Ujal moved past the yogis to reach Aman and Idhika. His forehead had a crease that reflected his anxiety. ‘I still can’t find her. I see Payal, but Prithvi isn’t with her.’ He left them to continue looking.

The chicken and the cobra had started roaming the field. The cobra scoped out its opponent, familiarizing itself with the territory. Suddenly, it straightened and, as if not itself, started to circle the chicken while jerking its hood back and forth.

The commentator’s voice rose tauntingly. ‘Vanyasa condemns the thrill that we just can’t resist, which pulls us down here. But, my brethren yogis and yoginis . . . It. Does. Not. Get. Better. Than. This—Guru Amrav’s mocking!’ He said as the cobra continued to imitate the chicken and bob its head.

Aman leant closer to Idhika. ‘Can he hear all these yogis cheering for him?’

‘Who?’ Idhika asked.

‘That man . . .’

‘Guru Amrav?’

‘Yes,’ Aman said.

Idhika pointed at the pen, indicating the chicken. ‘Atmayog forces the human to forgo their own senses for that of their companion. So if Aarti manages to connect with her rooster, she will hear, see, feel the world through it.’

‘I thought so too. But that’s why I ask,’ Aman started, ‘because Guru Amrav’s companion is a snake.’

‘Oh, you’re quite perceptive,’ Idhika said. ‘Cobras can’t hear sounds. To think of it, this is probably why he’s an exceptional Sangram dueller. Noises can never wreck his concentration. Astounding if true . . . because Guru Amrav has forever claimed that it is Lord Indra’s blessings that enable his distinctive skills.’

The crowd was in a state of frenzied excitement. As Aarti’s animal continued to idle around the pen, bumbling in one direction and then the other, pecking the ground like an ordinary chicken, it was clear to all that the rooster had yet to be located by the yogini. The cobra continued its dancing, circling, taunting, and then proceeded to slither forward and charge at the rooster. It hissed, fangs first, and buried them deep in the rooster’s flesh.

The bird let out a cry. It had little fight left in it, and just managed to flap its wings and lift itself to safety before being bitten again. Aman felt scared for the bird and, by extension, for Aarti. But he couldn’t look away.

The cobra soon cornered the bird. It coiled around the squealing and struggling chicken, biting it in quick bursts. The commentator joked, ‘The Light Seeker is no longer fooling around. His cobra’s keen to kill—or will it be elimination by displacement? By forcing the chicken out of the boundary line? Either way, this is soon to turn into a foul fight for the fowl!’

The astonishingly poor wordplay made one of the yogis behind Amrav laugh so hard that he toppled the dishes beside the dueller into the arena, and in a momentary lapse of concentration the snake loosened its grip and the chicken found some room. It managed to wring itself free and fly to the other side of the field, right by the boundary where it bled and limped slowly, roaming the edges of the fighting arena.