‘If I may ask, Acharya,’ Idhika steered the conversation in another direction. ‘How much Madhu do we have left?’

‘We have to exercise limited consumption. In this century, the reserves of Madhu have dwindled. Only Indra knows what we will feed the Kalpavriksha’s roots once we run out. It’s down to you Souls to help when the time comes or the valley’s defences will fall, and so will Vritra.’

‘Vritra?’

‘The old name for the Seven Hills,’ Acharya Ashwini said, touching the parchment tucked into his waist. ‘If that happens, it would mean the end of Vanyasa, the end of everything meaningful in the world. It is in the valley alone that we live in harmony with our surroundings, and not in authority over other beings.’

Animals in the valley indeed roamed without fear; they had rights over it equal to other humans. Squirrels did not scurry off and sparrows pecked rice from human plates.

Their discussion was halted as two identical-looking tall men ran up the hill to the ledge of Rohini. Macchli ran towards the distinct forms of the Alok brothers, Ghanisht and Ekram. She started following them, but they ignored her. When they reached the group, Ghanisht said to Acharya Ashwini. ‘Where have you been?! Ashwini! How dare you leave the Seven Hills without Sanaka’s permission?’

‘Watch your words. I’m much older than you two,’ the acharya said calmly.

‘Ashwini, we answer to Sanaka alone. Whatever your intentions, it doesn’t rid you of your duty. Now, if you desire to continue serving as the Pratham Sadhu, you’ll do well to follow us.’

‘We don’t need to trouble Sanaka over such trifles,’ Aman protested, but was met with little attention.

Ghanisht and Ekram stood by and looked at the acharya menacingly till he agreed to accompany them. The acharya and the Souls hadn’t even been back an hour, and now they were on the move again. Their knees grew heavier with every step as they walked the Chakkar, but before they knew it, they were at the door of one of the widest huts Aman had seen in Vanyasa. It was Bhandaaram, where essential items were stored for the winter. To Bhandaaram’s right was Sanaka’s home. The Alok brothers promptly left.

Aman was filled with dread. He had hoped to avoid Sanaka for as long as possible. ‘I don’t feel too well . . . maybe I should go and rest,’ he muttered feebly. But the Souls pulled him along with them into Sanaka’s hut.

The entire room was filled with smoke. First came a flurry of smoke rings, shooting like darts, and then, between shrouds of white milky vapour, Sanaka revealed himself. He sat right in front of a curtain of wooden beads, so no one could pass and see what was inside.

‘Ah, the sweet herb,’ Ujal whispered, playing with the nock of his bow, which the acharya had returned to him on their way back to Vanyasa.

Sanaka set his burning blue chillum on the floor and stood up, lifting his protruding belly, adding no more than a foot to his height. He said nothing—just looked straight at them, curiously and closely. He looked at Acharya Ashwini with the same contempt he offered the students. But when his eyes met Aman’s, he started grinding his teeth. A bunch of odd sounds escaped his throat as he charged at him, pulled him down by his ear and started to beat him relentlessly.