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Rise of the Soul-Transferors

And the Tale of Shri Adi Shankaracharya

By Aaditya Vardhan

Instagram: @authorsmindset

The author is publishing this book under a pen name “Aaditya Vardhan”. The original authors name is intentionally not disclosed.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, in any form, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold or hired out or otherwise circulated without the author’s consent.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The stories of Shri Adi Shankaracharya are taken from various sources. The author does not intend to hurt the religious sentiments of any person.

ISBN No.: 978-93-5566-833-2

MRP: Rs. 340/-

1. Her First Out-of-Body Experience

The story of my birth is quite extraordinary. But then again, I must concede that my entire life was rather extraordinary.

Both my parents were Nambudiri Brahmins- the highest caste of all Hindus. They lived in a small house which was located a little away from the river Purna, in a village known as Sasalam. Their life was a pious one and they conformed to the religious practices which were expected from members of their caste. My parents were content in all respects, except that they were unable to have a child. The elders of the village advised them to go to the nearby Village of Vrishabhadripuram and pay obeisance to the idol of Lord Shiva at the Vadakkumnathan Temple. They complied and prayed at the temple non-stop for two whole days. When they came back home they were exhausted, yet satisfied, and fell asleep immediately.

As they slept, they were visited by Lord Shiva in their dreams, who told them "I am pleased by your devotion. I will grant you a boon: You may choose to have a child who will be dull but live a long life or a child who will be wise but will live for a short period only." My parents both replied that the decision was the Lord’s to make since he knew what was best for them. Lord Shiva was pleased with their answer and blessed them with the latter. I was born at noon in the season of spring. My parents named me Shankara, which was also another name of Lord Shiva, and meant

“the doer of good deeds”.

“Inhale...” Sushma Shah instructed her seventh grade students. She was not experienced at yoga at all. She was, in actuality, just the music teacher of St. Bernard’s High School which was situated in the district of Vile Parle at Mumbai. However, due to shortage in teaching staff, and because the Principal viewed all proponents of the fine arts and music as ‘hippies’ who had an inherent knowledge of yoga and other

‘mumbo-jumbo’, Sushma was given the assignment of teaching yoga.

It was a subject nobody cared for, least of all the parents as they were only concerned with the subjects which had a bearing on the aggregate score in the final report card. They couldn't care less whether their child received an ‘A’ or ‘D’ grade in physical training, music, drawing or yoga, as these were the only grades that were never compared between the parents on parent-teacher day.

Upon the advice of her fellow teachers, she conducted the class on the open football ground, which was surrounded by trees on three sides and the school building on the west. She made the children face the east, in order to salute the rising sun. A little bit of online research taught her that ‘meditation’ was not the same as ‘yoga’, and was actually just a subset of it. Yoga also aimed at physical fitness, whereas meditation was only for mental health and for achieving self-realization. She browsed through the various asanas and positions, and the numerous benefits they had on the mind and body. Her research made her draw the conclusion that while yoga may have few benefits like giving peace of mind and increasing flexibility, it was, for the most part - poppycock. She decided to focus on conducting meditation, only because there were too many yoga asanas1 and meditation only involved making the students breathe with their eyes 1 Body postures.

closed and telling them to clear their minds. She was amused by the idea of having a class full of ‘enlightened’ students by the end of the year.

She made the students breathe in the ratio 1:4:8, i.e., if it takes two seconds to inhale, one must hold their breath for eight seconds and exhaling ought to take sixteen seconds. The class of forty-three students pretended to go along with her instructions. But they secretly kept their eyes open ever so slightly, that they appeared to be closed to the casual observer, but just open enough to see Sushma’s feet through the tiny slits between their eye-lids. The moment she turned her back or passed by them, they would perform their own relaxation exercises, which in a co-educational school included, but was not limited to, slapping the head of the boy or girl seated in front of them (and pretending as if somebody else did it), shooting paper balls at comrades with the aid of a rubber band or a straw, and dancing in

‘ bhangra’2 style just to taunt the oblivious teacher.

One student, however, abstained from any tomfoolery. Aditi Mukherjee was in a deep meditative state. Initially she was intently listening to Sushma’s voice, but slowly it began to deafen. Soon she was in a self-created, abstract bubble. It was a strange feeling. The world around her had disappeared, yet she was fully conscious of every aspect of it. She could no longer hear the trees in front of her rustling, nor could she feel the wind touching her body. Nonetheless, she was fully aware that there was a gentle breeze and that the trees were playing with the wind. At one moment a butterfly passed by in front of her. She didn’t have to open her eyes to confirm it, she was 2 Traditional Indian dancing style originating in Punjab.

certain that the butterfly flew by, despite none of her five senses providing her mind any indication of the incident.

Time lost all meaning and significance. Seconds could have passed by, or even hours. Her heightened awareness of surroundings did nothing to help measure the amount of time passed, although they ought to have provided reference points. It was perhaps not the case that she could not estimate the passage of time, but rather, that it was of no concern to her.

Then unfamiliar visions began passing through Aditi’s mind. In these visions she saw scenes from the life of a little girl named Sushma Shah who grew up in a conservative family, received training in classical music, had an arranged marriage and was living a content life with her husband while also working as a part-time teacher. She was seeing each moment of Sushma’s life from Sushma’s point of view. She saw Sushma being bullied in school, her first kiss when she was in college, every rejection she faced by schools she applied to and also the time when she almost cheated on her husband but restrained herself at the last minute. She witnessed every event of Sushma’s life right up to the moment she conducted the yoga class for the seventh-grade students.

However, these visions did not appear in any discernible chronological order as they seemed to have been arranged from the most-emotional moments to the most mundane ones. The chronology of the events was being pieced together on their own as more and more memories seemed to accumulate. This process went on for so long that by the end Aditi knew every intricate detail of Sushma’s life, including her passwords, diary entries and every piece of gossip she engaged in. Decades seemed to have passed by. Aditi almost forgot 5

who she was and began believing that she was this lady named Sushma Shah, and had only dreamt that she was a girl named Aditi.

After what felt to her like ages, the visions stopped and were replaced by darkness and silence. Then she heard the ominous voice of a woman echoing. “Aditi! Aditi!” it shouted. The echo grew louder and clearer. The darkness slowly disappeared and a vignette appeared before her. She was back in the yoga class, but the image before her confounded and shocked her. In front of her was not the one she knew as Sushma Ma’am, but herself! She was holding herself by the arms and violently shaking the seemingly lifeless figure of herself. The petite figure did not flinch. Its eyes were nearly closed, revealing only a sliver of her black eyes. Strands of her neck-length hair fell over her face as she was being shaken. The seemingly lifeless body still had its legs folded with hands on its knees.

On closer inspection, Aditi realized that the hands shaking the figure were not her own, but a woman’s hands, with nails painted red and with green bangles resembling those which Sushma was wearing when she was conducting the yoga session. Aditi tried to look around, but was unable to do so. The body she was occupying was acting on its own accord and she was merely a spectator.

“Aditi, wake up!” came the woman’s voice again, and this time Aditi realized that the voice originated from the body she was occupying, i.e. Sushma Ma’am’s body. Aditi’s own body began to loosen up by the vigorous shaking and after a few light slaps from Sushma, it fell on the floor. The other children huddled around her. Rajeev Pereira, the class monitor, ran towards the school building, in order to call for help. The first adult he found upon entering the building, was the secondary-school level math teacher - Venugopal Sir.

As soon as Venugopal Sir deciphered Rajeev’s breathless ranting, they rushed back to the ground where Sushma was administering CPR to Aditi. Venugopal Sir pulled out his cell phone and proceeded to call an ambulance.

Aditi watched perplexedly at the vignette of her kissing herself, from Sushma’s point of view. She had never kissed anyone before and what she was feeling at the moment was rather uncomfortable. She found nothing appealing about blowing air into somebody else’s mouth.

It was at this moment that she realized that she was not only viewing the world from Sushma Ma’am’s eyes, but that she was also capable of hearing, feeling, smelling and even tasting everything through Sushma’s sensory organs. Although Aditi tried to concentrate on what was happening before her, a small part of her could not help but notice some peculiarities about the body she was presently hosting.

The inside of Sushma’s mouth tasted sour and was awfully moist. Her body’s scent consisted of a mixture of sandalwood and marigold.

The ambulance soon arrived and the medics placed Aditi’s body on a stretcher and carried her away. Aditi watched helplessly as her body was being taken away from her. She felt an unusual sensation, as though she was falling in a bottomless pit. The farther her body was being taken from Sushma, the worse she felt. She tried to run behind the medics, but Sushma’s body refused to move and continued to remain in the same spot.

Sushma herself was feeling a sort of uneasiness and tingling, which she was unable to ignore despite the gravity of the events that were happening. She simply chalked up her uneasiness to shock and exhaustion from the incident.

Saliva poured out from Aditi’s mouth and her seizures grew more uncontrollable. Aditi could see them loading the stretcher onto the ambulance. She did not know what would become of her body; but she knew that she could no longer stand being a mere spectator. She feared that if she didn’t act now, then she might remain trapped in Sushma’s body forever. She thought about her parents and her school mates, and after gathering all her focus, in a burst of emotion, she shouted “Wait!”. Surely enough, the word echoed throughout the ground. Venugopal Sir who had accompanied the medics till the ambulance turned around to look for the source of the voice. That was the last thing Aditi saw, before she was engulfed by darkness and felt that she was being sucked out from existence.

***

Aditi regained consciousness, almost immediately, in her own body.

The ambulance had barely left the school premises. The medics were surprised, but continued to diagnose her. To avoid taking any chances with the girl’s health and to avoid a potential lawsuit, they took the girl to Holy Cross Hospital at Santacruz, Mumbai.

Her parents, who were notified by the school authorities, came to visit her a few hours later. They found Aditi in a state of mild shock, but fine in all other respects. She was ecstatic to see that her workaholic parents had to leave their office in the middle of the day to ensure she was alright. She desperately wanted to tell them what actually transpired at the school ground, but feared that her parents, who were already disappointed by her constant day-dreaming and wild imagination, would deprive her of her TV privileges and outdoor sports time, if she confessed. She also did not want to further alienate 8

herself from her parents, who viewed her as quirky and naïve, even for a twelve-year-old.

After diagnosing Aditi, the doctor concluded that she had merely fainted due to a heat stroke and prescribed some vitamin supplements. She was allowed to go home since the doctor did not see any reason to keep her under observation.

At home, she was visited by her best friend and neighbour, Cyrus Bookwalla, who brought her some home-made sweet corn soup.

Cyrus was a classic example of a grade-A nerd. He was a fan of science-fiction including ‘The Lord of the Rings ‘saga, the Star Wars movies and the Star Trek franchise. He was also the only boy Aditi had ever met to proudly claim that he played Dungeons & Dragons, although she wasn’t sure who he played it with. His freckled fair skin and brunette hair just added to his nerdy persona and made him a regular target of the school bullies.

Aditi did not tell Cyrus about what she really experienced on the ground. She never mentioned the truth about the incident to anybody, and after a few years, the incident was almost forgotten in its entirety.

2. His Greatest Tragedy

I displayed early signs of being a prodigy. By the age of three I was able to memorize the Vedas and several religious Sanskrit texts. My father wanted to get my Upanayanam3 done when I turned five. But he passed away before the ceremony could be performed. My dutiful mother ensured that my father’s wish was fulfilled.

I began attending school, where my teacher and fellow pupils were impressed with my advanced knowledge. In just two years I became proficient in the Upanishads and Puranas as well. I was very curious to learn about the universe, life and God. I had already begun forming my own inferences based on the ancient texts that I had mastered.

One day, as I was taking a stroll in the playground of the school, I saw some of my colleagues placing a friendly wager on the number of seeds that a particular watermelon contained. I shouted from afar “The number of seeds in that watermelon is the same as the number of gods in the universe”. My colleagues dismissed my remark as absurd. They cut open the watermelon to see who among them was right. To their utter shock and surprise, the watermelon contained only one seed.

An old man woke up gasping for air. He was surrounded by nothing but darkness and had absolutely no knowledge of how he came into the predicament. He tried to move, but was unable to do so. For a 3 The rite of passage of a young Brahmin marking the start of his formal education on Hinduism.

moment, he contemplated whether he died and was now in some part of the after-life. ‘Is this what Hell is, just like a perpetual state of paralysis?’

he thought to himself. But the man did not give up. Minutes passed.

After a little bit of struggle, he was able to move his limbs a few inches at a time, albeit in a clumsy fashion. After a few more minutes of grappling, he was able to finally get up. Once his eyes had adapted to the darkness, he was able to make out that he was inside some sort of chawl. He crawled out and found himself on the sidewalk of a familiar road. The surroundings seemed familiar to him. There were no houses nearby, only trees. Apart from the incessant cawing of a crow, there was no other sound on the street.

At a distance, he saw a light. With no other sign of hope nearby, he began walking towards it when he suddenly felt a tug on his left leg.

He was limping. The man cursorily examined his legs and was shocked by their dark complexion and feeble appearance. He quickly checked his hands and was horrified to find that they matched the legs in all respects. Finally, he touched his wrinkled face and was bewildered by its unfamiliar shape and texture. He was unable to recognize any of the features of his body. He stood there for a while, continually feeling his face and torso.

Suddenly, he began seeing visions. Visions of the life of a boy growing up on a sidewalk of Mumbai’s Western Express Highway and being raised by his father. He was told that his mother had left him and his father when he was an infant. After his father passed away, this boy grew up to become an alcoholic. Fed up of being constantly hassled by cops, he left Mumbai and began sleeping on a sidewalk on the Mumbai-Nashik highway at the outskirts of the city. He would spend 11

the day begging for alms from the people eating at the nearby dhabas 4

or those refueling vehicles at the gas station. Then after his dinner, he would drink some cheap liquor till he passed out.

Once the visions ended, the man again examined his surroundings.

He had no idea what was happening. The crow continued to caw louder than before. The man remembered his original objective. He once again began running to the light. If he were truly dead, then it was rather elementary that he ought to walk towards the light. As he was limping forward, he was able to make out that the light was coming from the headlights of a car. The car was twenty feet off the road and was pressed against a tree. Oddly, instead of thinking whether the people inside the car needed his help, he hoped the people inside would be able to help him.

