Arjan had spoken the truth when he had said that it’d be difficult to handle so many people, as Kalki didn’t know anything about warfare. They had sat in Kalki’s house as Sumati brought for them some curd and milk to feast upon, while the hundred or so volunteers had returned after announcing their partnership.

“I can teach them to hold a mace.” Bala rushed though the curd as he said so, devouring mouthfuls of it. “They will be warriors.”

“A mace is too heavy for an average man,” Kalki said. “Not all of them will be taught one thing.”

“We need to divide them up skill-wise,” Lakshmi said. “See what each person can offer and give them the desired role to play in this battle.”

“They are all Shambalans, most of them will choose the road of non-violence.” Kalki stood up, angsty and exhausted. Morning had arrived and none had had any sleep, for time was of absolute importance. “We were able to attack the Mlecchas for they were small in number in comparison to the volunteers we had that time. Even a hundred of us won’t be enough for a Tribal army. Worse, we don’t even know how the Tribal army operates. Our folks need thorough training and we need to make short work of it.”

Arjan nodded, his fingers dancing on his lips as the sheathed sickle dangled from his waist. He had said he received the weapon from their mother, which had only made Kalki jealous about not receiving anything from her. He shouldn’t have felt that way, but envy was a childish emotion. More so because without the aid of soma-induced strengths, Arjan was in greater need of the weapons than Kalki. It was all getting over his head, the fact that so many people had posited their faith in him, had believed in what he would be able to achieve for them. It was hard for a boy of his age. He wasn’t an older person, ready to take the responsibilities of his life, let alone the lives of the entire village. In the field of boundless courage, he had mustered up words that had instilled hope in the average villager’s eyes, but that didn’t mean he’d necessarily win.

Would he? How?

The thought of pessimism had crossed his mind and that was the one of the major reasons why he wouldn’t sleep until he proved everyone right and became the hero Shambala deserved right now. Right after finishing his cup of milk though.

“We need a guru,” Arjan said. “An Acharya. I can contact Guru Vashishta for his help, but he’ll probably reject us, for he has opened his doors to a lot of wanderers out there. And even if he accepts, coming from there to here would be just as problematic and time-consuming. And time is exactly what we lack right now.”

Guru?

Lakshmi had her brows pulled down, the way she usually did whenever she was deep in thoughts. “I agree. The raven will drop the message to Kali’s office and according to my estimates, as they prepare an army and all, it’ll take him a maximum of ten days to gather and travel here.”

“Why so much, little girl?” Bala huskily asked.

Lakshmi glanced at him, wide-eyed. Kalki knew why. She wasn’t really fond of being called a ‘little girl’ since she was quite old. Lakshmi was the one person he knew who hated being a child, unlike Kalki who missed how everything was innocent back then. “Um, yeah, because well… Kalki and I travelled in a day and a half as we were less in number, but for an army, which will necessarily need rests and stops, it would require more time. Three days of journey would be the minimum amount of time required.”

Arjan added an inquiry. “How will we know when they appear?”

“Parrots can fly high and see incoming intruders!” Bala exclaimed. “Parrots are intelligent if used rightly.”

Everyone except Kalki watched Shuko, who had curd smeared over his beak. It flapped its wings and noisily squawked.

Kalki’s body stiffened. “I know someone who can help us. But he’s not really the most trustworthy man around. In fact, you two might know him.” He signalled over to Bala and Arjan.

“The only person, we know,” Arjan began, narrowing his eyes and then broadening them in horror, “oh no, please don’t say it’s him.”

“Unfortunately, yeah,” Kalki nervously laughed.

Arjan struck his hand against his forehead, while Bala was still musing thoughtfully about it.

He looked like a sadhu. Sadhus were usually the wandering priests, having no prescribed religion that they believed in. They didn’t have a temple like the priests nor were they looking for materialism. They had eschewed worldly affairs. They would remain dirty and forgotten, persisting with their nomadic existence. Strongly resembling a sadhu, Kripa was leaning against the rock. There was a peaceful smile dancing on his lips and his hands were wrapped around his torso.

