by Anmol Batra
“The glass chambers are still closed for sand movement. But when the black morsel opens the hourglass warren? The sand will move across the earth. And the sound will treble through the gates of the afterlife,” he continues.
“Foreseeing threat, the guardians of the afterlife will come flying down to earth to assassinate the initiator, which is us. And atoot is your only shield against them,” continues Zaffar’s lookalike.
“So, what do we need to make this armour?” Asks Zaffar.
“Atoot is made of gold. The gold treasure which you found near the Mango Tree in Farooqabad is all we need. In fact, it’s more than enough to build the armour,” comes the answer.
“I am only left with two coins. I don’t have any gold with me anymore,” replies Zaffar.
“What?!” Grunts the lookalike in an irate tone. “What did you do with it?”
“I paid off my mortgage,” replies Zaffar.
“I never expected you to be such a big fool. And never did I give you that money to get rid of your loans!” Shouts the man.
Shocked to hear his harsh words, a pang of doubt strikes Zaffar’s mind. “Is this really me from the past?” He thinks.
“How come I am screaming at myself?” Questions Zaffar with a feeling of pain and betrayal. “Are you really me?”
“I am nothing but your own stronger self arguing with your emotions. You know what relief you have got by repaying your loan, but you have delayed the plan that you crafted centuries back. We are merely days away from taking over the world. And now we need to find more hidden gold,” comes the reply, in a calm and composed voice.
“How do you actually find hidden gold when you are just my subconscious deep inside me?” Asks Zaffar suspiciously.
His subconscious smiles mysteriously and replies, “You will have all the answers, Zaffar.”
Zaffar swiftly opens his eyes and bangs his head on the upper birth.
“All Good?” Asks a middle-aged Sikh, offering Zaffar a bottle of water.
Zaffar rubs his forehead and looks at him with gloomy eyes.
“I have asprin, paracetamol, vicks and… some other medicines in my luggage… if you want any of these,” suggests the middle-aged man.
Zaffar shakes his head and lies down in his bed again.
4th January 2013 4:15 PM Faisalabad, Pakistan.
A coin with a Muhammad Ali Jinnah’s photo rests over a railway track. Next, a train rushes over it. Over a hundred wheels pass over the coin, flattening it to half its thickness. Two kids run towards the track as the train leaves the battered coin behind.
The railway junction signal turns green, giving the go-ahead to the Milat express to enter the Faisalabad railway station platform.
Packed in one of his bags, Zaffar’s phone rings.
“Aasalam Wale Kum Zaffar!” Greets Omar Qadir over phone.
“Wale kumad Salam Chacha,” replies Zaffar.
“Remember the lady doctor you brought to Kasur from Gurgaon?” Asks Omar.
◆◆◆
Chapter 31
The Instrument in an Unreal World
3rd January 2013 10:00 AM Mehrauli Archaeological Park
A foggy morning and Arjun flies to the Park as a soul. The murky sky and a thin drizzle make it barely visible, even in the daylight. Arjun roams around for a while and finds Diachi near Allaudin’s tomb. From a distance, he sees Diachi fiddling with a shiny brass instrument under the trees.
“A gadget??” Arjun wonders.
Arjun steps closer to Diachi and asks him curiously, “Is this a compass?”
Howrang continues to look at the brass gadget and replies, “Yes it is, but not just an ordinary one.”
Arjun steps beside Howrang and gazes at the brass watch closely.
A compass with a steel pin, with one edge highlighted in red and the brass exterior displaying metal screws on three edges of the compass. The inner dial has black marking between concentric circles.
“How is it here? I mean how did you manage to carry anything in this world?” Asks Arjun, while contemplating the compass.
“I will let you know when the time is right,” replies Diachi. “Right now, what matters is… what can this device do?”
Arjun looks back at Diachi and makes a curious face.
“This is a sundial. And it has different functions in different worlds,” Diachi continues “In the Physical world, there is another gadget which can be combined with it to make an hourglass warren. However, in the soul world, it acts as a doorway to the crystal asylum.”
