‘But, but . . . you surely cannot mean Anuloma and Pratiloma? Inter-caste marriage is just not a thing of our—’

‘And?’ Aman heard Aranyani’s voice as soon as he opened his eyes. She sat on the charpai beside him. There were more people in the hut now, all of them staring and waiting for his response. Aman felt as cornered as he had in his classroom a few days ago. Or another lifetime ago.

‘. . . and?’ He repeated, confused.

‘Did he look at you?!’ The woman asked.

‘Who?’

‘Lord Indra? You couldn’t have missed him. The man with four arms? Please tell me he noticed you, talked to you.’

Aman shook his head. ‘He was about to, but he didn’t.’

His words produced extreme reactions. As if he had brought news that the sky had fallen. The woman on the charpai broke down and wailed. Many ran out of the hut, which emptied within minutes. Even the birds screeched and flew away.

That left Aranyani and Chitra. The graceful old lady maintained a staid face, but the green in her eyes had paled. She remained silent for what felt like an eternity before finally speaking. ‘Despite what has transpired, the boy is to stay and train and be one of the Souls. He has seen enough of our valley and tasted Madhu. He cannot be sent back.’

Chitra blurted out impulsively, ‘But he can be, right?!’ Her head fell as soon as the words left her.

Aranyani’s face turned dark. ‘Explain yourself, vaidya.’

‘Mother . . . Aa- . . . I-I j-just meant he can always be stung by a lal bicchu and sent back,’ Chitra said.

‘Child! Didn’t your training teach you that the lal bicchu’s effect only takes place after the sting, not before? Don’t you think centuries of trials with the Souls would have been significantly easier if the lal bicchu could simply make the past, and not the future, elusive?’

Chitra looked ashamed at being reprimanded this way. Aranyani paid her no heed and stood up, slowly, and saw herself out.

‘My head hurts,’ Aman told Chitra. He was wearing the same T-shirt and jeans he’d left Delhi in. His phone was still in his pocket, nothing but a useless piece of metal without any charge.

‘Here, chew on this,’ Chitra said, handing him a neem twig. ‘It’s bitter, but it’ll fight the sweetness of Madhu and help you with the dizziness.’ She studied him curiously and leant forward. ‘So, what did you see? In the dream?’

The twig came out disfigured from his mouth as Aman said, ‘There were lots of people and we were sitting around so much food and—’

‘Hmm . . . in the hut with the fire in the middle of your plate, right?’

‘Yes, exactly!’

Chitra turned around to retrieve a parchment. She wrote something down.

‘Is mine a common dream?’ he asked.

‘The commonest of all.’ She looked unimpressed. ‘And honestly, this kind of dream has birthed very few Ekas.’