Krishna scratched his chin, pondering for a few moments. Then he asked, ‘Wouldn’t the water flow back into the room through these very outlets?’
Maya smiled. ‘No, my lord. These vents will be covered by lids, which will be pressure-sensitive and open only towards the outside. So pressure from above will open the outlets. And the water will flow only from inside the cubicle to the river outside, and not the other way around.’
Impressed, Krishna murmured words of praise. ‘And how do I open the door?’
Maya motioned Krishna to walk up the bank with him. They strolled past a row of trees. ‘The door is to be opened and shut with a button. Pressing the button will open it, pressing it back again will shut it.’
Krishna nodded as they stopped at a tree that was the farthest down the row.
‘Since the room is a secret, I will hide the lever within this tree. Reach around the trunk, and you will feel the outline of a circle.’
Krishna ran his hand over the bark, around the trunk. His fingers moved slowly, until they brushed an engraving of the circle. It felt like someone had inscribed it on the bark.
‘I will inscribe a similar circle on the front too, aligned with the button behind,’ the asura went on. ‘It will mark this tree as the key for the room.’
Krishna was satisfied with this method.
‘I haven’t prepared the lever yet,’ Maya added, ‘but I will soon, and embed it within this tree.’
‘What about the secret storage spaces?’
Maya smiled broadly. ‘I will work on them myself, my lord. But, yes, based on the requirements you specified, may I request you to lend me your flute for a couple of days?’
Krishna readily agreed. ‘Keep it for as long as you need, my friend.’ He brought out the wooden flute from his waistband and handed it to the architect.
Maya accepted it respectfully, bowing to Krishna and touching the flute to his forehead. He stashed it carefully in his bag.
‘Please visit me two days from now, my lord, for I’ll be setting up the lock then and I need you for that.’
The lord smiled to indicate that this was agreeable.
Krishna, remembering something suddenly, motioned Maya to wait for a moment. Slipping his hand inside his waistband, he brought out a conch shell and gave it to him.
‘Ah … Of course, my lord,’ Maya said, accepting the locket. ‘I shall return it to you when we meet next.’
‘Maya, your work is truly impressive,’ Krishna remarked.
The architect beamed with pride. He bowed, and the two ambled back to the stream.
THIRTY-TWO
‘Here it is,’ Anirudh told Dweepa, his hand pointing to the conch shell engraving on the tree.
Dweepa hurriedly came up behind him and touched the symbol, his hand caressing the bark, feeling his lord’s divine touch across the centuries. He looked up at the skies and whispered a prayer.
‘This has been here for so many years, yet I never noticed it!’ Dweepa croaked, his voice full of regret and disbelief.
Anirudh patted Dweepa’s back affectionately. The sage took a deep breath to control his emotions.
‘I know my lord was all-powerful. But … how could this symbol have survived here in the great outdoors for so many centuries?’
Anirudh looked at the sage and replied, ‘Mother Nature respects the wishes of those who respect her. She treasured Lord Krishna’s wish because he appreciated her and held her in high regard.’
Dweepa turned to observe Anirudh, startled. Sometimes the young man’s wisdom really took him by surprise. He stepped away from the tree and bowed slightly to Anirudh, indicating that they had to proceed in the direction of the rivulet.
Anirudh and Dweepa had left Chennai by an early morning flight and reached the latter’s house by noon. Both had been too excited to eat, so they had immediately headed to the woods. Anirudh had led the way, filled with eagerness, as he’d relied on his memory to locate the tree with the conch shell symbol. Now Anirudh and Dweepa turned their attention to the sound of burbling water. They quickened their pace, their excitement brimming over.
After walking for some time, they reached the stream. It rushed on madly, and would be impossible to cross on foot without being swept away by the currents. Anirudh looked at Dweepa worriedly, running his fingers through his unruly hair. He needed to find a way. His mind raced as he paced up and down the bank, thinking of how to cross the river. He looked down the length of the waterbody, hoping to find a raft or a boat. But he saw none. Then, suddenly, he remembered how Krishna had slackened the river’s flow in his dream!