As he got closer, he recognized the navy-blue sedan and stopped in his tracks for four seconds. Then he began running even faster. As he got closer, he managed to recognize the woman in the front passenger seat. He finally reached the sedan and through the window of the front passenger seat he began shaking the woman and frantically asked, “Pramila, are you okay?” At this moment, he noticed four things at the same time. Thefirst was that his voice was hoarse and alien. Second, did the woman have a wound on her forehead which corresponded to a crack on the windshield. Third, there was a six-year-old girl whose body was lying on the dashboard. Fourth, there was a man in the driver seat with his head on the steering wheel, with blood pouring out of his head. All of these were alarming, although to different degrees.

4 Road side eateries.

He had no time to be perplexed. He put his hand in through the gap above the half-open window and opened the door from the inside. He felt the pulse of the woman. When he didn’t feel anything, he put his hand on her torso to check for a heartbeat. There was no movement.

He then reached out to pick up the girl. When he turned over her body, he noticed that her eyes were lifeless. He took her out of the car and held her tightly in his arms as he wailed.

After about a minute, he laid her body gently on the ground and proceeded to walk around the car, to get a clear view of the man at the driver’s seat. From the back of the driver’s head and his attire, he already knew who he was, but he had to be sure. He opened the door of the car and froze. Although he knew what to expect he was still taken aback by the sight before him. He opened the man’s eyelids, and felt his pulse. This was the third person he found dead in the last two minutes. But the third one did not sadden him so much as it confused him. He went back to the woman and child, held them and stayed still in that position. His mind went completely blank.

Five minutes later, he saw a minivan in the distance. The man got scared and did not know what he should do. As the minivan stopped on the road, the man kissed the woman and child and ran into the forest. As three teenagers got out from the minivan to inspect the sedan that seemed to have crashed beside the road, the man peeped back one last time, and then continued to sprint deeper into the forest.

Even from a distance, he could still hear the crow relentlessly.

3. Her Usual Day

My mother walked several kilometers every day to take a bath in the sacred Purna River. One hot summer day she went to the river as usual but did not return. In the afternoon, I went out to search for her and found that she had fainted on her way back. I tended to her wounds and nursed her back to health. The next day, I gathered five of my closest friends and we began digging from the northern banks of the river. In a few days we were able to successfully change the course of the river so that it passed right in front of my house.

My mother was able to take a bath in the holy river every morning with ease. As a rainbow appeared in the sky, I could hear the voice of Lord Krishna saying “I am moved by your love for your mother. The holy river shall maintain this new course and pass through your front garden for all time to come and shall be a symbol of the love that a dutiful child holds towards a mother.”

The uncharacteristic turn in the river can be seen to this day, even after two millenia.

“Goa?” twenty-four-year-old Aditi reconfirmed over the phone, as she was fixing the bugs in Dhwani’s code. Despite being only three cubicles away, Dhwani was using the office’s private telephone network to convince Aditi to join the Goa trip that some of the younger coders in the office were planning. None of their superiors noticed this misuse of the phone network, since their voices were 14

drowned by the sounds of papers being printed, phones ringing and their colleagues babbling.

Initially, Dhwani would walk over to Aditi’s cubicle, but this drew unwanted attention from all the wrong people, which made Aditi rather uncomfortable. Both of them were the only women in the office of ‘Datasaurus’, an IT company, which consisted of eighteen male and only two female engineers. Unlike Dhwani, Aditi was disturbed by the undignified stares and tried to wear the most unflattering attire she had, which was usually a boyfriend shirt and jeans. She even tied her black hair with its burgundy highlights into a bun, to avoid being sniffed by the peon while he would be keeping her cup of black coffee on her desk. Her sleek anti-glare glasses were a necessity while working for long hours in front of a screen, but gave her the false impression that they made her seem unattractive. In complete contrast, Dhwani Mehta would use the skewed sex ratio at the office to make a point – that what she wore and how she behaved was nobody else’s business. She would come to the office wearing the most ridiculous and bright clothing she could think of just to see if any of the senior staff had the cojones to comment on her office attire, and she scowled at any man who dared to eye her the wrong way.

That particular day, she wore a fluorescent tie-front top with beige trousers. Nobody dared taunt her for her quirky dressing sense - at least not to her face.

Unbeknownst to both of them, the male dominated office of coders had divided themselves into ‘Team Aditi’ and ‘Team Dhwani’. It was a team system that developed one day when both girls happened to be simultaneously absent and the guys, including the senior staff, took a poll. On that same day there was also a poll taken to speculate why 15

both girls were absent. Many of them voted that it was because they went shopping together but the speculation was that both of their cycles had synced and they had their time of the month simultaneously, and this won the most votes.

“Yes, Goa.” Dhwani replied as she scrolled through hotel listings on her computer.

“No, thanks. You guys go ahead.”

“Come on, you have to come, if you don’t come, I’ll be the only girl there.”

“Exactly, why are you even going? It’s going to be just the guys talking about guy stuff.”

“Duh… because Karan is also coming” she whispered.

“Goa… it isn’t exactly my kind of place. You know I’m not fond of beaches. And I don’t even drink. What will I do when the rest of you are getting sloshed?”

“Ummm... you could start drinking.”

“Not happening.” Aditi declared, as she hit the spacebar as hard as possible.

“Dude, imagine being at the beach with Karan. You can tell he’s been working out a lot these days and I want to see him in nothing but swimming trunks just once. His six-pack glimmering…”

“Okay, I can see where this conversation is going. Bye, Dhwani.” Aditi slammed the phone. Not only was she feeling annoyed because of her office colleague, but she also suspected that the management was recording their phone conversations. Dhwani did not support this theory, since she believed that if it were true, her team-head would 16

have fired her years ago for the abusive remarks she passed about him when talking to Aditi.

Aditi finished fixing the entire code by 7.15 p.m. then took off her anti-glare glasses, packed her bag and left the office without bidding goodbye to anybody. Her house was only a ten-minute walk from her office, yet she was always anxious to leave before 7 p.m. You see, after sunset the gang of five rowdy teenagers parked their bikes near a cigarette shop that was on her route. Aditi never dared look them in the face. Since she always left the office before 8 p.m. all she had to suffer was catcalling, but after that she would be risking a lot more than just hearing sexual comments. One of Aditi’s neighbours told her that while she was walking on that road one night, the leader of the gang flashed her.

Aditi bowed her head down and walked quickly as the boys whistled at her and called her a maal5. In few minutes she reached the dilapidated building ‘Gupta Bhavan’, which was situated in one of the shadiest parts of Gurugram (formerly known as Gurgaon). Her parents never understood why she chose to work and live in such an area, but Aditi was adamant that she would not take money from her family or use their contacts to secure a job.

She reached her two-bedroom apartment and found her flat-mate Nura Gafoor was sitting on the couch of the living room, in her t-shirt and shorts. She was watching a sermon of her spiritual guru, who went by the name ‘Dharamguru’, on her laptop. Aditi loathed Dharamguru. To her he was just another ostentatious godman with no real knowledge of scriptures, other than a few anecdotes from 5 A derogatory term referring to a woman as a sexual object.

mythology which he quoted repeatedly to amuse his millions of followers.

“Hey!” The two women greeted each other simultaneously. Nura was working as a freelancing content writer, because of which she had the liberty of working from home. So, each and every weekday whenever Aditi would leave the house in the morning and come back in the evening, Nura would be on her laptop, sitting on the couch.

It had been almost seven months since Aditi moved into the house.

Nura was already living there at that time. It was difficult to pinpoint the precise moment when their cohabitation upgraded to friendship.

Perhaps it was five months ago when Aditi tended to Nura when she was suffering a panic attack for no apparent reason or it could have been two months ago when Nura began teaching Aditi how to drive.

Whatever the precise moment was, they had without a doubt become each other’s closest companions. Despite living in Gurugram for longer, Nura did not have any other friends in the area, nor did she ever take the effort to make any.

Although they had grown close, Aditi knew very little of Nura’s background, except for the fact that she came from a conservative household and spent most of her childhood in Bangalore. She was pretty, in a homely sort of way. She had brown eyes and sparkling amber hair. Unlike Aditi, Nura was anything but shy. It was not uncommon for Aditi to wake up in the morning and find a man, and occasionally a woman eating breakfast with Nura, only to leave immediately thereafter, never to be seen again. However, throughout the time that Aditi knew her, she was never in a proper relationship.

Nura was also extremely intelligent. Although she had never taken an IQ test in her life, her online chess rating was around 2500, that too 18

without any formal training whatsoever. She brilliantly managed her work and her investments. Aditi always suspected that her networth was much higher than what she let on, and even tried to probe into it a few times. But Nura simply dodged the interrogation. Aditi was certain that she could afford to not only rent but buy an apartment in any of the metro cities and live there without a flatmate. Ultimately, Aditi concluded that Nura was the type of person who despite having abundance of wealth, chose to live a simple life. Apart from alcohol and clothes, her only major expenditure was the annual trips outside India, during whick she lavishly spent on hotels, business-class flights and gifts for Aditi.

Just like Dhwani, Nura too would always urge Aditi to come out of her comfort zone. Every weekend Nura would plan a new activity such as going to a club or singing karaoke. She was also the one who persuaded Aditi into getting the burgundy highlights on her hair.

Recently, Nura had also nagged Aditi into joining her for her early morning yoga sessions which she practiced in the living room. Aditi had been doing it for a week, but found the asanas that Nura was teaching to be far too advanced for her.

Aditi went straight to her ten-feet by ten-feet room and threw her bag on her tiny study table. Despite the pink walls, the room was generally dull and only had four pieces of furniture - a single bed, a steel Godrej cupboard and a writing desk with a table-lamp on it. After changing into her grey tank top and pink ‘Hello Kitty’ pajamas, Aditi proceeded to the kitchen to prepare her dinner. Both Nura and Aditi were excellent cooks and perfectly capable of making a variety of Indian and Indo-Chinese dishes, but due to sheer laziness they usually prepared instant noodles for dinner.

She took her bowl of noodles and sat on the couch, next to Nura. She then went on to describe to Nura the entire events of her day, and also proceeded to give her a detailed description of Dhwani’s “outfit of the day”. It was a ritual they followed daily. Since Nura rarely left the house on weekdays and had never experienced ‘office-life’, she enjoyed experiencing an office-life vicariously through Aditi.

After dinner, Aditi went to her room and browsed through Netflix for twenty minutes looking for some Rom-Com which would put her to sleep. When she didn’t find any good movie, she just decided to rewatch Bridget Jones diary. When the movie was done and she had all cried out, she glanced at her phone and found a text from her mother and her childhood friend, Cyrus Bookwalla. Cyrus and she had maintained contact with each other for several years via text messages and by tagging each other on social media posts and memes.

They even spoke over the phone twice a year – on their respective birthdays. However, the two of them had not met each other in-person since the 12th grade. Cyrus went on to do his bachelors in law from a law school in Bangalore and his masters in criminal psychology from Brunel University in the United Kingdom. After that, he went on to secure a place in the chambers of Kishu Khatri, one of the top criminal lawyers in the country.

After replying to both messages Aditi contemplated watching another movie since she wasn’t sleepy yet. She finally decided to make an effort to sleep since she had to wake up the next day at 6.30 in the morning. She had promised Nura that she would give yoga a try.

Knowing that a single alarm wasn’t enough to wake her up, Aditi set three alarms on her phone for 5.20 a.m., 5.25 a.m. and 5.30 a.m., and 20

then fell asleep. She had no idea that the events of the next morning would completely change her life.

4. His Dilemma

I drew the attention of rulers and scholars of nearby kingdoms, many of whom came to meet me and test my wisdom. Even the King who ruled over Kaladi, King Rajashekhara, paid a visit to my house. I engaged with all of them in spiritual discourse and they left pleased and impressed. One group of astrologers came to my house to examine my horoscope. They informed my mother and myself that I was to die at the age of either eight, sixteen or thirty-two.

My mother went into a state of depression, whereas, I came to the realization that it was time for me to go out into the world and seek enlightenment before my death.

I confessed to my mother that I wanted to become a Sanyasa (hermit). She wept uncontrollably and asked me who would take care of her if I were to leave the house. I reminded her that my death was in any case near and I would have to leave her eventually. I said to her “O Mother, after the rains, one sees a lot of bubbles on the surface of water. Some bubbles are attached to each other for some time. Afterwards, they disappear one by one, and merge with the water…. We are also like those bubbles. Our earthly forms are merely temporary. Eventually, we must all go back to the One.”

My mother was impressed with my words. But what good is logic when trying to convince one’s mother? She became very emotional and forbade me from becoming a Sanyasa. I did not oppose her decision, nor did I bear any resentment towards her. I knew that it was only because of her attachment to me that she 22

could not bear me leaving home. However, I did pray to God that she may change her mind, as I believed that divine intention must prevail over petty human emotions.

‘ How did I get here?’ Robin thought to himself as he walked down the streets of Virar, a suburb located at the northern outskirts of Mumbai.

There was no logical explanation for his predicament.

Until this point Robin Pinto had a pretty normal life. He was born and brought up in Pune. He moved to Kolkata (when it was Calcutta) in his early twenties to pursue his Masters in Science in Advanced Chemical Engineering. Through a mutual friend he was introduced to a beautiful woman named Pramila, who he ended up marrying four years ago. Around this time he also secured a government job at the National Chemical Laboratory in Mumbai and was even assigned a special project, but he quit last year due to certain differences he had with his superiors.

The couple gave birth to a daughter who they named Astrid. Initially, Pramila had quit her job to take care of Astrid, but when Robin became jobless, she decided to go back to work. Robin was a good house-husband and took care of everything from Astrid to household chores. Just to stay in touch with his field he gave chemistry tuition classes in the mornings to a group of four to six students inside his house.

Pramila’s job was as Operations Head of AHB Buildcon Pvt. Ltd., a road construction company, and the same was very demanding.

Above this, to make up for the lack of time Pramila was able to spend with Astrid and Robin, they always made the most of weekends.

Almost every weekend involved a trip outside Mumbai city.

Robin had a life-long dream to retire early and spend the rest of his days reading, playing bridge with friends and taking long walks in the park. He thought he had gotten closer to that dream when he decided to stop working full time and became a part-time tuition teacher. After all, Pramila loved her work and the family lived a simple life, because of which they weren’t worried about money. However, life never goes as planned.

