Dumbfounded, Aman looked around, but he couldn’t tell if Indra had actually been there or if it was all a dream. Trying to digest all that had happened, he pressed down on his temple; the images of the burning train and the man being beaten to death flashed across his mind. ‘That’s why, child, the Eka must not succeed.’

‘What do you say?’ Fayza asked again.

‘Yes . . . yes!’ Aman said, reaching out to her for comfort. ‘I’ll-I’ll live!’ His shaky laughter turned into a cry. Fayza simply hugged him, and thanked the gods.

The two discussed the plan. ‘And then, when we wake up years later,’ Fayza said, ‘I know just the village to go to. We’ll spend the rest of our lives there, by that small waterfall and pond!’

They didn’t linger too long. Aman knew better than to ask if they could bid goodbye to Idhika and the rest. Time was scarce, and it was vital that they find a safe resting point for their decade-long Atmayog. What they needed was a cave so isolated in the mountains that no animal or human could chance upon it.

As Idhika, Aarti, Payal, Jagrav and Savitri awaited their return, Aman and Fayza climbed further up the mountain. With a rush in their chests and a bounce in their steps, they only stopped to collect fuel for fire. With caves usually abundant at higher altitudes, it was little surprise that once on top, they found a labyrinth of deep tunnels with big shafts.

Aman and Fayza roved about, assessing the different caverns. ‘This one doesn’t smell bad, which probably means animals can’t get in,’ Fayza said.

While she checked the inside of the cave, Aman looked out at the vast empty land overlooking the mountain. He remembered a large, bright city that he’d seen—undoubtedly New Delhi—when flying with Indra. ‘Are we sure about this, Fayza?’

Fayza was exploring the cave. It wasn’t too deep, around twenty metres in; the air was damp and cold. She was warming her hands over the fire she’d prepared on the stony floor. ‘I’m scared too, Aman, wondering about how much the world will have changed by the time we wake up.’

Time slipped away as Aman and Fayza lay together by the fire, not talking much, each thinking of their own concerns. They wept and simply looked at each other—it would be many years until they could do so again.

Then Fayza picked herself up, and, still holding Aman’s hand, led him to a ledge on the inner wall. There she sat, with her knees folded and her hands in jnanamudra. ‘Our lives are only just beginning,’ she said and closed her eyes, initiating her vulnerable meditation. Aman followed her cue.

The better Atmayogi of the two, Fayza’s soul left her body first. As soon as she entered the banyan tree a few metres outside their cave, her mortal breathing slowed down.

With his eyes shut, Aman struggled to concentrate. He knew he was doing the right thing. It was what he wanted. What Fayza wanted. What the gods had asked him to do as well. But something didn’t feel right. Their plan depended on many hopes. Hope that Idhika and the rest of the Souls would be allowed in upon the Eka’s disappearance. Hope that they would believe that Aman and not Idhika was the Eka. Hope that Sanaka would leave his mother alone.