The treasures of SANUALI

Parchment of Insights

‘It’s high time, I do something.’ The idea struck to the bottom of her soul without any ounce of incertitude. A funny feeling had crept into her heart. ‘This cannot keep happening, Swamy. You cannot let your life get wasted. There is no use ignoring in it any further. Delay resembles death.’ She had decided. Surprisingly, her heart and soul reconciled.

By the time Swamy reached at 309, Shapoorji Street, the mother-son duo were already seated on the breakfast table. The alluring aroma of freshly cooked steak had engulfed the kitchen. Wicca’s angular face was hidden behind the regular morning newspaper while Rustom had his eyes glued upon his phone screen. None of them bothered to spare her a glance when she entered or climbed up to her room. They did not ask where she had been the whole night or whether she was fine or in need of anything. They just minded their own business. Nothing unusual. For that, Swamy felt relieved. She feared that a single glance in her direction would reveal it all at once—her unmentionable eldritch encounter by Bodh that she had just escaped was written all over her face. 

At the moment, she just could not afford an interrogation or in the worst case, a heated argument. She only wished to have some moments of peace alone where she could think through. Her head was bursting with numerous thoughts that created a blunder. Her face which was awfully pale with beads of sweat dripping had said it all while her ocean-blue eyes were still wide as soccer balls and mouth patched dry. Those blonde strands had mingled in a confused heap upon her head. A nasty bun had all it takes to make her look like a boon. Swamy was quivering. Her face resembled one of those actors in horror movies who get paid just to scream ingenuous to whatever happens.  

Helpless to make neither head nor tail of the situation, the picture of a tiny squirrel flying high in the sky had been making it near impossible for her to think straight. All rationality had vanished in thin air. All she could remember was the squirrel and Sugata whose apprehension had been confirmed. To top it all, another terrorizing creature had materialized in front of her—adding another convenient reason to accelerate some awful feelings.

Swamy had never felt as terror-stricken in her life as then, except for the time when she had met Sugata in KonAnug Mail a day before. But then, she’d shrugged it off, thinking it might be one of her phantasm or those recurring nightmares. For which, she had reasons to believe. After all, she had fallen into a deep slumber, even though, it barely lasted no more than a few minutes. 

It was different and more real this time. Swamy had seen it with her own eyes and could deny it no longer—there was no way, she could mistake the soul-shaking experience. Those goosebumps all over the body said it all. 

‘Whenever you see something weird, consider it as a sign. Don’t scare off and try to read it. It will help you get prepared. The thicker you resolve, the stronger you will claim the victory. Remember, my child, the Universe works for those who work for themselves. Nobody will believe you if you don’t believe in yourself. It’s you and only you who is responsible for the end—victory or defeat does not matter.’ Sugata had warned her. Back then, she’d not given two heads to any of her ramblings but now it overwhelmed her. 

‘For a few days, you will successfully manage to ignore it. Then, it would keep reappearing with stronger reforms. It will demand your inner peace. You will ignore it again, but it’ll keep getting stronger. The more you ignore, the costlier it will become until you have nothing but your soul to offer.’ Sugata had preached.  

The same she had told Mrs Rivera but, for some reasons, the lady would only stick to her own confidences, giving deaf ears to Swamy’s rambles. On anything, the lady tried to persuade Swamy in believing that it was all but a vivid chimaera. A product of her colourful mind. 

‘Oh, come on, Swamy. There ain’t any funny business going.’ The woman had stated rather nonchalantly and confidently, much for Swamy’s displeasure. ‘It’s just an imagination. You were up the whole night, reading all sort of things and imagining them. Tiredness and fatigue could do it to anyone. Oh, yes! It’s just your imagination. Believe me, my child. I have just arrived and neither a single odd ant caught my eye. There were no squirrel or visitors. No one was there. Not a single soul. It couldn’t be real. Impossible!’ Mrs Rivera had exclaimed shaking her head after Swamy had incoherently told her about everything she had just seen.