The previous night, Robin and his family were on their way to a weekend getaway at a resort in Palghar.

“What’s troubling you?” he asked Pramila in a whispered tone when they were two hours away from their resort. He didn’t want to wake up his three-year-old daughter who was sleeping in the back seat of the car.

“Nothing. Why?” she asked while trying to intentionally avoid eye-contact with him.

“You are playing with your hair. You always play with your hair when you are nervous.”

She sighed deeply. “It’s nothing. Just a bit tired. I think I’ll take a nap.”

Robin was curious since he found her to be a bit off the entire weekend. But he didn’t press too hard. His mind was occupied with something else as well. About an hour ago he had noticed that there was a black SUV that was driving about forty feet behind them. The SUV always maintained the same distance, even when he slowed down or sped up. For a moment he thought to himself ‘Are they following us?’ but he quickly dismissed the idea as a figment of his imagination. Robin had a tendency to fantasize about things and his exceptional observation skills inflated his paranoia. The truth was a 24

mere thought of being tailed was fascinating to him. It made him feel like he was the main character in a spy movie.

At about 3.45 a.m. he noticed the SUV coming closer. There were no other vehicles in the vicinity. Robin gave way for the SUV to over-take them. That was the last thing he remembered before waking up inside the body of a beggar and having to pull his own wife and child’s body out of the car. What was even more confusing was that his own body was also in the same car. This happened about nine hours ago, and Robin was still unable to make sense of the situation.

He was now walking towards the City of Dreams re-playing the events of the previous night in his mind. Robin observed the pedestrians passing by him. They were either intentionally ignoring him or viewing him with disgust. This feeling was very alien to him, but that was the least of his concerns. In the last nine hours he lost his entire family and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t even begin to comprehend how he woke up in someone else’s body. More so, why was he able to see the other man’s memories? The confusion was so overwhelming that Robin could barely grieve over the death of his wife and child.

While passing by a golgappa 6 stall, Robin suddenly felt dizzy and his entire body shook uncontrollably. The golgappa vendor saw the poor man trembling and asked “All okay?” When the disheveled man failed to respond, the sympathetic vendor requested the two customers he was serving to wait and walked towards Robin. As soon as the vendor touched Robin on his back, Robin was flooded with memories. The vendor’s entire life was flashing before his eyes. When 6 An Indian snack consisting of a deep-fried crisp crepe filled with a mixture of flavoured water.

the scenes ended, Robin found himself gaping at the man whose body he was possessing earlier. He examined the body he was in and found himself in a white dhoti. He was now in the body of the golgappa vendor. He turned around and saw the two customers with small plates in their hands waiting for their next serving of golgappa. Just then, the disheveled man stood up straight and was trying to comprehend where he was. Robin had to leave from there.

He turned to the customers, said “Serve yourselves” and briskly walked away. The customers didn’t find it odd. They just assumed that the vendor fled the area because he saw an officer of the municipal corporation nearby and didn’t want to be fined for running an unlicensed stall. They happily served themselves while the vendor continued moving away at a fast pace. The disheveled beggar continued to stand there, confused.

5. Her Déjà Vu

A few days after the discussion with my mother about me becoming a Sanyasa, a life-changing event occurred. When I was bathing in the river, I saw a crocodile in the water. I quickly caught the hanging branches of a nearby tree, and began climbing upward, but the crocodile sprang from the water and fastened its mouth to my leg with its sharp teeth.

I cried out for my mother, who came rushing out of the house. She could not believe the sight before her and panicked.

"O, Mother! Saving me is only in your hands now” I shouted.

My mother was perplexed and enquired what she could do to rescue me. “Give me permission to become a Sanyasa,” I pleaded,

“If I totally change the path of my life, then it is nothing more than a form of re-birth. If I am re-born, then hopefully the problems of my present life will end and this crocodile will leave me.” My mother did not find any logic in my statement and she chose to ignore it. Instead, she frantically began yelling for help.

But there was none nearby.

“It is no use, Mother.” I shouted, “Nobody can help me escape this situation but you. It may not work, but at least if you grant me permission to become a Sanyasa, then I will die as a Sanyasa, and will have some solace as I am being devoured.”

“Very well, son. You have my permission.” my mother yielded helplessly.

Without a moment’s hesitation, I chanted the mantras to become a Sanyasa. I took Apath-Sanyasa (the adoption of Sanyasa when death is near) at once. As soon as I was done, the crocodile let go 27

of my leg and I survived the ordeal unscathed. My mother took me in her arms as I emerged from the water as a “nominal” Sanyasa.

In order to formally become a Sanyasa I needed to find a Guru.

After the third alarm rang, Aditi forced herself to get off the bed and went to the living room. Nura was already there in her blue

“superwoman” t-shirt and black yoga pants, stretching. Aditi subtly glared at her from the corner of her eyes as she went straight to the kitchen. She commenced the second-most sacred ritual of her morning

– making her cup of coffee. The most sacred ritual was, of course, the drinking of the coffee. As she sipped her coffee, she re-entered the living room to join Nura.

“Good morning!” Nura beamed at her, “Today we are going to do some simple breathing exercises. Just for clearing the mind. So first sit in padmasana7.”

Grudgingly, Aditi sat with her legs folded on the cold tiled floor, without saying a word.

“Close your eyes. Now relax all your muscles. And very slowly, Breathe in…. hold your breath …. and breathe out. Good. Now when I stop talking, I want you to clear your mind. Don’t concentrate on your breathing. Thinking about breathing is still thinking. The objective is to try to clear your mind of all thoughts. Naturally, thoughts are going to keep popping up. The important thing is to not indulge in any of them. Just erase each thought as soon as it pops up.”

Aditi followed the guidelines given to her. The first thought was about how cold and hard the floor was and that she ought to consider investing in a yoga mat if she was going to continue these early 7 Lotus position. A cross-legged sitting meditation pose.

morning sessions. As instructed, she mentally swiped the thought aside. The next thought was of her father who had still not approved of an unmarried girl moving out of her parents’ house. This too she managed to swipe, albeit with some difficulty. In this manner, Aditi began visualizing each thought as a display picture on a dating app, and kept swiping them towards the left. It then struck her that visualizing the thoughts as part of a dating app interface was also a thought, so she swiped that thought away as well. Then she realized that all the while the tune of ‘Astronomia’ was playing in the background of her subconscious and so she muted it.

After a few minutes, Aditi began experiencing an almost-familiar feeling. The sound of the wind and the wall-clock deafened, yet Aditi was aware of their movement. Without her knowing about it, she had reached a paradoxical state of being, where her mind was free from thought and awareness, yet she was conscious of everything in her vicinity, including the presence of Nura and the furniture that adorned the living room.

Unfamiliar visions passed before her mind’s eye. This time they were visions of a brown-eyed girl who grew up in Bangalore, going to the local masjid every week, crying as her father beat her mother every day and ironically, not shedding a single tear during her mother’s funeral. This girl stole about Rs. 50,000 from her father’s cupboard and ran away from his house at the age of sixteen, after he refused to allow her to study any further. She moved to Gurugram where she did odd jobs and completed her education. She lived with a friend until she was able to earn enough to live in a working women’s hostel. When her financial situation improved, she took up a place of her own. All 29

this while she read over three dozen self-help books to help her cope with her emotions.

As Aditi saw visions of Nura’s life, a subconscious wave of sympathy for Nura hit Aditi. After what felt like ages, Aditi had her first conscious thought – to get up and embrace Nura. The memories she was seeing continued to flow in, but Aditi could not bear to see more.

She gathered all her faculties in order to pull herself out of the deep and bizarre mental state she was in. With all her might, she tried to open her eyes, a bodily function which she had always taken for granted.

When she finally succeeded in opening her eyes, she had a déjà vu. She was seeing herself in front of her, eyes closed and was facing the ground. Her legs were still crossed but her hands drooped over her knees and her spine arched forward, as if her body was lifeless. She then began inspecting the body she was in, knowing fully well that it was Nura’s. She tried to move her hands. There was some resistance.

But she fought through it. She was determined to find out whether or not she was dreaming. When she was able to lift the hand and hold it up, inches away from her face, she studied every intricate detail of it.

‘No dream can be so detailed’ she thought to herself. There was an uncontrollable tremor because of which she couldn’t hold her hand up for too long. She let the hand fall back on Nura’s thighs and pinched her legs. She felt the pain. Then she decided that she would reach for her own body and pinch it to see if she still felt the pain. But she was unable to even uncross Nura’s legs. They were too stiff, as if they had fallen asleep. She tried to lift Nura’s body off the ground using her hands, but she ended up falling sideways and hurting her shoulders.

Aditi gasped loudly as she was awakened back in her body. She panted heavily as she observed Nura lying on the ground right in front of her.

“Ow! What happened?” Nura asked as she lifted herself back into a sitting position. Aditi just stared at her. “I think I fell asleep while meditating.” Nura chuckled embarrassingly “I don’t know how-”

Nura had to stop mid-sentence. Aditi, who was still panting, had attacked her with a hug.

“Adi? Is everything okay?”

Aditi didn’t reply for some time. She just hugged Nura tighter. In turn, Nura hugged her back, unsure of what was going on.

“Aditi, talk to me. Did something happen?”

“I’m sorry.” Aditi blurted as her eyes began watering.

“Sorry? Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for everything you had to go through” Aditi was sobbing now

“Adi, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Aditi terminated the embrace, held Nura by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “I know now…. I… I know about your father. I know how he abused you and your mother. I know how you had to lie to your school teachers about the bruises on your face. I know he killed your mother. I know that you just packed your bags and ran away from his house when you were a teenager. I saw it all!”

Nura was lost for words “Wh-How did you-”

“I entered your body while we both were meditating. I was able to see some of your memories.”

There was a long pause during which Nura tried to make sense of what Aditi had just said.

“Wait. Is this some joke? Did you get in touch with some of my childhood friends?”

“No.” said Aditi with a straight face as a single tear streamed down her face.

“Is this supposed to be a prank? If it is, it’s in very poor taste!”

“It would be of a poor taste if it were a prank but it isn’t.”

Nura stood up. She had lost all patience. “Look, I don’t know how you found out about my father but this isn’t funny.”

“I’m telling the truth Nura. Trust me. I entered your -”

“And what was that about my father killing my mom?” Nura interrupted, “My mom died by slipping on a wet floor at night and hitting her head on a granite kitchen platform.”

Aditi stared at her and, with a poker face, narrated the events that actually transpired that night “You weren’t completely asleep that night. You were so used to your parents' arguing that it had become like white noise to you. You were lying on the bed, when you heard a sudden ‘thud’ come from the kitchen followed by absolute silence.

You ignored it and fell asleep, not understanding what had just happened. The next morning, neighbours had come to your house.

Your mom was nowhere to be seen. Your father told you that there had been an accident – that your mother slipped and hit her head against the kitchen platform. But deep down you knew he was lying.

You repressed the memory because your mind wouldn’t accept that your father killed her.”

Nura was speechless.

“It wasn’t a dream Nura, what you saw and heard that night was real.

But your young mind just couldn’t fathom it.”

There was a long pause. An eerie silence filled the room as the two girls continued to stare at each other.

6. His Visit

I packed supplies for my trip. My mother was crying. She thought that this would be the last time she saw me. I told my mother that during her last moments, she should think of me and I would come to her. My mother recalled the circumstances which surrounded my birth and came to realize that my leaving home to become a Sanyasa was inevitable. She gave me her blessings.

I traveled for forty days, living on fruits from the forest and alms from people I encountered. They had never seen such a young Sanyasa before. Mothers who saw me with my shaven-head and orange robe felt pity thinking about what my own mother was going through.

Finally, I reached Omkareshwar by the river Narmada, where the great Yogi Govinda Bagavatpada was meditating in a cave for years. Outside the cave sat many old monks who had been waiting for years for Yogi Govinda to emerge. They said that if I wanted to pay my respects to Yogi Govinda I could only do so from the outside of the cave without entering it. I stood in front of the cave, kneeled and began praying.

“Who are you?” a deep voice came from inside the darkness of the cave. Yogi Govinda had sensed my presence. The three worded question was hard to answer. He clearly had no interest in merely knowing the name by which I was called. He wanted to know if I understood my own existence. I extemporaneously composed and recited a chant of ten verses. The over-simplified gist of it was that

“All is encompassed in the Self”.

Yogi Govinda was impressed. He stepped out of the cave. All the monks who had waited to see him for years hustled towards the mouth of the cave and bowed before him. He told me that at an auspicious date and time, he would formally accept me as a disciple and become my Guru.

Few days later, I was initiated into the highest order of Sanyasas by Guruji and was given the title of ‘Sri’. I had finally become a pupil of the knowledgeable Guru.

“Bail denied.” declared the Judge of the Sessions Court at Mumbai.

Vishal Munshi and his lawyers stared at the judge with their jaws dropped. Munshi, the Chairman of Sparrow Group, had lived an extravagant lifestyle which led to him being given the name “The Lord of Luxury” by the Indian media. Because of his repeated features on ‘Page 3’ he was also the ideal brand ambassador for his company’s beer and wine business. However, like the poison apple in Snow White’s tale, Munshi’s life only seemed attractive on the outside and was horrendously toxic on the inside. Munshi owed over 5000 crores rupees to over eight banks. There were already civil cases filed against his companies and himself. But this time he was facing charges of money laundering and financial fraud.

In the last few days, he had been facing the worst of luck. Five days ago, he learnt that the Enforcement Directorate (ED) was going to file a plea before the Session Court for his arrest. He paid off the top officers of the ED to stall filing of the plea for a few months. Then three days ago he found out that the ED went ahead and filed the case and even obtained a non-bailable warrant mandating Munshi’s personal presence in the Court on the next date of hearing. When his people met the senior officers whom they were liaising with to ask 35

why the case had been filed despite Munshi paying them off to stay put, the officers claimed that they did not have any recollection of signing the papers sanctioning the filing of the case or of instructing their subordinates to expedite the filing of the case. Munshi had not heard anything more absurd. He vowed that he would make the life of each of those officers a living hell once he was in the clear.

