by H. K Oby
Smaller thrones, not as grand but still grander than any he had seen in the museums he had been to filled large areas on both sides of the vast, empty central hallway the both of them stood on. When he looked below him, he almost fell down. Clouds swirled and billowed beneath. He was standing on something invisible, and the effect was quite disorienting.
Men and women of various sizes and colors sat on the thrones, all looking at the old vanara beside him with expressions ranging from respect to awe.
They were dressed in dhotis of many colors, most made out of materials that looked like they would fetch a king’s ransom back on earth. Whoever wore such dhotis also wore jewelry, with a common theme of necklaces, bracelets, and crowns that were all smaller than the king’s. The women wore ornate sarees with gold borders, their jewelry intricately made to highlight their stunning faces or flowing hair. A few were sages like Narad or the first elder, and they were mainly the ones showing awe.
The old vanara folded his hands and replied in the same firm voice he had used before.
“You intercede in the workings of Ayodhya. You try to kill an initiate chosen by the Divine Pulse. You kill a great sage who did nothing wrong, a friend who was acting on my behest. And you ask me whether I must be treated as an enemy? You shall be the enemy of the combined might of Ayodhya, Lord Indra, if you do not stop and take a good hard look at your actions. This young man has a question for you. I, myself, am very interested in the answer. Amin, speak.”
Amin stepped up to stand beside the librarian. He had heard vague tales of Lord Indra, the King of the Gods, and all of them had revolved around his adulterous, impulsive, and hedonistic nature.
When Indra’s eyes settled on him, the outrage of an eternal being with the power to end him with a thought bore down on Amin’s shoulders, but he was able to shrug it off due to his own fury that had returned with double the intensity as the root cause behind all his problems was in front of him.
Holding his hands firmly at his sides while clenching his fists so tightly that his nails drew blood, Amin spoke in a flat tone that rose in volume with each word he said.
“Why do you want to kill me? What did I do to you?”
Lord Indra raised one eyebrow, the lightning bolt above him twitching to the side, as if he was being tempted to call it forth again. A cough from the old vanara made him turn his gaze. Furrowing his brow, the god kept his eyes on the librarian and said, “I see no reason to keep it a secret. All of those present here know the answer, anyway. Ten years back, I was told that like the incident ages past when we, the Asuras, lost our home and were forced to live in the patalas, a time of strife is coming. A Deathsworn with a past like his will be at the center of the conflict. He will sow chaos and destruction unlike any the earth has seen in this age. I just took it into my own hands to kill all those like him to ensure that such a calamity does not come to be. Of course, it is not guaranteed that killing that Deathsworn will stop the calamity, but why not act preemptively?”
For a moment after he finally got his answer, Amin just felt disbelief.
That’s it? It was nothing I did? It was something someone told this guy? And he’s not even sure I’m that person. What a useless answer!
He opened his mouth to speak with his hands half-raised, palms facing up, frustration tinging his tone.
Raising one hand in front of Amin, the old vanara stopped him and said, “That is your answer? Don’t you see that by acting against a prophecy, you might bring it about even faster? Maybe you will create a Deathsworn who hates all Asuras by trying to kill initiates randomly. May I make a suggestion?”
A flash of doubt passed across Lord Indra’s face. After looking around at the people in the court—most of whom nodded— he gestured with one hand graciously, like a King giving a subordinate leave to speak.
“Leave the initiates be. I understand your intentions, but you must see that the risks are too significant. The news of this coming war is troubling. Ayodhya will be more important than ever if it is true.”
Lord Indra pondered on the librarian’s words, and Amin waited with bated breath to see what would happen to his future. It looked like the god wasn’t wholly convinced, so Amin spoke up in a voice that contained far more respect than he had shown yet.
“Respectfully, I would like to comment on another issue. If war does come about, wouldn’t the loss in numbers affect the outcome far more than the death of a central figure? Because of the uncertainty involved, someone wise would say that killing initiates might not be worth it.”