‘You remember I’d told you how Krishna slowed down the river currents by waving his hand over the stream. Can you try that, Sage Dweepa?’ Anirudh muttered, as curious as he was desperate.
Dweepa smiled and gave him a nod. Then, looking around cautiously to see if they were being watched, he stepped into the river, the cool water embracing his ankles. Holding up his arm in front of him, he started slowly waving his hand in the air, as if softly caressing the water. His eyes were shut, as if he were in deep meditation. In response, the stream, too, calmed down. Gradually the flow of the water changed to a lazy drift.
Anirudh stared in awe, secretly hoping that one day he, too, would be able to achieve such mastery over the elements. Dweepa smiled at Anirudh reassuringly, as if he’d read his thoughts, and told him to step into the water. Holding hands, they crossed the rivulet easily, the water coming up to their knees.
On the other bank, Anirudh squinted at the woods up ahead, trying to identify something. His rolled-up jeans were heavy with the weight of the water, but he was too excited to be bothered. Suddenly, he let out a small smile. He’d recognized the landscape from his dreams, and knew that the tree with the big circle inscribed on its bark was on his right. It had to be.
‘If we had approached the woods from the opposite end,’ Anirudh spoke, pointing ahead, ‘then the tree would have been on our left, and we wouldn’t have had to slow down the rivulet’s currents.’
Dweepa agreed. Not wasting a moment, they half-ran to the grove to their right, frantically searching for the tree. Minutes passed, but without luck. Anirudh grew agitated and let out a groan. Something was not right.
‘Maybe it’s deeper in the woods. New trees may have grown … hiding it from view? It’s been centuries …’ Dweepa suggested.
Anirudh was too annoyed to say anything, so he just followed Dweepa. They entered a thicket and split up. The trees here were dense, and barely any light filtered in through the canopy. Anirudh looked to the left, while the sage went further right. The earthy smell of moss hung in the air, dulling the senses, and it was so perfectly quiet that even the snapping of a twig could not be missed.
‘Sage Dweepaaaaa!’ a voice rang out, shattering the silence.
Dweepa ran towards the source and found Anirudh leaning against a tree, his strong arms wrapped around the trunk. From behind, the sage observed, the boy looked exactly like Krishna, barring his lord’s long hair—his swarthy body gleamed with sweat, and his lean figure displayed a certain grace even in times like this. As if on cue, Anirudh turned and gave Dweepa a brilliant smile. The sage returned it and walked up to inspect the tree bark. He closed his eyes in joy the moment he saw it—the big circle!
Anirudh grinned and, placing both hands on the trunk, aligned his left palm—on the etched circle—to the right palm around the circumference, directly behind it. Once in line, he pressed the fingers of his right hand into the bark. But it didn’t budge. Anxious, he frowned at the sage.
Dweepa looked at Anirudh earnestly and nudged him to try again.
Anirudh took a deep breath and, channelling all the strength he could muster, applied pressure on the bark. It slid inside! He fist-pumped the air and let out a scream of joy as Dweepa laughed.
They headed back to the stream expectantly, and stood stunned at the view of the gaping hole in the centre, with the water rushing into it. It was just like the sc
ene in Anirudh’s dream! Dweepa and Anirudh held hands and stepped into the rivulet, which was still flowing gently. They approached the hole and peered in, a little hesitant, a little eager. It was dark, and they couldn’t see what was inside.
Anirudh turned to Dweepa. ‘It’s time,’ he said with resolve. He let go of Dweepa’s hand, inhaled deeply and jumped in, just like he had done when he was Krishna in the dream.
He braced himself for a long drop but reached the ground faster than he had anticipated. He landed with a thud on a hard floor, but somehow it didn’t hurt. The surface was cold, wet and slippery. A damp smell filled his nostrils as the river water kept pouring in. Anirudh exhaled, coughing, as he stood up and steadied himself. His clothes, soaking wet, clung to his frame. He looked around—all he could perceive was darkness. It was pitch-black.
Anirudh called out to Dweepa and told him that it was safe to jump. Spreading his arms wide, he broke the sage’s fall. Dweepa mumbled his thanks and straightened up, squinting at the darkness. He brought out a torch from his satchel and turned it on.