The matter was posted before the Court that day. Munshi didn’t take any chances. Through his people he paid off the Judge to ensure that the prayer for arrest would not be granted. To ensure that things didn’t appear to be fixed, Munshi also engaged one of the country’s top criminal counsels Mr. Kishu Khatri. Munshi attended the Court personally that day, in compliance with the warrant that had been issued.

First, the prosecution was heard, followed by Munshi’s lawyers. To the shock of all those present in Court, the Judge directed that a warrant of arrest be issued. Munshi’s lawyers quickly drew up a bail application and tendered it in court. Munshi got a second mini-heart-attack that day when even the bail application was refused. The entire ordeal was completed in 15 minutes. The lawyer for the prosecution could not believe that he had successfully taken down a goliath like Munshi.

Munshi entered the courtroom with his lawyers but he was leaving with the police. His lawyers told him not to worry and they would be filing an appeal in the High Court the very same day. However, it was already 5 p.m. on a Friday evening and even the lawyers knew that the appeal would not be heard till Monday morning. Munshi, who had vacationed all over the world, was now about to spend a vacation of three nights- all meals included, in the locker. The press waiting 36

outside the court premises were able to get great photos of a depressed and confused Vikram Munshi who was still wondering what made the ED officers and the Sessions Court Judge betray him.

Meanwhile, the Judge had retired back to his chambers. After sitting at his desk, he closed his eyes for a few seconds. When he opened them, he had no recollection of what had happened in the last twenty minutes.

At the same time, on the bench outside his chamber, Aditi, who had been resting her head on Nura’s shoulders, woke up. The two girls glanced at each other and grinned.

***

The two girls entered their Gupta Bhavan apartment, exhausted from their trip. Their week-long Mumbai trip had drained them completely.

Aditi dropped her duffle bag on the floor and plopped on the couch.

Nura closed the door behind them and went straight to the washroom to freshen up.

It was only four months ago that the two girls were sitting in the same living room and had accidently discovered Aditi’s abilities. After that day, the two of them collectively conducted multiple experiments before and after office hours and on weekends in order to explore the extent of Aditi’s abilities. Initially, Aditi was able to enter Nura’s body only one out of every four attempts. Once inside Nura’s body she was able to perform basic movements like walking around and talking. It was very odd for Aditi to speak and hear Nura’s voice. After weeks of practicing, Aditi was able to enter the meditative state that allowed her to enter Nura’s body on every attempt. She was also able to 37

control Nura’s body for up to ten minutes, before her consciousness was pulled back into her own body.

One day, when their landlord had come to the flat, the girls showed him the utmost hospitality. The landlord was pleasantly surprised.

The over-friendliness of the girls began giving him ideas and he let his imagination run wild. While he was daydreaming, Aditi closed her eyes and tried to go into a meditative state. Next thing she knew, the landlord’s entire boring and dull life flashed before her eyes in a matter of seconds. When it was over, she found herself in the landlord’s body and saw her unconscious body sitting next to her.

From the coy smile that appeared on the landlord’s face, Nura knew that it was Aditi who was inside. Aditi walked around the room, while in the landlord’s body, and chatted with Nura. After ten minutes she felt a tug and knew that the body she was in would push her out. Before that could happen, she left the flat and closed the door behind her. Aditi woke up in her own body and the landlord was left standing outside the flat, unsure of what happened and whether he had collected the rent or not.

The two girls pondered over the science of Aditi’s powers and what was to be done with them. After a lot of discussion, the girls mutually decided that Aditi’s ‘God-given’ abilities ought to be used to make the world a better place, and they would start by bringing down criminals, corrupt government officials and unethical corporations.

Aditi quit her job and practiced every day in order to master her ability of transferring her consciousness to another person’s body, which Nura termed as ‘transferance’. After four months of practice, Aditi was able to spend up to twenty minutes in another person’s body before her consciousness would get pulled back into her own 38

body. In order to enter the body of another person, the target had to be within ten feet of Aditi. Furthermore, if Aditi went beyond a thirty feet radius from her own body, while she was in someone else’s body, her consciousness would get pulled back into her own body immediately.

Nura spent days trying to figure out the perfect first target. She finally selected Vikram Munshi. The man and his company owed debts amounting to thousands of crores and he even had multiple accusations of sexual harassment made against him.

Choosing the target was the easier part. The troublesome part was planning how to get close enough to the target so that Aditi could enter his body. Munshi wasn’t an easy man to go near. Then it struck Nura that Aditi didn’t have to enter Munshi’s body, but only those who were in a position to inflict justice upon him. After a few days of planning, they flew to Mumbai. The two girls had to make multiple visits to the building of the ED, where Nura had to take care of or hide Aditi’s body in the corridors or washrooms of the building. Finally, once they got a criminal case filed against Munshi in the Court, all they had to do was get Aditi to enter the body of the Judge and pass judgement against Munshi. They returned home the same night.

When Nura returned from the washroom she switched on the TV to check the news. They were playing a video of Vikram Munshi being escorted out of the court premises by the police on loop. Under the red banner which read ‘Breaking News’ was a scroll which read ‘Sessions Judge Order Praised by Public’. Aditi smiled at the irony while subconsciously also thinking that she ought to bring down the corrupt judge someday as well. Her list of people remaining to be taken down was getting longer instead of shorter.

“Mission successful!” Nura declared triumphantly.

“Hmmm…” came the response from Aditi, whose face was pressed against the couch.

“Go to your room and sleep. Let’s just relax and go for a movie tomorrow night. We’ve earned it.”

Just then Aditi’s phone buzzed, without opening her eyes she took the phone out of her pocket and unlocked the screen. She opened one eye to read the text message she had just got. “Oh!” she exclaimed, “Cyrus is coming to Delhi for some work next Friday. He wants to meet for dinner.”

“Oh, a date? You know, I don’t remember you ever going on a date for as long as I’ve known you.”

She smiled weakly, “It is not a date.”

“By the way, we were in Mumbai for a week, you could have just met him there.”

“I didn’t even tell my parents that I was in Mumbai, Nura. They would ask me a hundred questions. Besides, I don’t want any suspicion regarding the Vikram Munshi incident to fall on us.”

Nura smirked and sarcastically remarked “Oh, so you are worried that if people found out we were in Mumbai they will infer that you have the power to possess other people’s bodies and that you used those powers to put Vikram Munshi behind bars?”

Aditi sniggered, shrugged her shoulders and remarked, “You never know.”

***

Aditi had accepted Cyrus’ invitation to dinner. They planned to meet at a gastropub in South Delhi called ‘137, Hauz Khas’, which was less 40

than an hour’s drive away from Gurugram. That night, Aditi wore a black polka dot dress with matching black heels and took an Uber to Delhi. She reached the bar early and sat at a booth, waiting for Cyrus.

Ten minutes later, Cyrus entered. Aditi had seen a few pictures of Cyrus on social media, but he appeared completely different in person. Aditi watched in awe as the six feet tall man in a silver suit and blue tie entered the bar. He had brunette hair and a full thick beard, which resembled a lion’s mane. Aditi raised her hand as he looked around for her. Finally, their eyes met and Cyrus beamed at her. Aditi felt a tingle in her torso as Cyrus approached her. She stood up to receive a bear hug from Cyrus.

“Chikoo! It’s been so long.” he said as he released her.

“Chikoo?! Oh yea. Nobody has called me that in years.”

“Really? Not even your parents?”

“Nope.” she replied with dismay.

“Oh, that’s surprising…. So, how’s it going? What have you been up to?”

“Nothing much. In between jobs. Enjoying a forced sabbatical.”

“You aren’t working at Datasaurus anymore? How come?”

Aditi sighed “Long story and a boring one. Can we please not talk about it?”

“Yeah, yeah… You have changed so much.” Cyrus remarked as his eyes wandered all over Aditi’s body.

“So have you! The last time I saw you, you were this lanky teenager with acne all over his face. Look at you now. You obviously work out.”

“Please.” He waved his hand as if trying to shoo away an insect, “You are the one who looks fit. Do you go to the gym?”

“No, but I do some yoga and meditation.”

When the waiter arrived to take their order, Cyrus ordered the BBQ

Chicken Wings and a beer and Aditi ordered the Jalapeno Poppers and a fruit punch.

They reminisced about their school days and updated each other on their after-school lives.

“The UK was fun and I would have loved to work there. But you know how my parents are. They can’t live without me. Parsi8 parents just can’t stand being away from their kids. So I had two options –

either arrange for them to move to the UK or come back to India. The latter just seemed easier. Besides, if I had to live with them in the UK, then it would cease to be the UK.”

Aditi chuckled.

“Well, that was expected.” he said as he glanced at the TV at the opposite side of the room. She turned back to check what had taken his attention off her. Abhijeet Das, the loud news anchor of the news channel “Independent News” was on screen and talking to the viewers. Fortunately, the TV was on mute. The banner at the bottom read ‘High Court Overturns Sessions Court Order Vikram Munshi Case’. Aditi had already heard the news just a few hours ago. Weeks of work had gone to waste. Munshi had got interim bail on the Monday after his arrest and on the coming Friday he even succeeded in overturning the Sessions Judge’s order in appeal. She was 8 Zoroastrian community in the Indian subcontinent.

disappointed by it, but Nura had persuaded her to try and not think about it during her dinner with Cyrus. The moment she saw Cyrus she had forgotten about it, but now that her attention was drawn to it, she once again felt despondent.

“You know my senior was the one appearing for him. That’s why he sent me to handle this case in Delhi, because he was busy handling Munshi’s appeal.”

“Oh, that lawyer standing behind him is your senior?” she asked, as the video of Munshi and Kishu Khatri leaving the High Court was playing on TV. Aditi already knew the answer to the question. Nura and she had extensively researched Munshi’s known associates and lawyers before they had left for Mumbai.

“Yeah. And let me tell you, Khatri isn’t used to losing. He took out his frustration on my chamber-colleagues and me over the weekend. I faced the brunt of that and tonight when he’ll be throwing a party for my colleagues, I’m not there to enjoy it, just my luck.”

Aditi paused. She didn’t want to offend Cyrus who she met after several years. But she was unable to control herself and blurted,

“Doesn’t Khatri feel any guilt? Having to appear for a guy like Munshi?”

“Come on. Munshi isn’t a murderer. What harm would it do to let him out on bail?”

“What are you talking about? He’s defrauded a lot of banks for thousands of crores. That’s going to affect the economy and the general public as a whole. Why should he deserve to get out on bail?”

“The merits of a case aren’t too important when deciding a bail application. What matters is whether there is a chance that he’ll leave 43

India or interfere with the investigation by the ED or tamper with any potential evidence. And trust me, Munshi’s being in jail isn’t going to stop him from destroying documents or bribing and intimidating witnesses.”

“But he could flee, maybe go into hiding or find a way to leave India.”

“By that logic nobody should ever get bail. In any case he’s got a kid here, he’s not going to leave his kid here and fly away from the country. And a guy like him can’t hide within India. At least not while maintaining the lifestyle he is used to. Even during the last weekend which he spent in jail he had more luxuries than you and I have at our homes. He used his money and influence to get a TV, an internet connection and even a masseuse.” Cyrus leaned forward a bit, “And I use the term “masseuse” as a euphemism…”

“See, that’s what I’m talking about. This guy is making a mockery of the system. He deserves to be punished.”

“Off the record, I agree. But he needs to go to jail after a fair trial. The problem with the media trials these days is that they adjudge a person guilty and they repeat it so often that people, and sometimes even actual judges start believing it’s true. It can even happen that a person accused of a crime doesn’t know if they are innocent or guilty. About a year ago a colleague of mine was handling this pro bono case for a lady who was accused of running over a homeless family sleeping on the footpath with her car. She was driving under the influence of alcohol and then heard a bump and when she looked back, she saw them there. She got out of the car to check on them but they were dead. She called the police and turned herself in. Charges were framed against her. She wanted to plead ‘guilty’ but my friend prevailed over her and she pleaded ‘not guilty’. After some more detailed investigation they 44

realized that the tire marks on the victims’ clothes didn’t match those of her car. They checked the footage from the street camera that was a little ahead of the scene of the incident to see which cars passed the crime scene prior to her. They noticed one particular car which was going at about 165 km/hr. From the license plate number, they tracked down the owner. When they examined his car they found traces of one of the victim’s DNA on the tire. The lady who had herself confessed that she was guilty was actually innocent, well not of drunk driving, but at least of homicide.”

The story had some effect on Aditi, she began thinking that had she taken over that lady’s body and read her thoughts, it would have come to the conclusion that she was guilty. ‘Reading the mind of an accused person may not be a conclusive way of determining whether she or he was innocent’ she thought.

“Similarly…” he continued, “there are so many people who falsely confess to crimes out of police pressure or confusion. If a person can be mistaken about his own innocence because of repeated accusations, then imagine the effect a media trial has on the general public. That’s why you need hard evidence. I agree that in Munshi’s case it seems pretty clear cut that he has been siphoning off the money that he and his companies have borrowed from banks. I also know for a fact that he’s been paying off bureaucrats and police officials to evade the law.

The reason why he is able to make a mockery of the system is because the system is flawed. But it’s still the only one we have right now. If we start condemning people based on hearsay and what the media puts in our head, then all that remains is chaos. Also, it’s not just important to do justice, people should actually feel that justice is being done. They should be reminded that there is a system in place which 45

is being followed and that the Court orders aren’t like their McDonald’s orders which they can get in 5 minutes. The judges give careful consideration before taking decisions which can have prejudicial consequences. Munshi will probably get what’s coming to him but it will take time”

Cyrus’ words made Aditi think that her method of getting people convicted was perhaps not as ingenious and full-proof as she thought.

“And to quote my boy Gandalf…” he continued with a mischievous simper “Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life.

Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement.”

Aditi let out a squeak of laughter. “Did you just quote Lord of the Rings? You haven’t changed, have you? Still the same nerd you were in school. “

“Said the coder to the lawyer.” He quipped. “Want some?” he asked while pushing his plate of chicken wings towards her.

“No. Vegetarian, remember?”

“Oh yeah, forgot. At least have a drink.”

“Sorry I’m a teetotaler.”

“Come on! Just one drink. I’m only here for one night. Tomorrow I’ll be going back to Mumbai and who knows when I’ll be back.”