He had gotten the read on the god as soon as the—guy? He had heard all his life that god was a grand being above and beyond the vices of humanity, but this god was more human than most, so ‘guy’ could be definitely be used to denote him— guy had looked doubtful after listening to the old vanara.
He still felt a residual anger, but most of it had disappeared due to that glorious moment of revenge. Now, he was just concerned with getting out of this place with a future.
Never one to refuse to bend when required even if his emotions demanded otherwise, Amin hoped that his words would tip the scales.
For a moment, it seemed as if he had only made it worse as Lord Indra glanced at him, and the same wrath that had filled his eyes when they had first arrived returned. Yet, just when he raised his hand, pointed a finger at Amin and looked exactly as if he was going to pass a sentence that would make Amin pull his hair out, he paused, stared into the distance behind Amin and the librarian as if there was someone there, then put his hand down.
Resting his chin on his other hand with the elbow on the hand of the throne, Lord Indra regarded them both. For the first time, due to that pose and the sheer magnetism that seemed to exude both from the throne and the god, Amin had to admit that he truly looked like an immortal king.
With a shrug, he spoke, and Aming hung on to every word.
“I guess my approach did have its drawbacks. For now, the stance of the gods shall change. There shall be no interference in the trials. Consider this a favor to you, Chiranjeeva. Dark times are coming. If there is ever a time when we need you, I hope you remember my decision here. Now, leave.”
The old vanara saluted with his palms pressed together, then bowed slightly. Amin mimicked the greeting, and for good measure, bowed even lower.
His vision went black again, and that pressure returned, pressing in from all sides. When he opened his eyes, he wondered whether the teleportation or whatever it has had mistakenly dropped him in the past.
He had closed his eyes, this time, so he didn’t have to suffer from the blinding after-affect. He was standing in front of two slabs of stones standing on boulders that formed a V. Narad sat in the middle of them both on soft grass and both the slabs were occupied by six men, three dressed traditionally, three looking like they had just stepped out of a sci-fi movie.
They all looked just as startled as Amin when they saw him appear out of nowhere. Some of them were also looking beside him, so after turning a bit, he saw that Rishi and Amaira had also appeared on the grass beside him, the two of them in casual sitting positions.
A familiar voice appeared in the clearing a moment later, and for the first time, Amin felt like glaring at the speaker with all his might.
“Here are the three runaway initiates. They traveled to the patalas and killed a minor rakshasa. One of them was gifted a boon by a great sage. One of them traveled to Lord Indra’s court, hurled his vajra back at him and caused the message you are all discussing now. Punish them fairly.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Two hours later, the three of them stumbled into Amin’s hut, their shoulders drooping wearily as if they had hauled buckets of water all day.
They settled onto the bed, Amin in the middle. They raised their hands almost in unison and placed their elbows on their knees, resting their heads in a ‘V’ formed by their palms. With long faces, they all stared into nothingness.
Then, Amaira said, “I’m gonna set all of thei
r pants on fire. One fine day, their asses will burn, and I will be the reason.”
After a moment of startled silence, Amin burst out laughing while Rishi chuckled.
Getting to his feet, Amin stretched, knuckling his back that had knots all over due to standing still while being berated by the High Council. When he was done, he said, “At least Narad intervened and sent us on our way. If it was up to that damn keeper, we would have been there for a week.”
Raising her finger, Amaira lectured, “I told you to call him ‘Sage Narada’! He’s a legendary being, and you go around talking about him as if he’s a shopkeeper!”
Grinning, Amin raised his hands. “He’s the one who said I could call him with that name. And, I’m sorry, but have you seen three genius initiates who have set a record by passing their first trial not even two months after entering Ayodhya? Why, you ask? Well, I just wanted to bask in their presence…”
Amaira couldn’t help herself. She smiled, then broke out into a grin that mirrored his. For some reason, Rishi studied the floor, the mirth disappearing from his face.
