Out of all the things in the world, Arjan had never believed himself to be a wrestler. And here he was, stationed to be an exhibit for the entertainment of the nobles, the aristocrats who dined with the best of mutton and wines, laughing with their women who sat on their laps, as they watched two hulking bodies fighting each other.

Arjan realized he was to do that. With bonds over his hands, he watched the wrestlers with the rest of the prisoners, as they grabbed each other’s shoulders, feet trying to maintain balance, trying to topple each other. One finally did and broke the other wrestler’s neck. This was a game where no one cared who would live or die. Arjan breathed a sigh of relief since he didn’t have to go now and fight. He had to wait and learn first.

The entire arena was full and in the forefront, sitting with his guards, was Kali. He was enjoying himself, as an Apsara sat over his lap, as he laughed and cheered. The nobles put bets on the outcomes. They all looked hedonistically dishevelled.

Arjan felt like retching in such an environment, which was supposed to be the city of Indra, and which had a huge Vishnu statue as a symbol of purity. But none of this concerned Kali. Gambling over life and death was the new fashion now.

“Shhh,” a voice came from the back.

Arjan stood in the middle of a huddle of sad, petrified faces. The ragtag group was barefoot, with bloody bruises on their backs. They were led by Master Ranga, their trainer and jailor. Arjan hadn’t learnt a lot from him since he wasn’t taken seriously due to his size.

Arjan turned to see a boy, perhaps a little older, but wide-eyed. He had hair that fell over his temples and he was a little plump, unlike the others. Arjan was a bit surprised, since the prison meals were barely adequate, and the milk smelled like the sweat of a hag’s breast.

“My name is Vikram,” he said, “how do you do, fella?”

Seriously?

“I had seen you out there, on the flying thingy, while I was waiting for my trial.” He was bright-eyed, grinning, and perhaps too shocked to be here. “It was a wonderful sight. How do you operate that, fella? Need to know, you know. I’ll get out and find myself a nice barn where I’m going to work on the latest inventions.”

“I hate to be blunt, but we are looking at our deaths here and you worry about the flying thing?”

“Oh, they just put us on show to scare us.” Vikram waved his hand off, that was chained by metal manacles. “Only the best fight, while rest of us just train and don’t get anywhere, as no one wants to see a boring, non-competitive match, you know?”

“I’m sure things will change soon.” Arjan gritted his teeth. He could feel it. Ever since Kali had become a king, he had replaced the Nagas, who had mysteriously vanished overnight, with Manavs as jailers and officers in the prison. He even took over the last king’s fort. If it was up to Vedanta, Arjan would have died, for trespassing with a silver-haired girl as Vedanta said. But he was brought in front of Kali, as Kali had ordered all of them to be judged in front of him.

The fight had ended and Kali had come forward, declaring the winner, with applause and hooting from one side, which had bet on him. The wrestler had a stern and straight face, with broad, dark features. He had angry and stubborn eyes, and skin as dark as charcoal. He was handsome, and something churned inside Arjan’s stomach, which he dismissed. The last thing he wanted was to sexualize a fighter, especially one that he would end up fighting soon. But he knew if he did fight with this one, Arjan would be smashed into a pulp.

He went by the name of Rudra, one of the names for Lord Shiva.

“Our best fighter,” sleekly Kali spoke, “none can beat him, and none will.” He held up Rudra’s arm. “You feast with me today, boy.” He slapped Rudra’s back, who nodded with a grunt, before moving towards the horde of amateur wrestlers, where Arjan stood.

Praying to some higher God, Arjan didn’t want Kali’s slithering golden eyes to find him. But then, Kali walked up, as he said, “You all are going to be trained to fight and continue the legacy of the great Lord Jarasandha.” He talked about the megalomaniac emperor of Aryavarta who was an Ancient, ruling before the Breaking. He had died horribly, courtesy of Lord Govind, who along with Vrikodara, had set up a wrestling match. Jarasandha couldn’t die; as he was an Asura, a race now extinct. He couldn’t die, because he was drunk on Soma, or that’s what Kripa had said about him while they were travelling towards Indragarh. Kripa talked about these incidents as if he had lived through them. Jarasandha was finally killed when his body was sliced into two parts and thrown on opposite sides. Confused, he couldn’t form himself again, thereby dying.

None of these things happened anymore. But then he had seen Kalki.

Kali stopped at Arjan’s side. He glared at him, his eyes first narrowing and then widening. Arjan could feel his breath, but he showed no fear or anger for that was exactly what Kali wanted—for Arjan to react. But he controlled himself.

“You,” he grabbed Arjan’s shoulder, pulling him from the crowd.

