"Sunno sunno! Sunno sunno!" The voice accompanying the continuous drumming is boisterous to my sleep. I sit up and open my windows to peek out at the royal messengers taking a round around the town. Many people start to gather like a flock of sheep to listen in closely.

"Next week, on Sunday evening, a coronation ceremony will be held in the royal palace to felicitate the Princess of Nivaan for unlocking her powers."

A yawn gets stuck in my throat as I hear the announcement. So she finally unlocked her second soul, huh?

"Farmers are requested to hand over one-third of their harvest of this year to the royalty in this month itself, instead of at the end month of the year. A grand feast is held for the coronation for which people from around the world are coming to the Kingdom of Nivaan as guests..."

The messenger goes on to read out the Maharaj's message. But people only cared till the time he mentioned farmers. It is not the first time the 'honorable' Maharaj has asked for the harvest before the end of the year. Even if I am not among the people down there, I can see the gloomy eyes on the verge of tears. Aghast faces who don't know how they would manage to complete the Maharaj's order. Exasperated looks who are already tired of Maharaj's out-of-the-blue commands, and if they had the power, they would protest against his order right there and then.

No one cares if the Princess has achieved her powers or not when they have such a big problem in front of them. If you want to celebrate your success, celebrate it without putting others into trouble. I guess this is something no one has ever taught to the royal family.

I sigh and get out of bed, slowly rubbing the remaining sleep from my eyes. I'm fortunate enough to be born into a physician's family, who has the highest rank in society after the ministers in the royal court.

"Wow, I'm so lucky to see you waking up early on a Sunday morning." My younger sister, Deepti, teases me with mockery dripping from her tone.

"Not everyone wakes up early in the morning to read a book." I roll my eyes at the brown-covered book– which probably would be a fairy tale– lying on her lap.

"Reading is better than wasting time doing things like sleeping." She sends across a smug smile from the courtyard. She is wearing a simple ochre yellow pattu pavadai that has small waves across the material. Her silky black hair is now oiled and tied into a bun.

I sit beside her when Amma arrives. She is trying to pin gajra to her long braided hair without a mirror. She's already dressed in her favorite Kasavu saree, the all-white cotton cloth falling to her foot as the golden borders add more elegance to it.

"Why's everyone dressed up so much? And that too this early morning?" I grumble scratching my hair. "And Amma, when are you going to apply oil on my hair? You always apply for Deepti."

"You should wake up early for that. I've other work to do." Her voice is so low that whenever she speaks, the words fly away before they reach the ears. "Deepti go have a bath."

"Yes, just one minute more. I'm almost over–" Deepti tries to convince Amma to let her read just a few more pages with her puppy eyes. But Amma remains firm in her stance as she crosses her arms across her chest. "Ok, fine!" She slams the book shut and strides off.

"And you–" She points at me with sharp eyes that look more defined now that she has kajal highlighting them. "You're going after she finishes. We've to go to Swami Bhautika's temple. You forgot didn't you?"

My mouth is shaped like an 'o' as I recall what Amma had said yesterday. "Of course, I remember. But why do I've to come? I told you I don't believe in Gods."

"But there's a special puja today. We can't miss it. And you have to come. You can pray for Biju to recover soon." She says as she assembles her aarti plate.

"And with the prayer, he would recover?" I ask. It's been five days and Biju is still admitted to the hospital. The physicians say he's suddenly in critical condition and because they haven't identified the disease yet, only limited people can meet him– like his parents. I and Kartik haven't even got a chance to see him.

My fists clench on their own after thinking how that pretentious physician was saying that Biju was alright even when he was not. When a doctor couldn't identify the problem Biju had nor could he fix it, then how a mere prayer will?

"Yes, if you're faithful and if your prayers are pure and honest, they'll be fulfilled. And you should break the coconut today. Who knows, you can unveil one of the purest flowers for Biju. It may bring him good fortune in the form of a steady recovery. " Amma's voice reflects so much hope that it convinces me to go with them.

