The Loop Of Destiny

We are not human beings with spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings with human experience -Anonymous This work is dedicated to all the spiritual beings with enough human experiences to believe in destiny -Ashwin Saravanan
Coincidence is the noteworthy alignment of two or more events or circumstances without obvious causal connection. The word is derived from the Latin co- ("in", "with", "together") and incidere ("to fall on").

When you live your life with an appreciation of coincidences and their meanings, you connect with the underlying field of infinite possibilities -Deepak Chopra

The Symbol of the Ouroboros

Ouroboros is an ancient alchemy symbol depicting a serpent or dragon swallowing its own tail, constantly creating itself and forming a circle. Its most general meaning is cyclicality; the same set of events occurring over and over. It is an ancient symbol used in many cultures: from Egypt, Aztecs, Native-American, Indians and Japanese myths. It represents the cyclical nature of things, eternal return, and other things perceived as cycles that begin anew as soon as they end. It also represents cannibalism as the snake eats itself. The reason I used this symbol here is that it signifies the plot. We are all born for a reason. We are destined to do something. What if we die without reaching our destiny? What if our life ends before we arrive at the ultimate destination? The solution is simple: we start our life anew. We are born again and we walk through the same path called life once again. We will keep walking until we reach our destiny. This, my friend, is called the loop of destiny.
Everything is determined, the beginning as well as the end, by forces over which we have no control. It is determined for the insect, as well as for the star. Human beings, vegetables, or cosmic dust, we all dance to a mysterious tune, intoned in the distance by an invisible piper ~ Albert Einstein

Manikarnika Ghat, kaasi

Manikarnika Ghat has a great significance not only in Hindu mythology and way of life but nd also in the philosophies of life and death. Manikarnika is basically a cremation Ghat. It is interesting to know that cremation Ghats are usually tion placed outside the main town, as they are considered inauspicious. conside Nevertheless this doesn't stand true in the case of Varanasi where Manikarnika is situated quite in the middle of town itself. This is precisely because the entire city of Varanasi is ntire considered a "Maha-Shmashan" "Maha or the Great Cremation Ground.

An Agori

The Aghoris are members of a Hindu sect who worship Shiva, Shiva whom they see as the supreme god. Because they believe that Shiva created everything they consider nothing to be bad. For this reason they drink alcohol, d. take drugs, and eat meat. Nothing is considered taboo. But the thing that makes their ancient traditions bizarre is that they are also practicing cannibals and their temples are cremation grounds. The Aghoris distinguish themselves from other Hindu sects and priests by their alcoholic and In the Tamil film Naan Kadavul by B Bala, cannibalistic rituals. The corpses, which may be either Arya essays the role of an Agori. pulled from a river [including Ganges] or obtained from cremation grounds, are consumed both raw and nds, The rituals mentioned in this cooked on open flame, as the Aghoris believe that story are factual. what others consider a "dead man" is, in fact, nothing but a natural matter devoid of the life force it once contained.

Prologue
I looked at my check-list for one last time.

Tickets and money Mobile charger and I-pod Food ( and BEER ) handy cam packing of cloths ( ask mom ) book
As usual, I ran out of books. I cannot travel for ten hours straight in a train without music and books. MOM, do you have any books to read?, I yelled, standing near the gate. The cab which I had booked for reaching the station on time was parked across the house. The taxi driver gave me a tired gaze which clearly meant he had no patience left. In General, I was always late by ten minutes. Wait a minute, is it fifteen? Well, you cannot keep track of certain things in life. Besides, I dont have a girlfriend to remind me precise things like that. My mom came out, with yet another packet of food. She never stops feeding me. Yes. I found this in your dads old cup-board she gave me a dusty volume. The loop of destiny, I read out the title. What kind of book is this? Fiction? I tried to wipe the dust off and it resulted in a loud sneeze. Damn. My mom started a fuss. Come in, have a glass of water and then leave. Sneezing is a bad omen. I stared at her. Some things never change with moms and dads.

Grow up, mom, I patted her shoulders and turned to leave. Then two things happened which aggravated me and my superstitious mom even more. One, a pretty girl passed by. Its not every day you get to see an attractive chick near your house. Wow, what a gorgeous face. Two, a jet-black cat ran across me and climbed over a wall. Then it turned back and gave me a meaningful stare with its glowing eyes. To hell with the cat, I thought and craned my neck for a better view of those classy features. I hardly heard my moms agitation regarding the black cat. According to her, black cats are not supposed to cross when you are going out. The taxi-horn blared non-stop. I groaned. The driver was certainly annoyed. Bye, ma I cried and left before she could come up with one of her anti-omen remedies again. Her concerned voice followed me. Take care. Call me after you reach the station. Be safe. Why cant they just sign-off with a bye? I think you have girl-friends for that kind of trouble-free stuff. The taxi started moving. I waved to my mom and turned to the book in my hand. The loop of destiny, I re-read the title. Even though 20% of my almost-empty brain was occupied by that gorgeous face I saw, I still felt a strange urge to start reading the book right away. It was entirely different from the excitement I get when I start one of my preferred authors books. It was as though I waited twenty-three years (my age!) to read this book. I opened it and started reading the first chapter:

Agora: at the Left Hand of God . Its quite strange for a.

s the May breeze ruffled my hair, I leaned back in the seat and flipped through the pages of

As

the May breeze ruffled my hair, I leaned back in the seat and

flipped through the pages of Agora: at the Left Hand of God. Its quite strange for a twenty-eight year old guy like me to skip great books such as marriage manual and stick to this spiritual volume. Well, lets just say that I have an eccentric taste and state of mind. The odd one out. I side-glanced at my only companion in this would-be solitary night train journey. An elderly companion, I thought, observing his neatly parted gray hair. Looking at his face, for some strange reason, I felt like I Have already met him before. Dj-vu, as they term it. I felt inclined to talk with him. But unfortunately, he seemed quite twitchy from the moment he entered my compartment. I mean, frequent intake of water, massaging of chest and sweating profusely certainly came under the category of restlessness. Agitation, to be precise. Who would send this sick old-man alone on a trip to kaasi? I wondered. Oh yes, Im on my way to the holy kaasi, the most desired destination of Hindus on the verge of life. Are you alright? I tried to voice my concern. He turned slowly towards me and whispered: Im fine. Im not used to night travels. His eyes lingered on me a little longer. His face looked as though it was trying hard to remember something. With that note, he turned his back on me. Even though I shrugged and resumed reading, I couldnt help thinking about him. Why do old people decline other peoples help even when they badly need it? Maybe, they dont want to accept the fact that they have aged. No wonder, they are compared to kids. I went through some lines on the heavy book propped open on my lap:

