by Kevin Missal
“You did a smart thing, lass.”
“I feel horrible.” Padma shook her head. Though she knew why she was feeling horrible. She never looked at her victims after slicing their throats. She didn’t have to see the aftermath, but here, she had had to face the consequence of her actions.
“Well, you should,” Kripa shrugged. “But at least, you live to tell the tale.”
Brahmaputraksh had announced that the next battle would be between Kalki and Ratna Maru. But after witnessing Aina’s death, Kalki had turned white since he knew what fate awaited the loser. He knelt down, asking Kripa to do the same. Kripa retorted, “My knees hurt. I’m old, don’t forget that.”
“Shut up. We need to escape.”
“You don’t say?” Padma remarked.
Kalki clenched his fist. “We need a way out, otherwise we can . . . well . . . we will keep dancing on their fingers. That’s not who we are.”
“All right,” Kripa agreed.
Padma did too.
“We have one day to figure it out. I will Channel the past Avatars to know about it more—my strength. I need to learn how to use my strength better. If I’m the Avatar, I should start behaving like one.”
Padma nodded. Finally, he was embracing his role. Thank god.
“I will be on the lookout and make sure Ratna doesn’t kill you during your sleep.” Kripa nudged Kalki only to see that Ratna was watching them sitting in the other corner with Smrit on her side, dozing over her shoulder.
“Yeah, you do that.” Kalki turned to Padma now.
“Me? I think I will rest a little.” She massaged her feet, groaning.
Padma could see that Kalki had just frowned at that. But she was hurting and she didn’t care if he minded her resting. And yet, instead of making a snarky comment or a rude remark, Kalki pulled out his slippers and handed them to her. When Padma didn’t take them, he softly slipped them under her feet. Her feet didn’t feel anything, but her stomach lurched even more for some reason.
“Good work.” He had a steady face, almost genuine.
“Thank you,” said Padma. She was confused. Why is he being nice all of a sudden? Is it because he thought I was going to die? Well, he better!
“I’m glad you are alive.”
All Padma could do was nod at that moment. Kalki left the corner and sat at the other end of the hut for his Channelling session, closing his eyes, and letting his core connect to the spiritual plane. Kripa then whispered to her, “Don’t worry, lass. I won’t tell.”
“What?” Padma narrowed her gaze.
“That you just blushed at his gesture.”
Padma widened her eyes as she rubbed her hot cheeks in embarrassment.
Arjan had thought that he had come to know how to wrestle after being in the prison for such a long time. But when he saw Harsha strangling someone by just hauling him up the ground and then releasing the dead meat, Arjan knew that he had thought wrong.
I’m going to die a horrible, horrible death.
Master Reddy had given up hope on Arjan and concentrated on the other wrestlers, while Arjan practised by himself.
After the dreadful day with Kali when he had portrayed Arjan as the mole in the group, everyone eyed him with suspicion. In fact, Rudra hadn’t spoken to him as well which was kind of a disappointment for Arjan. Vikram had eventually come up to him and said, “I know you didn’t say anything.”
“Thank you.” Arjan sighed as he strengthened his upper body by trying to stand on his arms. Over the past few months, he had gotten quite tough. Vikram had helped him with the sessions.
“But there is a high chance you would die in the competition. I know it’s deliberate. I don’t know why Lord Kali hates you so much.”
“I kind of burnt down his treasures.” Arjan nervously chuckled to himself at the thought. Truth be told, he would have gotten angry if someone would have done the same to him.
Vikram awkwardly nodded. Arjan continued with his practice, choosing to go to a separate place where there was a dummy. He began to practice with the dummy stuck to a wooden rod and he caught it from behind, hit it in the legs, and tried to grab it by the neck when he heard a voice from the back.
“That’s not how you do it.”
Arjan turned to see the gleaming body of Rudra, standing tall and firm in front of him. Arjan turned away, ignoring him.
“If you practice like this, they will skin you alive in the arena.”
“Why do you care?” Arjan mumbled to himself.