Howrang closes the hinged cover of the compass and points to the edge of the brass lid, which has Roman Letters aligned in a circle and a brass-made triangle with one side passing along the diameter of the compass.
“This device works like any ordinary compass or solar clock. However, it’s also a much more powerful tool, or rather a dreadful weapon,” explains Diachi.
“As in?” Asks Arjun
“In the physical world, the hourglass warren has three parts; the hourglass, the sundial and the black morsel. When the first two are combined, the device can be used to withdraw a soul from any ordinary human being. Sadly, it can also be used to kill someone. Not just kill him; his soul will be trapped in the hourglass until it is shattered into pieces, or until the end of the world,” explains Diachi.
“With the black morsel it is far more deadly. Two sets of hourglass and sundial couplings placed along the axis of the earth, with one coupling holding the black morsel, opens the hourglass warren, giving the owner full command over every living creature across the earth.”
“Where is the hourglass?” Asks Arjun.
“One of them was with an art dealer in Jaipur. It has been recently robbed by an expelled athlete named Zaffar,” replies Diachi.
“So, the hourglass is in real world and the compass is in the soul world?” Asks Arjun.
“Not really; there are two compasses in the real world. The second one has recently been stolen by the same athlete in London,” replies Diachi.
“Is Zaffar someone like me?” Asks Arjun.
“No he is not, but I believe he is guided by a soul reaper,” replies Howrang with a worried look on his face.
“Soul reaper??” Questions Arjun curiously.
“His name is Hirath, and he once served at the gates of the Afterlife,” explains Howrang. “A Hundred Fifty years back, he was relieved of his duty because of his ill deeds. I am not sure, but it’s quite likely he wants to open the hourglass warren.”
“And he is communicating with Zaffar. But how?” Asks Arjun.
“You, me, Hirath or any other creature from the soul world possess more abilities than you are aware of,” replies Howrang “To control the notorious dead, a soul reaper is armed with tools and weapons that can be disastrous to any soul. This compass belongs to Hirath.”
Howrang looks at the compass, grips it in his fist and hides his hand behind his back.
“One of the abilities is entering others’ dreams. All the creatures of the soul world, including you and me, can enter the dreams of the real-world people. But if the dreaming individual is killed, then the soul world creature will remain trapped in his crystal asylum forever; unless he uses this compass to make a timely exit,” continues Howrang.
Diachi turns around and walks down the cement pathway. Arjun walks beside him.
“Over the years, people have committed hideous crimes, performed impossible tasks or have even attempted suicide, claiming that they saw God, the Devil or an ancestor asking them to do so in their dreams. These acts of convincing the living is often performed by an escaped soul with a personal vendetta, us the time tinkers or…” Howrang takes a pause and then resumes, “a soul reaper.”
“Zaffar can be stopped in the real world, but how can we handle Hirath?” Asks Arjun.
“We still need to figure that out. As of now, he is another immortal soul but armed with weapons. Before we find out what to do with Hirath, we need to understand his next step
s and also how to stop him from opening the hourglass warren,” replies Howrang.
“But for that he needs the black morsel, right?” Questions Arjun.
“Yes, he needs it and sadly I don’t know where it is. But presuming Hirath is guiding Zaffar then he would have never searched for the sundial if he or Hirath were not aware of the black morsel’s location,” replies Howrang with a worried face.
“You mentioned something called a crystal asylum; what is it?” Asks Arjun.
“Imagine a hollow cube made of transparent glass. An infinite number of cubes placed on top of it and other infinite cubes placed beneath it. Rather, imagine an infinite series of cubes across all three dimensions of space. Each sharing common walls, edges and vertices with the adjacent cubes,” says Howrang while describing the prison with a hand movement.
“It sounds like a maze, but where is it?” Asks Arjun, looking at Howrang’s hands.