The Agoris distinguish themselves from other Hindu sects and priests by their consumption of alcohol and narcotic drugs. They are also known for their cannibalistic rituals. The corpses, which may be either pulled from a river [including Ganges] or obtained from cremation grounds, are consumed both raw and cooked on open flame, as the Agoris believe that what others consider a "dead man" is, in fact, nothing but a natural matter devoid of the life force it once contained. In fact, the Agoris see it as a scientific approach in trying to discover how matter converts from one form to another

This is Bullshit. How can they justify their inhuman deeds? Rebellious thoughts crossed my mind. It usually does. They can be an insane African tribe, but why do they call themselves as sacred cult worshipping lord Shiva? Why does the authority permit those people to carry out such stomachchurning acts? More questions popped in my mind, complicating things. Religion was certainly not my cup of tea. I stared at the trees rushing past and let the wind relax me. Im totally into breeze. They do make me feel light as a feather. Closing my eyes, I inclined back. I heard the old man climbing onto his berth for sleeping. Rest well, old man, I hoped. I also hoped mom had taken her pills on time and slept. I imagined her sleeping alone. Instantly, grief gripped me slightly. How did she survive for more than thirty years without an husband to lean on?, I wondered. Women are far mentally stronger than men. I wished I had a faithful father: At least he could encourage me whenever I felt insecure. Why did you leave my mom, dad? Where are you now? Luckily, I dont remember his face. He left the house when I was five years old. I realized that I was thinking about him after a long time. Maybe, the old man, who was resting on the birth above, had set me off. Twenty minutes elapsed into silence. Unlike my thoughts, the Kaasi Vishwanath express was swift and smooth. I have always liked travelling in trains. At 10:00 pm sharp, a man walked into my compartment, the one who changed my destiny forever.

2
was surprised as the train had not stopped anywhere for the past

thirty minutes. How on earth did he get in? Maybe he was in the restroom, I answered myself. I gave a casual glance at his face for the first time. Quite suddenly, my body shuddered a bit and I felt something rattle inside me when I saw his sharp gray eyes which slightly glowed in the semi-darkness. The man had dark, dense hair which fell neatly to his shoulders along with a strong moustache and a one month beard. Towering above me with a powerfully built physique and dressed in full black, he did not carry any kind of luggage except for a book in his hand. I tried to read the title. It had strange symbols. Must be some Sanskrit book, I thought. I sipped water and made an effort to ignore the piercing stare given by the man seated in front of me. The hairs at my nape stood up and I started feeling cold. You seem to be restless, he announced in a deep voice which tallied with his appearance. Of course I am, I thought. I have still not figured out why I felt funny when I first saw him. No. Im fine. Its a bit cold here. Odd, isnt it? I mean, its only May I gabbled and rubbed my palms. It didnt help. I could feel the chillness too, he muttered and looked out of the window. He certainly had a dreamy expression about his face, which didnt help either. At that instant, I heard a hoot. It sounded like a strange bird, but it was oddly familiar too. Thats an Owl, he said. I peeped out of the window. Apart from the distant lights and trees, there were no Owls. Its here somewhere, he pointed out. In our compartment I smiled. Owls dont travel in trains, I humored him.

Look for it, he almost ordered me. I was annoyed. Is he nuts? I thought. How could a bird be possibly inside a train? Anyway, I bent down and searched underneath my seat for virtual birds. Can you guess what I found there? A fully grown owl, which stared back at me through its large yellow eyes: It was a grey owl having a flat face along with hawk-like beak. I have never seen an owl that close before. More than fear, I felt surprised. I looked at the man before me. He was quite casual about it. Is that your bird?, I asked my indifferent companion. He shook his head. May I know your name? I wanted to know. Call me Kala-devan he muttered. Come again? I was certain that I had misheard him. He repeated his queer name once again. Err.. Can I call you Dev? He shrugged. Apparently, many people had tried their best and failed to get his name right. Dev, do you have any ideas to get rid of this bird? I asked him. How the hell did it get here in the first place? It will pass Dev replied in a matter-of-fact tone. Dont disturb it. I still felt uneasy sitting over a grown-owl. Sensing my anxiety, dev muttered: This is just a sign. Be prepared

Sign?

What do you mean? I demanded.

He paused to take a deep breath and whispered something to himself. It sounded like a mantra. Have you heard about omens? he interrogated me. Yes, I have read a lot about them, I thought. But I wanted this man to enlighten me. No. Can you tell me about it? I asked in an innocent tone. He started speaking monotonously: Before every natural calamity, we see signs: visible clues given by nature to mankind. There are various kinds of it. Humans are too preoccupied with futile thoughts to notice and decipher it. As you know, Death is also a natural process. So nature gives out signs called dark omens, when a mortal being begins to tread his/her final steps Is he making sense?, I thought. Not really. He carried on with his discourse. There are quite a number of things which can be considered as dark omens: arrival of owls, a black cat crossing you from right to left, a mirror breaking on its own, a dogs howl, number 13, the stench of burning corpse and much more I sat there, dimly aware of the fact that my hair is getting messed up due to the breeze. This is unbelievable, I thought, he sounds like a Professor reciting scientific facts, except that hes giving me complete crap. How can he believe in these things blindly? No disrespect Dev, but your beliefs are absurd. I mean, you relate simple happenings with death. Theres no logic. Yes, Im into logic. It answers almost every question. Your eyes are clouded, he reasoned, You need to observe things with conviction. Without belief, no one can sustain their life on earth. Sooner or later, you will realize the distinct pattern connecting all the events. Destiny

