Sanaka scoffed. ‘Who? Hah! To enter Vanyasa is not simple. To be a part of the abode of the sages is an honour only the Souls of Samsara receive.’ They reached a fork and took a right. ‘It’s difficult, however. Not easy for men of the plains. Ahead of you is a life with no friends, no love and few celebrations. A hermit’s life. Do you think you can live that way?’

Aman smiled politely at Sanaka, who was clearly unfamiliar with his life to be asking such a question. Have I known any other way of living?

The passage stopped dipping further into the earth. They seemed to be near its end and drew closer to the exit. Ahead of him, the tunnel seemed to be glowing. Before long, Aman found himself standing in front of a shining gateway, at least thirty feet tall. In fact, the light emanating from the structure was blinding to the extent that all Aman could make out was a man on its right pillar and the shape of a snake on the left. Before his eyes could settle, Sanaka pushed him through the gateway and into the open expanse which signalled the end of the tunnel. Right below him, a series of large, moss-covered steps disappeared into a blanket of clouds that stretched until they met tall mountain peaks. The valley must be beneath.

Just then, a draft passed by Aman, and he heaved as if he were breathing for the first time in his life.

‘Sanaka!’ Aranyani said. ‘What have you done?! This is sacrilege!’ Her green eyes surveyed Sanaka’s hut.

Sanaka sat cross-legged on his rug, unaffected by Aranyani’s sudden charge inside.

The hut was minimally furnished with objects made of pine branches. Sanaka sat flaunting his usual state of undress. A lantern in front of him cast a shadow which could have belonged to a fat child.

Aranyani asserted herself. ‘You risked it all, even the health of Aranyala. Only the worthy find Vanyasa, Sanaka. Father would have never allowed it. I’m telling you: that boy cannot breathe any more of our air. Put him back where you found him.’ Despite her demeanour, she gave him an injured look. It was incredible that she was the same person who had sat with the ancient yogis who established Vanyasa a few thousand years ago.

Sanaka refused to acknowledge her complaint. How could he possibly be indifferent to Aranyani, a deity? But offending one deity for another was never a solution, so he raised his hand and said, ‘There’s no showing disrespect to the ritual of the holy herb. You know this: once initiated, the process has to be completed without digression.’

That’s when Aranyani noticed it: a flat stool in front of Sanaka with green buds of cannabis.

Sanaka pulled out a cloth from under his thigh and used it to clean his serpent-engraved chillum. Examining it as if it were a rare stone, he raised the largest of the cannabis buds above his head until it caught the sunlight shining in through the window. Sanaka placed the nug in the mortar and pressed down hard with sheer determination. He took his time to empty the mortar’s insides into the chillum and then finally used the blue flame in his lantern to bring the pipe to life.