"Okay, I'll give it a try. But you've to apply oil on my hair for me."

Amma shakes her head in a small laugh. "Sure, bring me the coconut oil."

I go and come back at lightning speed before Amma changes her decision. As I sit down before her, she pours the oil in between her palms and rubs a little to make it warm. Her hands then gently apply the oil on my scalp, her fingers massaging like a professional. I close my eyes, my muscles relaxing as I enjoy Amma's head massage.

"Is everyone ready?" Appa's voice reaches my ears, making me unconsciously open my eyes. He is wearing a white shirt and lungi with slim golden borders, the clothes contrasting his clay-like skin found in Dhulaj.

"Oh c'mon, you're not ready yet?" He has bags under his eyes which are a result of the numerous patients who visited him yesterday. Nonetheless, he still sounds like he just got back from a funny puppet show.

"Deepti's in the bathroom," I say lazily.

"I'm done already, Anna." My head swiftly turns to look at Deepti who is already engrossed in the book that she was previously reading. Her body is clad with swan white pattu pavadai, similar to Amma and Appa's clothes. It's always mandatory to wear white while going to temples as white stands for purity.

"You just went in, didn't you?"

"I'm fast." Again that smug look. Though Deepti is younger than me by seven years, she still knows how to win a conversation with her witty responses.

Appa laughs and approaches Deepti. "What's the book's name that made you so fast in completing your chores?"

"I'm re-reading the tale of Swami Bhautika." She tells. "It's always fascinating to read it. Though I'm still trying to find out how Bhautika could drink up all the water."

"It's because he was the incarnation of the Water Goddess." Appa clarifies.

"But the Water Goddess is female so how can she reincarnate as a male?"

"That doesn't matter, Deepti." Amma chuckles.

"Wasn't this already taught to you last year in history?" I ask.

"This was the only interesting thing in history. So yeah, I like to read more about it." Deepti shrugs.

"When I was in your grade, I was taught that Swami Bhautika was himself a God. And my fish, there's not a single mention of the war between the two kingdoms. Our education system really wants to keep us away from our real history. No politics, no war, only peace." I reminisce.

"What war? And politics? There's nothing like that in this book." Deepti pushes away her book for children, which definitely didn't have any mention of war and crimes.

"There are many versions, dear. What you believe is what matters." Amma mutters.

"Then what do you believe in, Amma?" Deepti questions as her eyes pique with interest.

Amma groans and stands up. "I don't have time to narrate you a story. Tell your idle Appa to do it. I'll go buy some fruits and flowers." She retreats from the courtyard and exits after the final warning that is directed toward me. "Be ready before I come."

I roll my eyes and nod.

"Appa, Appa, tell me." Deepti whines. "What's your version?"

"Hm, okay." Appa sits back comfortably against the brown pillar. "The Kingdom of Nivaan and the Kingdom of Marhali have been enemies for hundreds of years. Constant wars– small and big– break out every now and then."

"But why so, Appa?"

"You know that clay soil found in Dhulaj? That's the territory both the kingdoms are fighting for."

"Oh, ya, Dhulaj lies at the border of both kingdoms. But why?"

"No one knows actually. Some say there are gemstones hidden under the soil. Some say there's hidden treasure kept away by our ancestors. However, no one knows it truly."

"I'm sure the royals know about it." I voice out my opinion.

"It could be. But the length both the kingdoms have gone to get that piece of land is tremendous. For instance, there was a very big war that took place for almost a decade. Both sides didn't want to give up at all. Marhalis then decided to take the deceitful route and make us– Nivaanians defeat."

"That route was poisoning the Amrit River." I disclose making Deepti's eyes huge. A smile makes way on my lips as I notice that Deepti resembles an owl at night whenever she's shocked.

