The Sangam E-Book

Kshamta Purohit

• Herausgeber: Publishdrive
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

Welcome to a world where the power of the mind is everything – a world of extraordinary yogis, scientists, and enhanced humans – a world ravaged by climate change. Welcome to the world of Karam Sagas – The Sangam.

Joash is a man of science, living in the futuristic city of London. In contrast, his sister Krupa is a yogini who has embraced a monastic life in the Himalayas. When Krupa calls upon Joash to help find a lost manuscript that holds the key to restoring nature’s balance, his life is turned upside down. Not only does he need to rediscover his belief in Sheersha Yoga, but he must also travel at a time when lightning storms have thrown the world into chaos. Joash’s journey to reach his sister takes him to unexpected places where he discovers unexpected truths about his past life and finds his karma.

Kshamta Purohit creates a believable, vivid and immersive world with a multi-layered plot that keeps one engaged from start to finish. Karma Sagas – The Sangam is a captivating and timely tale that offers a unique blend of dystopian fiction, ancient wisdom and modern technology.

This gripping and fast-paced futuristic adventure story takes you from cities, through deserts, seas, jungles and finally to the lofty Himalayas along with interesting characters from diverse backgrounds. A must-read for fans of Tolkien, Suzanne Collins, Margaret Atwood, and Amish Tripathi.

Leseprobe

सफलतायैप्रयत्न: आवश्यक:

कस्यापिप्राप्यार्थम्तद्अन्वेशणीयम्

To succeed you must try, to find you must seek.

© Copyright Kshamta Purohit, 2023. All Rights Reserved.

Copyright Protected with www.ProtectMyWork.com,

Reference Number: 21181150623S048

978-1-7395669-0-6

Formatting by Rae Davennor in collaboration with Stardust Book Services

Published by Sohum Books

To Mummy, Papa and my Kabir

This is for you, for teaching me patience and perseverance.

To all the seeds of karma that have been blown far away from the tree, who like me are reaching out to their roots in many creative ways.

Contents

Chapter 1 - London

Chapter 2 - Jispa, Himalayas

Chapter 3 - London

Chapter 4 - London

Chapter 5 - London

Chapter 6 - The Himalayas

Chapter 7 - London

Chapter 8 - Edinburgh

Chapter 9 - Edinburgh

Chapter 10 - Edinburgh

Chapter 11 - Glasgow

Chapter 12 - Glasgow

Chapter 13 - Moksha Parvat, Himalayas

Chapter 14 - London

Chapter 15 - Saqqara

Chapter 16 - Saqqara

Chapter 17 - Saqqara

Chapter 18 - Saqqara

Chapter 19 - The Base

Chapter 20 - Near Sur, Oman

Chapter 21 - The Base

Chapter 22 - Moksha Parvat, Himalayas

Chapter 23 - Mountains near Jispa

Chapter 24 - Sur

Chapter 25 - At Sea

Chapter 26 - The Base

Chapter 27 - Murdeshwar, India

Chapter 28 - Murdeshwar, India

Chapter 29 - Close to New Mumbai

Chapter 30 - Jaipur

Chapter 31 - Near Bhangarh

Chapter 32 - Jaipur

Chapter 33 - The Base

Chapter 34 - The Mountains, Himachal Pradesh

Chapter 35 - Near Tirtha

Chapter 36 - The Base

Chapter 37

Chapter 1

London

A metallic hand struck Joash’s right temple and a blur spread across his eyes. A wet trickle of blood ran down from his nostril to his lip as his head recovered from the momentary giddiness. With his back leaning against the pole, he sank down to the floor of the ring and threw his head back. The ringing in his ear reminded him of the idiocy and absurdity of this situation. His opponent Rowan retreated and waited, a look of annoyance on his face.

The crowd roared and Joash’s mouth curled in a half-smile as he lay there cherishing his pain for the last few moments before surrendering. He had been coming to these fights for a few years now. To win was never on his mind; all he wanted was to satisfy an inexplicable desire to feel pain.

He closed his eyes feeling content and suddenly a distant but clear scene replaced the blur. A flame-shape with a sparkling white centre and a red hue on the outside travelled from right to left and disappeared.

He opened his eyes wide and heard his sister Krupa’s voice resound in his ears: Do you really not believe in karma and reincarnation? But she was thousands of miles away. Perhaps the knock had disturbed something inside his head.

Perplexed he sat up and looked at his opponent—a man with mechanically-enhanced limbs, curling his metal hands ready to strike again. Then he looked around; the raucous crowd was quietening down—they knew he was giving up. As Rowan got ready to charge again, Joash swiftly lay flat on the floor, spreading his arms and hands, accepting defeat.

