The deity, equanimous in the face of such outpourings of gratitude, gave a slight nod.

‘Forgive me and my brothers, lord,’ said the oldest of the four Kumars, ‘for the long and incessant questions over the past century. We transcribed the Rigveda as fast as we could.’

A smile formed on the deity’s lips. ‘That’s enough praise for me. Don’t overlook the divine Kalpavriksha and the power that the shade of its bower lends.’ He gestured outside, and everyone turned to look. They could see the zigzagging trunk of an enormous tree.

The deity with the four arms closed his eyes and was soon lost elsewhere in his meditation, leaving the others to turn their attention to the feast. They dove into the food with gusto. Some called for seconds of the sura paniyam while others filled their banana leaves with food. Once they were sated and had washed their fingers on their plates, conversations resumed.

‘On this full-moon night, let us discuss the valley,’ someone said.

Aman heard them mention the boundary of Vanyasa, the panchayat, the seasons and the Kalpavriksha. They also spoke about the valley’s residents and the ten Souls who were allowed to enter it every decade.

One of them proudly said, ‘Brahmins will be stationed under the Kalanag, and a contingent of Kshatriyas will be forever posted on treetops to keep a lookout. The responsibility for cultivation will fall on the lower castes. No society can run without their dedication to upper-caste men, Mahajan.’

‘Valid input. I concur and do not forget to note that down.’ The man they called Mahajan turned his head to the scribe who sat to his side, noting everything down with his pankh. ‘And if I may add, the Vedas are to be reserved for the Brahmins. No other human is to know Lord Indra and experience moksha.’

There were nods of agreement. One by one, each member of the gathering proposed more rules, and they were all written out on parchments. The deity was silent all this while, firm in his meditative stance.

A yogini stood up. She wore a simple white sari with an embroidered gold border, and white mogras braided neatly in her hair. ‘What is a woman but a worshipper of her man? The husband is to be her god. No other god for her, really. This god—even if he is a sinner—is nonetheless to be forever listened to. How else is she to reincarnate as a high-caste man and more importantly—’

The sound of the deity’s heavy breath cut her off. His meditation had ended. He roared, ‘Perchance!’ Lightning flashed outside, and Aman heard thunder. Rain began falling in thick sheets. ‘That is one way to conduct yourself. Or we can let this land be a land for all. Mortals will time and time again be subjected to their destruction, but the valley is and always will be pious. It should provide shelter to all beings equally.’

The deity continued shouting at the sages as the scribe scribbled away. ‘Mankind’s manipulation will not fester the privilege of a few. Women can and should be entitled to knowledge as any other being. In fact, any new faiths that arise besides ours will be equally accommodated. That being said, your species, mankind, will not rule. If we are to create an ideal world, the land will belong to all creatures that crawl upon it—birds, flies, snakes, trees and everything that draws breath.’