Destiny? I thought destiny was the ultimate agency regarded as predetermining the course of events in ones life. I did not believe in destiny either. Anyhow, I decided to argue back: I need to admit one thing about myself though, I retorted. Some of my mates have said that Im quite good at observing things and Ive been with people before their death. But I have never noticed a single thing you told me Were you in a condition to notice those things?, he stumped me. Fair point, I considered. Nobody searches for an owl or black cat when they are fighting for their lives. I did not reply back. He asked another tricky question. What did you observe in me? I was waiting for this question. I mused for a while and responded: You have not blinked your eyes from the moment you entered the compartment. You have a tattoo of sun near your neck. And I noticed a little bit of skin on your torso. Its deep red, Looks as though it was burned. I dont believe in fancy stuffs, but my instinct tells me that you are not normal It was the first time he smiled. The Devils grin. You are pretty observant, he said, It is high time you start listening to your inner voice He got up and reached for something under his belt. I was startled. What is he doing? Should I get out of here? He produced a loop of rope and swung it using his left hand. You have not changed a bit, he whispered. Let your instincts guide you All of a sudden, I felt dizzy and extremely drowsy. My body felt heavy and I was rendered immobile. In spite of my eyelids dropping, I tried to stay awake and know the true identity of the man standing before me. The last thing I noticed before closing my eyes was an apparition: a chalkwhite phantom (Am I going mad?) drifting out of the compartment along with Dev.

forced my eyes open. My head felt too heavy to look around. Where am

i? I wondered, rubbing my eyes. After my vision accustomed to the surroundings, I realized that I was sitting in a compartment. I had finally reached kaasi. I shivered a little. Inspire of the morning suns warm-up, it was still quite cold. Staring at the vacant seat in front of me, the late night memories washed over me: eyes of the owl, omens, the devils grin and the ghost floating out of the compartment. Immediately I crouched down and checked for the owl underneath my seat. It was empty. Im searching for owls in a train in broad daylight! What has happened to me? Was it a nightmare? I felt as though I was trapped between fantasy and reality. My socalled logical mind played tricks with me. How can a dream be so vivid and memorable? First things first, I decided to chew over the current controversies after getting down from train. Having slept in an awkward posture, my body was cramped appositely. I got up and stretched. It was then I noticed the old man sleeping in his birth.
Im fine. Im not used to night travels

Well, you have reached your destination, old man, I thought and touched his arm to wake him up. After touching his hand, I felt my first sign of fear. It was extremely cold. Sir?, I called out and prodded his arm. No reaction. Hello Sir?, I almost shouted and shook his shoulders slightly. Silence. Fear stirred inside me. I checked his other parts. They were frigid too. Instantly, I bent down to check his heart-beat. There was absolutely no sign of rhythmic pounding. I examined his pulse. Negative. I shook him. He remained limp as a sock. Goddamn it! I found it hard to convince myself that my train companion has passed away. My heart started making an impact against the

ribs. Why are surprises in real life unnerving instead of exciting? I took a deep breath and made up my mind. Fifteen minutes later, I was joined, rather reluctantly, by the Travelling Ticket Examiner or TTE. He almost jumped when he heard what had happened. Deaths rarely occurred in train. He paused at the entrance and stared at the corpse. It certainly was not his day. Have you called the police? he enquired me with an authoritative tone. At the same time, he was wiping sweat beads off his forehead with a hanky. He was not good at concealing fright. Yes, I replied promptly, They will be here within twenty minutes. Besides, an autopsy will be performed to determine the cause of death. All I can tell you about autopsy is that it is a standard medical procedure carried out by examination and dissection of a dead body to determine cause of death or the changes produced by disease. It would take around two pages for me to explain the operation in detail and you are bound to throw up. However, considering the symptoms last night, I could sort-of detect the cause of death. He probably had a heart attack. Are you related to this old man? he interrupted my mentalautopsy, looking at me with a slight suspicion. No, was all I could reply. I reflected on the strange connection between me and the dead man.
Looking at his face, for some strange reason, I felt like I have already met him before. Dj-vu, as they call it.

The TTE frowned. You have no rights to call for an autopsy without consulting the relatives first. You are not a cop It was time to unveil some truths. I took out my ID and flashed it across his face. Im Pratap Nair. I work for the Central Bureau of Narcotics. Legally, I have every right to call for a post-mortem if the death has occurred under suspicious circumstances A moment of silence followed my words. Then TTEs firm mouth fell open slightly. This man was not good at concealing surprises either, I tell you.

5 Pratap
Nair. Senior agent in CBN. Tell me Pratap, what a young cop like you doing in a holy city like Varanasi?, Inspector Rathore enquired me, with a colleague-ish smile on his face. We were sitting in Heritage hospital, one of the quality infirmaries in Varanasi, waiting for the autopsy report. I almost had tried every number from the old mans mobile to reach his family. Finally, I had the misfortune of informing his son about the death. I totally hated this part of job. Actually, I hated my job altogether. I could mutter a few concrete reasons. But I feel this is not the right time. I hesitated a while. The operation was quite confidential. Yet, I felt it was safe to confide in a cop. Illegal usage of narcotic drugs such as morphine has increased in this part of Varanasi, I said in a low voice. As you know, Im talking about Agoris. They consume more drug than the entire state put together and the worst part is the government officials have done nothing to stop this. They are intimidated by those barbarians who call themselves as god Thats the meaning of aham brahmasmi. I am god. So we decided to do something about it, I added. Actually, I decided to do something about it was the actual truth. I had spent several months convincing the hot-headed senior officials for this operation. I have come here to photograph those Agoris in the act of consuming drugs. Besides, I should get a sample of that drug as proof, I kind-of summarized my mission-plan. Inspector Rathore gave an understanding nod. Generally, cops dont dig too deep into each others work. Secrecy is one thing which is respected here. I looked at my fast-track wrist watch. 9:30 am. My stomach began to give its first sign of rumbling. Generally, I never skip breakfast. But there are certain things a cop could only wish for, like eating on time. The autopsy report came by 10:05. The report extended for five pages, referring

to things such as the details of the decedent, pathological diagnosis, gross description, microscopic description etc. Finally, I found what I was looking for: the summary which made some sense. __________________________________________________________

Summary:
This 64 year old man died from Myocardial infarction (MI) due to occlusion of a coronary artery.