"And you studied in geography how important river Amrit is to us, right?" Appa inquires and she nods as an answer. "River Amrit connects all the cities, all the towns of Nivaan. All the farmers depend on it. All of us depend on it..."

Deepti is hit with realization as she continues Appa's words. "So that means we couldn't use the water at all. But there were other rivers too na?"

"We did use them. But the river Amrit is a major river that was a source of many riverbank settlements and for agriculture. So there were famines, food crises, and financial crises in the whole kingdom. And don't forget that we can only rejuvenate our powers in river Amrit. So to save them all from this crisis and not lose a war, a man came out of nowhere to help us with it."

"O-o-oh now I understand. That's why Swami Bhautika drank up all the water of river Amrit and sacrificed himself for the Kingdom."

"And then he dies." I complete it for her. 

"Stop ruining the fun!" She hits me with her small hands that feel like a cat scratching with blunt nails. 

"A fun fact. You know why you always express your anger, shock, and happiness with a little phrase–Oh fish?" Appa gets her attention back on him.

"Because you and Amma use it. And even Anna."

He laughs. "And we use it because when Swami Bhautika drank up all the water, the fishes of the river died due to the poison and lack of water. The fishermen wept and sobbed saying 'my fish' and it just became our go-to slang."

"Wow, our mythology has so many stories."

"Indeed because after all the mayhem, it rained continuously for a month. It filled the river Amrit with pure water again. And as the legend says, maybe, they were the tears of the Water Goddess herself." Appa says with a soft smile.

The two kingdoms then came to a conclusion on a peaceful treaty initiated by the Last Authority–the five representatives of each kingdom who work on a secular, independent level and make unbiased decisions during such disputes to restore peace. Under their pointy supervision, the treaty was signed by both kingdoms that stated that neither Nivaan nor Marhali would initiate a war or engage in any deadly conflict for the next hundred years. 

This is the last year of the Dhulaj treaty.

"Wow, Swami Bhautika was definitely an incarnation of the Water Goddess. I would've loved to witness him drink up all that water." Deepti says with utmost adoration for the said God.

"Okay, now c'mon, Onkar take a bath and get ready before your Amma comes. Or else she will kill us with her tantrums."

—

The scorching sun above our heads increases the sweat that dots our foreheads. My naked back is already wet, similar to Appa's. It's better that we only need to wear a lungi and no shirt or else I would have melted in the heat like ghee. We are standing in a long queue for Swami's darshan, for a mere sight that seems nowhere to come today. Apparently, we have missed the puja– not because I took time for bathing of course.

We three can see literal smoke coming out of Amma's ears as she stands ahead of us with the garlands and sweets. "Always late. Our whole family's a bunch of monkeys. All lazy monkeys." She mutters under her breath.

Beside me, Deepti giggles. "What a lazy monkey you are, Anna."

I glare at her. "She said that to all of us."

"Especially you Onkar," Amma snaps without looking behind, making me roll my eyes secretly, and Deepti to laugh louder.

I divert my gaze to the soaring coconut trees surrounding us when my eyes fall on the tall gates of the temple. We are in the huge corridors of the temple which doesn't have any roof above. However, it is guarded by walls on both sides. There, on the side of the wall, I notice the familiar brown placards with the same messages held by the same people I have always noticed around here. They are seated on top of the wall.

'God is not real.'

'Swami Bhautika is fake.'

'There's no hero, no savior.'

'Stop being ignorant.'

And so on it goes. Since childhood, I have seen these people around this temple, stopping the devotees of Swami Bhautika from worshiping him. Especially the guy with a long beard, ragged clothes that clad his age-old skin, and that small rucksack around his left shoulder. No one knows who he is but I'm sure everyone who visits Swami's temple has seen him around at least once.

"These crazy atheists would never stop this, would they?" Appa questions no one in particular as my eyes flicker to him.

"Why do they do that?" I question.

"Because they don't believe in God?" Appa shrugs, unsure of his own words. "You also don't believe in God but do you do this?"