***

“Please wait! Wait!” someone shouted behind him as he made his way out of the fighting ring and into the passage towards the changing rooms. Joash halted and turned around.

“Is it Joash, Joash Pundit?” The young man was out of breath.

“Yeah,” he replied questioningly.

“Nice to meet you. I am Callum Bailey.” The man extended his hand.

“Nice to meet you too, Callum Bailey.” Joash was amused. “Such polite people generally don’t come to a place like this.”

“If a science journalist like you can come to fight in this club, a physics student like me can come at least to watch it.” Callum grinned, showing his molar-to-molar smile.

Joash’s forehead furrowed in a frown. “Student! Are you over sixteen?” He paused, then said, “Do I know you?”

“Ah, ah…” Callum fumbled as he visibly got nervous. “I am seventeen, actually. I am from the Physics Institute in London, just joined. You know Professor Rollings? She heads it, but I haven’t seen her yet. Anyway, I like your blogs and your news channel. I think your analysis of climate change is unlike anyone else’s. I am here with a friend who is researching limb movement in cyborgs. He couldn’t recognize you because of the headgear, of course. We were here last Thursday too. I was almost sure it was you and now I know.”

After a moment of awkward silence, Joash smiled and said, “Seventeen? I’m more than ten years older than you; you’re making me feel ancient! Well, thank you, Callum, and you have good eyes. Professor Rollings … ah, interesting. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be.”

“Just one more thing, I’ll be quick.” There was an obvious desperation in Callum’s voice.

Joash leaned his head to one side, accepting that he would have to hear this kid out.

“I know you sometimes write about new automobiles too,” Callum said hurriedly. “I have developed a new flycycle. It ascends very smoothly and has the potential to be an alternative to the clunky hoplings for short trips. It can be invaluable to environmental research at a time when we are trying to figure out chemical interactions at various heights in the atmosphere and their link to the lightning storms. I will be very grateful if you would write about it. I can do a demo for you. I promise you will not be disappointed. Please, please, please…”

By the time he finished, Callum was breathless, and Joash was staring at him in puzzled amazement. This was the first time someone had approached him to write about something with such passion. Moreover, there was something quite likeable about this fast-speaking, skinny teenager.

“Okay, I would like to see your flycycle and then we will decide. But the only time I have got is six o’clock tomorrow morning,” said Joash.

“I don’t mind. You don’t know how helpful your words can be for my project work.”

“I will meet you at my aunt’s place. Come with your flycycle tomorrow. Here’s the address.” Joash waved his hand and a set of bright numbers jumped from his wrist-pad to Callum’s.

Joash turned around and opened his palm. His wrist-pad buzzed, and a message appeared in bright green words on his palm—seven missed calls from Aunt Sue. Joash sighed; he had forgotten to call Krupa.

***

Back on the street, the water level was just above Joash’s ankles. He looked through the mizzle—the gloom in the city was deepening. The bars and restaurants had shut early, most buildings were just dark, and the streetlights had been dimmed. Occasional streaks of lightning zigzagged the sky. The air felt still and stagnant.

Joash strode through the water with a certain nonchalance, hands inside the deep pockets of his yellow rain jacket and his head covered with its hood. Now and again, he bent his head towards one shoulder and then the other. He did this quite often—it was his way to align his thoughts.

He had not walked far when there was a sudden roar from the sky and a loud blast shook the street, sending debris flying everywhere. The shock made him squat and cover his head with his arms. He turned and squinted towards a Level Two road. A red hopling was teetering dangerously along the broken edge of the road; its propellers were bent but still moving slowly, sending small sparks erratically. With a loud clang, the hopling leaned further downwards. The rider was waving one hand.

Loud sirens could be heard blaring as Joash straightened up to go towards the crash site.

“Do not interfere.” A police robot was standing right in front of him. It blinked scanning Joash’s face and said, “Joash Pundit. This is an authority matter.”

***

Joash stood quietly staring out of the large glass window of his bedroom. The lights of the sprawling city of London were like an entire galaxy spread out beneath him, but the scene was fuzzy, partly because of the rain and partly because of his eye. He touched his pulsating head and made a futile effort to open his right eyelids fully; they were distinctly swollen now. Shaking his head, he said loudly, “Home?”

The wall behind Joash glowed and a cheery voice said, “Yes, Joash, I am here.”

“Please call Krupa,” said Joash not looking away from the glimmering scene.