“What did you just say?”
Arjan could feel the anger pulsating from Rudra. He came in front of Arjan and grabbed his hand. “I’ve been trying to save your ass for so many days. Harsha had planned to take you down at lunchtime, but I have been holding him back.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
Arjan looked down, parting his hands from him. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I car—” he stopped, gulping down his anger. “I know you didn’t do it and that Lord Kali is pitting us against each other. He really hates you.”
“Yes, thank you for believing in me.”
“But just because I believe in you, doesn’t mean Harsha will. He has readied himself to challenge you in the competition and break you in front of Lord Kali and become his favourite fighter.”
Since when does Harsha care about being good in Kali’s eyes?
“Everyone wants that. But I can’t see you go down in the process. If you train like this, you will be surely killed.”
Arjan nodded. “What’s your plan?”
“Let me train you. At least, you can fend him off and tire him out. That big, fat man has everything but stamina. And even if you have nothing, you can count on your stamina. So, it works both ways.”
“You don’t care if Harsha dies?”
Rudra came forward, standing tall in front of Arjan. He was almost as tall as Kalki, or perhaps taller. “I just don’t want you to die.”
Arjan lowered his eyes, mustering up the courage to ask what he had wanted to ask Rudra for a while. “Why . . . um . . . why are you here in prison?”
At this, Rudra’s eyes narrowed and his forehead creased. “Well, if you train well and beat me, I shall tell you.”
Arjan smiled. He was expecting a harsher reply. “Let’s go with it then.”
The training was excruciating to say the least. They practised in a corner, away from the other prisoners, and seeing Rudra as an active participant Master Reddy didn’t even care to interfere. In a few days, Rudra taught Arjan about the various complications faced by a wrestler and how Arjan must build his core strength.
“It’s not about the muscles.” He patted his arms, flexing his biceps. “I mean they do look massive but that’s not all. Wrestling is all in here.” Rudra pointed to his head. “Mind games. You need to anticipate what your opponent is going to do and then counter them. It’s about being quick. Be decisive.” And when he said it, he moved like a python, grabbing him from the back and locking his head with his arms. Arjan felt breathless for a moment. “With this move, you can suffocate your opponent, though not in a life-threatening way. Harsha may be strong, but if he can’t breathe, he can’t fight.” Rudra released Arjan.
“Great. What else can I do to win against a giant like Harsha?”
“I’ll show you. Pass between my legs and from the back, grab my throat and make sure you choke this little thing here,” he pointed at the larynx.
“Come on, try it. I won’t defend myself.”
Arjan went between his legs and then grabbed him from the back.
“Okay. Now, whenever you grab someone’s neck, make sure you also grab their forehead or at least their arm, so they don’t try to get the upper hand on you. And now to play dirty, you can just poke Harsha in the eye.”
“Won’t that be a rule breaker?”
“It doesn’t matter if you break rules. You need to be alive, so cheat, if you must.”
Arjan lef
t Rudra and stood opposite to him.
“Now when you begin a fight, always dodge him, since he can easily toss you off. Since this match will be to the death, he won’t just toss you up. He would break your bones if he catches you. To prevent that, you need to tire him out.” Rudra came forward, albeit slowly, and Arjan quickly went around him. Rudra turned and Arjan did the same thing.
In a flash, Rudra stormed towards him.
Arjan’s heartbeat increased, as the practice just became serious. With a quick leap, he somersaulted in the corner causing Rudra to miss him.
“Very good, Arjan.” Rudra smiled. “You are quick. Have you battled before?”
Oh, you have no idea.
“Here and there.” Arjan smiled. He was profusely sweating now.
Arjan practised a little more as Rudra helped him strengthen his arms, his waist, and his legs, telling him exercises that’ll work best for him. He also taught Arjan how to break someone’s neck cleanly, especially ways to deal with Harsha’s big neck.
“We shall practice more tomorrow.”
Arjan nodded and Rudra began to leave since the practice hour was getting over and the guards were telling all of them to go to their cells. “You didn’t tell me why you are here.”
