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Chapter 21

Exodus II

It has been three days now of relentless climbing. I guess the tiredness is to be expected…the sisters have had years of preparation for this, whereas I… But I cannot complain. Because even though the weather is worsening daily, I am grateful to be up here, my conscious choice to try and get higher, away from what is coming, knowing Padmini’s words and Tara’s bear the ring of authenticity.

A week since the Eagle’s visit, a week to the Koi’s final rising. Around us, upheaval. The continual rain has created so many streams and rivulets, the terrain is slick with slime and moss and mud. Even the horses, the most surefooted among us, are finding it difficult going. We are caked in mud, but we expected that. We are not hungry, Padmini’s theplas and certain berries we find make up for that. So far.

We are quite high up now, we left the last settlement’s rough path a day ago. No one, at least from the settlements, to our knowledge has ventured so far up. The occasional city dweller with their fancy climbing equipment might have, but I doubt it – and we are still climbing.

We will soon get to the sheerest part, where the Binodaris divide upwards, into a vertical wall of rock, more than 800 feet in height before undulating into knolls and curves again. The waters are gushing down this now from atop because of the rain, a magnificent natural waterfall pooling at the base a little above where we are now. We will have to find a way up this face, though it has defeated the most intrepid city climber thus far.

There are mosquitoes too because of the rain in the most densely foliaged areas. We have been bitten by odd insects, scratched by branches, sleep deprived because Padmini is like a demon unwilling to relent, ‘we must get higher’ her constant refrain. Leila stopped healing trivial bites and scratches after the first day, they were distracting her from her main work at this time – keeping Vayu alive till we got to him, to the exclusion of everyone else her empathy zoned in on. For higher up, higher than everything we ever thought possible, are Vayu and Waman.

Tara is guiding us. She thought communicates where we are to go, based on Waman’s instructions from wherever he is, so high up. Badal leads us, Leila on his back, silent, frail and tiring steadily. At times she walks, to give the horse a rest. Her whole being is concentrating on Vayu, he is so weak now. She is weak herself I think, but what can be done? Padma won’t be still, it is as if something bigger is at work with her, she is so pale now, so driven, our rest and water breaks shorten with each day. Our horses follow Badal, sometimes ahead of him, Tir always by his mistress. Everyone looks thinner. And then the rain, merciless, soaking us through, everyday, all day. We’ve stopped caring, we don’t even notice the chill anymore. We don’t bother to wash our clothes, they’re so wet and Padma so insistent on not dwelling on the extraneous.

Tara cries I know, from the effort of getting through to Waman for such an extended period. The rain hides her tears, everything is wet, but I can tell. So can Padma, because she can read Tara’s mind. So can Leila, I’m sure, though she is not letting it hamper her effort with Vayu.

They are so connected, these three women in my life. Padma’s vigilance allowed us knowledge, Leila’s empathy and her healing brought hope and Sitara’s mind communication and willingness to go the distance might just become our salvation. Such a deep sharing within this triumvirate. Did their Aji, their mystic elder know this? The bond beyond-the-ordinary between her three grandchildren deepening so, a triangle merging, interlinked as a singular vortex, its three-point force the insurance, possible deliverance against the might of nature, even as the world around us crumbles?

Much earlier on our climb up, we’d had an incident – sudden chattering and we were ready to face leopards, thinking we’d disturbed a hideout, our nerves raw from the cold and exhaustion. But it was only settlement teens and a few children who had followed us up the rough path. Welcome distraction for us all, the only bright moment in our grim march up. They left after a while, though we would’ve liked them to come up with us.

The nights are hard. The rain, the wetness, the intense cold now, it is futile putting tents up. We try and hide in rock crevices or natural cave shelters. We huddle together, the animals keep us warm. Tir won’t leave Tara’s side, I am grateful for him. Because his pariah hardiness can withstand the grimness of these mountains should my barely ready self not be able to. And protect Tara, with or without me…protect them all…