was not for nothing.
The next morning was ful of surprises. As the k
ing opened h
is e yes, h
e found h
imself s urrounded
by the ministers of his court, c ourtsmen, n
obles a nd his f amily. I t s eemed a s i f t he e ntire k
ingdom
had gathered around h
is r est. I t w
as instinct t hat m
ade h
im a ware o
f a f orthcoming bad n
ews. T
he
king saw their rotten faces, with wrinkles of hopelessness around their eyes, and it came to his
mind that whatever that happened was somehow, related to his dream.
‘The oracles lay dead. And the temple lays doomed,’ said the oldest one among them. But to
everyone’s surprise, the king’s expressions didn't change, unlike the rest of t hem, w
ho l ooked l ike
bruised flowers. He had already tasted his share of surprises.
The Blue Menhir was doomed, demolished to ground overnight, and nobody, not even the aurors
and the r oyal guardsmen h
eard or s aw a t hing. ‘It j ust. .exploded a nd w
ith-in a s econd, p
ride o
f t he
Odysseus, the faith of its inhabitants, their honor was licking the land.
The temple was at the centre of the the city, pertaining to an old belief that everyone should be
equal y c lose t o the d
ivine. A
nd i t h
adn't b
een o
pened f or a century. The o
ctagonal a rchitecture w
as
a building i mpossible t o b
reach. T
he d
ivine s tone w
as placed a t t he c entre, s urrounded b
y a w
obble
of interconnected paths and gul ies, forming a maze. It was so vast that it took years t o r each t he
stone, if one knew the way. Oracles kept guard on the stone, for they were the connecting link
between the ordinary and the supreme. Onr again, the impossible was insulted.
‘The stone is gone too,’ added one of the kingsmen, and it didn't affect the king either.
The gathering was dismissed, and the king locked himself in his chamber to rethink about the
world. And he asked himself, ‘What is real?’
Was that dream real, or is the reality a dream? The world as we see, is perceived by our senses. Everything is thus, just a perception of our mind, and the way we see the world depends on us, on our mind. Our thoughts define our reality.
From that day on, the king started questioning everything he saw, ate or thought. The most
interesting questions were the ones that were related to his own thoughts. Is your red the same as mine?
Everything he saw, including the worried faces of his loved ones, or everything he heard, or
thought, he asked one simple question, ‘is this real?’.
The day the stone was lost, happiness diminished from Odysseus like s pring d
isappears a s w
inter
approaches. But the good thing about the disappearance of spring i s w
e k
now i t w
ould c ome b
ack
again. The stones. .nothing was certain, except that everyone wil have to bear the wrath that lay
ahead.
The food lost its taste, and the seeds didn't burst into crops from that year on. Water stopped
feeling wet, and the thirst prevailed even after they swal owed g
al ons of w
ater, o
r w
ine. T
he sleep
was a nightmare, a nd s o w
as t he a wakening. T
he k
ing s pent h
is d
ays and n
ights s taring a t t he r oof
of his chamber, his stoned eyes seeing nothing, because everything was an illusion.
And the next day, he ordered his generals to start preparing for a war that could start anytime in
the near future. The generals obeyed, but they noticed something irregular a bout t he K
ing. It w
as
the fear they saw in his eyes. Our King is compromised, was the new under-the-nose slogan among
the soldiers.
It was not the war that scared him, but the dishonor he envisioned in his dreams. His coupling
with t he chaos s keletons, d
oing s omething as s inful a nd b
rutal a s s hedding a m
il ion l ives t o death.
It was the fear of ending up doing something he stood against al his life. If the dream be ever
came true, he must be prepared for it. The stones were gone, and there was no way finding them.
*
Years passed, and the king was stil deprived of the answer. He approached many sages, talisman,
and gypsies but no one could water the fire that had been ignited inside him. Nothing was real to
him anymore. Not even his own existence deemed real to him.
‘The reality exists in our own minds,’ the king told his courtmen. ‘The external world provides
suggestions, upon which we build the picture. And our senses fil the picture with life.’
‘What do you imply, my king?’ asked one of his men.
‘The night before the stones were stolen, I dreamt the same. And i dreamt more. I saw the
reckoning of our kingdom.’
‘That could be a message from them. Unfortunately, the oracles are dead to interpret the message.’
No one matched the wisdom of oracles. There was a definite reason they could talk to the creators,
take a dip into the future, or postpone death. Their death was a testament to the fact that nothing’s
ever for sure.
‘It was not just a dream. But then, what is a dream? And if that was real, what is reality?’
‘It could be a coincidence, my king.’
‘There are no coincidences.’