Rudra turned, thoughtfully musing over it.
“Did you kill someone?”
“Uh, no. I loved someone.”
Arjan could understand the pain that Rudra had behind his eyes.
“I was a carpenter and uh . . . he . . . he was a noble’s son.”
Wow.
Arjan didn’t really like the fact that Rudra’s heart had been broken and he had been thrown in jail because of it, but he was also glad that Rudra liked men. Well, I’m relieved.
“What happened then?”
“Someone caught us and Lord Vedanta had a strict policy of no love between men so he uh . . . he couldn’t let the minister’s son take the fall, so he made me take the blame after a lot of flogging.”
“Lord Vedanta was surely the worst ruler. Period.”
“It’s not that . . . uh . . . Lord Vedanta put me here. But my so-called lover didn’t do anything to stop it. After all, if I was wrong, he was wrong as well.”
Arjan agreed. They stood in an awkward silence and Rudra left the scene. Amidst all that hard exterior, the dry humour, was a sensitive man. Arjan wanted to say something more, but he couldn’t. That’s how he always was—left in the middle whenever he wanted to say something because he was not courageous enough to speak his heart out.
You were not wrong, Rudra. You were not wrong.
Arjan was half asleep when he woke up to the sound of sobbing. He realized it was morning and it was just another day except for the weeping sounds that were coming from the next cell. He saw Vikram whimpering, rubbing his nails together. Tears were streaming down his face.
Sighing, Arjan crawled close to the adjoining cell as they were separated by a grilled wall. Vikram turned to see him, wiping the tears. Seeing this big ball of fat and fur, Arjan kind of pitied him—red-faced, double chin, hardly a body for a wrestler, and yet he was here, stuck in some prison for what his father had done.
“What happened?”
“I did a bad thing, fella.”
Arjan arched his brows. “What?”
“I . . . I feel bad for doing it, if it helps.”
“What did you do?”
“I . . .” he was choking, wiping his tears.
“You can say.”
“Yeah, I . . . uh . . . I kind of ratted you all out.” He shook his head, regretting the words, but speaking quietly so no one else in the entire corridor would hear it. “Lord Kali called me in the middle of the night, said there were rumours and he . . . uh . . . he promised me freedom if I told him the truth.”
“And you confirmed it.”
He nodded his head. He had shut his eyes. Perhaps he was embarrassed, unable to look Arjan in the eye.
“I didn’t know he w-would blame it on you, fella.”
And yet he did.
“I so apologize, ya,” he paused, “that’s why . . . that’s why I went to Lord Kali and told him he shouldn’t do this to you. He said he’ll look over it.”
Arjan thought of this decision of Vikram as stupid, but he didn’t say anything. “Don’t worry about it,” he responded. “What’s done is done and we need to get out of the mess.”
“I want to leave this place so much, ya. I want to.” And then his eyes met Arjan’s. “Believe me, it’s like I have been here in this bloody prison since I was a wee-bit tall. My childhood was spent here. I have been here for so long that I have lost my ability to think about freedom, to think about myself. I don’t even know who I am. Am I a person? If I am, what are my passions, my hobbies, my quirks? I . . . uh . . .” he kept rubbing his nails as if he was trying to push his nervous energy towards them. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
You live so long in isolation in such a way that you don’t know yourself anymore. How unfortunate. At least Arjan had an identity. He was a reader, and a poet sometimes. He wanted to travel, though not in an adventurous way but more in a way of escaping the world and knowing the realities of the different tribes, and yet here he was, tied up like a pigeon.
“I’m here to figure it out with you.”
Vikram wiped the last of his tears from his eyes. He was calm now. “Thank you. You are a true friend. But please don’t tell anyone. You are still protected by Rudra. I am not with anyone.”
“I won’t.” Arjan slid his hand through the space in the grill and kept it on Vikram’s, saying, “And you have me, I’ll protect you, as much as I can.”
“Only a wee-bit little.”
They both chuckled.