Aditi didn’t like to drink alcohol. But there was something about Cyrus’ voice and eyes that made her melt. After a little bit of convincing, she finally acquiesced. “Okay, a single drink!”

Cyrus hit the table with excitement and called for the waitress “Can we get some shots here?”

***

The next morning Aditi woke up with a mild headache and a bitter taste in her mouth. Without opening her eyes, she reached out for the mobile phone on the study table next to her and saw that it was already 8 a.m. She wondered why none of the three morning alarms managed to wake her up. She sat up right on the bed and noticed that she didn’t have any clothes on under the blanket. This was odd for Aditi since she never had the habit of sleeping in the nude. Unable to recollect the events of last night that transpired after her dinner with Cyrus, she picked herself up and put on her t-shirts and pajamas so that she could go ask Nura for help in filling in the blanks. She opened the bedroom door and froze. Before her were Nura and Cyrus sitting on the couch in the living room, eating cereal. Cyrus was wearing the same clothes he wore last night, but without the tie, and Nura was in her usual morning attire. They both smiled on seeing Aditi, although Nura’s smile appeared to be more mischievous.

“Good morning!” They both chimed together.

Aditi subtly pinched her thigh. No, she was not dreaming. “Good morning.” she replied.

After an awkward pause Nura stood up, “You know I’m done here, I’ll let you guys talk.” Nura told both of them “It was nice meeting you, Cyrus.” She gives Aditi a smirk as she walks back to her room.

Aditi took a moment to learn how to use her legs and then walked towards the couch and sat next to Cyrus.

“Heyy, how’s it going?” she asked, still unsure if she was dreaming.

“Good. You got a nice place here.” he replied as he swallowed a spoonful of cereal.

Once again there was an awkward pause. Aditi had to break it by any means.

“Listen. What exactly happened last night?”

“Oh, you don’t remember?”

She shook her head.

“That’s a little insulting. But then again you did get pretty sloshed.”

He said with a grin.

“I was drunk?”

“Of course. I’m not surprised, you had five tequila shots.”

“Are you serious? I don’t remember anything after the first one …Did you and I….?”

He nodded. “Yup.”

“Oh god.” She buried her face in both her palms.

“That’s even more insulting.” He quipped.

“No, no.” Aditi got defensive, as if she were on a trial. “It’s not about you, Cyrus, it’s just that… I mean I just didn’t mean to…”

“If I told you what else happened last night, you might find the fact that we slept together less surprising.”

‘What else could have happened that night?’ she thought

“You told me.” He whispered.

“Told you… what?”

“What you and Nura are doing here.”

She was stunned. How much had she actually revealed?

“What did I say?”

“About the whole possessing other people’s body thing...”

A sinking feeling overcame Aditi, the likes of which she had never experienced before.

“You told me about how you guys bring down criminals using your ability to enter into someone else’s body” he continued casually “You also told me that you were the one that made the Judge deny Munshi’s bail.” In complete contrast to his calm demeanor, there was a storm of anxiety brewing inside Aditi. She had to think fast.

“What? I said that? How silly of me.” she chuckled. “I suppose I say anything when I’m sloshed.”

“Yeah, I thought you were just making it up too... Until you gave me the demonstration.”

Just seconds ago Aditi thought she could not possibly feel worse, and she was already proven wrong.

“Demonstration?” she asked, not wanting to know the answer.

“Yeah. You remember there was this hot chick in the navy-blue dress sitting on one of the bar stools? Well anyway, after you told me about your abilities and the entire operation that you guys are running here, I told you that I didn’t believe you. So, you said you would prove it by possessing the body of that girl. I said ‘Yeah, sure. Make her throw a drink at the sleazy bartender.’ You agreed. Next thing I knew you rested your head on the table and one minute later guess what…. You did it.” Cyrus chuckled.

“You should have seen the guy's face.”

Seeing that Aditi was speechless, he continued “After that, you woke up and the girl didn’t even know what happened. Before I could recover from the shock of your demonstration, you proposed we go to your house, and… I think you can fill in the rest.”

He resumed eating his cereal blissfully while she tried to come into terms with the fact that there was no backing out.

“Listen, Cyrus….”

“Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone. But I want in.”

“In?”

“I want to be a part of what you guys are doing here. Of course, I’m not planning to move to Gurugram, at least not any time soon. But I’ll keep coming, either for other work or to meet with you.” He paused.

“You guys need me. You are a smart couple of girls but if you really want justice and if you aren’t ready to resort to inflicting capital punishment on your own…” he paused to wait for some indication of resistance from Aditi but resumed when it wasn’t forthcoming, “….

then you need my help to make sure that the Munshi incident doesn’t repeat itself.”

He waited for Aditi to process what he had just suggested.

“We thought about it… Nura and I.” she muttered softly, “We thought about dealing out punishments without having to take recourse to the courts. We were controlling the judge’s anyways so what difference did it make right? But then what would be the punishment that we could give? We couldn’t start our own private prisons and even if we wanted to, how ethical would that be? And we both are clear that we don’t want to kill any criminal no matter whatever felony he or she has committed.”

“Why? For someone like Munshi I can still get it, but what about the ones who have done more heinous crimes? You have child-rapists and serial killers …”

“They will get justice in accordance with the law. I wouldn’t have even interfered in Munshi’s case if the Judge wasn’t corrupt. If I start interfering with the justice system beyond that then where does it end? Then I’m just as bad as them. There have to be some rules that we impose upon ourselves.” She took a long breath “With time we want to bring all of them down, the murderers and rapists – everyone, but only to an extent of exposing them while using my ability to read their minds. I have entered to collect all information and gather evidence. As long as that’s done and there’s a fair trial, I’m not going to interfere.”

“Fair enough.” Cyrus raises his hands, “I could debate about it, but I see where you are coming from. Let’s do things your way and see how it goes… so, am I in?”

Aditi thought about it for a while before “Sure. I would love to have you on board. I think Nura and I would love your input.”

“By the way you just said you could read minds?” he interrupted, “I didn’t know that. So what other things about your abilities do I not know?”

Aditi sighed. There was no point in hiding anything anymore. “It’s a bit complicated. Once I reach a meditative state, I can enter the body of anybody in proximity… which through various experiments we have been able to determine is a ten feet radius. As soon as I enter the other person’s body, I am flooded with all of their memories, every 51

intricate detail... childhood incidents, net banking passwords –

everything.”

“Really? And what if the person doesn’t know English or Hindi? How do you understand their thoughts?”

“Makes no difference, I only read memories. I can only see and hear what they saw and heard… so it doesn’t make a difference if the person I’m possessing and I know a common language. I can’t read people’s intentions …Although I might be able to draw an inference based on their behavior in other situations that I find in their memories.”

“Wow. How does all that information fit in your head?”

“I do get headaches if I enter multiple bodies back-to-back in a short period. I can only possess three different people during a day; after that I can’t possess any person. Also, the memories fade eventually.

After I am back in my own body, I forget intricate details such as passwords, and after a few days I have forgotten most memories of the other person except a few highlights... Anyways, like I was saying, it takes about five seconds to take in all those memories. Once that’s done I can control the other person’s body. If I stick within ten feet of my actual body… the one, I am in now… then I can be in the other body for about twenty minutes. But if I start walking away from it, that time reduces. So, the farther I go from my original body, the less time I can be in the other body.”

“You mean it’s inversely proportional?”

“Exactly! Anyways, once my time in a body is up, I get pushed back into my own body. Although at any time before that I can choose to go back to my own body if I want. So, the minimum time I have to be in 52

another body once I enter it is five seconds and the maximum time, I can spend in it is twenty minutes. But I think with practice I can bring that number up. When I started, I could barely be in another body for more than five minutes… practice got me this far.”

Cyrus bent his head upward, as though trying to by heart and process all the rules enumerated. Then he nodded. “So, what happens to your actual body when you go to another one?”

“Goes into a kind of comatose state. It is still breathing, but it's unconscious. If someone pinched it, I wouldn’t feel it, but would feel the after-effects once I re-entered my body.”

“Okay. Then there’s only one more thing I want to know.”

“What’s that?”

“How?” he shrugged his shoulders. “How is any of this possible?

How are you doing this?”

This was a hard question for her to answer. “We don’t know. Nura and I thought about it a lot. We even did an online search about it to see if there were stories of anybody else in history who could transfer their consciousness to another person. But we couldn’t find anything of substance. Finally, we concluded there was no point in trying to understand it. We ought to just be grateful for it. That’s when we started discussing how we could use the abilities to do some good. I mean we owe it to the people, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah… with great power comes great responsibility and all that spiel! I get it. But let me stop you there. I think you should try to learn more about your abilities. Go deeper into it. If you have been given these abilities for a purpose, it’s also your duty to make sure 53

you keep sharpening them. And the only way to do that is by practicing and learning more about it.”

“But we tried doing some research… we couldn’t find anything about-

”

“You tried searching for people who had the ability to transfer their

‘consciousness’. But I don’t think that’s what’s happening here. Don’t you see what your abilities really are?”

She shook her head quietly.

“Chikoo, you aren’t transferring your ‘consciousness’. You are transferring your ‘soul’.”

She raised an eyebrow in skepticism. “We considered that…. I know that the ‘transferance’ itself doesn’t make much sense…”

“Transferance?”

“Oh yeah... that’s the name Nura gave the ability. To signify transferring of my consciousness to another…”

“You mean transferring your soul.”

“As I was saying…. I know that the transferance itself doesn’t make much sense. So it would be wrong of me to completely eliminate the possibility of transferring my soul. But assuming that it is my own soul that I’m transferring from my own body to another, how would that be able to explain how I carry my own memories with me?

Memories are stored in the mind, not soul.”

“Really? That’s the part you find hard to swallow? Few months back even your so-called ‘transferance’ seemed impossible. Now that you know about it, you are finding the fact that the soul carrying memories with it is hard to believe?”

Aditi didn’t have any retort. There was no point arguing with a lawyer. She bent her head in admission. “You are right. I’ll do some more research.”

“Good. Now that that’s settled. We still have one more thing to discuss,” He gave her a huge grin as he chomped on his cereal “about what happened between us last night.”

The butterflies in Aditi’s stomach which had subsided, had to reawaken. She thought the conversation about the transferance was the most uncomfortable conversation she would be having that day.

Clearly, she was wrong.

7. His Funeral

For three years I sat at Guruji’s feet, learning more and more about the nature of the universe. I had also learnt various meditation techniques. When I had become well-versed in Guruji’s teachings he ordered me to travel far and wide and spread the knowledge that I had gained. I gladly obeyed.

I first traveled to Varanasi and began preaching ‘The Universal Truth’. Many scholars tried to debate with me in public, in an attempt to disprove my interpretation of Vedic texts. I patiently heard them and they all conceded after listening to my logical reasoning.

One day, a young man from the southern parts of India named Sanandana arrived at Varanasi. He was looking for a Guru to take him under his wing. After “interviewing” Sanandana, I accepted him as a pupil. A few months later I formally initiated him as a Sanyasa. Five years ago I was in search of a Guru and now I have become one myself. I mused at the cyclic nature of human existence.

Robin thought he had an idea of what was going on. Ever since the incident that happened seventeen hours ago, he had been in three different bodies, first was the beggar then the golgappa vendor and now he was in the body of an accountant who was working in some electronics company. Both the times when he shifted from one body to another, he first felt sick and started shaking uncontrollably. Both times the body he was possessing, touched another body on its own 56

accord and he ended up in the latter. Each time this happened, he acquired the memories of the person he was possessing.

Although there was no logical explanation for what was going on, Robin zeroed in on the least illogical explanation, that a supreme power had allowed him to continue to live even after his death.

There was a Spanish soap opera he had watched in which a man who died found himself alive again in the body of another man. But this was not the reason why he didn’t hesitate to conclude that there were some supernatural elements at play. Robin wasn’t too religious but he was exceedingly spiritual. He didn’t attend church too often, but he prayed almost every night. He said a small prayer every night thanking the Lord for the health and happiness of his family. He never asked the Lord for anything except to keep his family safe. The irony of the situation was not lost on him. ‘Lord, indeed you work in mysterious ways. I prayed to keep my family safe and instead you took them away and gave me a second chance. But why?’

‘I have to act quickly. There is no telling how much time I have to do whatever it is that I am supposed to do’ he thought to himself. There was no telling how much time he had in order to do whatever it was that he was supposed to do. Fortunately, he was now in the body of someone who had a smartphone and some cash with himself. He used the phone to book an Uber to take him back home. A lot of the distance was covered by just walking and it was now just a twenty-minute drive. He rested his head against the car window as he watched the tall and ugly ‘Shamballa Mansion’ in the distance. One knew that they were in Mumbai if they spotted the thirty-three storied, oddly shaped residence of shrewd business tycoon, Pesi Daruwala, which was lit up the entire night.

Despite having walked for almost seventeen hours, Robin barely felt tired. When he was in the previous bodies, his legs did begin hurting after a few hours of use. But as soon as he entered a new body the pain went away. Even the exhaustion would go each time he changed bodies, because of which he didn’t even require a second of sleep the entire time.

When he reached his apartment building at Santa Cruz at 11.30 p.m.

he felt as if he was coming back home after years. The building was ten stories high and housed twenty families. But the occupants of the building weren’t very cordial with each other. Apart from his own neighbor - Mahima Deshpande and the chairman of the building’s Society, Robin didn’t know any other occupant of the building, despite living in it for over four years. Robin walked towards the gate, which had a huge sign above it bearing the building’s name – ‘Sakina Manzil’.

As he was entering the gate, Mishra – the night watchman whose twelve-hour shift hadn’t ended yet, stopped him.

“Where do you have to go?”

“Apartment No. 401”

“Who do you have to see there?”

“Robin Pinto.”

“I’m sorry to say that they are no more. They passed away on Saturday.”

“Yes, I’m aware… their family sent me to pick something from the house.”

“How will you get in? Do you have a key?”

Robin completely forgot about the key. Even if he were to pass the inept watchman, how would he enter his own house without a key?

He patted his pockets a few times, and then pretended as if he had forgotten the key. He told Mishra that he would retrieve it and return later. ‘What was the point of tipping the watchman during Diwali?’ he thought to himself as he walked away from the gate, out of Mishra’s sight.