Cause of death:
Heart-attack

Manner of death:
Natural-death __________________________________________________________ I expected this. To hell with my dramatic imaginations, I thought and turned to Rathore. Would you be kind enough to hand over the cadaver to the family? They will arrive here shortly, I made a request, I have to return back tomorrow morning. Im paying visit to Kaasi Vishwanath temple tonight. Thats where the Agoris can be caught in the act Be careful with those people Pratap. They are believed to perform black-magic. People who opposed them have disappeared in the past. We still have many unsolved cases piled up I simply smiled and bade him adieu. I have had warnings of this sort before. I came out of the hospital and looked for taxis. My next destination was Hotel Pradeep, a quite luxurious place to rest, which was hardly 3 kilometers away from the Kaasi temple. I hailed a cab. Hotel Pradeep, I muttered, as I got in front with the driver. The driver simply nodded and started waiting for something. Are you waiting for someone?, I enquired. My stomachrumblings had intensified. I was losing patience.

A cat is sitting, sir, he pointed to something at the front of taxi. What? I craned my neck to see whats holding back the cab and my breakfast. At the centre of the road, sat a jet-black cat staring at me (Is it my imagination?) through its protuberant eyes. After a seconds hesitation, the cat stood up and crossed us with a backward glance at me (It must be my imagination!). Do cats in Varanasi behave strange?, I asked the driver. He was busy battling through the traffic. He replied after two minutes: Black cats are different, sir. We never disturb them. They bring bad-luck to people Varanasi was far religious than I thought. From travelers to taxidrivers, superstition thrived.

Altogether

, the trip turned out to be much surprising than I imagined. I checked into Hotel Pradeep by 11:30. The receptionist, obviously pretty, welcomed me with one of her practiced fake-smiles and a welcome-drink of lemonade. She beckoned the room-clerk to show me the way. The clerk, who was a young boy, voluntarily grabbed my travelling bag. Maybe, thats how it works in five-star hotels. I looked around. The place certainly deserved five stars. After a brief period in lift, the boy showed me a room on third floor. I looked at the room number. It was 13. With a pang of dread, I recalled Devs words:
There are quite a number of things which can be considered as omens. Number thirteen.

This is your room, sir, the room-clerk said, unlocking the door. This holy city is driving me crazy, I thought, as i entered the room.

Thirty minutes later, I was lying back, well-fed, on one of those luxurious beds they show in Sleep-well mattress ads. With four chicken-sandwiches and an orange-squash, I deserved rest. Luxury is certainly irresistible, I thought. Then by default, I mentally fast-forwarded everything that happened so-far. In my job, I find that very useful as random things made some sense after listing. It has helped me in several pain-in-the-neck sorts of cases. But today, my brain was lazier than me. Only one question kept popping in my mind: was Dev real or a figment of my fantasy? Was it just one of those bad dreams I get during stress? Nokia 5610 interrupted my thoughts. I looked at my beeping phone: Mom. Many more happy returns of the day, Pratap, May god bless you, I heard my Moms tired voice. Birthday?...I was not much surprised. To me, it was another normal day with my nose on the grind-stone.

Its a strange phenomenon. As a child, we looked forward to every birthday, awaiting parties and surprise-gifts. I hardly slept on the eve. But as we grow up, we lose that spark or enthusiasm of a kid. We lose the reason for our being. Like a rower-less boat in the stream of life, we simply exist, with a dull job which ensured good money as well as discontent and frustration and whats more, we start smoking. Drinks follow the rear. We are too hesitant to chase our dreams or too regretful to take risks. We blame everyone at sight. We give an apt name to our inability: fate. Where was I? Oh yes, the phone call! I get all philosophical once in a while. Thank you, Mom. I have checked into the hotel. You should look at the way its furnished, its amazing. Ill be back for the evening tea tomorrow There was a slight pause on the line. Hello? Are you still going ahead with the operation?, she asked in a grave tone. Here she goes again, I thought. The usual dont-take-risks-and-be-safe sermon. In our country, we can never have moms who approve risky-jobs and dads who approve girl-friends. But, the latter drives our young generation crazy. Mom, for your kind notice, I have turned 29, I wanted to say. Ma, Ill be fine, I tried to convince her for nth time. The Agoris wont eat me alive I dont want to lose you too, Pratap. I heard her voice broke. I realized what she meant. My heart skipped a beat. Mom, I whispered. Please dont talk about that. You know how uncomfortable it makes me feel. My hand started shivering slightly. I took a glass of water from the table and sipped it. Sorry, Pratap, she apologized. I was just depressed. I talked for five more minutes and hung up. The mattress no longer felt comfortable. Like most of the individuals, I was always haunted by my past. I badly needed a smoke. I took out my hazardous yet heart-warming companion. Smoking is injurious to health, I read from the packet of Wills in my hand. Maybe, I need fresh injuries

to wipe off the scars of the past. Five minutes later, I was lost, amidst a cloud of smoke, in the memories of my past.

7
The memories of my past

Fifteenth year of my life

You

will be an Army man, I told myself, standing before the mirror.

Talking in front of the mirror was a part of the self-hypnosis assignment. According to this exercise, we have to keep telling ourselves, facing a mirror, about what we want from life. Our wish, desire and passion. We are more likely to reach our goal by practicing self-hypnosis every day. I was always awed by those armed military forces. I used to buy toy-guns and military caps. However, my dreams went beyond toys and artifacts. I believed I was born for that. You will be an Army man, I repeated firmly for fifth time. Why are talking to a mirror? Are you mad?, my younger brother Bhairav Nair came into the room, bringing with him a fresh fragrance of Incense sticks and sandalwood-paste. Yes, he is an insane theist, which is nothing but the antonym of atheist, who is none other than me. I dont have any solid reasons for my hatred towards god. Its just that I believe in substantial things. Bhairav was wearing a Mala, a garland made of Rudraksha beads. In two weeks, he is going to Sabarimala, a pilgrimage centre located in Western Ghats. He had stopped eating meat and fish. His hair resembled a dense bush. No hair-cuts either. This must be the height of insanity, I thought. Besides, Bhairavs life-time dream is to visit Kaasi and become a priest there. Pretty ambitious indeed. In spite of his all-time low-grades, mom had a soft-corner on him because of his love for religion and god. Why were you talking to the mirror?, he repeated his question. I did not reply him back. Go back to the same old temple bro, I wished.

