as if that vanara knew what to do as this wasn’t the first time something like this was happening. No one said anything for a few seconds, and then, the supervisor turned to Amin.
“So you are the one I have to blame for all this ruckus? Despite whatever reason you may have, punishment must be doled out for ruining the tranquillity of the library. You are sentenced to 3 days of missing sparring sessions. You will spend those three days inside the library, making sure everything stays quiet. Do you have any problem with this?”
Amin could hardly believe his ears. He had spent so much time wanting to get inside the damn place, and now, he was punished, no, rewarded with three entire days where he wouldn’t even have to spend the morning with that ruthless giant?
This is amazing!
“And you lot! Do you have any problem with letting him in? He has explained himself. Do you still hold a grudge?”
“No. Not at all!”
“He is actually being punished because of us. We owe him a debt!”
“Yes, definitely! We won’t forget it!”
“Yes, we were wrong! We are sorry! We should have found out more before making assumptions!”
“Hey, more assumptions! They really sneak up on you! I can’t believe I would have let them be made when I had so many questions!”
“Yes, me too! In fact, I…”
“Stop!”
Another thunderous shout made Amin wish he had rubber plugs to put in his ears. It was all the louder, now, as it was coming from right in front of him.
In the silence that followed, the supervisor declared, “It’s sorted, then. Everyone, back to whatever you were doing before.”
He walked off into the forest, then, as if he had done nothing out of the ordinary, but Amin felt like running up to the man and enveloping him in a hug so tight it would break the bones of an average human.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“WELL DONE! YOU didn’t use my plan completely, but you must have gotten inspired by it, right? Well, you’re welcome!”
Ignoring Rishi, Amin asked, “So, are you guys coming in with me?”
He rubb
ed his hands and put the question mainly to Amaira who was smiling happily, now that his wish had been fulfilled. After a few moments, letting go of the frown from having his pretentious statement ignored, Rishi smiled wide, too. Of course, on him, no emotion ever appeared fully; there always seemed to be something holding it back from expressing itself completely, like an internal tether that went taut each time he felt something.
They made noncommittal sounds, then Amaira said, “No…you go ahead. Both of us have heard that it is best not to enter the library until the second trial is done. I don’t know what kind of a metric that is, but it seems that we must know a few things before we can trust ourselves with all the knowledge in there. We are messing with forces beyond human control, after all. No sense in rushing in unprepared.”
Amin folded his hands and waited. He could tell whenever Amaira was hiding something, not telling the whole truth even though she prided herself on always speaking the truth.
She also gave herself away in the way she tapped her foot or showed some nervous sign. Finally, pouting, she kept her eyes away from him and said, “Alright, fine, we want to practice more with our siddhis.”
Grinning, Amin replied, “Thought so. Go on; I don’t blame you. If I could do the things you can, I would want to practice with them, too, all day, until I master them, and even then for a few more months until using my power was second nature to me. We are far, far away from that phase. Train well, you guys. The trials are also team-based; the three of us will have to depend on each other to get through them.”
He didn’t know why, but Amin had gained the reputation of going into a fiery mood if things didn’t go how he liked. This was just absurd; as an accomplished conman, he was always in control of his emotions, lest they flare up and ruin a disguise. Sure, maybe he had acted up a little when Amaira was randomly lazy or Rishi had wanted to try approaching a specific part of his plan differently…but that had been for their own good!
The two of them usually never put up with it, sometimes even leaving him alone if he was being unreasonable, but they had also adopted a system where they knew when to stand their ground and do what they wanted to even if he didn’t like it.
Sometimes, he had to grudgingly admit that he hadn’t been able to control it. He had treated them like his underlings, like novice scammers who needed a firm hand. Of course, his treatment had brought about their victory, but now, he wondered whether he had caused any ill in the two.
From the way they both nodded determinedly on hearing him, it felt reasonable to conclude that he was wrong.
Still, you never know. Always better to be careful.
He had spoken in that way to remind them that they still had him, that they hopefully wouldn’t entertain offers from others with siddhis who had seen their prowess. On the spot, he also decided to check on them at least a couple of times a day, both to let them know they still existed and to check out how they were doing.
Have to be careful. Just because we talk about friendship all day and I feel close to them doesn’t mean I can let my guard down! If I’m replaced, I would have no one else to blame but me.
Bidding their farewells, the two set off back down the path that led to the quarters and the sparring ground. Now that they could determine how they spent their day, he knew that the two would be on the lookout for practiced initiates who could show them a few things regarding their own siddhis.
He, himself, had spent time around other initiates, eavesdropping and learning many of the things that he should have been told, typically, instead of having to find out in this secretive manner. Alas, his status made it so that he was persona non grata, so he had been faced with the choice of either waiting to change the impression he had made or just using the skills honed over the years to know everything there was to know.
Of course, he could have depended on Rishi and Amaira to tell him everything they found out as they had been accepted by the others, but he had always liked to rely on himself where he could.
