THE DENSE CLOUDS lowered their stocks washing out the surface of the earth. Midnight. Rain. The darkness went into every drop of the water. Hopp spurred his horses to run high. The chariot was not good to run at its best. It was un-oiled since the ages. But it was valuable for him, made by the great grand farther of his great grandfather.
Right-side wheel of the chariot tumbled on a stone. He saw his body
flying in the air. Dhaddada… dhaddam… dhad, and he was thrashed again on his
seat. Reigns still in his hands, but limbs trembled on seeing the death so
near. On a crack, he shifted his gaze on the back seat of the chariot. Shudders took
hold of his body and mind. Soul, too, shaken.
He saw a woman, sitting in the back seat.
Hopp was a pundit, an owner of a temple, only temple in the kingdom.
King visited the temple on occasions. People revered Hopp. They looked at his
chariot with devotion. They believed his words as the translation of God’s
will.
“Who… who are you?”
“Carry on. I am not your enemy.” The woman spread her
lips wide and showed her teeth. The teeth were bigger than a wolf’s teeth and
sharper than a lion’s. Design of her face made his navel pulsating with horror.
He was a man of courage and the holder of faith in God. But the flood of
darkness, his flying in the air just before a moment, and the sharp-teethed the woman squeezed out every drop of his courage.
No words were exchanged until the temple gate became visible. He
gathered remnants of his courage. Fearing though, he turned his eyes on the
woman.
“Where do you live?”
“I am homeless.” Again, her teeth sparkled. It made the darkness darker.
He came down the chariot, his legs still unsteady on the ground.
“Go into that hut. And leave before dawn.”
“No. Find out a home for me. A permanent home.” The teeth. She gazed at
his face. The gaze was sharper than a deadly sword.
“What’s your name?”
“Feara. Feara, the bloodsucker.”
Every hair on his body straightened. The woman disappeared in the hut.
Hopp heard the clinking of teeth. No, it was not her teeth, he realized. It was
from his own mouth. His teeth clinked again. He walked up to the temple steps.
Sat there. No one was awake in his house, in a far corner of the temple yard. A
cat mewed and it shook the whole universe. Again, the deadly silence took hold
of the whole surround.
* * *
People were
happy with him. But he was not happy with himself, with what he had. The cause
of is unhappiness was a two-legged man with one eye on his face. Goldie was his
name. He traded in things and had erected a three-storey house. King’s palace
was the only building taller than the Goldie’s. Hopp envied him. He envied his
horses and the stable and the score of chariots he possessed.
Hopp was a
man of mind. Before daylight replaced the stormy night, he found out a strange
utility in Feara. Feara, the Bloodsucker. He desired her presence. He gave
ample food and drink to the hungry and thirsty Feara. He promised her a
permanent shelter, too.
“Keep your
teeth covered until I say to open.”
“My master,
I will obey your words.” She agreed to be his prisoner.
* * *
THE PRESENCE OF FEARA ran like the fire in the forest. People talked that Hopp had enslaved a demon incarnated into a woman’s body. It was his magical power that saved them all from the wrath of Feara. Otherwise, she would have engulfed all who went for work in the dark; she would have killed every woman sleeping with a man, and she would have eaten all the children who were ill. It was because of the divine power he possessed, the Pundit of the temple had saved all from the deadly claws of Feara. Hopp was a man of mind.
Days passed and Hopp sent a message to Goldie: Meet me at night. No one ignored Hopp’s words. Goldie too did not. His chariot arrived at the temple. Hopp embraced him.
“Feara wants
to meet you.” He told Goldie. He knew that Goldie owned everything. He was
wealthy next to the king. But he did not own one thing: the courageous heart.
On seeing Feara and her face, the land beneath Goldie’s feet slipped. The clink of
her teeth made him shiver. Hopp watched his face. The arrow was on the
target.
“But why she
wanted to see me?”
“I don’t
know. She is an evil soul. Look at her nails. She can tear open anybody’s
chest, at one stroke. But for the wellbeing of all the people of our kingdom, I
hold her as a prisoner. She can go out only at my will. And by her power, she
can convert gold into dust. You understand what I mean.”
Goldie
understood what he meant.
* * *
THE KINGDOM WAS small. But the king Crowna was a tall man, tall as a
tree. He could catch a wolf by running behind it. He had killed a leopard by a
single stroke of his fist. His hands were long, long enough to catch anyone living
within the borders of his kingdom.
When the king summoned Goldie for a purpose, the trader of the things
had become a little bit poorer. He stood in the court with folded hands. His
hands and neck still sparkled a golden light, but Crowna saw grim over his
face. Goldie sat under the shadow of the king’s sword.
“Pundit Hopp is your good friend.”
“He is everybody’s friend, My Lord.”
“Hmm… Have you seen the Feara?”
“My Lord.”
“How she looks?”
Crowna collected data about Feara and her master, Pundit Hopp. With the
Feara under his command, Hopp was a man of limitless power. He could send
tremors into the hearts of anyone, merely by talking about the Feara and her
powers. Hopp enjoyed influence over the multitude.
“Call him.” The king ordered.
* * *
THE KING CROWNA was used to call a man for two reasons only. One: when a
man collected wealth more than the king’s eyes could bear to see he would call
him. And the wealthy man would lose his wealth. Two: he would call a man when
the man enjoyed influence over people more than the king’s ears could hear
without displeasing. That man would lose his wealth first, and then his head.
Hopp was summoned to the court of the king. Hopp was a man of mind. But he
consulted Feara, his partner in trade.
With the help of her fingernails, Feara wrote on a wall of the hut, ‘the
king had a divine sword. Get it anyway. His strength will devolve upon you.’
“How can I get his sword?”
“You are a man of mind. Think.”
Hopp started thinking. On the way to the king’s palace, he dragged out a design
from his mind. But on seeing the king’s court he was baffled. It was full of
candles. Candles were on every brick of the walls. And under every brick, there
was a human skull. Bricks lighted, skulls highlighted.
“You are a pious man, Pundit Hopp.”
“My Lord, I am a citizen.”
“So be protected by my sword.”
“My Lord is kind to this temple-man.”
“You are a temple-man. This king bows his head before you. But you are
not a warrior. So, hand over Feara to your king and be happy.”
The king had a bright face, brighter than Hopp had presumed. And he was the owner of sweat and poisonous tongue, too. Hopp looked at the king’s sword and
went on his design.
“My lord, I am also worried. Feara is enemy of all. I seek your sword to
kill her with my hand. My Lord may honour me with possession of the divine
sword for a day.” Hopp was a man of mind.
The king leaves his throne. Came near to the temple-man. The sword was
in his hand. He raised the sword and made it falling on Hopp’s throat. King’s
tongue had failed to work on the man of mind. His swards did not. Hopp was
beheaded.
The king took possession of the Feara. He became her new master.
SINCE THE DAY, Feara is in the custody of the king. Whenever he needs to fear the people, he releases the power of Feara upon them. It works.