Twenty third year of my life

It

was the happiest day of my life or so I thought. My right hand held the

reason for my happiness. It was my appointment letter from IMA. I had qualified in the SSB interview. The first phase is training in Chandigarh. I broke into a huge grin thinking of moms reaction when she hears the news. Life is certainly beautiful at times, I thought. I smiled at everyone on my street and reached home. On entering, I shouted: Ma, your son will be a Major soon. My mom came out of the kitchen. She was straining to smile. Her eyes were deep red. She had certainly wept. Ma, what happened?, I asked. Why are you upset? Its nothing Pratap.congratulations. I knew you would get through, she said in a week tone. She avoided looking at my face. Something was definitely wrong. Ma, please tell me what happened Its Bhairav, she said and started crying. He argued with me and took the entire money meant for grocery. I seethed with anger and inability. Things had entirely changed in my life. One, I had joined Anna university in Chennai. I had to stay at the hostel and sadly, I could not come home often as I was not able to afford train fares to Kerala. My entire focus was on education since I wished for a degree before applying for the army. Engineering graduates can directly join the IMA or Indian Military Academy after qualifying a SSB (Service Selection Board) interview. I can skip Combined Defense Services Examination (CDSE) conducted by UPSC. Thats the reason why I opted for engineering. Two, Bhairav had failed in his twelfth board examination and so the harsh realities of life hit him. His friends started avoiding him. He was openly mocked by the society. Out of humiliation, he started drinking. Of course, I tried every possible method to convince him or at least, console him. He turned more violent and posed several suicidal threats. He became an atheist and quite sooner, began to involve in drugs. Involvement turned to addiction.

As I was in hostel, I could only talk with my mom and hear her quite sobs. It was not easy for me to concentrate in engineering. Guilt deprived me of sleep. For the first time in my life, I wished I had a father. Somehow, I managed to graduate with decent grades. When I returned back to Kerala four years later, things were different. Dark circles had enveloped my Moms eyes and her hair had grayed. My eyes filled when I realized her battle to bring me up. I hardly saw Bhairav at home. He looked ultra-starved. With hollow cheeks, light-less eyes, matted hair and ragged cloths, I could not convince myself that he was the one who went on a pilgrimage seven years earlier. He was surprisingly wild. I was helpless. It was then I made a grave mistake in my life. I ignored my brothers condition and started preparing for SSB interview. I was trying my best to keep mom happy. She had no energy left in her. I spent my days in gym and books. Fortunately, I got through the interview. Now guilt ripped me apart. I hugged my mother. I could not find any words to comfort her. I could not bring myself to assure her that everything will be fine. I cried with her.

Twenty sixth year of my life

had been promoted from lieutenant to Captain in IMA, Dehradun. I loved

working for the Indian army. It was not a balmy job either. It demanded passion, persistence and most importantly courage. I did not merely exist, I lived my life. Couple of times, mom tried to talk about me getting married but I turned her down. I did not want to marry a girl out of obligation. I thought it should happen on its own. Besides, I wont be an ideal husband who takes out his wife for dinner once in a week. In my home, financial crisis had ended as my salary improved the condition. It was then I reaped for my indifference towards Bhairav. Death doesnt spare a drug-addict even if he is my brother. Bhairav left us exactly the day I got promoted. For the first time in life, I faced depression. I was torn between grief and guilt. I missed my god-fearing brother, his conviction in religion, his arguments and

quarrels. I started reading How to stop worrying and start living? and googled remedies for Insomnia. Fifteen days after the funeral, I was sitting in my room with mom. Painful silence persisted. At last my mom whispered: Pratap. You should make me a promise Tell me, mom, I said, faintly happy that she was talking. Find a job here and be with me I groaned. She continued: I dont have anyone in my life. Your father left me first, now your brother. I dont want to lose you too Pratap. I dont want you to toil in Army., tears brimmed in her eyes. Ma, come with me to Dehradun and stay near the academy, I suggested, avoiding her moist eyes. It wont be a problem, son. But I dont want you to work on a risky job like military. Shankar ammavan said that he knows someone in Narcotics. Its an honorable job and safe. I want you to join there and help them find those crooks that sold drugs and killed my son I groaned harder. My uncle Shankar worked in CBN or central bureau of narcotics. He may find me a decent job there easily, as I work in IMA. But, I didnt want to give up my present job. I loved it too much to let go. But, guilt popped into my conscience. I dont want to leave my mom as I left Bhairav. I need time to think Ma, I said and left the room. All the inner voices in me screamed and urged to decline my moms wish. How could I deviate from my destiny and take up a dull job? Bhairavs face kept creeping into my mind. I spent two sleepless nights. On the third day, I came to her. I had made my mind. Ok ma, lets move to Delhi. I will join the CBN She hugged me tight. Im doing this, against all my will, only for you ma, I thought. I did not realize that I had made a wrong turn in my life.

My

memories faded away, as I stepped on the cigarette butt. I returned back to present-day. The room appeared hazy under the influence of smoke. Coughing twice, I opened the window to get fresh air. Instantly, I gasped. Looking at me was a pair of eyes: the same pair which stared back at me beneath my seat in train. I cant tell if its the same one, but for certain, Im looking at an owl, perched on the branch of a decorative coconut tree grown by the hotel. The dark omen gave a mild hoot. Shoo, I tried to scare it away. It didnt budge. Perhaps, Im the one who is scared. I came back to the bed and collapsed, lost in thoughts. Either, Im too shocked to take in simple coincidences or something bad is really going to happen.

10:30 pm. I tried tying my shoe-laces for the third time as my hands shook out of agitation. I sipped water and sat on the mattress. This is another normal operation, I kept telling myself. Go to the Ghat, snap a couple of photos of Agoris, try getting a sample of the drug. As simple as that. Yet, I felt different. I checked the working condition of my camera. It worked alright. Opening the window, I looked at the owl, which was surprisingly still seated on the branch. I took a snap with the night-mode turned on. Yet, the bird showed no signs of movement. I took a warm shower and dressed up in black shirt and killer jeans. Standing before the mirror, I started combing my hair. Besides, I pulled back the forehead hair to see my advancement in balding. Not bad, I thought. As I turned away from the mirror, I heard a vitreous crack. I wheeled around. At the centre of mirror, a cleft had appeared. The crack kept developing as i stood there perplexed. Then the mirror blew to pieces

and I ducked to avoid the fragments. The last thing I noticed is my reflection shattering to numerous bits. What the hell happened? I asked myself. A mirror just broke on its own before your eyes, my mind answered me back. By default, I heard Devs words:
There are quite a number of things which can be considered as omens. A mirror breaking on its own.

