part0035

Arjan had confidently and clumsily agreed to a game he had seen from far off during his years in the Gurukul. The other students would sit around a cloth, which had multiple squares and cowries to move their gitte or pieces forward on. The pieces were of two colours. He had never been interested in that because he was mostly rummaging through ancient scriptures and books, learning about the ways after the Breaking and how life had evolved over a period of time. Arjan had curiously seen the same cloth and recognized there would be some gambling involved. Now he wished he had learnt it enough. He sat opposite the madman Keshav, while his father’s life was at stake.

He had to stall for time. Vishnuyath had been kept separate from Arjan. Bala and Kripa were still tied to the tree, their faces strongly marked by the restive atmosphere around them. Arjan had a cloth over his face to stop the bleeding. It had hurt worse than a fall he had experienced when he had been training to ride a horse at Gurukul. He had sprained his leg and had cried all the way back to the infirmary. Right now, it was worse and while tears were burning his eyes, he knew he had to bear the pain.

“Well?” Keshav’s marble eyes glinted. “Shall we?”

Arjan nodded. The pieces were kept in the middle, and were of two colours. One was for Arjan, red; the other one, black, for Keshav. The middle had a round circular design. Keshav’s entire gang had circled around the game now, except for the few who were standing to guard the prisoners.

“Beat him, boss! Beat him!” All of them goaded him.

Arjan was given brightly coloured cowries. “You go first.” He had to see how he would play.

“Alright,” Keshav took the cowries back and began to shuffle it in his hand. He tossed them softly on the ground, scratching his chin in the process. There were two cowries that faced up while the others were down. “Two steps.” He took a piece and put it in front.

Arjan began to shake it in his hands. He tossed it then. There were five cowries that faced up. Everyone gasped in shock.

“More than mine,” Keshav chuckled.

Triumphantly Arjan forwarded the pieces. He had a hint of a smile, the little he could give with the amount of pain he was suffering from.

And thus the game continued. Arjan made sure that with each toss, he would rig the cowries by turning them inside his palm with his little finger, so that when he gently threw it, they would fall favourably. For a while, Keshav didn’t notice anything amiss, until Arjan realized that Keshav had tossed a jackpot. No cowries were turned up.

Everyone clapped, almost to the point of annoyance. Arjan didn’t know this part of the game. But then Keshav used his pieces and brought them forward by twenty-five squares. Arjan realized that with his cowries, he was supposed to reach the centre. From whence they had left, they had to return to the same point, without being overcome by the opponent player. That was the game. And it felt so much like Arjan’s life right now.

Keshav was clearly winning. Arjan dropped three ups and he came forward with one of his pieces in the same square as that of Keshav’s square. Keshav groaned, taking off his piece and putting it back in the circle. For a while Arjan was glad.

The game continued for an hour, where with each of Arjan’s moves, the result was continuously being thrown off-kilter. Keshav’s men kept abusing him and Arjan just shuffled and tossed while Keshav was able to bring the earlier piece from the centre back to the forefront, with all of his other pieces inside the circle except for one. Arjan had two pieces left, but he was almost twenty paces behind, while Keshav was just three. His heartbeat was pounding against his chest. He felt overwhelmed and shocked with what he had gambled. He was a fool.

And that was when he heard it. It was a loud, screeching sound of a cough. He saw Kripa coughing continuously.

Everyone frowned at the old drunkard.

Keshav began to shuffle in his hand again when Kripa coughed. “Shut up!” Keshav yelled. “I am trying to concentrate,” he said with irritation. And that is when it hit Arjan. He looked back with his one eye while the other was folded by a cloth, tightly woven around his head. He saw Kripa and realized he wasn’t such an old drunkard, after all.

When you shuffle, that is when you try to distract. That is why whenever Arjan tried to shuffle, Keshav’s men began to chant, talk and trouble him verbally so he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the cowries and throw them the right way.

Arjan gave a slight, acknowledging nod at Kripa.

Keshav was shuffling hard, his eyes maniacally watching the game as he was planning to throw and win the game of pachisi—and just as he was about to toss, Arjan sneezed. It was a matter of a split second, but it made all the difference. The result came with two cowries while the rest were down.

“ Dooga ,” Arjan grinned, as Keshav angrily put his pieces two steps forward.

Arjan was given the cowries. He had to pull out twenty-five paces forward which meant all the cowries needed to be up. He prayed to Lord Vishnu as he began to loosen his grip and toss the cowries…

“What is that boss?” one of the Mlecchas spoke up.

Above the little view of the skyline the canopies offered, there was visible smoke, engulfing the blue skies.

“Smoke,” the other was horrified. “It’s a trap!”

Keshav glanced at Arjan. Arjan felt a terrible void in his heart, mingled with extreme fear. His body had just turned cold, his toes curling, his skin growing white.