Kalki and his friends walked onto the scene just then. They were met by the image of a haggard drunkard, his head lolling against the ground, who was surrounded by innumerable empty cups of sura. Kalki knew his friends wouldn’t trust his judgment in this matter, but Kripa was the only hope he had since he was much more than an ordinary Acharya. He was a Chiranjeev, who had played a pivotal role in the Mahayudh and must have innate knowledge about weaponry. All of this wasn’t known to his friends and he wished the Gods didn’t know it either.

“Must say, Kalki, you really believe anyone who says he’s a Guru, right?” Arjan said. “I’m sure Kripa could be a good enough guide in knowing what’s out there in the woods, but I’m not sure if he can help us fight an army of Tribals.”

Lakshmi grunted. “Yeah, just look at him. Look at this egregious man who just…”

“Bah! I can train our people better, Kalki. Give me a chance!” Bala busted forth with such energy that he shook even Kripa, who noisily awoke from his slumber.

“Am I having a nightmare?” Kripa looked around, his eyes pale, with dark bags under them, his mouth grim and foul, and his hair all twisted and greasy. “Why do I see so many imbeciles in one place?”

Kalki shook his head. He shouldn’t say anything deplorable and let the situation worsen.

“Are you an Acharya, old man?” Bala grabbed Kripa and pulled him up, shaking him furiously. “Are you? Can you teach us, old man?”

Kalki came forward and forced Bala to release the Chiranjeev, as he tripped and struggled on the floor, reeling.

“Yeah, I’ll just tell what I know. He was once a Guru, but… uh…he got addicted to suras until he forgot what was right and what was wrong. Now he’s just a wanderer, a hermit.”

“A drunken one at that,” Lakshmi grimaced.

Kripa looked, sheepishly at Kalki and then at everyone. “What are you all prattling about, mates? Why in God’s name are you disturbing my morning slumber? Have I not had enough of you?”

“We need your help.” Kalki came forward, eyeing him hard. “You told me in the meeting we could make weapons out of the forest. We need your help in training and crafting armoury for the battle that is about to begin in ten days.”

“Is he for real?” Kripa squeaked, asking Kalki’s friend. “In ten days, you’ll only get half a warrior and not a good half, if I am honest with you.”

“I don’t care. That’ll be all right for me.”

Kripa watched him in confusion. “You really are serious about it, mate? That’s good, aye. We should all be merry about heroes and hope it will make us win a battle. But then why should I do what you want me to do?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Lakshmi responded grimly.

“Right thing? Yes, well how should I respond to this in a genteel fashion? Lass, the right thing is for those who have morality. And unfortunately, I lost mine a while back.”

“You supported me in the meeting. I thought you supported that decision.”

“I don’t even know what I dreamt about right now let alone what I said in that meeting. I say a lot of things, but I mean little. Does that make any sense or should I try some different words for you?”

Kalki came forward, avoiding his friends. He grabbed hold of the stupid, old man and lifted him slightly. “We are in need of an Acharya. If you do this, I promise I will come with you to meet your mysterious accomplice to whatever mountains you wanted me to go to.” Kalki stared at him steadfastly.

“Mahendragiri,” his voice chortled.

“What?”

“The whatever mountains you had mentioned, you know.”

Kalki left him, sighing in relief. “Yes, whatever.”

“Fine,” Kripa brushed off his tunic. “I’ll help you.”

Kalki’s friends weren’t relieved, but they were glad. Help was on its way even though the help was deadly drunk all the time.

“First, we need to go to the woods, and gather supplies, as many as he can. We need milk too.”

“Milk? For war?” Arjan asked.

“Energy, mate. Strength. Milk is health as they say, you know.”

Lakshmi interrupted, “No one says that.”

“Someone definitely said it.”

“No one, not one person.”

“I’m pretty sure someone had said that, lass,” he chuckled. “I’m pretty sure, all right.”

Kalki snapped in between. “Whoever has said whatever should not matter right now. We will do as you say; you must meet our volunteers and select each of them for a specific kind of duty.”

“All right, as you command.” Kripa mock-saluted him.

Kalki began to walk with him, while his friends followed them, when Kripa whispered a gentle statement: “You and your brother have vastly different ways of persuasion, mate. I need to be careful around with you both. That’s nice. Even your friends seem gleeful around you, but you see, to become an Avatar, you might have to make sacrifices, so enjoy this while it lasts.” And he walked off, Kalki trailing behind him, with a dazed expression on his face.