For the first time since the incident, Robin felt drowsy. He walked towards Juhu’s Jogger’s Park which was a few minutes away from his home. The Park was locked. He made sure the coast was clear and then climbed over the gate and entered the park. As he walked deeper into it, he recalled some of the precious moments he had there.

Pramila and he came there when they were newlyweds. She would take walks there every day during her second and third trimester. He brought Astrid there in a stroller and she would admire the colourful butterflies with wonder.

The place seemed much gloomier now. Robin lied down on one of the benches and cried himself to sleep.

***

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

Robin woke up startled. In front of him was a disgruntled security guard. Robin began feeling uneasy and it wasn’t because of the unwelcome abruption in his sleep.

“Get out quickly, before I call the police.” the guard barked. Just then Robin touched the guard and as he had expected, he was inside the guard- watching the man whose body he was in earlier. He walked away from there swiftly, before the man could ask any questions.

Robin spent hours either waiting at the gate or strolling through the park. There was nothing else to do, and he might as well stay in the park, so that the security guard didn’t get fired for leaving his post. He began thinking about what was happening and he saw a pattern. He was in a body for eight to nine hours, until he was forced to switch to another body, which he was touching.

He also noticed that although the park was exactly the same way it always was, for some odd reason it felt different to Robin. Robin realized that by being in a different body, his sensory organs perceived things slightly differently than his original body. The differences were subtle. His sense of smell was weaker, but his eyesight was better. Even his skin was more sensitive to the cold air.

Robin found it amusing. He had been in five bodies till now, but never did he get the chance to truly appreciate what the experience was like.

At about 3 p.m. he remembered that there was a newspaper vendor on the sidewalk just outside the park. Robin purchased one of the papers to see if anything about his family had been reported. Surely enough, on the fourth page there was a tiny article of 2 x 3 inches which read as follows:

“Couple and three-year-old Daughter found Dead in Car”

On Saturday night a couple and their three-year-old daughter were found dead in a car off the MH SH 40 near Palghar. The three of them were in a fatal car accident and died immediately after their car skid off the road and collided with a tree. The cause for the accident is still unknown.”

He hated how they used the word ‘accident’ twice in the same article.

The word ‘accident’ conveniently implied that nobody was to blame.

But this was far from the truth. After reading the article he flipped 60

through and saw the obituary page where there was a small column about his family, which was commissioned by Pramila’s sister, Celine.

“SAD DEMISE”

With profound grief we inform you of the sad demise of Robin, Pramila and Astrid Pinto. May their souls rest in peace.

Fondly remembered by friends and family.

Memorial service on 3rd May at 3.30 p.m. at St. Anthony’s Church”

Robin decided to attend his and his family’s memorial service which was being held the very same day.

***

Robin reached the church just a few minutes before the service was ending. The chapel was a small one, capable of seating only about fifty people. Fortunately, the turn-out was a little under that. He quietly sat at the back and examined the entire affair. He wondered whether the sparse crowd was owing to the peculiar timing that the event was scheduled on a Monday.

Near the pulpit were large photos of the three deceased with garlands around them. Robin was able to spot Celine in the first row, who wore a scowl on her face, as always. She was an interior designer living in Hyderabad. Robin never got along well with Celine. He found her to be a narcissist. Whenever she would visit their house, she threw around commands like a queen. She was already in Mumbai for some work since last week and was put up with her parents. Robin had pushed for the Palghar getaway plan, just to avoid having to spend time with her over the weekend

He noticed that some of his students and people he attended college with were also present. At the end of the service, the priest invited everyone to join the family of the deceased for high tea on the lawn adjacent to the church. The people stood up and proceeded like a herd of sheep to exit the chapel, and move to the lawn.

It was a grim affair as any memorial service ought to be. But it was far grimmer for Robin who had to see people crying over his own wife, child and self. He remembered the part of ‘A Christmas Carol’ when the ghost of ‘Yet to Come’ showed Scrooge what his funeral would look like. Robin was just lucky that he missed the funeral service, and was only able to attend the memorial service. He would not have been able to see his wife and child’s corpses.

Robin proceeded outside along with everyone else. He studied the other attendees more and noticed that even Pramila’s boss, the CEO of AHB Buildcon Pvt. Ltd., Mr. Krishnan, was there. Mr. Krishnan was offering his deepest condolences to Celine and Pramila’s parents.

Behind him was a line of other attendees who were also looking to get done with the formality of speaking with the grieving family, so that they could proceed to the snacks. Robin thought it would seem odd to stay there any longer and not speak to the family of the deceased, so he stood in line too.

When his turn came up he just expressed his condolences by bowing his head lightly. He wanted to avoid eye-contact with Pramila’s parents, if at all possible. Unexpectedly, Pramila’s father placed his hands on his shoulder, and Robin felt a wave of compassion. He looked up at Pramila’s father and mother. Their faces were pale, as if they had lost a lot of blood. He always got along well with them. They had approved Pramila’s marriage to him, despite him not having any 62

living family. They came over to play with Astrid about once a week.

They readily lent money to his wife and him so that they could make the down payment on their one-bedroom apartment. Robin, who was orphaned at an early age, regarded Pramila’s parents as his own. He wanted, so desperately, to talk to them as ‘What can I say? “I’m Robin.

I’m just in another body!” No, that would be futile. In any case, I don’t want to confuse the shocked and grieving parents. There’s only so much a couple of their age could bear.’

Reluctantly, Robin walked away from them and proceeded towards the buffet table where hot beverages and some light snacks were being served. As he picked up a paper-plate, he checked out the other attendees. Some of the business persons, including Mr. Krishnan, were busy networking. The others were critiquing either the priest or snacks. This enraged Robin. But he could not say anything. He took solace in the fact that the majority of the attendees were maintaining a sober demeanor.

His eyes then fell on a young woman who was throwing her plate in the dustbin. It was his neighbour Mahima Deshpande. She was only a couple of years younger than Robin but wore an expression of perpetual depression that made her appear to be much older than she was. Her face had freckles, which on her plump face reminded one of a chipmunk.

She had moved into the building only about a year ago, but in that short time she had grown very close to the Pintos. On her first day, Robin and Pramila had helped her in carrying some of her bags from the elevator to her apartment. She had not hired movers since she did not bring any furniture with her. It was a rented apartment and she had decided to rent all her furniture from an online portal. In fact, if it 63

weren’t for her yellow Labrador named “Dante” whom she liked to cuddle with on her bed and sofa, she probably would have settled with sleeping and sitting on the floor. She was a minimalist in all respects except for the fact that she had a large collection of books. Her bookshelf covered almost entirely one side of her living room.

From the day she moved in, she and Pramila would speak almost every day. They would exchange recipes, gossip about other tenants in the building and even discuss politics. Although Celine was Astrid’s real godmother, Mahima acted more like it by taking care of Astrid when Robin and Pramila were at office. Even Astrid got along well with Mahima, which was surprising, since there were very few people she was comfortable with.

As Mahima picked up her purse and made her way towards the gate, it struck Robin that she had a spare key to his flat. He turned to look at his in-laws and all his friends who were mourning one last time. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he took it all in – all the grief, all the sorrow, all the love that the people surrounding him had displayed. Then he opened his eyes, threw away his plate and chased Mahima.

When he reached outside the gate, he saw her turning a corner. He began following her briskly. He wanted to run, but he also needed time to think. He needed to come up with a story - one that would also explain the security guard uniform he was wearing. He thought about it, and when he was finally close to her, he shouted, “Mahima?”

She turned behind and saw the lanky man rushing towards her.

“Are you Mahima?” he asked, panting.

“Yes. How can I help you?”

“I’m Ashok. I am the security guard at the National Chemical Laboratory. There were some work-related papers that had remained with Robin since his time working at the lab. The lab deputed me to pick them up. I was told that you have a spare key to their house?”

She didn’t respond.

“I was wondering whether you would let me in so that I could collect the same.”

She didn’t reply quickly. She thought for a while as Robin panted, then inquired, “Who told you that I have the keys?”

“Pramila’s sister did, just now when I was speaking to her.”

“Did she not tell you that I have already given her the only copy of the keys that I had?”

Robin froze, his lie had been caught, “Oh, really? She must be confused, since she is still grieving and all. I’ll go back and ask her for it. Thanks.”

Robin began walking back to the church. After a few seconds he noticed that Mahima was following him.

“Is something the matter?”

“No. I just remembered that even I had to talk to Pramila about something.” she responded nonchalantly.

He knew this was a lie. She would follow him till they reached Celine, and if he didn’t ask Celine for the keys or if it was discovered that he had never asked Celine for the keys before, then she would expose him as a fraud. Since his earlier lie had failed him, he had to come up with a better one before they reached the church. Despite walking slowly, he was unable to come up with anything. The two of them 65

entered the church, and Celine was in their line of sight, less than a hundred meters away. It was at that point that Robin decided that there was no lie that had a good chance of working. He could ask Celine for the keys and if she acted as if she had never spoken to him before, he could deny it and say that she just forgot about it. But even this plan had a high chance of ending with the police being called. He wasn’t afraid of being arrested, after all as per his estimate he would be switching bodies sometime soon. But he didn’t want some innocent guy to end up in jail because of him. More importantly, he didn’t want to cause any further distress to Pramila’s parents by having the police called to the church.

He contemplated just running away. But the body he was in wasn’t in great shape. The security guard was too weak and couldn’t run too fast. Mahima, despite being a bit overweight because of a glandular problem, was extremely fit since she went jogging every morning. She even ran a half-marathon every year. Robin concluded that there was only one safe option and that was to come clean. He stopped walking, turned to her and said, “You moved into our building in December, 2015. Pramila and I helped you with your bags. You had three of them- a huge pink trolley back, a green haversack and brown leather suitcase. You told us that you were from Bangalore and had just taken up a job as Talent Acquisition specialist in Quatro Hotels at Colaba, which was a ‘work from home’ job. The three of us finished an entire bottle of Sula Wine that night…”

Mahima was listening, but her skepticism was evident. He continued,

“One month back when Pramila wasn’t home, you, me and Astrid went out to burst crackers. While we were talking Astrid touched a sparkler that you were holding. Her fingers got singed. I quickly took 66

her up and applied antiseptic and a cooling agent. You apologized profusely to me. I didn’t tell Pramila about it. Later that night she noticed Astrid’s fingers were burnt and asked me about it. Even then I told her it was my fault.”

She stood there just staring at Robin, “Did Robin tell you this?”

Robin sighed. “I am Robin,” he replied. Mahima glared at him.

***

The weather had been pretty gloomy that day, the way it usually is during the monsoon season. It had turned dark and Mumbaikars were leaving their offices to get back home. The highways were jammed as they usually are between 6 to 8 p.m. Mumbai city never seems so alive as it does during rush-hour on a Monday night. At the train stations people were fighting with each other to get in, as if the train were taking them to paradise and anybody left behind would die in an apocalypse. Lines were beginning to form outside the popular clubs, and office colleagues were going out to pubs to forget about their daily drudgeries. Couples were seated throughout the entire stretch of Marine Drive, enjoying the ocean breeze and the sound of the waves hitting the tetrapods piled up along the C-shaped waterfront. Markets and malls which seemed dull during the day, livened up as families gathered to conduct their shopping.

Amidst the entire hustle-bustle of the city, in a small coffee-shop at Santa Cruz, sat Mahima and a man whose uniform had the words

“SECURITY” written on the front pocket. After the man was done narrating the story of what transpired in the last two days, there wasn’t much said. They both just looked each other in the eyes. Robin waited patiently as she processed the information. He was fortunate 67

that she was religious and was a firm believer in the supernatural. She had once told Robin and Pramila that she turned down a cheaper apartment, only because there were rumours that it was haunted.

Even Mahima’s bookshelf contained several books about the occult and the supernatural, covering subjects from alchemy and aliens to voodoo and Wicca. Robin could not have found a better person to whom he could divulge the truth.

“What’s the name of my dog?” Mahima asked suddenly.

“Dante. He’s a yellow Lab.” he answered without a moment’s hesitation.

She paused for a few seconds. She thought that the questions she asked were perhaps too easy. “What is my favourite colour?”

“Purple.”

“What dish did Pramila and I prepare together last Sunday?”

“Chocolate Walnut Fudge.”

At that point the man in front of her took sips of the coffee that the barista placed before him. And each time he took such sips, he let out a soft “Ahh…” sound. This was a sound Robin would make after every sip of a hot or cold beverage. Her body fell on the back of her seat as it dawned on her that the man before her was no fraud. After a prolonged silence she finally asked the question that he knew would eventually be coming his way, “How did this happen?”

“I have no idea. I just woke up in another person’s body, and I’ve been switching bodies every eight to ten hours since.”

Mahima took some time to register that sentence. There were too many things going through her head.

“But how do you…” before Mahima could finish her question, she noticed that Robin had put his hand on his chest and his limbs were vibrating profusely. A nearby barista noticed this and came over to Robin to ask if he was alright.

“Sir, are you –” Robin touched the arm of the barista, who stopped mid-sentence.

Mahima watched as the barista stared outside the window and the man, she was talking to behaved as if he just woke up from a long nap. The barista then looked her in the eyes and asserted, “We have to leave.”

It took Mahima a while to figure out what was happening, but any other person in her place would have probably taken longer. She stood up and walked out with the barista. The girl who was working the counter called out to the barista, “Where are you going?” but it was too late. Meanwhile the security guard who was sitting at the table wondered how he had gotten there.

8. Her and Chhota Raheem

I wrote commentaries on various Hindu texts such as the Bhrama Sutras, the Upanishads and even the Bhagavad Gita. As I travelled from place-to-place preaching about the Advaita Vedanta school of Hinduism, more and more men asked me to take them as disciples. I happily accepted those who had a genuine inclination to know the Universal Truth.

I noticed that some of the disciples were getting jealous of Sanandana. They thought that I favoured him over the rest of them merely because he was my first disciple. This was far from the truth. I decided to give them an exhibition of his devotion.

One day while we were at Kasi, I requested Sanandana to cross the Ganga using a bridge that was a small walk away from us, and hang my wet clothes at the bank on the opposite side of the river, since it was sunnier there.

Once Sanandana reached the other side and began hanging the clothes I cried out in a loud voice, “O Sanandana, come at once!”

