Even the Chatvari Sadhu shot Aman the fly a smile. Adrenaline rushed through Aman’s miniature veins. He shot up into the air and kept rising. Higher and higher, up the zigzagging trunk of the tree. Eventually, through the leaves, he emerged above the upper canopies of the Kalpavriksha and spotted tree dwellers like flying squirrels, flying snakes and even forest geckos. Steering clear of them, Aman flew around the valley, taking in the sights he had come to know so well.

When he retreated to Maidaan, he could spot only two specks beside the Kalpavriksha from far above. Fayza and the Chatvari Sadhu were waiting for him—everyone else had gone.

After Aman returned to his body, a great weariness came over him.

‘That happens,’ the Chatvari Sadhu said, holding out a kamandalu. ‘Drink this.’

‘You took your sweet time,’ Fayza said, itching to give Aman a hug but restraining herself.

‘Where’s everyone?’ Aman croaked. He cleared his throat.

‘What do you mean?’ Fayza said. ‘The Mahayatra starts tomorrow, Eleven; everyone is rolling up their belongings. What else?’

‘You’ve done well for your first time, Aman, finding a fly,’ the Chatvari Sadhu said. ‘And now that you are eligible, make your preparations in haste. Don’t forget to put in a brief meditation session before getting plenty of rest. And pack palm leaves for the journey, in case you need to contact Vanyasa.’

A few minutes later, when Aman and Fayza were walking down the Chakkar towards the huts, she said, ‘Not sure how much rest you’ll manage, to be honest.’

‘What do you mean?’ Aman asked.

‘Idhika is waiting for you right now. She’ll only tell us what she saw up in Sarp-poonch once everyone is there.’

‘The letter that the intruder wrote?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Relax, Fayza . . . Isn’t it good news that we found it?’ he asked.

‘Depends on what it reveals.’

25

Pandayam

Fayza and Aman found Prithvi waiting with Idhika outside her hut. Ujal was with them too, having returned from his pre-Mahayatra prayers at the Temple of Indra.

‘Why must you always keep us guessing, Idhika?’ said Prithvi, who was now a full-fledged member of this group. Her association with Aarti earlier had prevented her from integrating fully, but she seemed to have found her voice in Idhika’s recent quietness. ‘First, it was the name of the man who had ordered my kidnapping, and now this letter? What does it say? Out with it already!’

Aman shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He was apprehensive. And a little hopeful, perhaps. A part of him wished Prithvi’s aggression would make Idhika react in her old way, make her resurrect her former self. But Idhika just nodded at Prithvi and went inside her hut. The rest followed in due order.

‘I had gone there as a fly,’ Idhika said. ‘There were many letters. Some decades old and some newly written. The Preserver was going over them, and I managed to catch a few things. I don’t remember every word, but the old parchment that he opened said, “Their leader is a tough negotiator, even for a village dweller. But now, his eyes have been truly opened and finally, the man has allowed us refuge up in the caves of their tallest mountain. The villagers don’t come up here. While he has changed the rules of the valley in order to accommodate our nightly visits to their tree, we are struggling to understand Atmayog. You fools think you’ll learn it in a month? I’d like to see you try, their leader told us. He refuses to share the location of Madhu, this extremely valuable hallucinogen, which, if we could get our hands on it, would greatly benefit the reach of the Preservers.”’