“The crystal asylum is crafted by your mind as an unbreakable dream when you are unconscious or in a coma. Your mind is a machine and your soul is the driver. It’s a defence mechanism triggered by your mind so that it doesn’t lose its soul, unless it is not the time for your death. When the time comes, a soul reaper enters this prison to take away the soul. This is when a person dies. Mind you, a soul reaper with a special weapon can break the glass cubes of the prison as well,” continues Howrang.
“And what has the sundial got to do with it?” Asks Arjun.
“Absentmindedness is the inconsistency of the mind. This is what makes a human inefficient or causes them to make mistakes. And yes, this means that the mind is inefficient at making a perfect crystal asylum. Which in turn means you can move between the cubes. One of the cube’s headquarters is the hourglass, which is also used by the soul reapers as an entry or an exit to the prison, if required. This sundial is the key to opening the hourglass, just like the one in the real world,” says Howrang.
“So, is it that every subconscious individual wakes up in a crystal asylum and stays there until he gains consciousness?” Asks Arjun.
“Not everyone! But time tinkers like us always do. An ordinary soul bound by the shackles of mind is put to sleep by its brain. A few do wake up in the crystal asylum and only a rare few remember it, but eventually they forget. The mind doesn’t let the crystal asylum dream flow in again if not required… But…for time tinkers, things are different. Your mind doesn’t have much control over your soul. We don’t sleep and need to break out of the prison in order to survive,” replies Howrang.
“That’s scary. I hope I don’t end up unconscious,” replies Arjun, absorbed by his words.
“Our existence is beyond the imagination of ordinary living creatures. We can discover the furthermost corners of the universe. Yet, no soul has ever seen God, who actually created us. We don’t even know where to look for him. Even then, we can’t deny the fact that there is a force that governs the entire universe even life before and after death. So, have faith in God. Belief or Gut feelings are like the unsaid omens from God. Sometimes they can tell you more than simply a vision of the future. Don’t stop trying, look for clues, and most importantly never lose hope,” advises Diachi.
“I agree…” replies Arjun, wondering if Diachi knows when he will enter the crystal asylum, or if his words were just for his knowledge.
“Anyway, so is there anything that I need to do? Visit London, Jaipur?” Asks Arjun, hoping to change the subject, which sounded scary to him.
“Don’t get distracted. I will guide you to retrieve both the instruments when the time is right,” says Diachi.
The dense fog discouraged most of the local tourist. Yet, a few young guys vaguely appear in the mist along one side of the rubble wall. Howrang and Arjun move closer to them. From a distance, both can now see two boys smoking cigarettes in an enclosed nook.
“So, anything else you came to know about that boy who you caught stealing from you that day?” Asks Diachi, with an expressionless face.
“Yes, I did. His name is Akash. He used to sell roses at traffic lights. A cop asked him for a bribe, for which he didn’t have money. The angry cop crushed all his flowers, so he had no money for food,” replies Arjun.
“I took him to the general physician, paid for his medicine... bought him lunch and… ” reports Arjun confidently.
“And you also bought that story?” Asks Diachi in a sarcastic tone.
With a little surprise, Arjun gives a sharp sideways look towards Diachi. “What do you mean?”
“The boy has been mugging people in this park for almost a year now. He is a drug addict and would have bought some good heroin from local dealers with your money,” replies Howrang.
“I shouldn’t have given him money then,” says Arjun.
“That boy still needs your help but not in the form of money,” replies Diachi, gazing at the boys who are busy pumping out smoke rings. “If you crack down on this drug racket, perhaps you will end up saving thousands of boys like Akash living here.”
“Hmm…” Arjun murmurs.
“It’s time you raid the storehouse in Gurgaon where Ankita was kept. You have 24 hours before they move her to Baluchistan,” says Diachi.
“Should I involve the police?” Asks Arjun.
“If you do, the drugs will be back on the market after the cops have claimed their twenty percent commission,” replies Diachi.
“Hmmm…” mutters Arjun again. “So, what do you want me to do then?”