Sanandana thought I was in distress and began running towards the source of my voice. Not wanting to waste any time in going towards the bridge, he decided to run across the river itself! The force of the water was so strong that even an ox would be washed away. My other disciples shouted, warning him about the danger ahead of him. But Sanandana was completely oblivious to all of this. In his mind there was no river, there was only one thing –

the call of his Guru.

When Sanandana stepped on the water, a miracle happened. He did not fall into the water. With each step that he took, a lotus sprung up and supported him. He crossed the entire river by stepping on these lotuses without even realizing it.

The moment Sanandana reached me I laughed and asked him how he managed to cross the river. He didn’t even turn back to look at the river and rather plainly replied, “When you have called me then there is no question of me thinking ‘how’ I should come to you, I just know that I must. You only have to invoke me and give me your instructions. Simply call my name and I shall come, no matter what obstacles I have to cross.”

The other disciples never again doubted Sanandana’s devotion.

That day, I gave Sanandana a new name - ‘Padmapāda’, which meant ‘the lotus-footed’.

Chhota Raheem’s cartel monopolized the cocaine trade in India.

Sometimes he himself couldn’t believe that he had set up such a big operation. As a teenager he had only committed a few petty thefts along with his small gang of comrades. Raheem loved and despised them at the same time. He enjoyed spending time with them, loitering around and finding new ways to pass the time. But a part of him also felt frustrated for wasting his time with those small-time losers.

Raheem knew that he was meant for greater things. He associated himself with a local marijuana supplier and began selling pre-rolled joints outside a college at Patiala, Punjab, under the guise of being a tea seller. At the tea stall he kept a dirty jar of biscuits. Nobody ever expressed any interest to buy the biscuits which were riddled with fungi, just as Raheem intended. If anybody opened the glass jar, they would find that the biscuits were only on the outer layer of the jar, and 71

at the centre were rolled joints. If any of the students ordered a joint, Raheem would place the jar behind the stove, open it, retrieve a joint and hand it over. In case anybody watched from afar, they would think that Raheem was just handing over the student a biscuit. The joint would be given and the money would be taken with utmost discretion. Eventually, Raheem grew bored even of this business.

Through his supplier Raheem was introduced to Don Ibrahim.

“Working under me is tedious. Do you have the balls to take up that much responsibility?” Ibrahim asked him.

“If you have the balls to trust me with it, I have the balls to take it up,”

he replied.

Ibrahim liked Raheem’s moxie and took him under his wing. Initially, Raheem wasn’t aware of the entirety of Ibrahim’s activities, he just knew that Ibrahim Bhai was a gangster who was feared even by the police. Ibrahim deputed Raheem to assist in the smaller activities such as forging government identification cards, stealing of cars and selling counterfeit stamp papers. Raheem learnt these businesses quickly and was even able to streamline them. Impressed with him, Ibrahim included him in the main business – production and sale of cocaine.

The sheer size of the operation astounded Raheem. Ibrahim Bhai had over a thousand men and women working under him. The amount of money coming in on a regular day was so much that three trustworthy women were deputed exclusively for counting the moolah. Raheem was introduced to concepts of money laundering and hawala9. Soon he 9 A method of transferring black money.

was driving trucks around Punjab, which were filled up with eight parts hays, so that the two parts of cocaine were well-covered.

Ibrahim Bhai was a man with a definite set of principles. The foremost rule he had set to his dealers was - no selling to children. Occasionally, he would hear news of a dealer who broke the cardinal rule. In such cases, Raheem would accompany Ibrahim’s men for the drive-by. It would be easier to kill the defaulting dealers at secluded places, but shooting them down on public streets in passing vehicles sent a message to all other dealers which wouldn’t be possible with a silent assassination. Raheem was never given the chance to pull the trigger.

Ibrahim Bhai did not want him to get his hands dirty. He did not have any child of his own and considered Raheem to be his own son, which led to Raheem being given the name ‘Chhota Raheem’. Raheem never understood why Ibrahim Bhai compromised in his standard of living.

He lived in an old, almost dilapidated, 2-storey house at the outskirts of Patiala. When Raheem inquired about it he responded, “What will I do living lavishly? I was born in a slum and now I live in a bungalow.

That’s enough progress for me. I have been to bigger and fancier houses and I don’t find them cozy. They are basically fields surrounded by walls instead of fences. I don’t see the point. I would rather just sleep in a park every night. Besides, I’m not interested in any kind of luxuries. I don’t do this work for the money. I do it for power and respect. I came from the streets and now I’m one of the top hundred richest men in the country. Even if barely, anybody knows– I know about it, that’s what matters.” Raheem didn’t get the logic. But he remained Ibrahim Bhai’s obedient right-hand man. That is, until Ibrahim Bhai one day died due to food poisoning after eating some bad fish. Ibrahim Bhai’s gang unanimously agreed that Raheem should be Ibrahim Bhai’s successor. Of course, they probably wouldn’t 73

have- had they known that the “food poisoning” was caused due to actual poison administered by Raheem himself. However, Ibrahim Bhai’s underlings, who were enamored with the charismatic Raheem, never suspected a thing. That was the first and last time Raheem took a life with his own hands. That was twenty-five years ago. Since then, all his killings were done by his goons.

Chhota Raheem was now a fifty-eight-year-old business tycoon, with more money than he could ever dream of. He was featured on Forbes’

list of India’s top thirty entrepreneurs for single handedly setting up a multi-million-dollar cement company. Forbes estimated Raheem’s own net worth to be around 350 million. However, they were completely oblivious that businessman that the world knew as

‘Raheem Dhanani’ had an alter ego which was ‘Chhota Raheem’ and that he was not only the ‘King of Cement’ but also the ‘King of Cocaine’, who had a net worth of several billions of dollars.

Following the saying ‘Don’t defecate where you eat’, Raheem ensured that the centre of operations of the cocaine business remained in a small village at Punjab, several hundreds of kilometers away from the lavish mansion at Ellenabad in Haryana where he and his wife lived.

The mansion had a garden stretching over two acres, along with an out-door and in-door swimming pool, a gym and even a bowling alley. Raheem would often spend his evenings sipping a glass of Château Le Pin at the balcony attached to the den on the third floor of the house which looked out onto his lush green farm-lands that stretched as far as the eye could see. One particular day his evening session at the balcony was disturbed by a knock on the hall door.

“Come in.” Raheem shouted as he stepped into the den, which was a large room that had a colonial theme. There was minimal furniture - a 74

teapoy and a sofa in the middle of the room atop a crimson rug with a Jaipuri design on it, a study table at the side and a huge bookcase. The study table on it had an old-fashioned banker’s table lamp with a green shade. There was no computer or modern appliance of any type in the room. Even the wall-lights were gas powered. All the furniture was oak-carved, which contrasted well with the cream-coloured walls.

His head of security, Shyamlal, entered along with three other security guards carrying an unconscious girl with them.

“What is the meaning of this?” Raheem demanded.

“Sir, we found this girl lying unconscious in the garden. Please tell us what we should do?”

“Why are you bothering me with this petty nonsense?! And why the hell did you bring her here, Shyamlal? Have you lost it?”

“Sir, should we call an ambulance?”

“Ambulance? For this trespasser? Why? Call the police instead, they’ll take care of her. What else am I paying them for?” As Raheem yelled at his security guards, he lifted the girl’s face to get a better look at her.

She was pretty and the burgundy highlights on her black hair gave her a very distinct appearance.

“Bring her in and put her on the couch.” He finally ordered.

The guards complied and placed the girl on a red couch at the centre of the hall.

“Now leave. I will deal with her.” He told the guards. Raheem’s wife was not at home that evening. He thought that he might as well have some fun with the intruder.

All the guards left except Shyamlal, who just stood next to the couch.

He felt as though he had just woken up from a trance. Unbeknownst to both the men, the girl on the couch smiled for just a second and without opening her eyes she took one long breath after which her smile faded away.

Aditi, now in Raheem’s body, chastised him “Shyamlal! What has gotten into you today? I said leave, now!”

Shyamlal gave back an expression of fear and confusion and scuttled out of the room.

“And wait outside the door and make sure nobody disturbs me!”

‘I love it when a plan comes together.’ Aditi thought to herself. She had successfully taken over Shyamlal’s body and used it to bring her own body to Raheem. Then she quickly re-entered her own body for only a few seconds, after which she used transferance to take over Raheem.

She had a limited window of fifteen minutes and had to act fast. There was no computer in the room, so she had no option but to use Raheem’s own phone. She picked up the phone lying on the teapoy and unlocked it. She now had access to all of Raheem’s knowledge.

Aditi only had time for one email, but it was going to be an extremely detailed email. She started the mail by adding the email ids of the senior police inspectors of Punjab and Haryana and about a dozen journalists, which she had memorised by heart over the last two days.

Then, in the body of the email she started listing details of all of Raheem’s cocaine production plants, cash deposits and his primary dealers. Raheem also had two offshore accounts, the details of which were written in a little green diary that he kept in his safe deposit box at the bank. Naturally, there was no time for Aditi to recover the diary so she simply mentioned its location. Just when she was about to 76

finish the email, she began feeling light. Her time was almost up. She quickly hit ‘Send’ and put the mobile back on her table.

“Shyamlal!” she shouted.

Shyamlal opened the door. “Yes, sir ji?”

“Take this girl and drop her body outside the gate.”

Shyamlal had no idea what was going on. He gawked at the girl lying unconscious on the couch. He had no idea of carrying this girl into the hall, yet the rest of the security staff had just confirmed that he had.

He thought he was suffering from some kind of short-term memory loss.

“Shyamlal?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll drop her outside right away.” He picked up the girl in his arms and carried her outside, closing the door behind him. As Aditi’s body was being carried further away, Raheem’s body began vibrating uncontrollably. Once Aditi’s soul exited his body, the tremors stopped and Raheem found himself standing in the middle of the hall. But there was no girl on the couch. He began thinking that he had just dreamt about his security guards bringing a girl to him. But to make sure, he decided to call Shyamlal. Before he could lift his phone off the table, he got a call from an unknown number.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Sir, what kind of email have you just sent!?” It was the voice of the Senior Inspector of Haryana police.

9. His Unfinished Business

One morning as I proceeded towards the banks of the Ganga to take my bath, I saw a Chandala (a person of low caste) approaching me from the opposite direction. He had four dogs with him and was walking as though he were intoxicated. Seeing no way to avoid him, I moved off the path so as to let him pass.

The Chandala noticed this and taunted me “O great Sanyasa!

You preach non-dualism. You say that the soul and the universe are one and the same. But you try to avoid contact with me because I am impure? Is my body not made of the same elements as yours? Then why do you avoid contact with me? Why do you fear being in proximity of my body?”

I was speechless. I closed my eyes and bowed my head in shame.

When I lifted my head and opened them again, the Chandala and his dogs were no longer around. I realized that it was Lord Vishnu who had taken the form of a Chandala in order to show me the error of my ways. After the incident I never again discriminated based on superficial aspects such as caste or creed.

The entire affair humbled me greatly. Despite all the knowledge I had acquired, I still had a lot more to learn.

‘She can do better than him.’ Mishra, the night-watchman of Sakina Manzil, thought to himself as he watched Mahima and the barista she was with, entering the building. To members of Indian society, there was only one reason a young woman would bring a man to her apartment post 9 p.m.

Mahima opened the door of her apartment and was greeted by Dante who rushed towards her. Dante’s barking stopped once he saw the man behind her who was wearing a red apron which carried the words ‘The Coffee Junction’ on them. Robin stood still. He knew that Dante was weary of strangers and prepared himself for some loud barking. To his utter surprise, Dante walked towards him and started sniffing his boots. Robin walked in slowly thinking that it was the smell of coffee emitting from him that had pacified Dante.

Mahima set her purse on the sofa. As Robin waited for permission to sit, he examined the room, which was exactly the same as he had last seen it, but still felt different. The plaster was peeling off the sky-blue walls. The room had a worn-out beige sofa at its centre and behind it was a dining table surrounded by four chairs. There was no TV in the room. Mahima never felt the need to watch TV. Instead, her sofa faced her massive bookshelf, next to which was an old-timey grandfather clock.

“Have a seat.” she said. He duly complied and sat on the couch with her, and her purse was between them.

“So, what exactly is happening?”

“I told you, I don’t know. I just woke up in another body, and have been switching ever since. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that whenever I possess a person, I see their entire life’s memories.”

Her eyes widened again. Robin had never before seen Mahima making the expressions she had made that night.

“Really? What are the memories of this waiter?”

“Nothing too interesting. Out of all of the bodies I’ve been in, he might be the least interesting. He's a bit of a pervert though. Tries to check 79

out the cashier girl at the Coffee Junction and even stalks her on social media. But apart from that he's just an average joe. He does his job, lives with his parents, watches movies with friends, and pleasures himself about ten times a week…”

Robin gaped as Mahima blushed.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I mentioned that. There really is nothing interesting about this guy.” After a pause he continued, “By the way, he likes to be called a ‘barista’, not a waiter.”

“Noted…” Mahima then turned her head towards her bookshelf as if remembering something, “You know, entering another body isn't unheard of.”

“It isn’t?!”

“No. Spirits entering the body of a living person are common. Usually, some type of ceremony has to be performed.” Mahima stood up, walked towards the bookshelves and pulled out a small black book and started going through the pages. She came to the sofa and showed Robin a page which had the heading ‘Chapter 6: Séances’. “A séance is the most common way to summon a spirit of a dead person and allow the spirit to possess a body. But your case is unique. Tell me, did you see any pentagrams nearby when you died?”

Robin didn’t know how to respond to that question. “What do you think?” he asked her.

Mahima shrugged her shoulders, “Hey, it may sound ridiculous, but what’s happening to you is ridiculous.”

‘She’s got me there.’ he thought to himself. “But I have never read or heard of anything that’s similar to your case. Having to change bodies 80

every few hours. Being able to see the memories of the people you are possessing, that is quite unique.” She continued flipping through the pages aimlessly, “Firstly, are you even sure that you died?”

“What do you mean? I told you I remember heading towards a tree.”

“Yes, but are you sure you died?”

He took time to comprehend the question.

“You were about to hit a tree and then you found yourself in somebody else’s body. It doesn’t mean you died. It’s possible that moments before your death, your soul acted instinctively and left your body.”

Robin raised his eyebrows, “My soul?”