The response was instant. “The number cannot be reached and is likely to have been discontinued.”

Joash glanced sideways looking thoughtful. “Call Subba then.”

Soon a life-sized, three-dimensional image of a man appeared on the wall. Joash turned to face him. The man was burly, with black hair, a beard and a moustache. He took a few seconds to observe Joash and then burst out laughing.

“Look at you, man,” said Subba trying to catch his breath. “Is it a regular thing now or what?”

Joash pursed his lips. “I am all human and they are enhanced. You won’t get it, Subba—leave it. Tell me, anything new?”

“Hmm. We are getting close, I think.” Subba had sobered up at once. “There seems to be a relation between the old plastic waste piles and lightning. It is pretty weird. Once I am able to get the right video, I will send it to you. By the way, your Professor Rollings won’t share her research with us. What’s she up to?”

Joash nodded, “I can’t say. She doesn’t seem to be the typical scientist, yet she is the chief scientific advisor. I am going to her conference tomorrow.” He paused and continued, “There’s one more thing. I can’t reach Krupa. How are things in the Himalayas?”

Subba folded his arms across his bulky chest. “Oh, your little sister, right—Krupa? Storms are getting worse all over. You should know better than me. We have had some very strange earthquakes near Mumbai. Last I saw, the Himalayas were in the news for snowstorms. Yes, that could easily affect the comms. But where exactly in the Himalayas is she?”

“There is a monastery in a small village called Jispa. Higher than Shimla, I think. She has a teacher there, Swami Poorvananda.”

Chapter 2

Jispa, Himalayas

A gust of wind pushed Krupa forward jolting her out of her thoughts. She placed her hand on the door and a sudden chill ran through her body. At that moment, she had a foreboding -Something is coming. She took a deep breath in. The familiar morning aromas of the valley were comforting. Steadying her mind and feet, she looked ahead. It was a heavy, rusty brown wooden door with rough-hewn carvings of leaves and flowers running along the withered borders. An ancient-looking thick iron chain, which was the latch, hung vertically from the upper border. She tapped it twice and then pushed the door slowly.

The door opened with a squeak revealing an austere room. At the far end of this empty-looking space was a slightly raised platform on which sat Swamiji. His legs were crossed in the lotus position and his eyes were closed. Soft orange rays of the morning sun filtered through the window mesh, bouncing off his shiny head. He was only a small man, four feet something, but one would say his presence was enormous.

As Krupa stepped inside, she was struck by an otherworldly calmness. Something felt different about the room today. She walked across the cold stone floor and sat down in front of him.

It was rare for Swamiji to ask for Krupa other than at their weekly lessons. As she waited for the reason for this meeting to be revealed, her fingers started to fidget restlessly with the long chain of yellow beads that hung freely from her neck and her clear blue eyes started to blink furiously.

“Krupa, my child!” said Swamiji slowly as he opened his eyes, “How is it going? Any progress?”

“I am afraid not, Swamiji!” replied Krupa almost feeling guilty. “I cannot sit still for more than five minutes.”

Swamiji’s eyes peering through the folds of his drooping eyelids looked thoughtful. He gently smiled - kindness shining through his radiant countenance. “Hmm. Meditation is like everything else in life—the more you try, the more likely you are to succeed. But I can feel your intuition is getting stronger.” He smiled softly.

Krupa noticed that his head was shaking slightly today, also his shoulders were drooping more, or maybe his back was somewhat hunched. Is he tired? she thought but did not dare ask.

Swamiji’s perfectly round face lit up and numerous concentric lines filled his cheeks as he let out a chortle, “Even monks and yogis get old, Krupa! Although the process is much slower. Worry not, I am not yet tired.” Krupa was embarrassed but not surprised.

“You spoke well this morning during the interview,” he continued. “Now, there are a few things I need to speak to you about.”

She raised her gaze.

A hint of seriousness rang through Swamiji’s words, “I know you do not want to face the thought of losing this place, but the ashram building will not be able to stand the storm that is coming, Krupa. I hope we are all prepared. We need to leave soon—the storm is going to reach here a bit earlier than I had expected.”

“Yes, Swamiji, we are ready.” There was a sudden spurt of confidence in Krupa. She was the best at organizing things after all.

“Good!” He paused and changed the subject swiftly. “Now pick up the scroll next to the Jyot.”

