The Namin stared at her, his eyes as black as night. ‘How did you know? he asked gravely.

Nala gave a painful laugh. ‘Muscles on a priest, a two-handed axe in the corner, a non-certified physiker who smokes golis directly instead of in a chillum, talks nonchalantly of kings gone hundreds of years ago, is better at causing wounds than sewing them. It was not too hard to guess who you are, Acharya Parshuram.’

A long silence followed.

‘I know what I said of hate.’ Parshuram turned his back and quietly wrapped his tools in a silken cloth. ‘But vengeance is a sword with a hilt made of jagged glass. You will bleed when you swing this sword. All those kings and their families that I butchered, brought me no peace. No happiness. No satisfaction. Take it from one who has suffered girl, do not walk that path. The Ksharjas have forgotten about you. Go back to Meru. Or some other gurukul. Or marry someone rich. Life with me is a life of exile.’

‘Perfect for one who has lost everything, Acharya.’ Nala rose and slowly, painfully, fell to her knees. ‘Look at my face, my body. I am scarred. Do you think anyone would take a hideous disfigured girl as an Acharya? I am now the stuff nightmares are made of. I do not wish to kill an entire line of Ksharjas. I will be happy with just one. Bheem. Take me as your pupil, Acharya Parshuram.’

He said nothing.

The pain in her knee was unbearable. Her eyes were rimmed in raw sockets of pain. Her knee burned, but she did not budge. Her entire body trembled with the effort. Her mouth filled with sour spit. Her toes arched and ached. Her mouth ran dry, parched, her lips cracking as she waited. Her back was on fire, as if someone was rubbing a hot coal along her spine in a sadistic massage ritual. Blood trickled from Nala’s nose. She coughed, spattering blood on the floor. But she did not budge.

‘I do not take just anyone, girl,’ Parshuram said, his tone altogether different. The carefree healer was gone, replaced by the true visage of a maniac. ‘It will be a hard life, and you will not be up for it.’

‘A chance. That is all I ask, Acharya.’

‘No more pretending then. If you are a girl, so be it. If you are a boy, or both, or neither, choose now.’

Nala, feeling oddly free for the first time in years, said although with a little hesitation, ‘I am a girl.’

Parshuram nodded. He muttered a few choice curses at the sky before looking down at Nala. ‘Rise, Nala. I make no promises. I will see what you can do. Ashes! Can’t believe I am doing this again, he cursed to himself. ‘I reckon it is time for your apprenticeship to begin.’ Parshuram frowned when Nala did not answer. ‘You can rise now. I granted your request.’