I shake my head.

"I don't have any problem with atheists but they shouldn't do this or stop others from worshiping their deity. It's... stupid. Don't you think so?"

I wouldn't do this. I do question Amma's immense faith in Swami Bhautika but I don't stop her from performing rituals or pujas. I did grow to eventually realize that different people have different beliefs. And if we try to shove our opinions and beliefs in other people's faces, it's surely the beginning of a dreadful riot or unnecessary wars. As I see the temple guards push the atheists off the walls and drive them out of the temple's vicinity, I realize Appa's words do hold power.

"Ya..." We move forward in the line but then come to a halt within seconds. It doesn't seem like we have advanced any distance ahead. I can only sigh and wait for what felt like more than a day to get the darshan of Swami Bhautika.

When I join my hands and stand in front of the carved statue of Swami Bhautika–adorned by tilaks and garlands–only one thing revolves in my mind.

Biju.

Let Biju be alright. Help him to recover soon so that we three can carry on with our antics.

Please take care of him.

—

When I enter the hospital along with Kartik, we both search for Biju. Or at least his parents. We try asking a nurse but they are too busy to even stop by. The hospital is buzzing with the nurses and doctors running back and forth from patient to patient. I can hardly see any empty beds, only loud coughing and grunts of pain. How come there are so many ailing patients today?

We got to the second floor which I had once visited with Appa. There, patients in critical condition are kept in separate rooms. Immediately we spot Biju's parents in a pity state, conversing with the physician. A new one.

When we go near them, I purposely overhear their conversation.

"See, we're trying our best. We don't know the cause of the sickness yet. It seems new. We've approached many apothecaries for any new medicine that could treat–" He's cut off by a nurse that comes out of the room adjacent to them.

"We need you, sir. His condition is deteriorating." The nurse and the physician rush back into the room as I stand there, aghast.

My heart thumps faster with every second that passes as I approach their parents. "Uncle? Aunty? What happened–"

Suddenly, my shoulders are gripped by Biju's mother, her bloodshot eyes glowering at me. "What did you do to my son?! What did you do? You were there inside with him, weren't you?"

I shake my head profusely. "No, no, I would never do anything to him. He's my best friend!"

Biju's father detaches her firm hold on me. "I'm sorry dear, she's just worried about Biju so much that–" Till the time Uncle finishes, Biju's mother breaks down into tears.

My body sways as my mind is gripped with confusion. When did this happen? Only five days had passed and Biju's condition deteriorated so badly. That grumpy physician was so sure that it was just a throat infection and nothing else. But what now? My hands clench at my side, dread gnawing at the pit of my stomach.

There's a loud bang of metal hitting the floors. All the heads in the corridor turn to the room Biju is in. His parents dash inside and we try to follow them but a lofty male nurse blocks our way.

"This is dangerous. You can get infected." He explains.

"But we–" Kartik's high-pitched tone is interrupted by the nurse.

"Stay outside!" He orders.

Kartik refuses to listen as he struggles to push the nurse away. Because my height is short, I can see from under his arms.

Biju is having a seizure, a very serious one. His left arm folded to his chest remains stoic as his body muscles jerk uncontrollably. The nurses are trying to tame him down on the bed as the physician makes an attempt to shove medicine down his throat. My eyes are wide as tears flood them. At the very moment, my brain is full of prayers to any God present in this world.

Please, please please save him. Please, Swami Bhautika, save him. I would worship you with flowers and milk every day. Please.

"Oh fish..." I gasp when Biju abruptly falls limp on the bed. Slowly, a black liquid spills from his mouth.

Everyone in the room freezes as dead silence fills the room. There are silent whimpers from Biju's mother as the physician checks Biju's pulse when he doesn't respond. My eyes fixate on them. I can't breathe anymore.

Please Water Goddess... Save him. Please don't let him die. Please don't let him–

"He's... dead."

***