He needed help, that was for sure.
Maybe he shouldn’t have come. Kolkata was Kali’s city. Legend had it she had been dismembered and her toe had fallen in the river here, at a place called Kali-ghat in honour of the story. From Kali-ghat came the name Kolkata.
The worship of Kali soaked the bones of the city. Her image was everywhere, with plenty of statues and temples dedicated to her. Ash had passed by the nineteenth-century main temple of her cult, where a goat was beheaded over her shrine daily, washing the statue of Kali in blood. A century ago they’d sacrificed humans in the same spot.
So, on the fourth day in Kolkata, Ash woke in a bad mood. He slipped on his sandals as he got out of his hammock and gulped his water bottle down to empty.
“John?” he called. They’d planned to head down to Fort William today and search another cluster of red dots on Mahout’s map.
“Not here,” said Parvati. “I don’t think he likes sleeping among us rakshasas. Can’t imagine why.” She sat atop the mausoleum Ash used as a bedroom.
“How long have you been up there?”
She jumped down and frowned as she approached him. “You do not look well.”
“Thanks,” Ash replied. Parvati was different too, more demonic with her body covered in light green scales and her eyes huge, her fangs clearly visible. Maybe she was letting her hair down, in the demonic sense. “It’s getting harder,” he admitted. “Can’t sleep at night.”
“Your past lives, yes? What is it like?” Parvati shifted up close and put her hand on his.
“It’s like I’m standing in the rain,” he started. “A total downpour. I’m getting drenched, but each drop that hits me is another memory. There are so many I can’t make sense of them. I see castles and cities that are now just dust in history. Some are my homes, places I’ve grown up in and fight to protect. Others I burn. Then the faces. Faces of people I’ve fought and defended. Of people I’ve tried to save and didn’t. Parvati, I wish I could cut it all out of my head. I’ve done terrible things.”
“Anyone you recognise?”
“Rishi, a couple of times. It’s as though he’s been after me throughout history. Him, and you.”
“You see me?”
“Your age changes, but there can’t be too many half-human, half-cobra girls in the world. Sometimes we’re friends and sometimes… we’re not.” Ash sighed. “I wish Rishi was here. He’d know what to do.”
Parvati sat for a long time, doing nothing but holding his hand. Then she took a deep breath, like she had made some decision. “He did. That is why he sent you to train with Ujba.”
“Yeah, not one of Rishi’s better ideas. I don’t think I learned anything with Ujba except how to get punched. A lot, and very hard. What sort of teacher is that?”
“He taught you how to fight. That involves taking hits as well as giving them out.”
“Some days I was beaten up so badly I could hardly walk. He let his cronies terrorise everyone else, he made John’s life hell and he hated you. Ujba was nothing but a thug.” He remembered those days, trapped in the stifling heat of the training hall of the Lalgur, deep underground.
“An interesting term to use for Ujba, but most correct,” she said.
“I called Elaine last night,” said Ash. He held out his mobile phone. “I had to. She told me Rishi had spoken to her and given her the names of people who could help me, if things got bad.”
Parvati let a scowl slip, then her gaze narrowed with curiosity. “And what did she say?”
“Nothing, it went straight to voicemail. But I got a text this morning. An address. You know it?”
She looked at the screen and nodded. “It’s not far from here.”
“I feel like I’m losing myself. There are so many people in here –” he tapped his head – “all shouting. The dreams are so real, so violent. They’re getting worse and I’m worried I’m going to wake up one day and find out I’ve done something… extremely homicidal.”
Parvati shivered and the scales sank under her skin. Her fangs retreated and she drew out a pair of sunglasses, returning to her human guise. She took his hand. “Let’s go.”
eyond the quiet seclusion of the graveyard, Kolkata was up, awake and busy. They crossed the road, filled with honking cars and even human-powered rickshaws – two-wheeled vehicles pulled along the street by a single man, no horse or bicycle. It looked like a horrible lifestyle, the men thin, their passengers heavy.