‘No. No. No. I mean, just think about it, Swamy. Like a sensible human. You must have thought all of it for your draft. Right? Your thoughts has been made putative to brain which turned it into a realistic illusion. It often happens with me too. Whenever I watch any horror movie, I feel suspicious of almost everything. Jake doesn’t let me watch because I bother him throughout the night. A small flicker of lamp or stir of curtain frightens the life out of me. Relax! You are just fine and if you still persist then come, we will go and check it for once. Peter was there, right? He must have seen something too.’ She had said kindly. However, her eyes were narrating a different story altogether. She was moved by Swamy’s narration yet denied it straight away. Unfortunately, Swamy was too engrossed in the moment to pick a hint. 

Swamy whimpered told Mrs Rivera all she had seen in great details, weeping, persisting— ‘The squirrel was wake surfing, Mrs Rivera. It had a sunglasses on. It swirled slyly. Believe me! It was real. I saw it with my own eyes. I am not kidding.’ Swamy panted. She hurriedly caught Mrs Rivera’s fat palms and sobbed. ‘And then. And then, it started to fly. It’s owner was all very happy. I know, we can train pets, but we cannot go against nature. A squirrel can’t fly. Nobody without a pair of wings can!’ She cried yet words fell short for such an explanation for nothing could convince Mrs Rivera. 

If only she had raised her head slightly to the right, if only she had acted a bit braver—she would have found the thunderstruck face of Mrs Rivera focused upon the road—where the sorcerers squalled at each other in terminology that no one had ever heard before. 

At once their appearances showed significant modifications—their ears were moving upwards, more towards the upper side of their head and became pink and pointy. The eyes were getting bigger and iris kaleidoscopic while a flattened curve smoothened their noses. Some fern shade of dull green had overtaken their otherwise tan or pale complexions—a huge Swastika winked on the head from where hairs, twisted and turned like that of rope, dangled till their knees. A triangular shape was glittering on their forehead and two parallel lines stretched down their jawlines. It scintillated roughly too. 

‘You think, I am crazy. Don’t you?’ Swamy let off frustrated as tears streamed down her face. She didn’t understand any of it and she felt helpless in making others understand. She pulled on her hairs and put her head in-between her palms.

‘I might be looking like some lunatic, Mrs Rivera—’

‘Get away!’ Mrs Rivera squealing, face pale and eyes wide as if a ghost had just announced its appearance. Swamy fell back in her seat. A look of mortification with a mixture of embarrassment had coloured her cheeks.

‘No, my dear. I…I…I mean, get away from such thoughts.’ Mrs Rivera had turned into a stuttering mess. ‘Why wouldn’t I or anyone believe you? It’s perfectly normal to see squirrels flying, figures emerging from water and stupid wizards—those green ugly wizard rolling on the road. It’s fine. Nothing odd. Nothing odd, indeed. Come, let me show you manuscript. Let’s not waste time on such stupid things. Yes! Yes! Manuscripts. The finest, I’ve ever seen.’ Mrs Rivera bickered. Her eyes still glued upon the road, behind Swamy’s back and teeth clenched.

‘What are you looking at—’ Swamy muttered. She tilted a bit to the right to have a look, however, loud shirk had stopped her motions.  

‘Fugato Disappeariando!’ Mrs Rivera fumbled, jumping up on her feet. Her right hand was pointed towards the window—it barely too seconds when bright green lights splashed from her index finger and a thick black layer covered the window-glasses like dust. It had turned the transparent glasses into the opaque surface. Clearly, it was no longer a see-through window.  

‘What are you talk—’ 

‘HURRY! I’ve had to arrange all of it. Have a look. Come. Come. This way. Don’t waste time. You have hardly got any. Have to submit it before Friday. Poor person! Got such evil professor! My lord, make him rot in hell.’ Squeaked Mrs Rivera as she grasped Swamy by the shoulder and dragged her to the main entrance, making sure she didn’t peek back at the window.