She quickly turned around and looked at the left rear corner of the room. On the floor was a small earthen lamp burning steadily with the most soothing glow. The flame was like a wavering leaf in shape, five to six inches tall, its body was made of sparkling white dots moving downwards and its red border disappeared seamlessly into the surroundings. In her astonishment, she understood the reason for the room feeling different. She had never thought she would ever witness the eternal flame of the Sheersha Yoga Gurus. She folded her hands in reverence towards the flame, picked up the scroll, and returned to her seat.

Before she could ask her question, Swamiji spoke. “I too have never seen the Jyot before. Do you know what this means?”

“The first sign—the Sangam—a period when different realms cross over.” Krupa could feel her heart thumping. Of course, she believed in it like every other teaching of Sheersha yoga, but she had never dreamt it would happen in her lifetime.

“Yes, Krupa. The world as we know it, is about to change. The unseen will become seen. What lies in store for humanity, no one can say.” Swamiji paused and closed his eyes. A few moments later, he smiled. “There should be no despair with the Sheersha yogis by our side. They gave us the answers long before the question even came into existence. This can be a wondrous magical time.” Opening his eyes, he raised his fine white eyebrows and pointed towards the scroll. “Now, what do you see?”

“This is in Sanskrit. I have seen parchment like this in my father’s library. It could easily be a thousand years old.” Krupa’s heart was racing with excitement as she went through the text. “It is a poem,” she said slowly. “Maybe a riddle.”

“Can you solve it?”

Her eyes narrowed as she concentrated. “It is about the state of the world. In order to correct the imbalance, the five elements will have to be brought together by the…” Her voice faded into a whisper as she said, “The Tirtha Rakshaks.”

“That is right.”

“But Tirtha—”

“Is not a mythical imaginary place as you would have heard in your childhood. It is a real place, here in the Himalayas. And you always knew your ancestors were also known as the Rakshaks. This text makes it clear. They were the Rakshaks of the Tirtha, the guardians of the sacred spot. And so are you.”

Quietly, Krupa let the words sink in. “So, the five elements need to be brought to this place?”

“Yes.”

“Where is the Tirtha, Swamiji?”

“We do not know. Maybe it is up to you to find it. But I do know that it holds the answer to the present turmoil in nature—a turmoil brought on by the Sangam, made worse by humankind. To get those answers you must find the remaining part of this text. It was looked after by your grandfather.”

“But my ancestral home…” Krupa looked puzzled.

“Is mostly under water,” said Swamiji. “I understand. Your father was very accomplished and wise. I cannot imagine him not planning to save the things he valued so much.”

Silence ensued as Krupa tried to gauge the seriousness of the matter in her mind. She turned her gaze back towards the top of the parchment. The words in black still stood out on the yellowing parchment—Prakruti Saram. Immediately, she recognized the picture drawn below it—a circle with rays, a sign of the sun, and a seven-petalled lotus which was drawn partly inside the circle. She had seen this symbol before, engraved on the side of her father’s desk, painted on the wall behind his chair, and on a special wooden box, she was not allowed to touch.

Dark clouds started to gather in the Himalayan valley and sunlight vanished from the room, but Swamiji in his saffron-coloured robe shone like the sun itself. He stood up and spoke in an authoritative tone this time, “You are not the only Tirtha Rakshak, Krupa. It is as much Joash’s karma as it is yours. He has spent enough time wandering. If he chooses the path that was laid for him by your father, he can do the extraordinary and so can you, Krupa.”

Swamiji took a few firm steps and opened the old wooden door wide. Feeling perturbed, Krupa rose to her feet and followed him. She was beginning to realize that he was probably the only person in the world who could make her feel nervous.

“Joash has abandoned the spiritual path, Swamiji. He has a different life. He might not understand…” Krupa’s voice trailed off.

The squall from outside entered the room, making Swamiji’s robe swell and pushing Krupa. Although the sky was greying, the light was blinding. A fine spray of rain mixed with snow on her face washed off any doubt in her mind about the urgency of the matter. A shiver ran through her as she tried to keep her stance.

Swamiji looked sideways and this time he gave a clear instruction, “Krupa, my child, both you and Joash have a role in reducing the suffering of countless beings. You have the soul of the mountains. The Tirtha will find you. But Joash must find the elements. This is what all his education with the greatest guru of our times will amount to. Tell him Tirtha is calling him. A journey like no other awaits him.”

Chapter 3

London

“This is Joash Pundit.” He looked at a robot’s face on a screen on the wall and tilted his head to one side, moving his bright yellow hood off his head to show his face fully. He shrugged his shoulders. “Are you going to open or what, Mary?”

But the robot’s image was stuck.

“Slow network again!” Joash sighed knowing very well how different his own face was looking today.