But as Ash walked along the streets, his feet seemed to find their own path. He looked up at buildings around him. A cold dread filled him, and for a moment he wondered if this was still a dream. He’d been here before once. He was sure of it.
“What is it?” Parvati asked.
“Déjà vu,” said Ash. He stared ahead. “There’s a place round that corner. Wait here.”
Parvati said nothing.
Ash waved down the traffic to give him space and crossed the road, leaving Parvati behind him. He passed by a blind beggar who squatted under a torn umbrella, plastic cup in hand. Smoke drifted out of the darkness. The walls tilted and almost touched together a couple of floors up. Only a crude assembly of wooden supports kept them from collapsing. Ash ducked under them and crept down the alleyway.
“Hello?”
Whatever this place had been, now it was a crumbling shack. No door, walls lopsided, and window frames warped and covered in tangled weeds.
Ash stepped in, putting his foot on the marble threshold.
An old temple. There was a brass hook above him from which a bell would once have chimed. Plain white marble tiles, crushed and uneven, covered the floor. Litter, blown in by the wind, filled the corners, and the dust drew strange patterns upon the ground. Cobweb curtains hung off the wooden crossbeams, and Ash brushed them aside as he approached the altar and the statue upon it.
Kali stood above the cringing form of a demon, her ten arms fanned out. In one hand she carried a severed head by its long hair, its eyes half closed and tongue hanging out, limp and dumb. In the other hands were weapons ranging from spears to swords to a noose. The paint had flaked off the statue, exposing the bare stone beneath, but that only made her more terrifying, as though she were sloughing off her own skin. Murals decorated the wall behind her, but in the poor light, Ash couldn’t really see what they were.
A cold wind, a whisper of breath, caressed his neck. Ash spun round.
“Parvati?”
There was no one there.
No one.
“Hello?”
Another Kali temple. But why did this one feel so different? Kolkata was an alien city. He’d never walked its streets or seen its sights ’til a few days ago. But this temple was like… coming home.
He’d trodden these tiles before. He felt familiar dips and grooves, as though his toes had once rested in them during a time past. He touched the altar and searched the stone for nicks and marks. Instinctively his nail ran into a long shallow groove, something left by a blade. There were others.
People have died here.
Kali loves death best. Wasn’t he proof of that? He became more powerful the more he killed. Kali blessed him. He ran his fingertips over the scored stone, shivering as old memories swirled in the dark places of his mind, memories from a previous life, maybe, of holding down a struggling victim and drawing a blade across his throat, the blade leaving a light scratch on the stone. Even now he felt the victim squirming against the altar. Ash’s hand tightened as it remembered wrapping itself round the man’s hair, gripping his head steady for the knife.
A hand touched his back.
Parvati gasped as Ash spun round and stopped his punch a millimetre from her face. Ash stepped back, his heart tripping with panic. “I’m sorry, Parvati, I don’t know what happened.”
“It’s your past lives. They’re guiding you now, subconsciously.” She looked worried and put her hand on his cheek. “They were afraid this would happen.”
“They?”
“T
hey as in Rishi and I.” A man sat in the darkness, by the doorway. Somehow Ash had walked straight past without seeing him. He was hunched over a small plate, and he wore a loose tunic and baggy trousers, a yellow scarf dangling round his thick neck. He put the plate aside and stood up, stretching until his head almost brushed the underside of the temple ceiling. His fingers smoothed down his black moustache.
“Ujba,” Ash whispered.
“I prefer ‘guru’.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Elaine sent for me. There is much more for you to learn, boy,” said Ujba. “Especially now that you are the Kali-aastra.”
“You?” said Parvati as she saw Ujba and her fangs lengthened on instinct.
“Only I know how to deal with the Kali-aastra,” said Ujba. “You are one of us, boy.”
“And what is that, exactly?” Ash said.
“A devotee of Kali.” Parvati glanced around the small chamber.
“Well, forget it. I’m not training with you any more.” Ash nodded to the doorway. “Let’s go, Parvati.”
