‘Slow down, Aman!’ Idhika followed him, skipping steps. Ujal and Fayza lagged behind. ‘It’s illegal in Vanyasa!’

‘What’s illegal?’ Aman slowed down to ask.

Idhika had caught up. ‘Sangram! It pulls you. It’s an addiction. That’s why they only practice it in Pataan.’

11

Sangram

The four of them stood at the mouth of the cave for a second to brace themselves, and then entered. They were now in a tunnel, which twisted and turned in the belly of the mountain. Oil lamps—with their fires burning red, not blue—were nailed to both sides of the inner walls, revealing the sloppy curves and illuminating the insects and bat roosts that lined the ceiling. As he moved deeper into Kalanag, Aman was mesmerized by the sights—and the sounds. Even at this distance, through the rocky walls, they could hear cheering.

Eventually, the tunnel opened out into a big hall. It was topped by a large, dome-like ceiling in the heart of the mountain—its insides gnarled and cavernously echoic. The ceiling was panelled in a rough grey stone more than a couple of hundred feet above them. The majestic feeling of the place made Aman quail. He had never imagined anything like it and wasn’t too sure he wanted to be down here.

‘The mouth of Lord Kalanag,’ Idhika said using a deep voice. ‘A great cesspool into which the criminals of Vanyasa are drained.’ The hall was swarming with yogis of all shapes and sizes who had given up grooming themselves ages ago by the looks of their frizzy hair. Multiple chillums puffed out wisps of smoke that rose and collected near the roof of the dome.

Up ahead, all the yogis huddled around the centre of the dome, trying to catch a glimpse of the action. Stakes were raised and bets were made. A tall, thin man carrying cups of sura paniyam snaked his way towards them through the cheering crowd like a warm knife in butter. Ujal ignored the beverage, for the only time perhaps, and dove into the mob. He had to find his sister.

‘Keep a lookout for the caretaker of the Temple of Indra, Guru Amrav,’ Fayza told Aman moments before he was pulled ahead by Idhika to catch the spectacle. Curious to see what had occupied everyone’s attention, Aman moved blindly past the bare-chested, sweat-soaked bodies. Despite the throng of people closing in on him, he felt a cold touch of dread. What if Sanaka finds out I crossed the Seven Hills?

In the front, Aman and Idhika had just enough standing room. A strange sight greeted them. ‘The games of Sangram. We’re in time for a new round!’ Idhika said. There was a muddy, circular field with a rope running around its boundary, and on either end were two yogis raised on ornate pedestals. A full-sized rooster casually strolled the arena, and facing it was a king cobra, its flattened hood floating sideways. Blackness felt complete in the cobra’s shiny scales as it braced itself to put on a stunning spectacle.