24

With the approach of nightfall, Saahas found himself outside a village encircled by a fence of pointed stakes, sharp enough to impale man or beast. Plumes of blue smoke rose up from the dwellings, announcing the preparation of the last meal of the day. A peasant pushed open the village gate, remarking in a nervous voice, ‘You are lucky you got this far. There is a tiger on the prowl.’

‘Brother, where can I find a place for the night?’

‘You can sleep in the temple compound a little further down this road,’ and the man quickly walked away, his bobbing lantern the only sign of his existence.

The temple was a small ramshackle place with an unearthly quiet atmosphere. A faint light glimmered from a hut beside it. ‘Who goes there?’ a man’s voice called out in the darkness.

‘I am a stranger in these parts, and in need of shelter,’ Saahas answered.

‘Come this way, son,’ the voice beckoned. The friendly invitation filled his heart with gladness, and he hurried towards the light. A lamp was raised to his face, a pair of sharp eyes under white brows keenly appraising him. ‘There’s a stable behind the temple. Leave your horse there.’

It was a simple meal of crusty chapatis and vegetables flavoured with roasted groundnuts, and Saahas licked his fingers unabashedly, sighing his satisfaction after the last morsel had been wiped off the leaf plate. The old man looked at him intently. ‘Now that you have eaten my salt, you owe me, soldier. You owe Yadoba.’

Saahas stiffened, his nerves jangling. Meghabhuti, Anuj, Agraj, all dead but victorious in fending off the savage Ugr to save the children of Yadoba. ‘If my life can be of any use to you, I would count myself fortunate,’ he answered heavily, ‘but how did you guess that I am a soldier? I carry no weapon nor am I dressed like one.’

The old man snorted, ‘I have been the pundit here for fifty years and not once have I travelled out of this village. Yet, I have learnt much from my simple life,’ he smiled, revealing the many gaps in his teeth. ‘Your body has all the markings of a warrior, like the unchanging stripes of a tiger.’

Saahas frowned, ‘A man mentioned a tiger when I was on my way here. What is that about?’

‘The beast most likely found its way here from the jungles of Shandav. It is rumoured that Aham soldiers gave it a taste for human flesh, feeding it their helpless victims. No one ventures out of the village after dusk for he prowls the boundaries like a night watchman.’ Getting to his feet, the priest shuffled to a wooden cabinet. ‘Come here,’ he beckoned Saahas, pulling out a heavy package and giving it to him.

As soon as he felt its weight, Saahas knew it was a sword. ‘Yes,’ the pundit nodded. ‘You will use this blade to rid us of the menace plaguing our village, and that is how you will repay my debt.’

The maneater did not attack Yadoba that night. Neither did it attack the following night, but news of the hero spread like bushfire in the small village. The chieftain and his people swarmed the temple compound, carrying little parcels of roasted gram and jaggery. ‘To build your strength,’ the priest told Saahas with a wry smile. ‘Not for a moment do they believe that you will kill the beast, but they are grateful that you are willing to die trying, which is why they bring you gifts.’

Saahas nodded, ‘A fitting end to a worthless life.’

The old man pursed his lips, observing the slumped shoulders. ‘Who am I to change your opinion about yourself, but I will tell you one thing, son, you will fight not only the maneater, but also the tiger that is devouring you from within. Whether you win or lose, fight you certainly must.’

On the seventh night of his stay, Saahas heard a low growl beyond Yadoba’s fence. ‘I wish I had Shakti,’ he muttered, glancing doubtfully at the sword in his hand.

The pundit had noticed Saahas’s look of disappointment when he had unwrapped the iron blade from its cotton sheet. ‘It may be ordinary,’ he had said in a quiet voice, ‘but your faith can transform it into the most lethal weapon.’

Peering through the wooden posts, Saahas discerned the large shape of the beast shaking the barricade with its front paws. Suddenly, the tiger retreated and ran into the fence, again and again, its growls getting louder. Saahas clutched the sword tightly, moving back a few paces, his mouth dry. The fence splintered, giving way and the tiger leapt inside with a terrible roar. Spotting a crouching figure, it halted, its tail lashing, a continuous rumble deep in its throat.

And then it charged, the open jaw revealing huge canines, the magnificent claws bursting out of the front paws, eager to slash the human. For a fraction of a moment, Saahas marvelled at its perfection, the strength and power rippling through its taut muscles. But then all too soon the tiger closed the distance between them. ‘Stay with me,’ Saahas whispered to the blade, his palms slick with sweat.