‘You came prepared?’ Anirudh asked, smiling at his teacher’s resourcefulness.
‘Yes, based on what you’d described, I guessed we would need a source of light.’
Dweepa flashed the torchlight at the low ceiling above. A large stone disc was set in it, with an iron handle. The two looked at each other.
‘Looks like the door. Shall we close it?’ he asked hopefully, shivering a little as the cold water drenched his body.
Dweepa nodded. He, too, was feeling uncomfortable, and was getting anxious about the chamber filling up with water.
‘Oxygen …’ Anirudh asked. ‘Wouldn’t we be cutting off the air supply?’
Dweepa pondered a bit and then said, ‘If we need fresh air, we shall open the door.’
Anirudh agreed and pushed the handle, and the disc slid into its place easily, shutting the hole and stemming the waterfall. They both sighed, relief filling them.
Dweepa now flashed the torch at the ground beneath them and then down the length of a narrow corridor ahead. The passageway was only about five feet long. Anirudh and Dweepa locked eyes, eyebrows raised. They walked to the edge and saw a short flight of descending steps. The sage gestured to Anirudh, and they climbed down gingerly, the gurgle of the water growing louder. By torchlight, they saw water escaping the chamber through drainers on either side of the staircase. Exchanging admiring glances at the ingenuity of the outlets, they reached the landing. This level was dry, albeit also chilly.
On the marble wall to their right hung a lamp filled with wax. Dweepa peered at the wick and, without a word, handed the torch to Anirudh and brought out a box of matches. He was about to strike one, when Anirudh placed his hand on the sage’s arm, shaking his head.
‘I’m not sure, but doesn’t fire use up oxygen?’
Dweepa sighed. ‘Yes, it does. You’re right, Anirudh.’
‘So let’s use it if the need arises, then?’ Anirudh said. ‘Let’s go with the torch for now.’
Dweepa nodded, fiddling with his bag to keep the matchbox inside. In the meantime, Anirudh flashed the torch around this room. It was a small boxlike chamber, empty. The two looked at each other, anxiety lurking in their eyes. Their thoughts echoed one another: Where are the treasures hidden?
The cold room was making Anirudh shiver a little, and his hands shook, the torchlight flickering on the wall right in front of them. He stopped still. He had noticed something. He waved at his teacher, motioning with his eyes. Carved on the wall was some sort of design, and what seemed like a hole next to it. Anirudh went closer and studied the etching, tracing the shape with his slender fingers.
It was that of a conch shell!
Dweepa’s eyes asked the next steps of his student. But Anirudh’s were shut. Breathing slowly, he was thinking about the purpose of the hole in the wall. The symbol of a conch shell! Krishna came here to hide the locket … that I know. But what is the hole for? After contemplating for a few minutes—or what seemed like ages to Dweepa—Anirudh opened his eyes. Turning, he stared at the broken conch-shell locket hanging from Dweepa’s neck.
‘Please give me that locket, Sage.’
Dweepa unquestioningly took off one of his most prized possessions and handed it to him.
Memorizing its mould, Anirudh went on. ‘In my dreams, I came here to hide three things: the circular locket, the broken conch-shell locket and my flute. But the question is—why did I give you the other half of the locket? Was there another reason besides it being your identifying mark?’
Dweepa looked at Anirudh, shaking his head in confusion.
Silence followed. The chamber was still, and no sound could be heard except the echo of their deep breathing.
‘This locket,’ Anirudh broke the peace, laughing softly and glancing from the hole in the wall to the pendant in his palm, ‘will lead us to its other half hidden here! That is why I gave it to you! And that’s why I told you to keep it with you always! The key was right here all along … How foolish I have been!’
Dweepa gasped, touching his neck where the locket had been moments ago. In his surprise at the sequence of events, he couldn’t utter anything except a short, mumbled prayer under his breath.
Feeling confident, Anirudh gently inserted the locket into the hole beside the symbol. But he felt it hit a dead end in less than an inch. He furrowed his brow, trying again. Beads of perspiration appeared on his forehead. Steadying his breathing, and ever-so-careful to not break the locket, he slowly pressed it into the small gap. To his delight, it slid inside easily now. Happiness washed over the two, as did a keen curiosity.