‘My king, there is a growing unrest in the public. They are lost in the dark age that had fel upon us.
What is lost must be found.’
‘Yes. Indeed it must,’ said the king, lost in his thoughts. ‘I must see my daughter now,’ he
commanded and the council dispersed.
And Vyana arrived, wearing a long emerald gown that swept the floor behind her, cleaning her
traces. Her long, black hair was a breeze.
‘The torchbearer of innovation is here, my king,’ she said as she bowed at her father.
‘Vyana. .my loveliest. Look what misfortune has fel upon us. Without the stone, survival of our
kingdom seems is al but uncertain.’
‘I am as worried as you are, father. And we have upturned day and night to find what was taken
away from us.’
‘I know you are. You are a blessing from the devi. And after the Oracles, you are our only hope. You must not fail us. ’
The oracles, Vyana thought. It is impossible to measure the depth of a woman’s heart. And it is equal y impossible to reveal the secrets that lay within.
‘What are you thinking, child?’
‘Nothing father,’ she returned back from the world of thoughts.
‘The stones. .you can find them. Use your powers,’ the king’s voice was deepened.
‘I wil find them,’ she affirmed. But the king knew she was lying.
*
The king’s army was ready for battle, though the enemy was yet to be declared. His efforts to
decipher his dream had failed terribly, and having found no satisfactory answer to his questions,
who would satisfy the king’s dismay wil be rewarded with unimaginable wealth, and given a
position in the highest order of his men. As soon as the message was delivered, Odysseus turned to
be the travel destination for free thinkers and monks, forgotten warriors, sages and talisman,
singers and performers, writers and anyone who thought himself eligible for the questions. The
realm had become a giant fairhouse.
And among those was a man from the realm of mortals. He was tal , with shiny black hair and
hazel eyes. He said he was on a mission. He had a message for the muse of science.
‘Tel me, traveler, am I real?’ the king asked him. The common’s hal was overflowing with
commoners. King was seated on a sky high throne, and beside him were the members of royal
family. The traveler’s neck was stretched up to take a glance at the king, but could not.
‘You are as real as you think you are, my king,’ he said courteously, as he was strictly instructed to
be.
‘So, what is reality, then?’
7
*
It was love at first sight. The moment they saw each other, they were in love.
And it was like a chemical reaction, because both were transformed. The muse stayed in the upper
house of the palace where no one was al owed except on king’s consent. When there's a wil , there’s
a thousand ways. And one day, he found one. ‘May i have a word with you, the eldest muse?’
‘You are courageous. No commoner had ever made it to here,’ she replied reluctantly, with a
superior smile.
‘A great purpose is an inspiration in itself,’ he said, with his head bowed.
‘What do you ask for, traveler?’
‘The realm of mortals is in the dark. Without your guidance, we are deprived of any scientific
innovation.’
‘What if I say no?’
‘Then I’l persuade you.’
*
Vyana was promised to Sun, son of King sol, of the solar dynasty. Prince Sun was a fearless,
courageous warrior without a touch of sensitivity and mercy. A short tempered man with a rough,
disrespectful attitude, he was feared by al , including Vyana. Gone were the days when he could
give up anything to be with her, take her on a ride on his flaring chariot. Now, they didn't talk
much.
Prince Sun had a cousin. And he was just opposite of his cousin. A shy man who always walked
with his head bowed so that no one could recognize him, Moon could never gather courage to
express his love for Vyana. After the Sun fel asleep, he would take her to the stars and even beyond
them. Vyana could not imagine a life without such a friend.
But the traveler changed their destinies forever. As he and Vyana began spending more time
together, fal ing in love was inevitable.
‘What is your utmost desire?’ she asked him while they were roaming in the forests of deep al ey,
where Sunlight never touched the ground below.
‘My story. .I wish i could complete it.’
Vyana inhaled a deep breath, and burst out in excitement, ‘What is your story about?’
‘The Sun, Moon & the Muse.’
Vyana was taken aback. ‘Are you writing a story about me?’
‘Yes,’ he replied, hesitated. She looked at him for a minute, then smiled. Her smile was magic.
‘What are you stuck at?’ she asked, rol ing her arms around him.
‘I do not know if the muse loves the traveler or Sun. And i do not know what happened to the
stone.’
The thought of stones brittled Vayan’s eyes, and the traveler knew she knows more than she
pretends she knows.
‘The muse loves the traveler, and…. ’ she paused, hesitated to tel him what she hadn't told anyone,
not even herself. It was a sealed package inside her heart, ready to be opened up.
‘And what, my love?’ he asked, and they continued looking at each other.
‘I took the stone,’ she whispered.
