‘Any of these men?’ Aman held his breath and made her check the photograph.

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘But they are not Vanyasis. Are they the Preservers? They definitely belong to the plains. Because, Aman, they have things, objects, all colourful and well-shaped. Things I’ve never seen.’

‘Describe the items.’

‘I’ll go again after a couple of days, or they’ll get suspicious, but I saw a bundle of what looked like very uniform and smooth vines, like the ones that drop from the Kalpavriksha.’

‘Oh! It could be rope,’ Aman said. ‘They must be using it to get to the caves that are high up.’

‘But how did they sneak into the valley without help?’ Idhika asked. ‘Why are they here—no—how did they ever get past Nandana? So many questions. And we can’t just ask anyone. Father . . . he was right. I’ll write to him, but we need to be careful about whom we tell.’

Aman couldn’t hold it in; he had to speak to Fayza. When he entered her hut the next day, she was preparing for Atmayog. Aman was unfamiliar with the asana she was practising—bent on an elaborate rug in a kneeling position, head on the floor.

‘No! Wait, Fayza. Where are you going?’

Fayza ignored him.

‘Atmayog later. Break out of it! I need to talk,’ he said.

She kept at it.

Aman was unsure of what to do next. Is she angry with me? What did I do? ‘Fayza? Can you hear me?’

Slowly, Fayza got up and only when she had folded her rug did she turn to say, ‘I was praying, Aman.’

‘Praying, in an asana?’ he asked.

‘Haha . . . I guess . . . I never thought about it that way. No, Aman, I was practising my faith. In Islam, we call it salat. In fact, I pray five times a day.’

‘Oh, right,’ he said. ‘I guess that’s why your rug is facing . . .’

‘West . . .’

‘Yes,’ Aman said and soon told her about the Preservers’ intrusion into the valley. Fayza wasn’t half as surprised as Aman had expected her to be.

‘The people here think absolutely no one knows about Vanyasa,’ she said. ‘But some do, the right circles in Rishikesh . . . Makes you wonder if many have left the valley to live in the plains, maybe even using Atmayog there. I’ve been thinking of all this ever since I’ve arrived here.’

Later in the week, Fayza joined Aman and Idhika when Idhika used Atmayog to go back to the cave. This time, she was a fly. She was right in thinking that a fly would be less conspicuous, but she miscalculated the time it took to get to the upper reaches of Sarp-poonch.

One of the people she had seen earlier was deep inside a cave, sitting in his usual spot, dressed in clothes far different from what a Vanyasi would wear. He was meditating and was unlikely to open his eyes anytime soon. This meant Idhika had enough time to observe him and the things he had around him.