“Joash! Good morning,” the robot replied finally. “Your aunt is still sleeping. Would you like me to wake her up?”

“Yes please.”

The robot disappeared but the building door still did not open. Thunder rumbled in the grey sky. Joash looked up, soaking his face in the rain. Around him, the empty streets seemed full of an eerie dreariness.

The building door buzzed loudly and opened. “Enter, Joash Pundit.”

On the fortieth floor, he was received by a bright and colourful robot. “Welcome, Joash, you may go to the dining room. I shall get you some strong coffee, just as you like it,” said Mary, then she rolled away.

“Thank you, Mary.” As Joash stepped inside Aunt Sue’s apartment, he realized he had not been here for a few months now. He knew what was coming.

In the front room, he stopped to look at the wall where the paintings displayed changed every few seconds—some were virtual illusory designs that seemed to come out of the screen and float in the room. Soon, his favourite one appeared—a classical painting, The Waterfall—an enthralling waterfall of vivid yet earthy colours with big snow-capped mountains in the background. It was just a play of paint and brush strokes, yet the sparkling water and the foamy froth looked so realistic that one could almost hear the burble. This was not the first time Joash had got lost in this painting, but today he longed to step inside it, into this world where the sharp sunrays pierced the fast-flowing water, turning it into countless diamonds, where the sight of snow was soothing, where the silence was expectant yet complete.

“You do like this one, don’t you?” said Aunt Sue as she came and stood behind Joash.

Joash turned around and greeted his aunt with a smile—the left corner of his mouth lifted, sending gentle waves on his cheek up to the depression that created an unusually wide dimple.

Aunt Sue looked horrified. “Just look at yourself, Joash. A black eye again and you are going to a press conference like this? Is this why you did not return my calls?”

Joash remained quiet and waited for more to come. Moving his long, wet hair behind his ears, he looked down.

Aunt Sue took a deep breath in and closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. “So, you don’t call me. You don’t see me. And now this is the only time you have for me, five-thirty in the morning? I am an old woman you know,” she said managing a smile.

“No, you are not.” Joash embraced her in a hug.

“Don’t try to flatter me. You live a few streets away and yet I have to leave twenty messages to get you to visit me.” Her long neck seemed to grow longer as she elegantly moved her head from side to side trying to sound stern, but it did not last long. She wrapped her arm around Joash’s, and they began to walk together. As they entered the grand dining room, she stopped, turned around, and looked up at him—he stood more than a foot taller than her. “Tell me, have you been able to get through to Krupa?”

“No, Aunty. There seems to be a network problem in that area.” Joash quietly walked away to the far end of the room.

Aunt Sue was not smiling anymore as she sat at the other end of the long white marble table. “How is your girlfriend?” she asked, looking unsure.

“Alicia? She’s my ex-girlfriend. We haven’t spoken for months now. She has gone back to America.” Joash placed his forearms on the table and crossed his hands.

Aunt Sue frowned. “I should think girls would queue up for a handsome and intelligent man like you, but they seem to run away as soon as they come.”

“You should say weird and intelligent, Aunty,” Joash said trying to lighten her mood.

Aunt Sue knew that he was never one for vague conversations. She got up and stood next to the window. The lines on her forehead were curled into a frown as she gazed out. “So, tell me when did you speak to your sister last?” she asked.

“I did try to call her yesterday but…” Joash paused and then said slowly, “I spoke to her on her birthday.”

“Which was three months ago! And when did you see her last?”

“Same as you, last summer when she came over.”

“What is it with you two? I don’t understand!” Aunt Sue could barely contain her exasperation. “She thinks she is some yogini or hippie and can wander around without us having a clue and you have distanced yourself from anything to do with India. What are you punishing yourself for by going to these fight clubs? You know perfectly well how that is going to end.” She turned to face Joash and looked him in the eyes. “Can you tell me that Krupa is safe and sound?”

Joash looked clueless as he gazed back at his aunt from the table. The question had hit him exactly the way she had wanted.

“It has been eleven years since you moved here and still you won’t talk about what happened. You are twenty-eight, Joash, not a child. She is your little sister.” Aunt Sue leaned over the table and said softly, “Your only immediate family!”

“She is, Aunty, but she would not want me tracing her steps. You know her.” Joash was beginning to get frustrated at being treated like a child.

Aunt Sue toned down as she straightened up and took slow steps towards him. “I understand that there have been some snowstorms and landslides in the Himalayan regions of India.” Clouds of worry darkened her bright face as she stood holding the back of a chair, staring at the wall.