I avoided treading on the glass pieces and started packing my bag. Ten minutes later, I came out of the room with the bag. Theres no point in staying here further. As I checked out of the hotel, the receptionist flashed her usual pepsodent-smile again. This is exactly the reason why wise men fall in love, I made a mental wise-crack, in spite of the sinister events happening in my life.

Kaasi

temple, Elms road, I repeated. Vokayvokay. I knowsh temble, the Taxi-driver slurred while trying to flaunt his language skills. I smelt alcohol in air. He looked pretty drunk, but I had to stick with him as I couldnt find any other cab at this time of night. We were ten minutes away from the destination. The cabphilosopher continued preaching: Why temple...No God there. Only me and you. No God help you. Enjoy Life with drinks. Well, that makes two of us my friend, I thought. I gave him a blank smile and turned away. The last thing I wanted tonight was an atheistic debate on God with a drunkard. He kept mumbling to himself, steering the taxi unsteadily towards one end of the road. Careful, I warned. Im full careful. Im steady, he replied back and the cab increased its speed. I did not mind as the roads were deserted. I turned to the printout in my hand, which I had googled about the day before.
The history of Vishwanath Temple that is also called Golden Temple at times is full of ups and downs. The temple and city has always been on the receiving end of the invaders be it Afghans, Turks, Rohila or Marathas. The temple has been built and razed to the ground several times in the history. It was first destroyed by Bakhtiyar Khilji in the 13th century and was later rebuild. Emperor Akbar donated several acres of villages to the trust that was later cut down substantially by Aurangzeb. Aurangzeb was a fundamentalist who hated every possible religion and sects in India including Sufi and Shiite order among the Muslims. Maharaja Ranjit Singh of Lahore donated the 800-kilogram Gold-plating of the towers that gives the temple its colloquial name. Vishwanath Temple in Varanasi is dedicated to Lord Shiva, the destroyer of worlds and the presiding deity of the city. It is said and believed that Varanasi is the spot at which the first 'Jyotirlinga' broke through the earth's crust and flared towards the heaven. Lord Shiva did this in order to take the final call in the war of supremacy among the Hindu Gods. Next to the temple is the Well of Knowledge where, as legend goes, the original Shiva lingam lies hidden.

Religion has certainly influenced Indian history, I thought. Even now, politics chiefly revolves around the rift between Hindus and Muslims. I looked out and noticed that we were nearing a four-road junction. Roughly, 100 meters away, a highway-truck was approaching us. Its headlights blinded me and it had already started honking its loud horn. As I turned to instruct the driver to be alert, my heart almost stopped beating for a second. My insides churned and pumped adrenaline along with fear in blood. He was leaning on the steering wheel with his mouth agape. He was sleeping to death dragging me along with him. It was too late to regret my choice over taxis, as the cab lurched across the road. HEY!, I yelled. Yet I was unable to drown the sound of horn given by the truck, which was drawing close. I shook his shoulders hard and shouted: HEYYYY. His eyes finally flickered open. As he looked ahead, his boozed mind registered the fact that his taxi was going to be trampled in a few seconds. He started yelling with me. Damn. BRAKE, I screamed. For a second, everything froze. I mean everything. I felt something rattle inside me, like a soul forcing its way out of the body. Then I remembered that I had felt the same when I took a first look at Dev.
Quite suddenly, my body shuddered a bit and I felt something rattle inside me when I saw his sharp gray eyes which slightly glowed in the semi-darkness

Suddenly everything made sense. Every damn thing. The phantom I saw that day was none other than the ghost of old-man himself. Perhaps, Dev is a demon who takes back the departed souls. Thats the reason why he came inside the compartment in the firsts place. Thats the reason why the owl appeared. It was certainly a dark omen. Everything made sense. I closed my eyes. I no longer cared. Take me away, death. Skip this misery. Then the car braked with a resounding screech, lasting for five seconds, which I felt like an eternity. It tilted sharply to one side and then silence enveloped us. I slowly opened my eyes. The taxi was parked so close to the truck that I could almost feel the heat from the engine. I took three deep breaths. That was a

close shave. Pretty close indeed. I turned to the man, who landed me into this mess. The blasphemer gave me a lazy smile and did something which infuriated me: he folded his hands, looked up and muttered, God is great. He save us both

10
felt drained. I was dimly aware of the things that happened a while

ago. Did I just escape from death by a hairs-breadth? I could not convince myself though. I was not able to recollect the things that happened back in the four-road junction. Where have I landed myself in? If this is how a man feels after getting away from a fatal accident, Im normal. I was walking down the Manikarnika Ghat, looking out for Agoris. The term Ghat refers to a series of steps leading down to a body of water, in this case, Ganga. Manikarnika, one of the oldest and most sacred Ghats, is the main cremation Ghat of Varanasi. According to the Hindu mythology, being burned here provides an instant gateway to liberation from all the sins and the cycle of births and rebirths. In other words: After dipping myself here Ill be welcomed with open arms in heaven, even if I had blown someones brain out in the past. Some traditions are insanely absurd, I tell you. At this time of night, I could see several fires consuming the corpses here and there, illuminating the entire place and I have to admit that it looked surprisingly classical. It transported me to a different world. Amidst the sounds of logs burning on the crackling fire, I could hear the chanting of some priests. Even though I noticed several bodies being consumed by the fire, I could not feel the stench of the burning flesh. Immediately, I remembered an interesting fact which was shared by a friend of mine: Banyan tree logs are used at Kaasi during funerals as it neutralized the stink. Quite interesting, I considered. The public cremation of bodies, served as a great fascination for foreign visitors to the city. As I drew closer to the Ganges bank, my eyes met an Agori for the first time. He looked more menacing in reality. Its pretty hard to describe an Agori. I think one needs to look at him in person to get what