The tiger seemed to be approaching at an unusually slow pace, its savage features distorting, the eyes like twin points of yellow light. Eyes, beady and triumphant. Where had he seen them before? Manmaani. Fear pounded his heart, squeezing it painfully. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t cry out. Stumbling to his knees, he frantically sliced the air, hacking at two malevolent faces that suddenly sprang from the tiger’s head. Shunen and Ashwath.

The tiger pounced, the blade piercing it between the ribs. Roaring angrily, its brutal claws slashed Saahas’s face and shoulders.

‘I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you all,’ Saahas panted, twisting the sword inside the animal, blood gushing over him. His hold slipped, and the tiger, in a desperate final attempt, clamped its fierce jaws on his chest. Pain exploded like a ball of fire, and as blackness closed over him, Saahas cried out, ‘Father, I couldn’t save Aum.’

He faded in and out of consciousness, mumbling and screaming, vaguely aware of whispers, of bitter medicines forced into his mouth. Faces haunted him, dissolving and changing, each more reproachful than the other. He saw his Shakti, tantalizingly close, and wept. Day and night he tossed restlessly, the blanket twisted around him, relaxing only at the touch of a firm hand. A raging thirst prodded him to open his eyes, and he found the priest holding a clay bowl to his lips.

‘Ah, you are awake at last,’ the old man smiled. ‘You have been hanging between life and death all through summer, but I knew, come winter, you would rise.’

Saahas learnt that after attacking him, the tiger had collapsed nearby, the sword still stuck in him. ‘And this is from all of Yadoba,’ the priest placed a shimmering tiger skin in his hands. ‘The peasants have been ministering to you daily, bringing you food and medicine, praying at the temple of the Divine Mother, for the man who dared to face the brute.’

The gold and black stripes rippled, and Saahas remembered the tiger’s face almost touching his, the wide-open jaws, a black void sucking the life breath out of him. ‘I wish I had died too,’ he muttered.

The pundit shot him a keen glance over the rim of his steaming cup. ‘What is your name, young man?’ Noting the hesitation, he gave a slight nod, pulling out Vasuket’s ring from his pocket. ‘This was found near you.’ Saahas grasped the ring, a hunted look on his face. ‘It doesn’t matter who you are,’ the old man added serenely, ‘Destiny brought you here to rid us of a terrible menace.’

‘So, you set great store by Destiny?’ Saahas’s voice had a harsh rasp to it. ‘What if I hadn’t agreed to your condition? What if I hadn’t managed to stab the tiger?’

The priest looked thoughtful. ‘You are right. We can only control our own actions, not another’s. We have control over one wheel, our own, but there are many wheels, all interlinked and all turning at once. If you had refused to fight the maneater, I could have done nothing about it. But you agreed and that changed Yadoba’s future. Our wheel was interlinked with yours. You were destined to come this way. You were destined to live and the tiger, had to die.’

‘And what about Saade Saati, the fruitless seven and a half years that is said to befall each of us, at least once in our lifetime? Is that also part of Destiny’s plan?’

‘Yes of course, it is all her play.’ After a pause given to reflection, he added, ‘Frankly I have never understood why this period is considered . . . what did you say? . . . fruitless! It is quite obvious to me that it is just the opposite.’

‘But I was told it is a period when you meet with nothing but failure.’

‘Look at it this way, son,’ the priest stretched out on a straw mat. ‘Say a soldier, like yourself, has been busy fighting wars, safeguarding his kingdom, training daily, polishing his sword. And then, one day, he loses his job. He cannot understand why. Then he learns the Saade Saati is upon him. His wife tells him he needs to do something, earn a living, but the more he tries, the more he fails. But if the soldier were to take a deep breath, calm down and contain his vital energy instead of wasting it by running from pillar to post, he will realize that the Saade Saati, far from being a curse, is a boon. It is the gods telling us to stop and reflect, to know ourselves, learn a new trade perhaps, spend time with the family, study the scriptures. Anything—read, play, evolve.’

Read, play, evolve.

The words echoed within the small room, bouncing off the mud walls. A muscle jumped in Saahas’s jaw. The bleakness in him was like a yawning chasm, between him and his future.

‘I am not Destiny’s puppet, punditji,’ he bit out, knowing with sudden clarity what he was going to do. Leave Yadoba as soon as possible.