Joash knew he should have checked what was going on with the storms in the Himalayas; it was his domain and yet he knew nothing. After a minute’s silence, he said, “She is a smart girl. She would have kept track of the forecast in times like these. I am sure she is okay.” It was a vague effort to reassure himself.

“You know very well how much we can rely on forecasts.” Panic was clear in Aunt Sue’s voice. “You either find out where she is, or I am packing my bags and going there myself.” She got up and left the room.

Joash walked up to the large window overlooking Level Four road. Far away, the silhouette of Tower Bridge was lurking behind the rain. He opened the window slightly and let the cold air rush in to chill his face. Perhaps he should have thought of Krupa but then he was sure she was made of steel and even bad weather could not dent her.

As he was immersed in his thoughts, his gaze went upwards to the sky where he spotted some unusual activity. Someone was pedalling a flycyle. Immediately, Joash checked the time and knew who this was. He didn’t know if he was amused or annoyed by Callum’s stunt, but he continued to watch anyway.

The two tyres with fluorescent green spokes were moving fast and the red balloon just above Callum’s head was growing bigger as the flycycle rose steadily in a straight line. The brightly coloured air suit made him look like a green giant, but he was at a far greater height than was allowed for flycycles. Suddenly, the flycycle lurched sideways. It stopped, about fifty feet above where Joash was. Callum then started fiddling with something.

Just then, there was a loud rumble and lightning lit up the sky. Callum was thrown off his precarious seat with a jerk, but he managed to grab one end of the flycycle. A strap around his waist seemed to be attached to the crossbar and his hands were holding the handlebars, but his body was dangling dangerously.

“Wah…!” Joash was watching with his eyes wide open, his hands squeezing the window frame. The next moment, the balloon started to deflate and the flycycle started to descend haphazardly. Joash turned around and sprinted towards the front door just as Aunt Sue walked in with Mary.

“What’s the matter?” she shouted behind him.

“Someone has fallen off a flycycle.” Joash jumped into the lift.

In the elevator, he strapped himself in and spoke loudly and clearly. “Take me to ground level, maximum speed.”

The elevator, which was a metal cylinder with a thin column of glass looking to the outside, lit up with a blue glow. A red laser beam scanned him from head to toe, then a voice resounded, “Adult male, scan approved. Put your seat belt on. Warning, this might be unpleasant. The air is to help prevent nausea.”

A loud bell rang, and a blast of air blew onto his face. He held the straps tightly and scrunched up his face as the lift descended, almost in freefall.

Within a few seconds, he was at ground level. As he hurried towards the heap of red and green, he could hear the soft painful moans. Callum is alive, he thought.

“You were supposed to meet me inside my aunt’s apartment not outside,” shouted Joash as he leaned over Callum. He did not look badly injured.

“I think I am okay. It came down slowly, but I might have twisted my ankle. Could you please help me?”

***

“Oh dear!” exclaimed Aunt Sue as Joash came out of the lift, holding Callum who was limping and smiling.

“You must be Joash’s aunt. Nice to meet you. Sorry to arrive like this,” said Callum.

Aunt Sue stared at her nephew, looking puzzled.

“He is a new friend. I had called him here for a meeting,” said Joash. “Sorry, I should have asked your permission first.”

“Oh, never mind now.” Aunt Sue turned towards Callum again, “I like your Scottish accent. Are you okay? Whatever were you doing up in the sky in this weather on that thing?”

Callum smiled looking awkward.

Aunt Sue sat down next to him while Joash made him lay down in a large couch and asked Mary to scan his ankle.

“No fracture that I can detect,” announced Mary.

“Good.” Joash was sipping his coffee.

Callum said suddenly, “Oh, I forgot to introduce myself properly. I am Callum, Callum Bailey uh…”

“Susan Anderson, call me Sue,” said Aunt Sue.

“Of course, Ma’am. I looked you up when Joash said I could meet him at yours today. Your paintings are amazing indeed. In fact, we have one in our physics institute somewhere on the fourth floor. I will check it out when I am there next. And you are absolutely right, I am from Glasgow, been in London for just over three months.”

Joash stood up. “So, Callum, I am not sure if your flycycle is ready yet. Maybe you can work a bit more on the safety features before showcasing it—”

“Oh no, no,” Callum said urgently. “It is safe, and I know I was at a greater height than allowed for flycycles but that’s the whole point of my work. It works by manual power, so no need for solar chips like hoplings.”

“Sounds interesting. We can talk about it some other time. I am afraid I need to leave now for a press conference. Are you able to walk?”

