‘Remember what we decided?’ he said. ‘We would brave whatever this place threw at us and eventually bring Amma and Baba here. That means you can’t get into any trouble. It hasn’t even been a week for us. And what you just said sounds false. No one will believe you.’

Prithvi and Ujal had been spirited away from their pre-Vanyasa lives by Sanaka, like most Souls of Samsara that showed any form of resistance. But now that they had seen Vanyasa, they wanted to stay. Someday, they wished to create a home for their parents in the valley.

However, Prithvi had another goal. She wanted Bhavesh. Ujal would never have guessed where their motives diverged. He had no knowledge of the parts of her mind Prithvi kept secret. ‘Aren’t we one, sister, as we once were in Mother’s womb?’ he would pronounce to her time and again. But even before they came to Vanyasa, Prithvi could never have confided in Ujal about Bhavesh. And because of this, despite the fact that they shared the one goal of succeeding in the Mahayatra, their destinations differed.

‘So, what are you suggesting?’ Prithvi’s eyebrows knit in disbelief. ‘That we don’t tell anyone at all?’

‘Precisely. Or the blame will fall on you. We could be kicked out of here before we even get started,’ Ujal added. ‘So don’t go to practise in the forest any more. There are tons of other places.’ He paused. ‘Listen, Prithvi, I’m sure there is a temple for the wind god here too, like in the tribe. Go there right now and pray that we succeed.’ He picked up a brass kamandalu and poured some sura paniyam, a strong alcoholic drink, down his throat. ‘Meanwhile, I’m going to see if I can find more of this charas, hashish. It’s magical!’

Prithvi stormed out of his hut and headed towards hers. On her way, she ran into a group of girls.

‘You, Prithvi!’ The taller of the girls walked up to her. The other followed. Prithvi noticed that unlike the other female Souls of Samsara who wore a single cloth wrapped around their body, fastened with a jute belt, this girl had torn her gown into two pieces to make upper and lower garments, which showed off her toned abs. She’d even fashioned a small, pouch-like bag with the torn cloth, the jute belt making an appearance as the strap slung over her shoulder.

‘Namahkrita,’ Prithvi said.

The tall girl pulled out a small metal cylinder from the pouch. She twisted it open and applied bright red colour to her lips. ‘Lipstick?’

Prithvi stared at her.

‘Wouldn’t suit those dark lips anyway,’ the tall girl said. ‘I’m Aarti. Brahmin.’

‘I’m confused. Which one is it? Aarti or Brahmin?’

‘That’s her . . . her caste, adivasi!’ Half-chewed chunks of banana sprayed out of the mouth of the broad-shouldered girl beside Aarti. ‘I’d advise you to sh-show some respect,’ she said, moving towards Prithvi menacingly.

Prithvi looked at her and touched an arrow in her quiver. ‘I really don’t know whether to be scared or laugh at you.’ The second girl flinched, backing away a couple of steps.