Im talking about. He was sitting cross legged and meditating. A small boy was sitting with him. He looked no more than eight. He was gaping, wideeyed, at the rituals carried out. I felt like taking him back with me to mom. He reminded me of Bhairav. Perhaps, mom will be happy to raise a kid again. What am I thinking about? I shook my head and looked ahead: There was a cadaver burning in front of the Agori. I felt a slight tinge of fear creeping into me. The Agoris entire body including his face was covered with the ash, the residue obtained after burning the bodies. He was naked except for a small dirty cloth which veiled only his private parts. He had a feet-long beard along with tenacious matted hair. He was wearing a mala that included strange beads which resembled human skull and also Rudraksha. As i stood there looking at the ash enveloped ascetic, taking in his posture, the Agori opened his eyes. I slightly gasped. His strange attire and mannerisms were nothing when compared to the piercing eyes. My god, they shone like diamonds. It had a deep hazel-like shade. I couldnt bear to look at them for more than ten seconds. He got up and went near the fire and looked at the dead body. He seemed quite unperturbed by my presence. Instantly, he bent down and pulled out the cadavers right arm from the flames. Then he began chopping off the arm of the soot-covered body with a strange knife. The little boy covered his tiny mouth with both the hands. Fear radiated from his eyes. I slightly felt like throwing up and almost retched. After three minutes of effort, the forearm departed from its owner and rested on the Agoris hand. I felt dizzy. I have had strange experiences in army, but this cannibalism was beyond my endurance. He looked at the piece of flesh for a second and then started tearing a chunk of it with his teeth. A man was eating another mans arm. He began feeding it with relish and a strange look of satisfaction enveloped his face. As I edged closer, I felt a strange desire to look at the face of the burning corpse. Dont see it, my inner voice warned me. Over whelmed by a sudden impulse, I craned my neck for a view. My eyes found the face amidst the flames.

The ground tilted under my feet. I felt as if I was knocked-out cold. I could not breathe. I wanted to scream, but I was too shocked to open my mouth. My heart was trying to pump out through my throat. This cant be happening. This is not real. Its just a bad dream. You will soon wake up in the cozy bed at hotel Pratap. But sometimes in life, mind fails to convince you. I broke down. It was not because of the fact that I had got away from death or that I had witnessed a gruesome ritual. It was because I was looking at my own face in the middle of those shining flames. Yes, Pratap Nair was lying dead with a missing arm, on the cremation Ghat of Varanasi.

11

Are

you dead? I could hardly hear my mind screaming to me. My hands started shaking uncontrollably. I badly needed a smoke. I rummaged through my pockets for cigarettes. There were none. I continued to stare helplessly at my burning corpse. I was certain that it was me. Are you out of your bloody mind? I asked myself. What the hell is happening to me? Is this real? We meet again said an oddly familiar voice. I wheeled around. Walking towards me were two men I least expected to see in this mess: Dev and the old man, who was supposed to be dead yesterday. I began doubting my sanity. I rubbed my eyes and stared again. Who are you? I wanted to ask. But nothing came out of my mouth. I was certain that I could never speak again in my life. You are dead, he announced. A truck collided with the taxi you came in. Lucky you departed from your shell quite soon. There was not much pain. The old man was smiling at me. He was no longer grumpy. But.I finally managed to speak, There was no accident. The truck braked at the right time I strained to remember what had happened. I was sure that the taxi was not hit by any vehicle. Yes. It did. But unfortunately another truck hit you from right, when your taxi had stopped abruptly

Then the car braked with a resounding screech, lasting for five seconds, which I felt like an eternity. It tilted sharply to one side and then silence enveloped us. I slowly opened my eyes. The taxi was parked so close to the truck that I could almost feel the heat from the engine. I took three deep breaths. That was a close shave. Pretty close indeed. I turned to the man, who landed me into this mess. The blasphemer gave me a lazy smile and did something which infuriated me: he folded his hands, looked up and muttered, God is great. He save us both

BANG! Another truck smashed the taxi from the right. It hurtled aside unable to withstand the heavy impact. Unfortunately, the truck driver could not brake as quickly as the taxi. Holy crap, cursed the driver. Fragments of windshield of the taxi dispersed in thin air. Five seconds later, the cab was lying at the road, upside-down. The two trucks departed from the spot as though nothing had happened. Nobody gave a damn to those two people lying dead inside. Five minutes, an Agori appeared out of no-where. Purposefully, he approached the cab and pulled out the man who was wearing black shirt and killer jeans. It was dinner-time.

This Agori carried your corpse here. Looks like he fancies your hand more he pointed to my hand, which was slowly consumed by the so called sadhu. I lost my patience. If Pratap Nair is dead, then who the hell is me?, I shouted. Tears of frustration brimmed in my eyes. Did I come all the way to die in the hands of a barbarian? You are the soul of Pratap. A Ghost, as you people call it, he added with a slight amusement. Who are you?, I finally managed to ask the question which drove me nuts for two days. How do you know all this stuff? Dev looked into my eyes and started speaking with pride on his voice: I have seven names: Dharma-raja, Mrtyu, Antaka, Vaivasvata, Kala-devan, Sarva-pranahara. The seventh one is very common: Yaman. Im the god of death. I take back the souls of the deceased to where it originated from I have heard about Yaman. Still, I was not convinced. I pointed to the old man and asked: Is he a ghost too? I was quite sure of that.

He is more than a ghost smiled Yaman. I turned to the old man. I was surprised to see the tears whelming in his eyes. He looked at me with a kind of longing. He is the one who left your family when you were a kid, Pratap. He is your father, Yaman said.

12

My

dad hugged me tight. My own father embraced me for the first time in my life. It felt extremely good. Tears rolled down my eyes. Theres certainly something special in crying on a fathers shoulder. I did not mind dying to get it. I owe you a confession, son. I left your mother for a voluptuous but rotten-to-the-core sort of woman. We had two sons. Quite soon, life began slapping me for my mistakes. She left me. I lived to raise my sons. Thats the only thing which kept me going. Last month, after the wedding of my second son, I gave up everything and started my journey to Kaasi. I wanted to be a sadhu, to be in this temple forever. On the train, I met you. I think it was destined that we meet. Of course, I felt a strange desire to talk with you during the night. But as I felt ill, I preferred rest. Obviously, guilty conscience paved way for my heart-attack. Its an irony that I talked with my son for the first time only during the last hours of my life, he finished. He looked much calmer now. Confessions do make you feel better. Looking at his face, I realized that he had my eyes and nose. Thats the magic of genes. I dont want you to accept my apology. I dont deserve that. I just wanted you to know all these things, he added in a firm tone. Nothing will stop me from loving you daddy, I said. Maybe as I was dead, I could not feel any resentment. I felt peace. Perhaps, thats reason why people say may your soul rest in peace. I looked around. Everything made some sense: Agoris, cremation Ghat, Ganges and corpses. All ends in a handful of ashes. I turned to Dev, sorry, Yaman. It was time for some arguments. I dont get your system of life, I said. What happened to all the dreams I had? What about my passion in army? Do you call this life? Was I destined to die in a road accident? This is an unfair system. My dad placed his hand on my shoulder and tried to comfort me.