As Vikram sniffled, the corridor doors opened and the soldiers entered. Arjan heard the cells being opened and the prisoners being escorted outside. Arjan and Vikram were thrown in a line.
“What is this for, fella?” Vikram asked the soldier who was walking adjacent to them.
“The wrestling match starts today.”
“What?” Arjan’s voice came out as a whimper.
“Oh yeah,” the soldier patted him harshly on the back. “Let’s see if you can survive that.”
The entire arena was filling up with people and it wasn’t like the one in Kali’s fort. This was a specially made akhada with poles that showed different flags of the tribes. It had Kali sitting in the front row with Lady Durukti on his side. She didn’t look happy.
The prisoners were put in the corner of the field and Arjan realized all the sand here was red rather than golden. The sun was orange and the arena was dark in colour. It already gave him the creeps. The hair at the back of his neck stood up. He couldn’t even feel his legs and felt a bit like retching out of fear.
Rudra came forward to meet Arjan as his eyes slowly focused on Harsha who was stretching himself.
“Don’t worry, you can do it. Just keep dodging. Tire him out and you will win.”
“What if I faint before him?”
Rudra frowned. “Please don’t.”
Easier said than done.
Arjan licked his lips as he came in the arena, looking at everyone in the crowd, wondering if anyone from Shambala was there. Deep inside, he wished Kalki was here to have his back. He picked up the sand and let it slip from his fingers to feel how hot it was.
“We are here,” Kali began loudly, “to commemorate and enjoy one of the greatest and the most amazing fight this kingdom has ever seen. Initiated by King Jarasandha, I shall continue it. And I have bet it all on the one I know will win.”
He’s lying.
“He has promised to win this competition and defeat anyone, big or small. The toughest of the lot!”
And at that, everyone snickered and scoffed.
“And he will prove you wrong, no doubt. Arjan, my dear boy, are you ready?” Even though warmth encased his voice, he was just enjoying the moment like a pure sadist.
Arjan nodded
glumly.
“All righty. To fight him . . .”
At that moment, Harsha raised his voice. “I CHALLENGE HIM!”
Everyone began clapping. They wanted to see Arjan beaten to a pulp. Even Kali looked happy. He clapped while Lady Durukti sat there, stern-faced.
“Very good, we already have an opponent for our champion but um . . .” Kali frowned, “too easy, eh?” He turned to Durukti to question. “Na, too boring as well . . .”
He doesn’t want Harsha to fight me? Harsha looked confused as well.
“You!” He pointed at one of the wrestlers. “I want you on the field.”
Arjan swivelled his head to see, wishing Kali was not pointing at Rudra. His face lost all colour when he saw who Kali was pointing at.
Vikram.
Arjan was stunned for a moment. He stood there, his palms sweaty as he stared at Vikram and then at Kali.
This is not happening.
Vikram was frozen at his spot. He was wearing a long tunic on his body which the guards came forward and tore apart. In a wrestler’s rag, he looked like a chubby baby, a newborn who has been fed enough.
It was never about killing me. Arjan’s heart sunk deeper.
Vikram bumbled forward awkwardly being pushed by the soldiers as the public began to boo him. And for the first time, Arjan saw the chances of winning the match.
Vikram stood there in front of Arjan, looking meek, and amidst all hoots and boos which Arjan ignored, he could smell Vikram’s fear.
It is either him or me.
Arjan knew. To survive he had to kill Vikram . . . with his own bare hands. He glanced at Rudra who was nervous, biting the top of his thumb, though he had a triumphant curve of a smile. Rudra didn’t know Vikram like Arjan did. And Rudra knew that Vikram can easily be beaten.
It was never about killing me. It was about making me the killer.
Arjan had had it with Kali. The man was grinning as Arjan looked at him, pursing his lips. “I won’t fight,” Arjan protested. At that, the public instantly booed, but Arjan didn’t care. “You are doing it on purpose. I know. And I won’t do it.” Vikram had gone to Kali to absolve Arjan of his crimes. He must have realized we are friends.