Arjan was forcibly taken away, gritting his teeth, as he was put in the midst of the gamblers, who sized him up. Arjan frowned, his hands still bound. He didn’t understand why he was pushed into the arena when he wasn’t even trained. He was just another prisoner. Rudra stood still, watching Arjan, and wordlessly ridiculing him with a look of scathing contempt. Up close, Rudra wasn’t even that good looking!

“You are weak!”

“Why are we sending off an amateur? Train him first!”

“He doesn’t even have the muscles!”

All the voices came from the crowd and Arjan had a hard time guessing who was who.

Kali came in between the two fighters, as he grabbed Arjan by the shoulder, locking him in his grasp. For a king who didn’t wage too many battles, Kali was strong, his biceps thicker than Arjan’s, and a body that looked like it was carved out from granite.

“Why don’t we have a little fun, eh?” Kali grinned. “Why don’t we let Rudra, our star fighter, fight with someone who is yet to be trained?”

Arjan’s heartbeat rose.

No.

Master Ranga came forward, trudging carefully and meekly speaking out. “My lord, the boy has no idea how to defend himself. It won’t be a fair fight.”

Kali looked at him as if he had made an offensive statement. “Does it look like I care? We need competition. We don’t care if it’s fair or not.”

Everyone began to clap and hoot.

“But my lord, I have others Rudra can compete with. There are others, fit and fine, for him to fight with,” he paused, frightened he had spoken unbidden. “Let me train him first and you can then do what you want to do with him.”

Kali came to Master Ranga, who backed off. “Leave,” he coldly rasped and the jailor slowly scurried to the back.

People clapped loudly, laughing. Arjan failed to notice Vedanta or Kuvera amongst the crowd.

“Let’s have a bet,” yelled Kali. “Who do you think will win?”

Everyone called out Rudra’s name. In fact, Rudra sniggered at the question, glaring at Arjan, who chose to remain silent and impassive. Thoughtful, he began to think of other ways to defeat. Rudra, trying to recollect all the instances where Rudra had bared any chinks in his armour, while fighting with the other wrestlers. Rudra locked the enemy, grabbed their neck and twist it. Sometimes, he would force the body to plummet down on the ground, and then break its bones.

Arjan slowly swivelled his head towards Vikram, who was gulping in tension. The very plump man had told Arjan that only the best went to fight. Ah, but Arjan knew damn well that Kali would take his revenge for spitting on him, stealing his Soma, burning it and then helping in the convict escape. If one would think about it, Kali was actually being generous in not just feeding Arjan to the lions. But glancing back at Rudra, Arjan did feel unwarranted shivers run down his spine.

The Manav guards came forward, opening Arjan’s chains and then tossing him on the ground. Arjan, feeling the mud on the ground, looked at the open sky. The entire place was small, but the ring of seats around the arena were arranged in hierarchic height, to accommodate a greater volume of audience.

Arjan stood up, cracking his knuckles. Rudra was in front of him, grunting, a playful smile dancing over his lips. Arjan glanced at Kali, who had sat back. Kali rubbed the top of his nose and then with a sweep of his arm signalled the fight to start. The trumpet blew from somewhere. Everything went blank for Arjan and by the time his visual senses came in the foray, he was pushed against the ground and pummeled by the hulk of a man. His back brushed harshly against the ground, the wounds from the arrow still stinging, his eyes tearing up as he felt the hurt.

Horror seized him as Rudra grabbed for his neck, but Arjan dodged him, deflecting his bulky arms with his sinewy hands. Whenever Rudra would come forward, Arjan would sweep his hand and knock him. Rudra finally wrapped his legs around Arjan’s, coiling tightly, and turned his upper body to the other side, slamming Arjan’s front torso against the ground. Rudra leaned forward casually, as he began to bite his skin, while he whispered, “Liking it much?”

Arjan arched his brows, confused by the man’s words, but with the might he had, he pushed himself from the ground and Rudra fell back. The crowd stopped jeering for a second as Rudra began to stand up, twitching one side of his shoulder as if he had an itch.

“You are good,” Rudra grinned, “but sorry. In order to survive, I have to kill you.”

Arjan’s feet remained frozen as Rudra chased towards him, his hand clenching into a fist as Arjan raised his arms in defense. It was no more wrestling. It was a show of brawns and punches and kicks.

“Sorry friend, no more escape for you.”

And there was no escape. As Arjan tried to fidget, Rudra punched him, breaking his nose. Blood streamed down his face and into his mouth. The pain was ringing in his head, obscuring the field of his vision. His heart was thunderously racing.

Rudra finally began to choke him. Arjan, gasping for his breath, tried to get him off, but it didn’t work. He was beginning to see darks spots, as he slowly choked from the lack of air, his eyes shutting on its own accord, welcoming the darkness.