Despite the self-pity that he afforded himself, somewhere in the depths of his soul a part of him was warming up to the idea of a new identity, a chance to live a different life. One where he wasn’t known as a traitor’s son.

A cold wind swept the valley and the empty stretches of land that surrounded it. It entered his hut and made him shiver. He heard a loud conch somewhere and was shaken out of his reverie. He had to do as Sanaka had told him.

He found a worn-out matka, an earthen pot, tucked into a corner, right below the window sill. Aman used a clay mug to first fill himself a glass of water to drink, then again to wash his face and hands. He took off his T-shirt and jeans—tucked them under his rug, along with his phone—and tied a long cloth he found around his waist, like a dhoti. He took a deep breath and wished for an easy day.

Aman wondered how he would find the divine tree. But as soon as he stepped out of his hut, he knew where to go. Standing tall above him was a maze of branches that seemed to be extending from a large tree that covered, like an umbrella, almost a third of the valley. Far off into the distance, he could see the upper half of the tree’s trunk, zigzagging its way to the heavens. Aman stepped back momentarily, his back straight and mouth wide open, to ascertain that it was indeed no more than one tree. He’d never seen anything like it. Despite the circumstances, he felt an unexplainable surge of joy: it was the same tree as the one in the photographs with his father—which were probably still in the cardboard box he had left at the moss-covered bridge. There was no doubt in his mind now that his father had indeed been here, and, perhaps, Vanyasa had been his final mission. But why did Sanaka deny it? Why wasn’t he telling him the full story?

As Aman walked towards the trunk of the tree, he was amazed at the vision of nature’s bounty that surrounded him. There were squirrels and snakes and yellow palm-sized spiders. Fruits of contrasting colours hung not far from one another. He looked to the left, to the southern branches, and deep within them he spotted many bird nests. As he watched, a flock of sparrows burst forth, sailed rhythmically and landed on the faraway boughs of the western edge of the tree.

Even upon reaching the base of the divine tree in Maidaan, where the colossal tree met the earth, it was a bit of a walk to the other side. Realizing he was probably late, he jogged along the never-ending breadth of the trunk and only stopped where two thin branches shot down from the leaves and intertwined a few metres before the ground to create a raised podium. A crowd of people with clueless faces sat facing the podium and the tree trunk. Sanaka was nowhere in sight.