They waited.

Kalki sat outside his home for a while, drifting into an uneasy sleep. He was tired. Arjan was leaning against the tree whose canopy shadowed their hut. He was playing with a coin, flipping and twisting it in the air, out of mundane curiosity. Lakshmi was reading a book and Arjan kept trying to peek into it. Bala was busy cleaning his mace.

Sumati had scolded Kalki to be more respectful towards adults and not barge into a council meeting just because he was able to convince them once. He was enamored by the idea that the Avatar of this Age was doing all of it. Did Lord Govind allow himself to do all this? But then he was a man who loved curd and stole it. He had his own likings and flaws, just like Kalki, whose greatest flaw was his verbose nature, which often made him forget about his surroundings.

Shuko appeared on his shoulder and he let him have a piece of bread. After a while, when Shuko had occupied himself with his dietary fastidiousness, Kalki realized Kripa hadn’t come. He was the one who had suggested making weapons out of natural forest resources, and yet he hadn’t come. He was an Acharya, yet such lack of punctuality hardly suited him.

There was a tale about a Mleccha, who was a noble one from the times in Mahayudh. He wanted to be a great archer and he had the talent for it. The respectable Acharya realized that he was a threat to the hero of the Age and he made the Mleccha give his thumb in return. Without the thumb, the Mleccha was no more a good archer and it was this tragedy that cost him his love for archery. Kalki knew that the Acharyas weren’t the noblest of men, even though they pursued noble practices. There was never really good or evil in this world. There were just people and their choices that lead to devastating consequences. The story was apt, and it was the only one Kalki remembered from his Gurukul days. It made him wonder now whether Kripa was a good man after all, for his intentions were often belied by his actions.

Kalki was a bit surprised as to why Kripa had not divulged the names of either his nephew or the accomplice. He thought to himself that perhaps the time was not right, and eventually he would receive answers once he had definitively chosen the path of righteousness.

“I don’t think anyone is coming, brother,” Arjan began with a hint of humor. “I suppose your speech wasn’t really that impactful. Were you impacted?” he probed Bala.

Bala had been wiping the mace when he got sidelined. “Uh, what? Uh…yeah…”

Kalki shook his head in dismay. “I am not surprised my own people don’t trust my judgment.” He coughed for Lakshmi to look up from her book and answer, but she remained still, merely flipping through the pages. “Great, thanks for the encouragement.”

She still didn’t say anything.

“I don’t think she’s listening.”

Lakshmi snapped without even glancing up, “I am. I just choose not to answer.”

“Makes me feel good, everyone, thank you.” Kalki sarcastically shook his head and swivelled to face the direction of the forest.

Then he saw a person walking towards him. He wasn’t exactly tall, more average in height and build. Roshan Mitra was walking alongside, sluggishly moving forward with him. While often dismissed by most people as weak, Kalki had seen him loading and unloading sacks in his father’s farm during periods of harvest. The chit of a man had a surprising amount of strength.

“Is this where I…where I volunteer?”

“Uh, sure, yes.” Kalki stood up. “How can you help us?”

“I can help you with making weapons.”

“Do you know how to make weapons?”

Roshan shook his head. “Someone needs to teach me, but well, I’m a quick learner.”

“That’s uh…that’s great.” Kalki turned to his friends, who were struggling not to laugh. “And you won’t fight?”

“No, Mother said I shouldn’t do something to kill myself.”

“Oh, I see.” Kalki smiled. “Well, thank you for coming, Roshan…”

“HOLD ON!” A voice shouted.

Kalki turned, and he could feel the all the heads turning as well. It was Lyla with her two brothers, along with Sagar, Maya and ten more friends. But they weren’t just ten; they were in hundreds if Kalki was correct. They were coming in large groups, excitedly chattering about this opportunity to go against the panchayati dictum and fight against the Tribal audacity of demanding to excavate their temple.

Lakshmi had closed her book. Bala straightened himself. Arjan wasn’t playing with the coin anymore.

“I hope this is enough, Kalki,” Lyla said with a smirk. She had onyx black hair, with curled eyelashes and a thin mouth. Her brothers didn’t look anything like her, but they were tall and strong and Kalki needed that.

“This is more than enough and uh thank you for coming.” Kalki lowered his brows as he acknowledged all of their presence. “But how did you manage to convince everyone?” he asked Lyla.

“Me? I didn’t manage to do anything. I was bringing my brothers along when I saw this group. They were all coming this way.”

“So who grouped them?”

“Well…” Lyla signalled with her thumb at the back, towards a familiar face that appeared from amidst the crowd. Clad in plain white clothes, Devadatta looked at Kalki with a generous smile. He gave an acknowledging nod.

“Sarpanch ji?” He gasped. He had never believed that the old man, whom he had called a coward indirectly, would step up and bring so many people for Kalki. “I thought you didn’t believe in me.”

Devadatta sighed. “I don’t know what to believe in anymore. But I do know one thing. I’ll regret my entire life if I let those Tribals invade our temple. I don’t have a lot to regret so I hope to make the most of it.”

Kalki laughed, along with Arjan, who patted Kalki’s shoulder in respect. Lakshmi held his hand, their palms brushing against each other and Kalki felt the same current zapping inside him, as on the day of his father’s last rites, when Lakshmi and he had almost kissed. Kalki even managed to see Sumati, who had come out due to the commotion, and was greeted by so many people. She was silent, but was grinning with delight and awe.

Devadatta pulled out the scroll, lifted it up in front of Kalki and tore it apart, flinging it in the air; definitively letting the congregation know that a choice had been made. And now Kalki had to steer them towards fortunate consequences.