“It was Rishi’s wish,” said Ujba, “that if anything happened to him, I would continue your training.”
That made both of them, Ash and Parvati, stop. If Rishi had wished it, how could they say no?
Parvati narrowed her eyes as she gazed suspiciously at Ujba, but her fangs retreated behind her lips. “I don’t like this any more than you do, Ash, but he’s right. He’s a Brahmin of Kali.”
“I thought Brahmins weren’t allowed weapons.”
“There are many things that do not apply to the worshippers of the black goddess,” said Ujba. He looked at Parvati. “Leave us.”
Parvati hesitated, looking not at all happy, then gave a short nod. “I’ll be back at nightfall, Ash.” She left.
Ash wanted to go too, to turn on his heels and follow her out. But then what? More nightmares he couldn’t handle? Another attack when he was asleep? He was getting out of control.
But Ujba? Why Ujba?
“So what do you want me to do?” he said.
Ujba reached behind a column and took out a broom and tossed it to Ash. “Clean.”
“Clean?” Ash answered. “How’s that going to help?”
“I am your guru. You do as I tell you.”
“I’ve come a long way from the Lalgur, Ujba.” The big man was a brutal teacher, his lessons harsh. Even now Ash could remember every punch and kick he’d suffered, every bruise and cut he’d got training with Ujba. But that was then, when he’d been slow and unfit and human. Now he was the Kali-aastra.
“You think there’s nothing left to teach you?” said Ujba.
“Something like that.”
“Perhaps you can show me some of this extraordinary skill? I would be most pleased to watch a true master at work. Perhaps I might learn from you?”
Ash bristled. Ujba clearly didn’t believe him.
“You hesitate?” said Ujba. He slapped his chest. “Do you need an opponent? Use me. Don’t be afraid of hurting me. I certainly won’t be afraid of hurting you. Come, then.”
“I don’t think—”
Ujba moved. His punch caught Ash square in the chest and launched him off his feet. Ash landed and then flung himself aside just as Ujba’s foot smashed into the wall, barely missing his face. Ash swung his fist, but Ujba jabbed his fingers into Ash’s armpit, and his arm went limp.
Marma Adi. He knows—
The next blow was a light tap under his ribs, but it felt like a cannonball. Ash couldn’t breathe. He stumbled back, his legs wobbling, then fell.
Ujba walked over to the broom and picked it up. He returned and stood over Ash.
“Feeling will return in ten minutes.” He dropped the broom on Ash. “Then you clean.”
o Ash cleaned. He brushed the worst of the cobwebs away, swept the floor, arranged candleholders around the shrine, and put fresh garlands of marigolds round Kali’s neck. Ujba watched, immobile but for the occasional twitch of the stick in his hand.
Eventually the guru clapped his hands. “Enough. Let us see what you remember. Honour Kali.”
It was late morning and shafts of sunlight illuminated the temple, piercing through the cracks and holes in the roof. The day’s heat, moist with the oncoming rains, weighed the air down and sweat shone upon Ash’s bare torso. He took three steps back and faced the statue. He hadn’t done this since he’d left the Lalgur. He put his palms together. He began his salutations to the black goddess.
The moves came slowly, old memories re-emerging under the gaze of guru and goddess. Ash unleashed blows, sank into dives and rose up with high-arching kicks. The old strength surged through him, accelerating his moves, multiplying the power of his strikes. This was what the Kali-aastra wanted. He twisted aside from imaginary attacks and reacted with bone-shattering punches of his own. The final move was the low stance before the goddess, touching the floor before her. Honouring her.
Sweat poured off his back. Ash stood up and ran his hand through his hair, away from his eyes.
Ujba scowled. “I thought you were the Kali-aastra. The weapon of the divine.”
“What? Did I make a mistake?” He knew he hadn’t. “I did that perfectly.”