It was true. After spending two hours detailing extreme scenarios where they could have been cooked, roasted, broiled, or even eaten alive, Narad had dropped the bombshell. He had surprised the others, leading Amin to suspect they would have made the three of them leave thinking that they had only obtained punishments due to their adventure.
Apparently, a trial was actually similar to what they had done. In groups, initiates were sent to a dangerous place where they would have to fend for themselves for a day and a night. Of course, none of the initiates would even come close to the level of danger they had contended with, and Narad had commended them on the same.
For leaving Ayodhya without permission, they had been punished with guard duty. Amin’s eyes had popped when hearing the term. He hadn’t even known that such a thing existed. For a year, they would be joining the official policing force of Ayodhya which patrolled the regions of residence of both sides, ensuring that the law—whatever that was— was maintained.
As for that message mentioned by the old vanara, it had been a communique sent by the gods that said they wouldn’t be involved in the trials. Putting it mildly, all of his problems had been solved, and unexpectedly, they were even free to train by themselves for the next five months.
Well, almost all of my problems. The trials can still kill initiates. The keeper hates me. The gods are unhappy with me, I have no siddhi, stronger rakshasas are still entering the world through that portal, I don’t know exactly what the duties of a Deathsworn are and how I can become one, I have so much unfinished business outside that I don’t even want to think about it, I am tied to Ayodhya forever, so maybe I’m a slave, and…
He pinched himself to stop his line of thought. Telling himself that he should just celebrate what he had achieved and not think about the rest, he looked at Rishi and saw that the guy was still disconcertingly staring at the floor with eyes that almost looked ashamed.
What’s wrong with him?
As he thought about ways in which he could frame the question, a knock sounded on the door and a voice said, “Amin? I would like a word.”
It was the librarian. Amin turned to go, but a thought stopped him.
“Oh, yeah, I wanted to ask. Who is a ‘Chiranjeeva’? The gods called the librarian by that name.”
Amaira looked at him as if he had said the world was flat. Rishi glanced up, shock filling his face.
Then, both of them stood up and started shouting at the same time.
“CHIRANJEEVA?! Are you sure? It all makes sense, now! HE’S LORD HANUMAN! Oh my god, I spoke to Lord Hanuman! WOW!”
“He’s Lord Hanuman! The loyal servant of Lord Ram, the avatar of the Great God Vishnu, the Preserver! Legend says he was gifted immortality by Lord Ram. He was born to the God of Wind. When he was a child, he thought the sun was a fruit and wanted to eat it! Lord Indra struck him down with his lightning bolt, and the God of Wind sucked in all the wind in the world in anger! Lord Indra apologized and granted him power greater than the lightning bolt, which is one of the strongest weapons in all creation! He carried a mountain on his…”
Seeing Rishi launch in a discourse like his normal self, Amin actually felt glad as it meant that the guy was, more or less, fine. Raising one hand to stop him, he said, “All right! Do you want me to keep him waiting?”
His tone was normal, but inside, his mind was as blown as them both. He knew about Lord Hanuman, too. Temples dedicated to the heroic vanara could be found all over India. To think that he had been treating someone so mythical as an ordinary librarian was reprehensible, at the very least.
Seeing them both shake their heads quickly, he nodded and walked out. The librarian…no, Lord Hanuman stood outside, smiling slightly, looking exactly the same as when he had appeared in the library and practically saved Amin’s life.
“Let us walk.”
Turning on his heel, he set off. Amin fell into step beside him, at a loss for words.
“I see your friends figured out my identity. I don’t see why it’s so shocking, though. Sage Narada is a son of the Creator, himself, and I heard you calling him Narad.”
Wait…he was listening, outside?
Before realizing what he was doing, Amin turned to the old vanara accusingly and saw a redness appear in those cheeks framed by white fur.
“See? I’m not so legendary, after all. I happened to arrive while you were speaking, so I heard you all speaking while I waited. I apologize.”
