Call of the throne

Days passed slowly. I still carried tea to Bade Ustaad, but the book now seemed empty.

Its pages no longer held secrets of spirits or hidden kriyas. Instead, it spoke in simple tones about silence, patience, detachment.

Things I wasn't ready for. I wanted power, not peace.

I wanted to learn how to throw out spirits, not how to sit still and breathe.

Bade Ustaad, too, had changed. Or maybe, I had.

He barely looked at me now.

He hadn't spoken since the second reading. Sometimes he nodded.

Sometimes he didn't.

I was growing restless. Disappointed.

And the nights brought their own confusion.

From where I slept near the gallery, I could sometimes hear voices. Lila's voice was one of them.

She still visited Chhota Ustaad.

Her tone was softer now, more worried than before.

"Please leave the alcohol," she told him one night. "It's making you hollow."

There was no reply.

Only silence.

Then footsteps.

Then laughter the kind that tries to hide pain.

But I knew something else.

Whenever Lila left, Angira arrived.

Their talks were different whispers and long pauses, often too low for me to understand. But some words were clear:"Dark kriya... forbidden tantra... hidden strength..."

Chhota Ustaad rarely spoke, but he always listened. Angira's voice was like a thread, pulling him deeper each time.

One night, I heard Angira clearly:"Leave Lila. She's a distraction. A danger. Her presence is softening you. She doesn't belong to this path."

Chhota Ustaad didn't answer.

He only sighed.

I could hear the weight in it.

But the pattern repeated.

Lila would come with care, with warmth. For a while, he would change drink less, laugh more, look lighter.

Then Angira would return. And with him, the darkness.

The book had gone silent.

And in its silence, I started to hear other things louder.

The ashram was not still.It was preparing for something.

One night, I heard raised voices from Chhota Ustaad's room.

Lila and Chhota Ustaad were both there. It wasn't like the nights before.

This time, Angira was present too. Their words were not soft.

They were talking about a politician and a manager who were supposed to visit soon.

Chhota Ustaad was replying with worry in his voice: "The funds are less than what was expected. We used some of it for our personal needs."

At this, Angira turned sharply and gave Lila a cold, warning look.

She said nothing.

She simply stood up and walked out of the room.

Chhota Ustaad did not follow her.

That night, he and Angira left the ashram together. It was whispered they had gone to gather more funds, though no one knew how or from where.

For two days, they did not return.

The ashram felt empty without them. But something else strange happened too.

Bade Ustaad was in his room, i went to him again with tea.

This time, he looked at me and gestured faintly. I took it as a sign.

I began asking questions about spirits, karma, silence. Finally, I asked, "Where is God?"

He didn't reply with words. He pressed the ball of his foot gently against my chest.

In a voice like thunder, he said, "Take it!"

Everything stopped.

My body froze.

It felt like a giant fire had opened around me. But not one of pain.

It was a fire of light.

I saw stars.

I floated among them.

My breath stopped. I couldn't feel time.

I did not know if I was dead, or dreaming, or becoming something else.

My body felt as though it had cracked open and a river had started to run through it.

When I awoke, I was lying near the deities, not in his room.

I do not know how I got there.

Had I walked in sleep? Had he carried me? Was it even real?

I looked around. No one else was near. The floor beneath me was cold.

I sat up slowly, feeling like I had come back from somewhere far beyond.

Later, my uncle found me skipping duties and scolded me gently.

He asked why I was always wandering. But he still saw me as a child.

Someone who got distracted.

Someone who daydreamed.

He didn't know where I had gone.

To be honest, neither did I..