“Callum Bailey should not walk just yet.” Mary placed a cold pack around Callum’s foot.

“She is very good, isn’t she?” said Callum, admiring the domestic robot.

“At my age, you need your robot to be medically up to date, dear.” Aunt Sue shifted and spoke to Joash. “I know the conference is important for you, Joash. Why don’t you carry on? Let Callum rest here for a bit. I don’t mind a bit of company. He seems like a nice boy.”

“Oh, thank you so much Ma’am,” said Callum delightedly.

“Sorry about all this, Aunty. And I will find Krupa,” said Joash and left.

Chapter 4

London

The thunderstorm had come out of nowhere. The cool wind was a welcome change; it soothed Joash’s sore body. Ahead of him, he could see the network of roads at different altitudes stretched like a web between the tall buildings. The road levels were numbered, and the higher-level roads had byways connecting to higher levels of buildings. The sky, which would have been dotted with different coloured hoplings, was just a featureless grey background today. The streets looked empty; the air smelled of burnt tar.

After an hour of wading through the waterlogged streets, Joash reached his destination—The London Communications Centre. As he entered the main hall, he was struck by the number of people who had come. On the stage, there were two robots and two men. The hubbub suddenly stopped when a lady dressed in a turquoise suit walked on the stage and took a seat right in the centre of the stage. Professor Rollings looked exactly the same as her online profile—in her late thirties, she had a long face marked by a sharp chin and wore thick, black-rimmed cat-eye-shaped glasses, had very short hair and an expression that said there was no time for nonsense.

“Everyone, please settle down,” said a robot, its head scanning the crowd of mechanical note-takers and human journalists. “The authority wishes to inform you of further measures we are taking to keep the population safe. In addition to the advice of not using flying automobiles, all international flights have been cancelled from tonight till further notice.”

A loud murmur started in the room—this was unexpected.

“We have every reason to believe that the two airline crashes last week were due to lightning storms. In London, tube services have been suspended due to rising water levels; this is expected to be sorted out within days. We advise only essential travel by hovercars, trains or on foot and check all routes for damage to roads. At present, mostly Level Three and Four roads are affected.”

A husky-looking, elderly man with curly grey hair spoke next. “Now, as you all know, Professor Stella Rollings, Chief Scientific Advisor, and honourable authority cabinet member has called this conference to discuss current climate-related matters and answer any questions. Professor Rollings—over to you.”

The professor cleared her throat loudly. “Thank you, Patrick. Good morning, everybody. Thank you to all of you who have taken the trouble to come here and also to all of you listening from your devices. Let me update you on the current scenario first—even after thirty days of relentless rainfall on our mainland, we have not yet understood this weather phenomenon. Lightning strikes are becoming a major source of disruption as they are increasing in frequency and causing more damage. That is the reason why we have advised people not to use flying automobiles. This pattern of sudden climate change is not confined just to the UK but is global, with all types of severe weather events happening everywhere. We are still trying to work out if science can find a way to solve any of this.”

A man sitting in the front row asked, “For several decades humans have changed their ways to help climate stabilise and yet we face these extremities. Do you have any idea what the problem is this time?”

“Well, we have worked out that there is a new element in nature, something to add to the periodic table. It seems to be very high in concentration in all problem areas. I have provisionally named it Elusium.”

“How is it related to adverse weather phenomena?” came another voice from one of the screens in the air.

“We do not know yet; it is early days.”

“And what about the old plastic waste piles?” asked Joash from the back of the room.

“What about them?” Professor Rollings raised an eyebrow. She glanced at the small air screen on her table and saw ‘Joash Pundit, climate journalist’ under his photo.

“Have you not seen any evidence connecting the plastic waste piles and the storms?” Joash stared at her intently. He knew her opinion on plastics.

“I have always maintained that plastics have got more bad press than they deserve.” Professor Rollings spoke coolly, unfazed by his stare. “The waste piles have been lying all over the world for the past fifty or what, sixty years?” She shrugged her shoulders. “They continue to degrade and will vanish in the next few hundred years. I have not come across any verifiable evidence of their role in the current scenario.”

“Or have you just shoved it under the carpet?” Joash trusted his sources and he could not believe that the professor had less information than him.

Professor Rollings’ eyes widened, and she shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She looked at the small crowd in front of her hoping that someone else would ask a question. When no one spoke she said, “I am not a politician. I am a scientist. I follow good-quality evidence and disregard poor-quality evidence. It really is as simple as that.” This time she stared back at Joash trying to measure him up.

“Are you really a scientist?” Joash asked.