*
Some things can never stay hidden. Talent, fragrance and experience are a few such thing. The
aroma of newly blooming love spread around like smel of jasmine in a temple.
And when the love was discovered, it was mocked and harassed by everyone as they always do.
Human nature is universal. It wasn't long that the aroma reached the king, Sun, Moon and then, it spread in al of the 13 realms in the name of treachery. A mortal had shaken the world of gods.
The two were presented in the commoners hal , chained from head to toe.
‘If you have anything to say in your defense, you have one last chance,’ the king fumed at her
daughter.
‘I do not find myself guilty. If love is a sin, I would be a happy sinner.’
The traveler nodded his head as they looked at each other.
‘You betrayed your father, you king, the creators who bestowed you with a responsibility and most
of al , you betrayed yourself,’ the king countered.
One wintry night, 2012
When you’re an anvil, bear;
When you’re a hammer, strike.
He was trembling inside and out. It was not just the freezing mid-night wind of
december, but the fear of losing, and excitement of winning. The stakes were
high.
The old man, as he had always called him, was down inside the building, the
roof of which he was waiting for him to return back with what they said could
be a giant leap into the next era. And the probability of succeeding- 1000%.
He looked around. Two men in black suits were marching along the railing of
roof, holding loaded guns ready to dig holes and spill blood. They were not his
enemies, but they weren't his friends either.
One of them gave him a stern look, and he turned away his head, thinking
about the stories he had heard.
The dream fulfilling gem. The stone of creation. Nobody knew for sure what they were, if they were in the first place. There were just stories. And he had
come very far chasing the myths, the web of lies used to tell the truth.
If the stories are true, he thought, the world won’t ever be the same again. My
la-di-da..
But what if….
Then I’d better jump off this roof and die. He looked down, and the height below froze his senses. He was always afraid of heights.
But what if?
The question recurred again, and he realized it was the scientific part of him,
the prominent one which was questioning the truth behind half remembered
stories without any factual data. This is a risk. If i win, I win. If i lose, I learn.
The old man had been down for almost an hour now, infiltrating the most
secure facility five hundred metres below the ground floor of the National
Museum of India. The underground facility was designed to survive nuclear
explosions, and built to protect the secrets that could not be shared with the
general public. Even the slight proof of their existence could shackle the world.
But he was worried not about the world, but about the old man. The remainder
of his life would be decided by the forecomings of tonight.
Where are you, oldie?
He tapped the dial of his watch, an Omega, and a yellow light flashed out of it.
The light rose to a few inches above the dial, and formed a shape. It was the
3-D projection of the old man sitting on his knees. Same as before.
&nb
sp; Raman clicked a tiny button at the right side of his Omega to update the view.
But the newly rendered image was still the same as before. He began thinking
of all the cases when his neuro radar gadget had failed to live render someone’s
location he wanted to check into. Death was the only case he could find, other
than being inside a place that wouldn't allow signal transmission of any kind.
And it gave him a mixed feeling of hope and despair.
He swiped the 3 dimensional image as if it were a page of a textbook. The
yellow light reshaped itself into the shape and size of an infant, a girl of two
years snoring like babies do. Hello, peanuts.
The yellow plasma responded to touch and glimmered. She was sleeping, and
he flipped the view again, to find baby’s mother sleeping as well. Hello, chubby
cheeks. He patted her cheeks, and the glimmer appeared again. He whispered,
‘I’ll be there when you wake up.’
He turned off his neuro projector by covering the dial under his palm, and all of
the light disappeared. The old man hadn't appeared yet.
He checked the time. It was 01:23 AM. The wind was turning colder every
passing minute, making it harder for him to breathe.
The two men did not seem excited at all. Neither terrified. They were four, and
the two of them had accompanied the old man, while the two decided to
accompany him. And he finally understood what accompany meant when it
came to business.
He turned on his wrist gadget again, only to see no transformation in the
previously rendered image of Guha, the old man. Either he is dead, or still
inside the secret vault. It was tough to say which of the two cases scared him
more.
He heard his company talking to someone in a low, murmuring tone. He hasn't
returned yet... The other one is here...as you say boss….got you boss….
‘Hey moon, pull me up,’ The familiar voice was faded at first, but it grew clear
with every repetition. He rushed to the dome at the centre of roof, which he had
turned into a safe passage to enter/exit the building without filling an entry in
the visitor's book. All the scientific requirements in the mission were fulfilled
by him.
They pulled the old man up from the rope and the other two followed him.
Raman saw his face in the bright yellow lights around the building, and it came
When I Tell You A Story: Book 1 (Black River Trilogy) Page 2