Kalki had reached his hut. It was still the same. Regardless of whatever had happened, nothing changed about it. Bala stood like a guard outside. He looked sore from the wounds sustained on his back, as he stood crookedly, but he had a gentle smile on his face. He entered, moving past the living room and missing his father’s presence. Kalki wished he could spend more time with him now. Regret burnt inside him, but he recalled those moments when he shared words of wisdom with him. He scanned the rooms, searching for his mother.
To his surprise, Kalki realized she was folding Vishnu’s clothes and wrapping them into a mound.
“Where’s Arjan?” Kalki asked. “I thought he was with you.”
“He left a while back,” she said without looking at him.
Kalki furrowed. Where could he go? Perhaps the farm, which he would check after he made sure his mother was all right.
“Mother, are you fine?”
She looked up. She did look tired and weary. She had large bags under her eyes.
“Are you?”
Kalki clenched his jaw. “Stupid question, I know.”
“No it’s fine, Kalki. Grief makes you lash out when you don’t want to,” she smiled wanly. “But you should never let it overcome you.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s transient.”
“I’ll miss him.”
She nodded, but didn’t say anything.
“Why are you packing his clothes?”
“I’ll give it to the beggars. He would have wanted to share with the less fortunate.”
That was his father. Kalki smiled to himself. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save him. I could have if I was instinctive, but I was too…”
“I know he isn’t alive. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t here.”
Kalki couldn’t help but think how right she was about this.
“Don’t be apologetic. When you were given those powers by the Gods, they knew you couldn’t save everyone.”
Mother had said this in rhetoric terms, but she had no idea how true it was, for it had been the Gods who had given him the powers through the medium of Somas. She thought they were gifts when Kalki had exhibited them in front of her. It was Lakshmi and his parents who knew his secret which made Kalki feel guilty, for he should have told Arjan by now.
Why hadn’t he? Did it scare him as to how he would react?
“Not even my father?” he paused. “He was the most important person, the one I should have saved.”
Sumati nodded. “Perhaps. But everyone has their time.” She came forward and grabbed his arms tightly. “You shouldn’t let these things put you down for these things are what help you grow as a person and become someone extraordinary. We think tragedy is when something bad happens, but I see it differently. I feel tragedy is bad, but it makes you rise as a hero, because it gives you courage and a sense of reality. These are the true signs of a king.”
Kalki sniggered. “I’ll never be a king. I’ll hate wearing the damn crown for one.”
“A crown doesn’t make someone a king,”
She put her face against his chest and Kalki could feel the hot tears on his chest. He couldn’t help but tear up as well.
“What if I have to leave this place to become that king? What if I have to learn the ways for that?” Kalki recalled the conversation he had with Kripa and how he had to leave Shambala to become the Avatar.
She didn’t say anything.
“Should I?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Do I need to have a reason?”
There was another pause.
“Vishnuyath told me something that I need to tell you.”
“Yes?” His heart leapt with inquisitiveness.
“Strength in a person doesn’t define a hero. But where he uses his strength is what matters the most. A hero isn’t born. He’s made. Through people, through journeys and most of all, through tragedy.” She pulled back. “You can go wherever you have to, Kalki, but don’t forget where you came from and what made you who you are. Because we often forget the people or place that made us when we become something. Make sure you always preach love and kindness, because there’s less of that in this world,”
Kalki wiped her tears.
“How will I spread kindness?”
“By reciprocating,” she said. “The Mlecchas had less of that, thus they lost their objectivity. Our world will be a lot greater if we stop spreading hate.”
Kalki nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind, Mother. Thank you.”
And they embraced again.
Kalki reached the farm. Arjan had been standing close to the stable, watching the leftover cows. He had huge sacks of grain packed up and loaded on the bullock carts. The entire field seemed isolated, as the sun was going down and evening was about set in, with the twinkling stars that would brighten up the sky.
But Arjan stood alone, just watching. He didn’t wander nor do something, to Kalki’s surprise. Kalki watched from afar.
“I don’t know what we should do with this, Kalki. I just don’t know,” Arjan said without looking back, his back facing Kalki. Arjan had his fingers, close to his lips in a thoughtful gesture. That was always what he did with them.
Kalki fed some grains to Shuko, who was sitting on his shoulder, as he walked to his brother. The sun died in the background as Kalki strolled along.
“With the place?”
“Yeah.” Arjan’s scar was starkly visible in the dusky light. It was horrendous what had happened to him, but he wore it like it was nothing. “I don’t want to give it away.”
“We shouldn’t then.”
“All of father’s workers have died and so has he,” Arjan said it flatly but Kalki knew there were emotions simmering beneath he surface. “Who will take care of it?”
“Perhaps we should.”
Arjan scoffed, “I believe we can, but was it always your dream to be a dairy farmer?”
“Dreams are often not accomplished,” Kalki said.
“For those, who don’t dream big.”
“And what do you dream to become?”
“Travel most probably, learn history, meet tribes and cultures of every kind and not just the ones who were allowed under the Treaty of Indragarh, but also those who are hidden from us.” He paused. “I read in a western historical book that there’s a tribe that suffers from a rare hair disease—they look like monkeys. It would be a wonder to see them. Just because of how they looked, they were outcasts and thrown in the jungles.”
“Seeing monkey people?” sniggered Kalki. Kalki. “That sounds interesting.” Arjan also smiled at the ridiculous idea he had formed in his head.
“What do you dream about?”
That was a question Kalki had to ask himself, for he had forgotten to think about himself at all. He had so much going on that he realized he had no passion, no drive, and no hopes at present. He had been lost, but this question prompted him to strain his brain and think hard.
What do I want to become?
“I know it sounds abysmal…” he chuckled at the mere thought of it, “but I just want to be happy and content.”
“Do you not dream big? Do you not want to travel?”
Kalki rounded his arms around his little brother. “Perhaps I chose not to. Perhaps big doesn’t always matter. It’s also the little things, specks of happiness that we go through in a day that we should look out for. It’s funny how grief makes you realize the good things you have overlooked in life.”
“And what would that be?”
Kalki grabbed his neck and began pulling his hair. “Like my little, stupid brother.”
Arjan pushed him with a grin. “You don’t want to tackle me. After this scar, I have a power… hold on, why do you have a parrot on your shoulders?”
“He’s my friend.”
Arjan burst out laughing, to the point that he collapsed on the floor, his hand clutching his stomach. “You are… the… funniest… person ever.”
“Shut up.” Kalki was flustered in a good way. He couldn’t help but smile as well about it.
Arjan stopped laughing and remained on the floor. Kalki began to explain the story behind acquiring him when he was interrupted by Lakshmi. She was in different clothes, panting and sweating hard as she had a note clutched tightly in her hand. Arjan’s expression changed and so did Kalki’s.
“What happened?”
“Your mother…uh…” she took deep breaths as she fought to catch her breath, “she told me…you…were…here.” She wiped the sweat from her brow, her hair all tangled up.
“What happened?” Arjan pursued. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong is that Lady Durukti…is coming to visit the village and she’s not coming as a friend,” and she showed the note to the two brothers.