At this statement, all heads in the room turned towards him. Professor Rollings moved her head back and frowned deeply, waiting for what was to come next.

The attention only boosted Joash’s confidence as he carried on, “According to Scientist Daily, you have a keener interest in the paranormal than modern science. You even believe in E.T.”

Everyone in the room laughed.

“What has that got to do with climate change?” Professor Rollings looked infuriated.

“It poses a question on your credibility as a scientist. A person who believes in anecdotes cannot lead scientific investigations. We are not talking about movies here; it’s a real-life crisis, which only science can solve.”

“I do not need a lesson from anyone on the credentials of a scientist. You look like you enjoy messing with people or maybe you just took a wrong step and hurt yourself,” said the professor, stopping a smirk before it was too obvious on her face. Suddenly, she sat back looking thoughtful. When she spoke again it was with a new brightness. “You see it is not about me or you. I am doing my job to the best of my ability. You cannot know the nature of reality just by doing a science degree. And belief in one thing does not necessarily invalidate belief in another. The universe is full of secrets; you too should explore other ideas. But perhaps this is not the time and place for this debate.” She smiled at Joash icily.

“Is it true that in your hometown, Edinburgh, you were labelled a misanthrope? You moved to London and within two years you have acquired the power to influence the authority. How did you do that? Secondly, is it true that you have requested access to the latest Air Force Stealth Aircraft for so-called research purposes?”

Professor Rollings’s mouth opened as she looked at Joash in disbelief.

“So, I was right,” he said. “Why would you keep it a secret? It is the country’s resources after all. And where do you want to go to, when you are telling others not to travel? Should your research not be more transparent?”

“I am not going to answer any of this,” came Professor Rolling’s sharp reply. Before he could say anything more, she swiftly added, “Now please let us not waste time. I can assure all of you that my team is coordinating with teams in eight other countries and the number keeps growing. Our investigations are based on robust scientific methods and common sense, of course.” Then looking at Joash she quietly added, “That can be so hard to find.”

For a second, Joash felt an inexplicable sense of pity towards her. He thought he had overdone it. He could not stop staring at her, even when she looked away. And then, he could not place his feelings—anger, annoyance, longing to speak to her. A missed opportunity.

Someone nudged Joash. “Don’t be so creepy, man. She will call the police. You should know she is best friends with the Chief Authority Manager.”

The man’s voice faded as Joash looked away.

***

Joash had wasted no time in posting his analysis of the conference on his news channel. What irked him most was the fact that the professor had advised him to explore other ideas. She had no idea how baseless other ideas were. But what could he say when his own sister was deep into these things? That reminded him of Krupa—where could she be?

As he walked past the gates of the Natural History Museum, the rain started hitting hard. He turned left and presently a humungous black shiny structure came into view. Perhaps the Global Live TV Centre could give him some answers.

The place was buzzing with people. The roof of the building had two large separate domes, each for one-half of the globe. Every country was a different colour and screens corresponding to different areas were floating beneath. Joash spotted India and climbed up three levels to reach the screen for northern India.

Soon he was enlarging the satellite image of Himachal Pradesh. He kept tapping, moving closer and closer to land. Before long, the scene opened up—mountain after mountain was laden with snow and shining white in the afternoon sun. Further down, he could see the village of Jispa. In the quiet valley hung a curtain of fog through which the roaring river Bagha was easy to spot. The fog cleared revealing a splendid view of the serene valley. As his gaze moved down along the great slopes, white turned into green and then bubbling blue.

He kept moving down along the river and the scene changed dramatically. There were houses with broken, half-collapsed walls and piles of rubble on what possibly could have been the streets. Everything looked wet and muddy. He tapped the icon for his virtual self to be allowed on the street, but a message flashed, ‘Virtual descent and speech not supported—no local network.’

There were no people to be seen as Joash moved from street to street. Eventually, he saw an orange-coloured building with lots of windows and small balconies. On taking a closer look, he saw that this place was quite damaged too. The next moment, he saw two men appear from the half-broken entrance gate, carrying bricks and debris in wheelbarrows. His heart sank. One of them was wearing maroon overalls. If only he could speak to them… Growing restless, he clicked on the screen to get a news update on Jispa. Nothing on the day. He went back one day and saw ‘ten lives lost in the storm’. On a few days’ old page, he saw ‘Jispa to be evacuated … as urged by Swami Poorvananda from the local ashram. However, weather forecasters don’t say the same.’

Just then, his wrist-pad buzzed and a message from Subba appeared on his palm. ‘Check out this video.’