part0025

Arjan hadn’t slept in the night. He had wandered till the edge of the forest, blankly watching the canopies, the winds sweeping the leaves as they fluttered. He even managed to go back to his home and watch his mother sleeping, with dried tear stains on her face. When he did eventually close his eyes, he was pushed by someone and he realized that dawn had broken, the skies were blue again and a new day had begun. Towering over him was the giant Bala with his favourite mace, this time casually concealed behind the long cloak he managed to arrange from somewhere.

Wryly, he said, “I found your man.”

Arjan nodded. “Where is he?”

“He’s at the Madira’s Chalice.”

Arjan nodded. Madira’s Chalice was the only tavern-cum-inn in Shambala that housed visitors. However, it was frowned upon by the religious men of the village, especially the good-for-nothing sarpanch, who had begun this rebellion against the tavern. Personally, he hadn’t been inside of it. It was never really something he was fond of, even though he was well above the statutory age of entry. It was all the drinking, the pipe smoking, and the retching that disgusted him. He would rather hold on to the books late at night and ponder about history and mathematics. But getting books in Shambala was itself a huge task, for it didn’t house any library. The closest one could get to books were either in the Gurukul which is a quarter day’s ride by a donkey cart or at the Wisdom’s Tree, which was also an inn for the travellers to rest at. It didn’t offer drinks of any sort, but it did offer different sorts of books, as the Wisdom Tree’s owner was once a guru at the Gurukul, until he was stripped off of his post for reasons Arjan didn’t care to remember.

Still deep in his thoughts, he realized he had reached the tavern and it seemed…quiet. There weren’t any songs being played by the musicians or the usual humdrum of people. It still had drunkards snoring to glory with half-empty glasses in their hands. Arjan walked towards the back while Bala guided him to enter the dark room and make their way to the stairs, ascending until they reached the first floor. The place was littered with the paraphernalia typically found in cloistered inns and taverns.

“Where did you find a good guide in a place like this?”

“Where else would I, boy?” Bala meekly asked.

Arjan reached the balcony which was flanked by stone columns and had a wooden, almost burnished floor.

“I often wonder how one managed to have so much money for this.”

“The owner was an upper caste noble,” Bala responded. “The high borns that took money and bought this piece of land. The head of this damn village couldn’t do bones about it, for he had political influence backing him.”

“That’s why the sarpanch just disowned the place.”

Bala reached out to the drunkard who was still gleefully imbibing the spirits. Bala slapped him hard. “KRIPA! KRIPA!”

“Eh, eh.” His eyes opened fully and he yawned and burped. “Wow, what a madness that was!”

“Oh hello, friend,” he grinned. “What a disturbing sight to wake up to.”

He had a black beard and wrinkles all over his face. He wore clothes that appeared scorched and torn in places, although there were no visible injuries on him. Arjan noticed all of it, with his fingers dancing on his lips thoughtfully.

“Bala, you didn’t tell me our guide is a warrior.”

“Warrior? This drunkard?” Bala slapped him on the head again.

“Hello!” snarled Kripa, but then retracted his outstretched hand. “How did you know?”

“Not many carry wounds around here.”

“You caught me,” Kripa grinned, with half of his teeth missing. “I might have added my valour in a few of the Northern wars.”

“That doesn’t concern us. What Bala says is you are quite adept in your knowledge about the woods of Shambala.”

“What can I say? The village is like a home to me, mate.” He laughed. “And when you don’t know your home, you don’t know yourself.”

Bala just growled as he crisscrossed his arms across his torso.

“Would you by any chance help us to find the bandits?”

“The bandits? What bandits?” Kripa turned to Bala. “You said the boy just wanted to know about the woods. I said I knew about the woods and you said all right and that was about it. Nothing about the godforsaken bandits.”

“Well, it is about bandits,” said Arjan promptly. “The man who knows about the woods also knows what creatures lurk in there.”

“I am sure about rabbits and rodents, nothing much else, mates.”

“DO NOT LIE!” Bala slapped the large mace on the table, frightening not only Kripa, but also Arjan, who just backed off. The table broke into two pieces. “Uh, shat, sorry,” he backed off. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

Arjan sighed. “It’s all right. So, my man, are you ready to fight some bandits or get beaten to a pulp by this man?”

Kripa’s sunken eyes glowered. “The bandits come from the culture of Mlecchas. Now, mate, do you know who the Mlecchas are?”

“I’ve read about them.”

“Oh, but reading and meeting them are two vastly different projects,” he growled. “You see Mlecchas aren’t just your average forest dwellers who prey on meat. They are vicious, with all sorts of weapons at their disposal…”

“My brother is bringing weapons for us to fight against them.”

“Fight?” Kripa sniggered. “Let me tell you something. The Mlecchas are unorganized, disorderly, have no leader and prey on the villagers because they can’t fight back. They range from nobles to soldiers of the city who have been wronged, disbanded and sometimes they are the convicts, the murderers, the rapists, kidnappers—all stuck together like a band with one common agenda: to survive and to spread violence. And from what I’ve garnered through my experience, the unorganized ones are the worst.”

Arjan leaned forward. He could feel the tension building and he understood the consequences well, but he saw one goal in front of him—to save his father. Nothing else mattered. “The very fact that they hide in the forest shows that they are cowards.” He paused as he pulled out two silver coins, tossing them over to the table. “I’m not hiring you to frighten me, but to work with me. Once you show me where they can be, you are set free, all right?”