“Take some diesel along with you tomorrow during the day. Find the drugs and burn them in the storehouse. They have a guard on duty but only at night. He comes at 8 PM and stays until 8 AM, but stay vigilant. You will have ample time to burn it down. Make sure nothing is left usable,” commands Diachi.
“Carry a metal wire, a matchbox, a trowel, a torch and an axe,” he continues.
“I can understand the matchbox and the axe, but what purpose do the rest of the items have?” Asks Arjun.
“It’s up to you to discover tomorrow,” says Diachi. “I am leaving now. Good luck Arjun.”
“So, when I can see you again?” Asks Arjun.
“See you soon,” chuckles Diachi, and disappears in the fog.
◆◆◆
Chapter 32
The Drug House
4rd January 2013 10:00 AM Swati’s Residence
Arjun waits for Swati to leave. He quickly gets ready and picks up the only matchbox from Swati’s wall-mounted wooden temple before he leaves her residence. He takes a metro to the last station of Gurgaon. On reaching Gurgaon, he purchases a few items from a hardware shop.
From the main road with fancy glass buildings, to the narrow lanes of Jharsa Village, Arjun briskly walks into an old market with barber shops, metal part dealers and scrap traders. From a scrap vendor, he purchases an empty refined oil canister and buys diesel for it.
An hour later, he finds himself outside the storehouse. The street is busy with a few people heading in both directions. A young lad with a torn jacket parks his rusted bicycle near the open sewer lines running parallel to the road. He squats alongside the bicycle facing the peddles and tries to wind up the chain on to the gear.
Arjun stands facing the house, contemplating the metal lock placed on the door. “Should I call a key maker? Break it with axe? Or should I burn the door down?” Arjun wonders for a while, but can’t make up his mind.
A few minutes pass by; the young lad is finally able to mount the chain on to the gear. He quickly hops on the bike and rides away.
An idea strikes Arjun. He puts both his hands on the wall and pulls himself out. He then reduces his size to a tenth the size of the keyhole and over-clocks himself to one thousand times the normal subjective experience.
Arjun swiftly flies inside the giant lock through the keyhole and looks around for its mechanics.
“Seems like a six-lever lock. Let’s see what’s at the other end.” Arjun thinks, looking at the giant rusted metal pillars suspended from the roof. He passe
s through the metal roof and glides above one of the pillars, where he finds a spring suspended from the roof to the bottom of the pillar, enclosed in a chamber.
“But how does this work?” Arjun thinks as he stares at the helical structures curiously.
Arjun glides through different chamber walls to find springs mounted on the tops of each pillar, but to his surprise each spring is of different length. He spends time in each chamber and carefully observes the height of each spring.
After a few minutes of observation, Arjun glides out of the lock and enters his body again. He pulls out the wire from his bag and makes a u-shaped bend at one end with the short wire, approximately equal to the depth of the keyhole tunnel. He presses the wire at different points, shaping it into a key.
After a cautious effort, he finally makes a wire-framed key. He gently slides the key into the lock and twists it.
With a clicking sound, the lock opens in the first go. Arjun smiles and gently opens the door. The creaking sound of the door sends shivers down his spine. His heart starts pounding. He peeks inside the half-open door and cranes his neck to get a full view of the open yard.
In the bright sunlight, the weeds growing over the single-storey roof casts a shadow on the brick floor of the open yard. A mild blow of the cold breeze and Arjun can smell dead insects and wet grass. After careful observation, he cautiously steps in.
From the veranda, Arjun can see an unlocked door which imprisoned Ankita. He pulls out an axe from his bag and watchfully enters the damp room.
“Seems like Howrang had been observing this place,” Arjun thinks as he walks through the empty rooms of the store house.
“But where are the drugs?” Arjun thinks as he looks around the entire place with eyes wide open while pointing a torch into the dark enclosures.
After thirty minutes of struggle, Arjun has explored every nook and cranny of each room, but is empty-handed. With a sad look he returns to the yard wondering what was missing.