‘Ordinarily, a Namin ordained in the Order of Higher Knowledge takes an oath of non-violence. The Second Years told me Acharya Parshuram has broken that oath seventeen times and more. But Meru makes an exception for him.’

‘Why?’ Nala asked. It was strange. The Namins were rather mercurial about oath, honour and peace.

‘Acharya Parshuram is a display of strength for Meru,’ Akopa answered. ‘One that is important to preserve. The influence of the Saptarishis, hell even Namins, has waned over the decades. Parshuram is the sheathed sword Meru carries. Kingmakers that cannot threaten the rule of kings wouldn’t be good at their jobs now, would they?’

A hush fell over the sun-hardened field. Varcin sighed and shook his head sadly. ‘But the Saptarishis haven’t made kings in a long time. Sounds like plain hypocrisy if you ask me. Parshuram himself never made any exception for Failknot.’

‘One moment he was the most decorated student of Meru, the next nobody knew where he had disappeared to. What really happened here?’ Upavi asked Akopa, a little too loudly.

‘Upavi and Akopa!’ Acharya Irum screamed from the other end of the plot. ‘You are to sing all the morning prayers together for the rest of the month! That should quench your thirst for working your mouth more than your hands.’

‘Damn you, Upavi.´

III

Nala privately suspected that the Acharyas of Meru were sadist criminals hiding from the law under the guise of teachers. It made sense to him and helped him limp through the nineteenth round. The days of the third semester began with rounds of the field. They started at dawn and were expected to cover twenty rounds before the sun was a finger’s length above the horizon. Why an Acharya of Knowledge needed to have high stamina was beyond Nala.

The respite of breakfast did not last long. It was followed by classes with Acharya Craw. He taught them the art of kick and punch. As per Craw, one had to learn physical injury to be able to treat it more effectively. Varcin called it a conspiracy. Nala had not expected much from Craw, given his broken nose and toothless jaw. But come afternoon, Nala’s bruised and exhausted body shattered any illusions he may have harboured. He learnt the secrets of the fist, the twists needed to block, the kicks needed to defend. He learnt how to trip enemies, shoulder them, he learnt how to block and execute a roundhouse kick. They were, however, not taught anything lethal, lest they use it amongst themselves to solve inter-dormitory disputes.

‘Just look at my skin!’ Akopa gasped one day. ‘I am more blue than dark. I’m certain my body has forgotten how to heal.’

‘I think I am never going to be able to squat again.’ Nala hated his time with Acharya Craw. He could barely appreciate the evening meal with his battered jaw.