“Yes, your soul.” She said slowly, “You see there are instances of souls being summoned from the other world. But that involves a ritual like a séance. But then you may ask how ghosts come into existence.”

Robin had no intention of asking such a question. He was just waiting for Mahima to finish her train of thought, which seemed to be leaping from one place to another. “Ghosts are an anomaly that exist due to a person having unfinished business which causes an emotional burden that makes it too heavy for the soul to travel to the after-life. Although ghosts usually are just drifting about, they do possess humans. That’s why this book even has a chapter on exorcisms.” She showed him the relevant chapter which contained an illustration of a woman lying on a bed with her limbs curled in an unusual fashion and surrounded by a priest and two other men holding her down. “It’s possible that in that moment before your death, you felt that you subconsciously, or rather “spirit-consciously”, had unfinished business and decided to stay back.”

“Wait, but aren’t ghosts supposed to be dead people? Why are you assuming that I never died at all and that my soul just left my body?”

“Because barely any time had passed.” she said matter-of-factly,

“Ghosts never show up and possess another body within seconds of dying. They usually show up days, months or years later. So while it’s possible that you did die, I find it less likely. I think your soul left your body and entered another before you could die.”

“I hear what you are saying Mahima. There’s no refuting what I’ve seen with my own eyes…. Or rather what I’ve seen with the eyes of the people whose body I have possessed… but my understanding of a soul has always been different. How does my ‘soul’ have the ability to carry memories with it? Memories are stored in the mind. Then why do I remember everything from my life right from childhood to the moment of my death?”

“What you are saying defies almost every recorded instance in history of a soul possessing a body or ghost remaining on earth. There was an incident in the USA of a young boy who used to sleep in his late grandfather’s room. One day, the boy claimed to be the grandfather and asserted facts which only the grandfather could have known. In such a case, it’s clear that the grandfather possessed the boy. How is that possible if the boy did not possess the grandfather’s memories? In fact, how could one tell if a body has been possessed by the soul of a deceased person, unless some memories of the deceased person are not narrated by the possessed person?” At this point Mahima took a deep breath, “In fact, even in Hindu texts, there is an example of an Indian sage, who through meditation is able to transfer his soul from his own body and enter the body of a dead King. The example doesn’t really help you too much since it’s the complete opposite of your case.

There, through conscious efforts, the sage was able to transfer his soul into the body of a dead person, whereas in your case, a dying or dead person’s soul was unconsciously transferred into the body of an alive one. But in the case of that sage, even after entering the King’s body the sage had all his original memories. So, a soul is capable of carrying memories with it. I have enough material in my personal library to prove that to you, if you are interested.”

Robin was listening intently throughout. “But I don’t have any unfinished business. Not that I can think of...”

“Maybe you have unfinished business, but aren’t consciously aware of it, or maybe you aren’t even aware of it at a subconscious level and your soul leaving your body was not because you consciously wanted to finish some job but was….” Mahima hesitated to say these next words because she knew the reaction that it would illicit from Robin,

“…divine intervention.”

“So, you agree that God wanted me to remain behind?”

“Well, not necessarily God… Maybe a grim reaper,” Even Mahima felt where she was reaching. She had little faith in the direction she was going, “… or maybe some psychopomp…”

“Psycho – what?”

“Psychopomps. They are beings that carry souls to the other world.

Different religions have different ideas about what they are really.

Hindus believe they are deities like Tarakeshwara or Yamraj.

Christians believe they are angels of death and Zoroastrians believe the deceased is guided to the after-life by a part of himself, which takes the form of a beautiful maiden. Psychopomps can take many 83

forms ranging from human-like beings to animals like dogs, mice or crows.”

“Did you say crows?” Robin asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing.” Robin didn’t think it was necessary to mention the crow that was cawing while perched atop one of the trees at the place where his car crashed. If he mentioned it to her then she would use that to come up with some other far-fetched theory. He had now lost interest in the seemingly senseless conversation, and was only listening to Mahima out of politeness.

Nonetheless, Mahima continued, “Crows, and birds in the crow family such as ravens, are known for being conduits between the world of the living and the after-life. Hence, there is Edgar Allen Poe’s poem on the raven who had come from the underworld to torment the narrator. Even Hindus leave rice outside their house after a person in the house has passed away, as a sign of gratitude to the crow for carrying the soul of the deceased to the other side. Kind of like how the Greek put coins on the eyes of the dead as payment to the ferryman so that he would take their soul across the river Styx.”

Robin yawned, which incited Mahima to check the grandfather clock and realize it was past midnight.

“Why don’t you get some sleep tonight? I wish I still had the keys to your house so that I could let you in. But you’ll have to make do on the couch. I hope that’s okay.”

“No worries. After everything that’s happened, even the floor is fine.”

Mahima went into her bedroom and returned with a pillow and a blanket, which she handed over to him.” Well, goodnight. We’ll continue this discussion in the morning.”

“Good night.” He wished her as he took off his apron.

As Mahima walked back towards the bedroom, she stopped, turned back, “Oh, and Robin.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

He nodded soberly. She retired to her room. He lied on the couch and stared at the patch on the ceiling that reflected the beam of light coming from the open window.

***

There was nothing but complete darkness. Then a huge ‘thud’ was heard and the darkness was replaced with bright headlights. There was the sound of wheels screeching and a woman screaming.

Then there was the voice of a different woman. But this one wasn’t screaming, instead she was beckoning someone to wake up. For one second Robin felt he was being sucked out of existence. When he opened his eyes, he saw Mahima. He remembered where he was. He was sitting up on the couch, breathing heavily, as if he had been running away from something. He was sweating through his shirt. It was at this moment, a very infinitesimal moment, that Robin felt relieved. For that small moment his heart had tricked him and he actually believed that he was dreaming. But before he could say anything, reality dawned on him. As he slowly recollected the memories of the last two days, he checked his hands and body. They 85

were not his. No, what Robin saw in his sleep was no dream, it was a memory.

“Are you okay?” Mahima asked. He took a moment to gather his senses and then nodded. She continued “I’ll make you some coffee.

Just relax. Or if you want, you can go back to sleep.”

“No, Coffee sounds good.”

She went into the kitchen and proceeded to boil the milk.

As Robin sat upright on the couch, something struck him. “It wasn’t an accident.” He shouted.

“What?” came back the response. Mahima rushed towards the doorway of the kitchen.

“It wasn’t an accident. There was one SUV following us for a long time. When we were at a point of the road when no other vehicles were nearby, it dashed into our car. Then after it hit our car, it continued to go on its way.”

“You mean that-”

“Someone was trying to kill us.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t get a clear look at the faces of the people in the car.”

“Okay. But why would someone try to kill you?”

“I have no idea...” No sooner did Robin say the words, did it strike him that there was one thing he knew that was worth killing over.

“Wait, Fotura!”

“What was that?”

“Fotura, it’s a drug that my team at NCL was working on. Maybe someone didn’t want me to leak information about it.”

“What does it do?”

Robin hesitated. Although he felt as if his old life was behind him, he just could not bring himself to tell Mahima what Fotura did. “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered.

Mahima was slightly offended but didn’t dwell on it. “Was it really something killing over?”

He looked her in the eyes “It was worth starting a war over.”

As those words sunk in, Mahima tried to get back on topic, “So you have no idea who was in the SUV?”

“No.”

“Seems like we found your unfinished business.” She shrugged her shoulders.

10. Her Night Out

I travelled to Prayaga in order to debate with the Sanyasa Kumarila Bhatta who had been expounding ‘Mimamsa’ school of Hinduism that focused on performance of rituals.

Unfortunately, when I reached Kumarila, he was in the process of committing suicide by stepping in a fire kindled in a husk of paddy. You see, in order to negate the Buddhist schools of philosophy Kumarila needed to first study it extensively.

Therefore, he became the pupil of a Buddhist monk, under a false identity. During one of the sermons, the Buddhist monk began ridiculing the Hindu Vedas. This infuriated Kumarila who argued with the monk. In the heat of the debate Kumarila made some strong remarks against the Buddhist way of life. He was expelled from the institution and spent the rest of his days spreading knowledge of the Vedas. But he always regretted the fact that he betrayed the man who had taken him as a pupil.

Respect for one’s Guru is a core value in Hinduism. For this reason, Kumarila decided to slowly burn himself to death as atonement for the sins he had committed against his Buddhist Guru.

Watching Kumarila burn in the fire was disturbing, but I had no intention of talking him out of it. I understood why he had taken the decision and respected him all the more for it. In order to take Kumarila’s mind off the pain he was experiencing I began making my submissions. After listening to me speaking at length, Kumarila acknowledged that there were merits in my arguments 88

but stated that he was unable to go into an extensive debate with me.

From inside the flames Kumarila, whose body was burning severely said ‘O Sanyasa! I am unable to acquiesce to your request and engage in a debate with you. However, you can go and seek my brother-in-law and greatest disciple - Mandana Misra. You will find him at Mahiṣmati. When you come across a home at whose gates there are a number of caged parrots narrating passages from the Vedas and posing philosophical questions about the universe, then you will know that you have reached Maṇḍana's home.’

I thanked Kumarila and out of respect I stayed there till he met his end.

After a lot of convincing, Nura finally managed to convince Aditi to go to the nightclub. Aditi didn’t really have any option; she had promised Nura that they would go once they completed fifteen missions. There was no more putting it off. Aditi tried to look at the bright side which was that she could finally wear the glittery black and blue dress that Nura had forced her to purchase online.

“The Crimson Dog” was a new club in Hauz Khas, New Delhi. When they reached the location there was a short line outside the entrance.

But it mostly consisted of stags and couples. Nura frequented the place often, and was friendly with the bouncer who stood at the entrance. The two girls managed to cut in front of the line and were let in. Aditi could hear people in the line protesting as they were entering, but she did not dare look back. She wasn’t particularly fond of violating social protocols, but was too tired to protest against Nura’s act.

The night club was just like any other – loud, dark and crowded. The DJ was playing Bollywood songs. Aditi didn’t mind the Bollywood songs, but she did have a problem with the effect they had on the patrons. Other songs didn’t have the ability to energize South Delhi carousers the way Bollywood ones did. They made the crowd louder and rowdier than usual.

“Thursday nights are Bollywood nights” Nura yelled to Aditi, as they tried to pass through the crowd and move towards the bar.

“Ah!” Aditi shouted back, but she didn’t think Nura heard it. “Crowd seems a bit rowdy.”

“Don’t worry, I always carry a Taser and a pair of scissors in my clutch.” She said as she lifted her clutch up.

“Tasers? And scissors?”

“Yeah, Dharamguru suggests that all women carry a taser and a sharp object… I would carry a knife, but it becomes harder to get past security in such places with a knife in your purse.”

“What does your favourite Dharamguru say about frequenting nightclubs?”

“He’s chilled about it. Dharamguru preaches that there are many different kinds of meditations. Sitting quietly in a room, planting trees, having sex, these can all be types of meditation as a long as you are living in the moment. You should read more about him. People who have misconceptions about him don’t really know him well enough.

He’s very enlightened.”

“Can Dharamguru use meditation to enter another person’s body?”

Aditi asked sarcastically to which Nura smirked.

Despite the deafening music the girls heard a shrill voice distinctly call out “Aditi!” from a distance.

The two girls turned and saw a girl with a bright orange spaghetti top walking their way, with a half-filled glass of vodka in her hand.

“Dhwani!” Aditi exclaimed as Dhwani hugged her without even a second’s pause. From the smell and her gait Aditi could tell that she was already very drunk.

“What are you doing in a place like this?” Dhwani asked.

“Nura forced me to come... This is Nura by the way.”

They both greeted each other with a ‘hi’ and a slight nod. Nura could not contain her excitement. She had only heard stories of Dhwani but now she finally would get to see her in live and in action.

“That’s a nice top.” Nura told her, “Are you here with somebody?”

“Nope. Came all alone.”

This did not surprise either Nura or Aditi. They both nodded while trying to suppress their amusement.

“You girls just got here? Come on, let’s get a drink for both of you.”

Saying this she took Aditi by the hand and pulled her towards the bar.

Aditi mused at her misery. She was feeling uncomfortable at the nightclub already, and now there was Dhwani to add to the discomfort. Whenever it seemed to Aditi that things couldn’t possibly get worse, they always did.

“What will you guys have?” Dhwani asked, “You want to do shots?”

“No!” Aditi screamed. The other two girls threw her an expression of bewilderment. After the incident with Cyrus, she wanted to stay away from tequila. “I’ll just have a screwdriver.”

As soon as they reached the bar, they heard a loud scream behind them. They turned to see what was happening. From afar all they could make out was that a gap had formed in the middle of the dance-floor. The DJ who was on a pedestal on the opposite side of the room, saw what was happening and turned off the music. He shouted something to the club staff and then announced into the mic, “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, don’t worry we shall be resuming with the party shortly.”

When the crowd moved further away forming a bigger circle, the girls were able to make out that there was a man lying face-down on the floor.

“Probably some guy who couldn’t hold his liquor.” Dhwani chuckled as she went back to placing the drink order.

Aditi didn’t look away. She could tell that the man had not simply passed out. By the time two bouncers reached the spot, blood began flowing out from underneath the man. The drunk crowd surrounding him gasped. A man in a suit, who appeared to be the manager of the club, also arrived at the scene. One of the bouncers touched the man’s neck with one hand, placed his fingers under the man’s nose with the other, then he turned to his colleague and shook his head.

In the next five minutes the place transformed from a nightclub to a detention centre. Many of the patrons who were jovial just minutes ago were now either in shock or in tears. A boy took his distraught girlfriend by the arm and made his way to the exit but they didn’t let 92

him leave. The manager had instructed the guards to not let anybody get in or out until the police had arrived. In order to pacify the crowd, they allowed the bartenders to continue serving drinks. But the number of people who were interested in alcohol had reduced exponentially. However, the tragic death in the middle of the dance floor didn’t kill Dhwani’s buzz. She placed the order for all three of them and the girls slowly sipped their respective drinks till the police arrived.

The police started taking photos and then turned over the body to examine it. Aditi was able to get a better look at the dead body. There were pieces of glass pierced into the man’s torso. The man was young and based on his shirt and jeans, seemed to be from a pretty lower-middle class family.