part0034

The evening had dawned and Vishnuyath saw his son Arjan wounded and tied around the peepal tree with his companions—a burly, mammoth man and another lanky individual whose face was entirely covered with hair. He had wrinkles and was quite old. That was when he realized who it was. The realisation came to him as the man watched him intently. There was a clear but wordless understanding between Vishnuyath and the old man.

But Vishnuyath didn’t ponder on that question for long since Keshav crossed him and came forward with his friends, circling around the tree. Keshav didn’t speak, but one of his men did.

“You barge in as if it was your own land, you killed two of our men; and for that, your punishment is death.”

Vishnuyath’s feet weakened. He felt mortified at the very thought of his son’s death. Kalki had been always the more adventurous and stronger one, unlike Arjan, who took steps only after thinking hard. What in his right mind made him lead two more lives here?

“Can I speak to him, please, my lord; please can I speak to him?”

Keshav grunted. “I had a father once; I wish he loved me this much. Go.”

Vishnuyath staggered to his feet, and on reaching the tree, he hugged Arjan tightly.

Arjan whispered, “Are you all right? Are you hurt? You have blood on you.”

“I’m fine son; you didn’t have to do this.”

“If I wouldn’t have…I would have never forgiven myself.”

Vishnuyath cupped his hands over Arjan’s cheek. “You are a fool, you understand, you are a fool.” And then he hugged him again.

“I always tried to be your real son, but I failed. I got caught.”

Vishnuyath pulled him back, and locked eyes with him. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that. You have no idea what I feel for you.”

“It’s always been there, even though you and Mother kept saying I was the more dependable son. But I could see that you were trying to please me, so I could forget I was adopted. I was nothing but a stranger to you; I was a weakling, found in a barn, an infant who had no parents.”

Vishnuyath regretted telling him all of this. He hated Arjan for saying all of this, but he hated himself more for telling him the truth. He shouldn’t have. He could have kept it inside, held it all together, but he had to spill it out—just for his damn penchant for honesty. Vishnuyath understood that it would have been far better to speak lies than to speak the truth.

He saw his broken son. His arm was bleeding, but he was hesitating. He was disappointed. And that was when Vishnuyath said to Arjan, “You are more a son to me than any father could ever have wished for.”

Keshav’s men grabbed him at that moment and pulled him behind. Vishnuyath turned to Keshav, his hands and legs feeling out of place, almost on the verge of collapse as if they had lost their bearing. He grabbed Keshav’s feet tightly and began to beg, his eyes streaming with tears. Keshav looked at Vishnuyath for a while, with a sense of confusion in his eyes. Vishnu searched for some sign of forgiveness, but none was seen.

“Leave me.” He kicked Vishnuyath in the face, as he rolled over on the other side. “I granted your wish. Now see your son suffer.”

Arjan yelled, “You think you can escape! You have no idea.”

One of Keshav’s men asked, “What are you talking about? Who is coming?”

“Your death will…by my hands.”

“Our death?” Keshav’s accent was garbled. “Our death is in our hands,” he spread out his palms.

“I don’t believe it.”

Keshav narrowed his eyes. He pulled out a dagger and went close to Arjan. Arjan just stood there with bloodshot eyes, watching Keshav.

Vishnuyath prayed. Please don’t. Please don’t say anything. You have no idea what he’s capable of.

Keshav used his dagger and began to slowly carve a scar. Arjan’s skin tore, his mouth contorted into a silent shriek of pain as the blade slowly tore through his face. Just below his eyes, crossing his nose, to his other cheek, his face drenched in his own blood.

Vishnuyath yelled, his hands and his feet frozen on the floor.

“Something to remember me by,” Keshav grinned. “Always mark the dead, to let others know who it was that did it.”

“I challenge you. You say…you say…” Arjan began shivering. Vishnuyath could see he wanted to wish away the pain. “You say death is in our hands…why we…w-why don’t don’t we…” he gasped, “we play a game?”

“I saw you were playing pachisi.” He signalled over to the gambling zone. “If you win, you kill us. If you lose, you leave us. You are a man who’ll stick to your…eh…um…right? Eh? You don’t want your friends…” his voice got loud, “to know you are not a man of your word. That would be a pity since they believe in your word so much.”

Keshav looked at his men. For a moment, there was a flicker of uncertainty in their eyes.

“Oh right,” Keshav nodded. “Those rules change…if I win, I’ll kill your father first,” he pointed at the frail Vishnuyath, “carve and torture him in front of you so you’ll see what your loss has led to. Okay?”