What do you think is the reason for your death?, he posed me a stupid question. A drunkard, I replied back. Absolutely No Pratap he retorted. You were destined to be an army man, fighting for the nation. But you deviated from the path of destiny when you decided to join the narcotics. You gave in to emotions. You were deceived by guilt and frustration just like your brother. You stopped listening to your heart Breeze swept my hair. I remembered the sleepless nights I had.
All the inner voices in me screamed and urged to decline my moms wish. How could I deviate from my destiny and take up a dull job? Bhairavs face kept creeping into my mind. I spent two sleepless nights.

Yaman continued. You died in an accident. Do you know what that means? It means that you are going to start your life anew. You will be born again and you will walk the same path called life once again till you reach your destiny. Quite simply, you are caught up in the loop of destiny I thought for a while to find some loop-holes. One can never convince me that there are things which need to be accepted without any arguments. What about my brother Bhairav? Dying because of drugs is not exactly what you call destiny. Is it? I argued back. Well, he is born again and now he is on his way to destiny Where is he?, I asked with uncertainty. Yaman pointed to the small boy sitting next to the Agori, whom I had seen earlier and said: There he is I could not believe my eyes and ears. I remembered my brothers ambition in life.
Besides, Bhairavs life-time dream is to visit Kaasi and become a priest there. Pretty ambitious indeed.

A small boy was sitting with him. He looked no more than eight. He was gaping, wide-eyed, at the rituals carried out. I felt like taking him back with me to mom. He reminded me of Bhairav

As I stood there stunned, the Agori and my brother got up. They started climbing the stairs and ten seconds later, they were gone. I wished I had hugged my brother at least once. Then I remembered that I was dead! Bhairav was destined to be an Agori. Thats why he was very religious in his previous birth. It also explains your interest in Agoris. You see Pratap; all the things in the world are connected by an invisible thread. If you can identify that pattern, you will be enlightened. Thats what all these Agoris are trying to do, Yaman explained. So, whats next?, I asked the inevitable question. Ill make you start all over again, he said. What if I make the same mistake again? What if I stop listening to my heart in the next birth?, I posed a wise query. Well, I cannot help you on that one, he conceded. I started using my logical brain. I simply cannot live another life of misery. A strange idea popped into my mind. I need a help from you I cannot make promises, he said roughly. Ive had people like you before No, its nothing like that. Ill just record all the events that happened during the past two days in a small book. You just have to make sure that it reaches my father on the next-birth. Hence, I will realize my destiny and Ill also make sure that I dont deviate from it. This doesnt break your codes too. Please grant me this last wish Dev He hesitated for a while. Ok. Make it quick. We have got lots of work to do, he said and smiled. I have to admit that you are one smart fellow I obliged and sat on the bank of Indias holiest river. I started writing on the scrolls provided by Yaman:

As the May breeze ruffled my hair, I leaned back in the seat and flipped through the pages of
Agora: at the Left Hand of God. Its quite strange for a twenty-eight year old guy like me to skip great books such as marriage manual and stick to this spiritual volume.

Epilogue
(The 13th chapter!)
The loop of destiny slipped through my shaking fingers and fell on the compartment floor with a dull thud. I didnt mind picking it up. Deadly silence persisted for two minutes except for the sound of rushing winds. I found the precise meaning of coincidence. Quite simply, Im living the life of someone characterized in the book lying near my feet. In a few minutes, if Im right, I am going to figure out my destiny by a phone call. I took out my mobile and called dad. Hello, Pratap. Have you reached the station, he asked me in a casual tone. Yeah, my name is Pratap. Coincidence #1 Yes Dad. I have settled down and the trains started moving You will probably reach Varanasi by 6:00 tomorrow morning, he added. Yup, Im on my way to Varanasi to my uncles place. Coincidence #2 Dad, I want to ask you about something, I said, trying my best to suppress the excitement and fear out of my voice. Go ahead Where did you get this book Loop of destiny? Do you remember anything about that? There was a momentous pause on the receivers end. Hmmm.. Yes, I do. It was an odd incident. A traveler gave me that book when I was in Varanasi once My pulse rate increased.

Can you describe his appearance? I asked. He was tall and burly. Intimidating, my dad identified. Thats all? He was dressed in full black. Wait a minute, he told me something. He told that you will like that book He addressed me? I was shocked. Holy crap. Not exactly, He just said your son will like it and left before I could enquire further Did h, I started. Stop it, Pratap! I dont want you fussing over some nut cases book. Its probably a religious group brainwashing people. Please prefer reading books which will help you clear SSB There you go: coincidence #3. Im preparing for the service selection board. Im a major wannabe. Ill talk to you later dad, I hung up and looked around. The fact that I was all alone in the compartment injected a fresh dose of adrenaline into my blood. Who is Pratap? Is he the guy who lost his life at Manikarnika? Or is he the guy sitting in an empty compartment right now? Am I the next birth of that CBN Pratap, destined to be a major? Weird questions rattled me. Quite suddenly, I thought I heard a mild hoot of an owl. It was followed by an old mans cough. Will it just be another coincidence? Coincidence #4, perhaps?

Note
For those who find this story far-fetched: The loop of destiny might just be a work of fiction. The coincidences happening in Prataps life might be just coincidences. Pratap might have imagined the sounds of hoot and cough as he was so engrossed in the novel. Prataps father might have been wrong in identifying the man who gave him the book or he may have just tried to scare his son for fun. Or all the above points are crap. Pratap is indeed the next incarnation of the cop named Pratap Nair.

Everything is just a coincidence until it happens in your own life -Ashwin Saravanan