The three of them would be getting a visit from the first elder, soon, where they would be instructed to never turn down a request for assistance from a fellow initiate unless there was a solid reason. If it was known that such incidents happened frequently, there was apparently a dire punishment that any initiate would never want to suffer. Even conversations about this punishment happened in hushed tones, causing him to slink closer when he had been eavesdropping. It had been doled out only a few times in the history of Ayodhya, but each time, the one who had endured it was so tightlipped that people imagined the worst.
With so many potential sources of practice and knowledge, no one would be dumb enough to spend their time in the library. Another major reason this was true was that what Amaira had said about the unspoken rule regarding this place was real; before a particular phase was reached in the training of a Deathsworn, it was not advised to seek out knowledge on one’s own.
Hence, when he walked into those large double doors and came upon a large empty place with wooden tables and chairs, most of which were unoccupied, he wasn’t very surprised. What did surprise and startle him, though, was the incredible sight of everything else inside.
It seemed as if there were multiple floors from the outside, but from where he stood, he could see that bookshelves against the walls reached right up to the ceiling. It was an arrangement that generated no small amount of awe in him; standing where he was, he traced each bookshelf as it made its way higher and higher, holding an impossibly large number of books that all seemed to shine in his vision, hinting at him of all the powers they held that were now within his grasp.
Wait… how do you even reach up there?
His question was answered immediately when a middle-aged man wearing — surprisingly — modern clothes stood up from a distant table and walked to one of the bookshelves nearby. He wasn’t wearing anything flashy like all the men he had seen yet; he was dressed in a crisp white shirt and jeans, and seeing such a simple garb that was so common in the outside world for the first time in here, Amin felt a sense of disconnect for a brief moment, making him wonder again whether this was all some sort of illusion.
It faded in a second. There was just too much strangeness in this place, with two distinctly different sets of people living together as it was a most natural thing to do. Putting aside such thoughts, he watched as the man paused in front of a bookcase, pressed a button that he couldn’t see from where he stood and flew into the air at a measured pace, rising slowly as if he was standing in a transparent elevator.
Observing the bookcase close by, he noticed that buttons were really present at each row. He guessed that pressing them would stop one’s ascent or descent; sure enough, this turned out to be true when the man who was now in the air extended his arm without hurry and pressed another button and stopped where he was, allowing him to peruse the books in front of him. More controls were also present to the right and left, and plainly, they were the means to move in those directions.
A burst of excitement wiggled up his stomach, sending him into a run to the nearest bookcase. He paused there and read the titles written on wooden plaques affixed to each row of the polished wood bookcases.
“Row 1 – Discourses on siddhis.”
Exactly what I’m looking for!
Suppressing a squeal like a little kid being given candy, he looked through the books lining the shelf. Most seemed completely normal, with bindings of various colors and names written on the spines. A few were odd: they looked like plastic boxes in the shapes of books, with a name written on the spine and something he had only seen once before, in a museum, present inside.
They were called taalapatra grandhalu, an ancient form of recording information. Pages were created by dehydrating the bark of a certain tree, strung together by sturdy vines. They were the most common form of scriptures found in the outside world from ages long past, and although he hadn’t paid that much attention to the exhibit because he had been more interested in the diamonds close by
, he did remember marveling at how ancient, yet still well preserved those exhibits had looked.
Ignoring those plastic boxes for now, he looked through the normal books and chose one with the name “Types of Siddhis”.
Walking so fast that he was almost running to a table nearby, he sat down and opened the book. To his surprise, the outer hardcover that felt soft as it had been wrapped in cloth had two books inside. The one on the top was slightly tattered, with the cover made from paper. The one on the bottom was newer, its pages crisp unlike those of the other which were all in a slight state of disrepair due to prolonged use. The thing that caused even more surprise was that even though the script of the book on top was the one he had grown up with, the words made no sense, and for a brief moment, he even felt panic.
Crap! More Sanskrit! I should have known books would be written in this language, too!
Thankfully, hastily flipping through the pages took him to the book on the bottom which was written in hindi. Heaving a sigh of relief, he bent forward and devoured each word.
An hour later, he leaned back on the chair as if he had had an enormous meal. Finally, he had definite information. Even though he had heard snatches of most of it here and there, it felt great to compile all of it into one piece he could rely on to understand this new world.
Siddhis were of eight types. It was written that this information was commonly known, even to the outside world, but what no external scholar could even guess was that this was only one type of classification. True, it was the most commonly accepted, but many argued that this classification was detrimental when one reached the later stages of becoming a siddhi, i.e., one with siddhis.
Amin had found this bizarre way of using the same word both to refer to superpowers and the people who had those superpowers hard to adjust to, but he had gotten used to it after overhearing so many people using it in that manner.
Despite this disagreement, it had been decided by a congregation of leading figures in Ayodhya that this classification would be used in instruction.
