part0031

Vishnuyath had been exhausted. He didn’t realize he would have to work at night as well, cutting off the fat, searing the loins and then chopping up the leftover meat. Vishnuyath had recommended leaving the cutaway tenders for two weeks, mostly covered with ice to bring out the softness, and eliminate the rawness, but Keshav didn’t listen. He had a cleft lip with hair that resembled mini-sized daggers protruding from his skull. He spoke awkwardly, and if anyone would even by mistake chuckle or grin, he would suffer consequences.

Vishnuyath had trained himself to survive this turmoil when he told Keshav he knew how to take care of a cow, but Keshav had to spare his son, Arjan, in return.

“We only need one of them.” Keshav had said glancing at the father and son.

Vishnuyath was perplexed by the statement and by the time he had been bound, Keshav’s men reached for Arjan to kill him who dodged their attacks and escaped. The night had begun to fall and Keshav ordered his men to leave the premises, forgetting Arjan. Keshav made sure everyone who witnessed the invasion was cut apart just like the cows Vishnuyath was going through now.

And now, he had been forced to help them, being their chef for reasons only Keshav knew. He was so tired of doing this sinful act of cow slaughtering that he even tried to escape, but to no avail as Keshav’s guards stood at every place. Vishnuyath had heard that Mlecchas don’t take survivors and here they were doing the opposite

Vishnuyath didn’t feel great about it. With each cut he made to the cow, he closed his eyes and prayed for forgiveness to Goddess Kamadhenu. But he had to do it for survival and for his son’s survival. It was horrible, he knew. With each cut, Vishnuyath had to stop the blood that flowed all over his clothes. Luckily, Keshav was kind enough to give him a long piece of cloth to cover himself with.

“Why did you leave the tongue out?” Keshav asked.

Vishnuyath realized he was standing behind him. Keshav crouched and whispered in his ears, “cut the tongue for me.”

With a disgusted frown, Vishnuyath pulled out the severed head of the cow, first slicing its tendons and then pulling out the tongue, slashing it with the thick knife he had been given.

“Give it to me.”

The smell of the dead cattle disgusted Vishnuyath. The entire clearing of the woods had become dirty with all the littered carcass and entrails.

“Should I heat it up?”

Keshav didn’t care to respond, but rather put the entire raw tongue in his mouth, chewing it fast. The sound from his mouth made Vishnuyath’s stomach roil in disgust.

“You do a good job, villager.” Keshav patted him on the shoulder. “We mean no harm to you. We are simply waiting.”

“Hey boss!” someone from his group called.

“What?” Keshav shouted back.

“How come a religious man like him is allowed to cut our meat? I mean, they have rules and all right? Don’t they have their Gods and Goddesses of all kinds?”

“Yes, I wonder how.”

“I don’t mind,” Vishnuyath quietly said.

“A propagator of atheism, my friends,” Keshav clapped. “You believe in no God, am I right?”

Vishnuyath didn’t answer. Keshav just looked at him eerily for a while before he slapped him on the back with appreciation. “He is fine.”

Keshav went over to his tent. Just outside of it, there was a hanging cage which Vishnuyath had seen. The cage had a talking parrot and from what Vishnuyath had witnessed, the parrot was a genius. Keshav, to see any dangers lurking around, would let this parrot fly and come back. If the parrot would continue screeching, it was a sign that they had to be careful about the dangers lurking around. But Keshav didn’t treat the parrot right, wouldn’t give him enough food and had a chain locked around its ankles. Whenever he would send him out, he would tie stones to him so he couldn’t travel too far. He would threaten the parrot as if it understood him, which Vishnuyath knew he did, for the parrot was indeed a genius placed in very wrong hands.

He tried squeezing the remaining life out of the parrot and it began to peck Keshav hard over his palms, but it didn’t matter to him. He was just maniacally grinning at the blood from all the quick piercings.

“Yes, my love, do it, do it, I feel it.” He squeezed harder and the parrot screeched loudly. And then Keshav dropped him inside. The parrot began creating an uncontrollable noise till Keshav just chuckled and closed the cage.

