This was Indra again. The seasons changed in front of Aman’s eyes. It felt like months, maybe years, had passed. Little plants around the Kalpavriksha grew into trees and the older ones in the background rotted away. A colossal snake-demon approached the divine tree and started to plague the land around it. Indra used his lightning bolt to slay the serpent and ringed its body to form a range of mountains to protect the valley.

In the next scene, four men were sitting at the deity’s feet. Indra’s two hands had turned into four, and he held in them a blue fire, some grass, a rosary and the jnanamudra. He recited to the men the Rigveda, and they wrote down the verses diligently.

‘The sons born of Brahma’s mind: the four Kumars. You might recognize the youngest of them, sitting on the right, Sanaka—the wretched man who ruined me,’ Rishi Ajan said in a tone full of hatred.

Aman saw a hut beside the divine tree where a lavish feast was going on, and although it lasted only a few seconds, it looked familiar because he had seen it in his Adwaita.

Eventually, Indra and the Kumars left the scene. A girl with dark-green eyes approached the tree and grew up into a young woman under its shadow, breathing in its air all her life. Simultaneously, the land beside the lake sprouted into a verdant forest.

‘The goddess of Aranyala,’ Rishi Ajan said. ‘Now, slowly open your eyes.’

The yagya burnt brighter than ever, but the room was clear of smoke, and the tapestry on the doorway was drawn open.

Rishi Ajan steepled his hands. ‘Now do you see? While Sanaka is alive, the other three Kumars meditate up in the caves to save their years for a time in the future. Sanaka doesn’t need their support. He’s got the Vanyasis exactly where he wants them—distracted and worried about danger from outside. This is what Sanaka preaches to the valley: the threat of Chayan, his potential invasion—which he overplays—and the fear of that is what he uses to bend the rules to his will. With every privilege comes a parallel suppression. I believe there is enough Madhu in Vanyasa.’

He continued, ‘Enough Madhu and more was brought back by those who survived the snowy journey. But whatever happened to it all? Why is there always a shortage? I knew I had the pieces, and I only needed to put them together, when I started spotting men in the middle of the night under the Kalpavriksha. They weren’t valley dwellers. They wore rubber on their feet and garments till their necks, which I remember from my time in the plains more than twenty years ago. And just when I was convinced that they were men of the plains, I was labelled delusional. I am sure Sanaka was behind it all; it’s somehow a part of his larger scheme.’

‘They’re still there, Rishi-ji,’ Prithvi spoke up. ‘I tried telling Ujal in my first week when I was practising archery in Aranyala; I spotted a man with boots—you’re right.’