On the other hand, the wizards kept rolling on each other—not realizing the commotion they could have been making if a single human had passed by. Anger pulsating in veins had pierced through every disguise; their natural selves swam all over the surface. Eleven feet tall, fern green creatures with fangs and a flashing amulet engraved at the front like a tiara—they might have seemed like aliens if spotted. Luckily, they didn’t.

‘Stangulas strenta!’ Roared Vasishta who had come whizzing, following command from Peril. Her palms were stretched facing the commotion. Bright golden and blue sparks stripped out of her long bony fingers and scattered all over the place. Her emerald eyes were dancing with fury as she flitted along the now still road. At every step, her heels clacked, rob whipped softly and her heart throbbed at an uneven pace. 

She looked around and let out a relieved sigh. Not a single soul strolled anywhere nearby. However, seclusion doesn’t specify safety.

‘The globe reflects presence of reincarnation, Vasishta. Check around, she must be somewhere nearby. She shouldn’t see this. We cannot afford it. Not before…not before, her soul realizes it.’ Peril’s shaky voice rummaged to her ears. It was her earring—a circular silverish bead with green stone ornated in the centre, stabbed through her earlobe which functioned as a medium of communication. 

‘I am not sure. No one is er’ Vasishta grumbled, still looking around chickening. She was still breathing hard, perhaps trying to control the raging temper. ‘These brainless morons. How could you send a bunch of fools, Peril? What in the hell were you thinking? Couldn’t you have chosen something better?’ Snorted she. Her eyes caught shuffling near Bodh, making her realize that she hardly had any time for it. 

Luckily, Mrs Rivera had managed to keep Swamy busy with old Manuscripts longer enough for Vasishta to detangle the boys one after another as she made them disappear in misty-white smoke to some unknown place. All of their heads hung low and bright kaleidoscopic eyes down in shameful guilt. No one talked or spoke for that matter. However, they were still fern, eleven feet tall and appeared animalistic.

By the time Swamy stepped out of the library; Vasishta had already taken four of the wizards to her home, yet Swamy had caught a disappearing glimpse of what looked a green flesh and a big golden iris. It was Svāhā’s. 

He had looked straight into her numb-eyes—terror-stricken. His heart picked up the rhythm so did hers. A soothing relief washed over, spreading happiness in every cell of their bodies. Both felt that, cherishing the foreign feeling. It was momentarily that they were frozen. Something that had barely lasted for a second, nonetheless, it had happened. Their eyes were locked with each other, talking, sharing, and understanding a thousand things without speaking. The world had halted for them as they emerged in each other, touching, and caressing each other despite they stood steps apart. 

Then it vanished, behind a curtain of smoke, leaving Swamy to deal with all that dazzlement on her own and a heart that didn’t belong to her any longer.

Complete, she had felt for the first time in her life like a lost piece of puzzle had been found at last. Her eyes still lingered all over the place where Svāhā was standing a few seconds ago. A slight craving to feel his presence again arose in a corner of her heart, for the warmth of his eyes and delight ignited the temptation.

 It had taken her some time to regain her senses. When she had, she contemplated retreating to Rivera or continuing through her journey. Swamy knew better than to sprint back into the library and go all over it with Mrs Rivera again who, she was sure, would name it another one of her illusions. So that accepting defeat along with a folder of the manuscript from Mrs Rivera was her only resort. Besides, the newfound experience felt a litter more intimate—that Swamy had not wanted to share it.

She secured the packet safely in her backpack and went off to KonAnug Mail. Throughout the journey, she went through the incident a million times in her head. From the moment, she had walked out of the library—got engaged in the staring conquest with wolf-like eyes—to Peter’s café—the flying squirrel and finally ended on the golden iris. 

The chronology was perfect the way it should have been. She had unlocked her cell phone to click a couple of snaps when that peculiar Squirrel, Wily, caught her attention… 

The snaps! Swamy grunted at her stupidity as she abruptly threw the folders of old manuscripts that Mrs Rivera had handed her on her bed and fumbled through her dirty backpack. 