Amin sucked in a breath when he realized what had just happened.
I made Lord Hanuman apologize to me? What in the…
“You know who I am, so there’s no sense in putting up pretenses. Walking has its merits, but sometimes, shortcuts are better. Allow me.”
He raised his hand, and Amin went blind once more. As he was experiencing it for the third time, he closed his eyes automatically and only opened them after that bright light flashed outside.
A cold breeze that made him shiver was the first sign that told him he had come somewhere special. When he opened his eyes, a golden sky greeted him.
The back of his head felt warm. Turning around, he raised his hand to shade his eyes against the brilliant rays of the rising sun. Below him, Ayodhya sparkled in all its glory, the juxtaposition of its two halves a sight he might never get used to.
“Take a seat.”
Lord Hanuman sat down cross-legged beside him, the ends of his grey uparna forming a bundle in his lap. Amin took the same pose, feeling his mind dipping into a pool of serenity.
“Great work handling the rakshasa. Given your past, one might have believed you would run. You stood your ground and fought. That is admirable.”
His mood instantly soured when Lord Hanuman’s words poked at the tightly shut away guilt that threatened to surge forth and engulf everything else. Feeling as if he was trying to stop a boulder rolling down a mountain, Amin managed to keep that can of worms closed and said, “Thank you. Regarding what you said earlier, maybe it's because Narad…er, I mean Sage Narada is not as famous. You, on the other hand…people get tattoos of you even today. Your face is a popular sticker, visible on the rear windshields of cars all over India. People believe doing so will save them from crashes. You’re…for lack of a better word, a celebrity.”
Lord Hanuman laughed cheerfully, the sound echoing across the sky. Amin smiled on seeing such a joyful cast to the old vanara’s face. When the laughter faded, he said, “My Lor—“
“No, Sage Narada himself asked you to call him by his name. Even if that wasn’t the case, I would insist on being called the ‘librarian’. In many ways, that is all I am, today. The caretaker of a library that contains the past, present, and future. I am a relic of the past, a witness of the present, and a spectator of the future. That last part is a new development, one I did not expect would happen for quite a long time.”
Seeing the librarian getting lost in his thoughts, Amin respe
ctfully waited for the vanara to speak again. He gazed out at the alluring sky, feeling himself drawn back to his wish that hadn’t been fulfilled yet.
Oh, to be able to fly like those birds…
“Does flight interest you so? How about this? Listen to what this old artifact has to say and answer the question that follows truthfully, and I will grant you the siddhi of flight for a short while.”
The way Amin’s eyes blazed while he shifted to face the librarian made the vanara smile amusedly.
Seeing him nod, the vanara said, “This is regarding what Lord Indra said about the reason behind his actions. I have found the one who spoke to him, Amin. I was hoping that it might be false…but I was forced to admit that there might be some truth to it. In the far future, there is a great possibility that you will be faced with choices that shall determine the lives of many. Alas, it is even certain that there might not be a choice where calamity can be avoided altogether. Granted, you might be a different person then, but I wish to ask you this. I can guess that the answer is also how you approach life. If faced with such a choice, how would you try to deal with it?”
Amin breathed in deep, just letting the tranquility of the sky seep into his very bones while he thought on the answer.
Fate was something he had never believed in. But then again, he also hadn’t believed in the gods, and he had just met a bunch of them.
He let his mind drift for some time like the clouds all around, knowing that the truth was often found in moments without focus.
He acknowledged the changes in himself he now knew he wanted, but he also acknowledged the fact that no matter how much he strived to become one not tainted by a past like his, there were some parts that he might never let go of.
About a minute later, a devilish grin stretched his lips and he said, “If I like neither choice, I create my own. Sometimes, that’s possible by using my head. If not, the one presenting the choice better watch out ‘cos they’re about to be cheated or scammed like they never have been before. And if even that doesn’t work out…then I’ll just run and deal with it later, when one of these options is available.”