“Our eyes,” he signalled at Vishnuyath, who had been continually staring at Keshav, which he had noticed. “Beautiful creatures.”

“Who wants to gamble?” he shouted at his friends. Surely there was no hierarchy amongst them, since they all had respect and disrespect for each other on an equal measure. It was only Keshav who had been the craziest. He would lead the group, speak what he pleased even though he was least intimidating physically.

Vishnuyath walked over calmly to the cage, while the backs of the Mlecchas were to him. He knelt next to the cage and tried to pet the parrot, but it made an uncontrollable noise.

“Calm down, I’m one of the good men,” he said, but the parrot didn’t stop. “All right, fine, let me help you with a snack.” He had a glimmer of happiness as he dug his hand into his dirty tunic pocket and brought out a piece of bread. “You want some, my friend? Here…” he prompted the parrot by feeding him from his hand. The parrot backed off. “Fine, I’ll just leave it right here, so I hope you don’t feel threatened then.” He tossed the bread inside the cage as the parrot looked at it for a while. By just the look of it, the bird seemed to be scared, almost shocked that someone offered him sympathy. And then it bent down his neck like a crane and fetched the piece of bread.

“Hey, here you go, my friend.” Vishnuyath clapped calmly. It was almost a moment of happiness for him. “You are friendly. What is your name?”

The parrot continued to eat the bread by keeping it next to him and pecking it. When it was over, the bird slowly walked with his tiny legs to the end of the cage and pushed his head out.

“What do you want? You want me to pat you?”

Quietly Vishnuyath chuckled to himself as he tapped on the parrot’s head. Then he scratched the light feathers, feeling how something could be so soft and tender.

“What is your name, friend?”

The bird didn’t say anything.

“These deviants must have not even have given you a name, eh? Well, you are quite friendly and beautiful. Why don’t I call you…Shuko?”

The bird flapped in appreciation. “My name is Vishnuyath Hari. But you can call me Vishnu, my friend. I was named after the founding Gods of our creation. Lord Vishnu was the valiant warrior who brought order to our society, the seeker of dharma.”

“Vishnu! Vishnu!” It began to cry out loud in happiness.

“What’s going on there?” One of the Mlecchas shouted.

Vishnuyath came to his feet and stepped away from the cage. “Will give you a piece of bread later.”

Everyone began to play their so-called in-house gambling game, where they had chalked out houses with pebbles and threw dice to see who one had the highest number, around a piece of cloth that had squares made on them. Vishnuyath was on the other side as he came towards the terrain, close to the uneven slab of rock, and leaned over it, the splash of cow blood on his hands and his feet as he felt a soothing relaxation finally coming over him.

The last time he was in the land of heretics, was in an unknown village of a name he had forgotten and he was travelling with his cattle, travelling from the fire-ravaged city of Suryagarh. He had rushed, but he realized there was an infant, coiled in a white blanket in the midst of raging flames. Dust hadn’t settled and Vishnu knew he had to choose between goodwill and business. And he did the initial thing, leaving the cows behind and saving the child he didn’t know about. At the end of it, when half of the people had left the village and the other half had been the victims of the fire, he was with a child, smoke riling up around him and his face dark with all the ash and soot. He had retreated close to the remaining tree, hugging the weeping infant, when he looked at the wonderful eyes it had.

But it didn’t matter for him. Vishnuyath knew what he had to do at that moment. He had to take it home, for leaving an infant in an infirmary or to another family would be a crime. Perhaps it was a gift from the Gods, and he was given this precious child as a chosen beneficiary. He hugged on to it and when he reached Shambala, he had already named the infant by the name of Arjan, after the warrior Lord Arjun.

But for now, his mind had returned again to reality for that fire in that village was nothing compared to the situation here. He watched the parrot again wondering how long the bird had been trapped here, amongst people like Keshav. He pitied the bird. He watched him for a while until he realized the bitter metaphor of his entrapment. Just like the bird, he was here as well. And for how long, he had no idea.