A silver smartphone was blinking a Snapchat notification. It was from Mani following which another green icon blinked at the right corner. A text message from Nishank, a couple more notifications from college mates. Then, there were questions from students who were working on a project and finally more formal emails.  

Swamy ignored all of them as she raked through the icons like a woman on a mission and stopped only when she found what she had been looking for—a photo gallery. All recently clicks saluted her in alignment. It was all but clicks of pages and pages—from college assignment to paragraphs and lines from novels that picked her attention. 

Swamy ignored them too. Her finger touched a round icon that led to more photographs. The first few clicks were selfies with random filters, followed by two more clicks of sun-rise. Then, there were trees, birds, grey sky and, finally the river Himantura. Swamy zoomed in to maximum and there on her phone screen stood the witness of her honesty. It was a blur but recognizable image of Wily. It was surfing and had its sunglasses on.  

‘So, it really was not an illusion!’ She mumbled to herself, shakily. ‘I was not hallucinating. Wily…’ Her brain went numb again. ‘Oh, God. I need help. I really do.’ She told herself. 

‘Have you made it?’ Another text popped on her screen from Mrs Rivera which made her groan in annoyance. Swamy felt a wild temptation to send the snap of the lady, but thinking otherwise she slides that text to left and sat still for a few moments. She, then, chugged a whole glass of water before she, at last, punched in Nishank’s digit. 

‘Hurry, Pick the phone, Nishank! I need you.’ She chanted as a melodious caller tune-filled in the deadliest silence of her room. The song ended instructing her to leave a voice message. She did not. Instead, she again tried his phone and again, the computerised voice instructed her to leave a message. 

‘Ugh! I hate you.’ Swamy grunted as she angrily threw the phone on her bed, feeling drained out frustrated. Her eyes followed the machine as it wobbled upon her bedsheet, tracing wrinkles and landed at top of the manuscript.

Something caught her eye—peeking from beneath the old cuttings and manuscripts was a portrait. She hurriedly caught, sorted the papers until she came across the portrait. It was not an ordinary paper. Rather, it looked like some imperial parchment type. Swamy turned it and found the title scribbled in big bold letters. 

THE TREASURES OF SANUALI—A TALE OF REINCARNATION.

It read. Two curvy designs that looked like shadows of snakes were engraved above and beneath it, forming a rectangle around.

Below the title was drawn a weird-looking map. It was triangular, was the first thing that she noticed and very tiny. One had to look keenly to make out directions or read instruction. There were arbitrary symbols all over it that faintly bulged out on the paper. Swamy traced the shape with her finger—a chariot, a sword, an amulet, an arrow and finally a coffin. 

Swamy flipped it over to come face to face with a mysterious creature, she had never seen or read about ever before. She blew the dust away and wiped the paper with back of her hand. 

‘What the—’ A gasped slipped through her lips. On Scrutinizing, she found a furious looking black dragon glaring at her. The inscribes were outlined with sparkling golden ribbons and similar to the shapes at back, it too, bulged out of the paper. Its eyes were red and tongue forged. A bluish-red scales and golden scales were the visible undersides of its wings as flames of fire were spitting out of its mouth. Its horns were round like goats and each had a twisted crown shimmering around it.

Her eyes landed on the lines engraved at the very bottom. On looking keenly, she mumbled whatever readable was scribbled on it. 

She whose eyes blazes with fire

She whose heart drips with desire

She who knows the heaven and the hell

She who neither repent nor dwell

She knows to turn wrong into right

Make decisions with no fear or fright

She is the heir of Szytra and Nagini

The empress is a human but will cherish a wizard family

Combatting Desis needs a face as malleable

That must turn deceptive and disguisable 

She has mastered the art of seduction; 

She has been guarding all her emotions

Shall be the ‘one who will taste victory

Zogura braces her with endless immortality

Oh, dear empress listen your heart

The Sanuali Civilization has never been apart.  

Swamy’s head had started spinning, along with her room. White dots appeared in her vision. A throbbing pain started to settle through the side of her head and spread all over. Her veins tightened as she stumbled to get a grip, falling face upon her bed before everything went blank.