Anirudh continued pushing the locket inside as far as it would go, when, all of a sudden, the carving of the conch shell protruded from the wall! They both stepped back, gasping. Dweepa flashed torchlight at the wall, and they realized that it wasn’t the symbol that had jutted out, but the marble slab it was carved on. It was constructed almost like a marble drawer, mounted on marble extensions. Anirudh smiled admiringly; the mechanism was quite simple. The further the locket was pushed inside, the more the slab poked out. The ‘dead end’ inside the hole wasn’t one after all—it was a button or a key, which had to be pushed to slide out the slab. Behind Anirudh, Dweepa marvelled at the extraordinary design.
The two stepped forward, holding their breath, and peeped into the small cavity behind the slab. Resting in the centre, glowing milky white in the torchlight, was the other half of the conch-shell locket—the body whorl. Anirudh took it out carefully and held it in his palm, running a finger over the cold, hard shell. The pendant was resplendent, and had perfect spirals.
Then Anirudh slowly pushed the slab back inside, and Dweepa’s locket fell out of the hole and into his cupped hand. He held the two halves against each other—it was a perfect fit!
Anirudh and Dweepa couldn’t wipe the smiles off their faces. They had actually retrieved Lord Krishna’s conch-shell locket from the depths of the river! Dweepa squeezed his student’s shoulder encouragingly. ‘What next?’ he asked.
Anirudh took the torch from Dweepa’s hand and shined it at the wall to his left, disappointed that no other clue could be found. He sighed and moved to the wall on their right, the light following. He turned away in seconds, but had to do a double take … There was something on the marble wall. Dweepa watched Anirudh as he inched closer, his mouth dry. At about waist height were three small gaps, the size of keyholes.
He examined the holes: two big and one comparatively smaller. The bigger openings were meant for the conchshell halves, Anirudh understood instantly. But the third one intrigued him.
‘The flute?’ Dweepa suggested.
Anirudh shrugged. ‘Probably … But where is the flute?’ he whispered. With doubt written all over his face, he turned to the opposite wall and looked at it again, carefully. ‘Did I miss something in my excitement?’ he asked himself.
He shone the incandescent light across the polished wall, slo
wly this time, covering every inch. And there it was right before him: two keyholes.
Anirudh moved quickly, by now desperate to unravel the secrets of his past. As he wiped the dust off the wall with his hands, his eyes were caught by another something, just above the openings. A carving—that of a flute!
By turns laughing and panting with anticipation, the two silently registered exactly what they needed to do next. The student handed the torch to the teacher, who focused the beam of light on the two holes. Anirudh inserted a locket in each keyhole and slowly pushed them inside. Instinctively, the two looked at the symbol above the gaps. The result was instant: the marble slab that bore the carved flute protruded jerkily from the wall. This drawer was much wider and even a bit thicker than the one that held the conch-shell locket. With a final push, the slab jutted out completely. Dweepa flashed the torch beam inside it, and his breath caught in his throat.
Lord Krishna’s flute!
‘My flute … It’s the same as the one from my dreams!’ Anirudh whispered, reaching inside the drawer. He ran his trembling fingers over the instrument’s holes and its polished wooden surface, and his dreams came rushing back to him, flooding his mind. Awestruck by the significance of this moment, he breathed deeply, wrapping his hand around its body. As he held it with the right of ownership, prickly goosebumps broke out down his neck and arms.
After giving Anirudh a few moments, Dweepa respectfully held out his hands for the flute. Closing his eyes, he touched it to his forehead. Anirudh smiled; warmth flooded his whole being.
Pushing the slab back into the wall and collecting the two lockets, Dweepa and Anirudh reined in their ecstasy and returned their attention to the wall behind them, the one with the three holes. Having learnt from his latest attempt, Anirudh wiped the wall clean with his wet T-shirt—he knew there had to be something inscribed on it. And he was right! Gone unnoticed before, an etched symbol stood in relief above the three keyholes. It was a circular carving—for the circular locket!
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