“Perfection is the least of my expectations.” Ujba stood up and slapped the wall with his palm. “The Kali-aastra should demolish walls with his kicks. He should slay armies with his bare fists. Your attacks should shake mountains.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I demand impossible things, then.” He watched Ash with his small black eyes. “Rishi was a fool.”
“Don’t you dare say that.”
Ujba scoffed. “Did you know him? At all?”
“He saved my life and my sister’s. He was one of the good guys. He rescued me from the Savage Fortress. Don’t remember seeing you there.”
“He should have told me about the Kali-aastra. Perhaps then he would still be alive. That’s the trouble with clever men – they sometimes outwit themselves.”
“What do you want from me?” said Ash. “If I’m so useless?”
Ujba shrugged. “I thought I could train you, help you unlock the powers of the Kali-aastra. Teach you how to manage your past lives.”
“You can do that?”
“Teach you? That depends on your willingness to learn. Your respect for your guru.”
“Isn’t respect earned?”
“Do you want to learn or not, boy?” Ujba looked at him with barely disguised contempt. “You have these gifts, but you squander them. Worse, you reject them. No wonder each waking moment is pain. Look in the mirror, boy. You’re being eaten from within.”
“The Kali-aastra gives me strength.”
“It is the only thing keeping you alive. And poorly, it seems.”
Ash stared hard at the dark man. Was it that bad? He touched the scar on his stomach. The nightmares, the waxing and waning of power, all because of who he was, what he was. The Kali-aastra. Could Ujba teach him to control it? If there was even a small chance, he had to take it. He couldn’t carry on like this.
Reluctantly, Ash made a decision.
“Teach me, then,” he said. “I want to learn.”
Ujba put his hands to Ash’s face and peered closely into his eyes. “You dream? Of your past incarnations?”
“Yes.”
The guru nodded slowly. “You must learn when to fight and when to yield. A warrior must combine flexibility with rigidness. You fight against the others, your past selves, instead of bending. Look for the path of least resistance and attach yourself to that.”
“How will I spot it?”
“Your previous incarnations do not come at random. There is a purpose to them wanting your attention. By yielding, you make them allies. Consider them guides. At different times, as your needs change, different personalities will come to your aid. You just need to recognise them among the multitude.”
“How?”
“That wisdom is not easily acqu
ired.” Ujba picked up the broom and turned it in his fingers. “You will dream tonight, most likely. Do as I say and we will talk again tomorrow. But I do have one other piece of wisdom, one which is well meant, though I know you’ll ignore it.”
“Tell me.”
“Do not trust the rakshasa. Her kind and ours are eternal enemies. I am your guru.”
Ash laughed. “Parvati? In what alternate universe would I trust you instead of her? She’s always been on my side.”
“As have I, boy, though you’ve been too blind to see.”
“Ash?”
They turned and there, in the doorway, was Parvati.
“Am I early?” she asked.
Ujba addressed Ash. “Tomorrow.” Then, with one last dark look at Parvati, he left.
“He so doesn’t like you, does he,” said Ash as he wiped the sweat off his face.
“He has reason.” Parvati approached the shrine. She slid her fingers over the cracked altar stone, feeling the grooves and indentations. “Let’s go. This place is evil.”
“That’s almost funny coming from a demon.”
“Didn’t Ujba tell you? About who worshipped here?”
Her voice quivered as she spoke. Ash’s heart skipped a beat. Parvati was frightened. He hadn’t thought that possible. But that cold, dreadful breeze haunted the edges of the temple, and Ash flexed his fingers, thinking of the man, the sacrificial victim, whom he’d held against the altar once upon a time.
“Who?” he asked.
“Kali’s most devoted and deadly servants.” She met his gaze and there was old terror in her eyes. “The Thugs.”
“ou mean like out of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom? The Thuggee?” asked Ash. They’d gone to a café for dinner and found a quiet corner away from the small crowd of men watching and cheering the cricket game on the old crackling TV.
“I forget most of your education comes from Hollywood,” said Parvati. “What do you know about them?”
ASH MISTRY AND THE CITY OF DEATH Page 10