The Arka festival went wrong, even before it started. 

Arka shone in his full splendour as the first day dawned, as he had been doing over the last few months though the physical toil put in to complete the harvest despite the unrelenting heat had left most of people tired and quick to tempers. It had been difficult period for them, to work at harvesting the fields, the  reaping, hauling, stacking, handling, threshing, cleaning  of the grains to be followed by the back breaking work of bagging and storing the grains. 

There was an increased lethargy along with heightened frenzy, which led to arguments, quibbles and quick fights as the villagers and visitors jostled for space. The Banjaras who had reached a couple of days earlier and had staked out their space, had parked their carts and pitched their tents, in what was apparently a much coveted spot; which did not go down well with the rest of the villagers. But for the time, they held their peace, the festivities and its preparations occupying much of their time and efforts, and few paid scant attention to the small group of Vella and her companions.  They had set up the tents a little apart from everyone else, further from the central clearing where the prayers, sacrifices and the subsequent cock fights would be held. The tents, three of them, were pitched in a small group, all facing each other, and affording a clear access to the grassland further away, closer to the stream that trickled by.

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Aindri cursed. 

She did not care that it was mere futility and that cursing would not solve any problems, but then it did make her feel better, so it was good, in a day that nothing had gone well. She had submitted to her mother and sisters; wearing the deep maroon dress with mirrors and beads sown around the hems and draped the vibrant hued shawl over her shoulders. Her hair, freshly washed and loosely plaited, was adorned with strings of fragrant jasmine. She was uncomfortable with her plait that swung by as she walked, but considered it a small price to pay for the joy she saw in her mother's eyes. It thrilled her so much that she decided to spend most of the morning with her mother and the other women, it would give her a chance to be with her niece, Kamli, who glowed as an expectant mother should. They had been always been more like sisters and thick as thieves. 

As the day wore on, she was bored and after having helped with the preparations for the next day, decided to wash up. Feeling adventurous, she decided to make a detour to the stream rather than walk back to her village. She was almost close to stream when she came across them, a band of boys, though as they all appeared to as old as her or maybe had a couple of years on them, they would be young men, even though they were behaving worse than children. Though that was not correct, she thought, for they were torturing a couple of pups for fun of it, which she would set right, she was furious at the way they were using the dogs to frighten the young women who came to the stream to collect water. The girls were young and petrified, both of the dogs and the leering men. 

Aindri acted, wasting no words, picked up a stick lying nearby, whacked the wrist of the boy holding the dogs. He screamed and let go of dogs who yelped their way to freedom. She glared at the men, challenging them to stop her while signing at the girls to walk away. Once the girls had fled, she looked at the men,  they were familiar faces belonging to the nearby villages, she had see them couple of times, and spoke, "I think you have forgotten that animals are to be treated with kindness and women with respect. If you need any further reminders, do come to me, I will love to make sure that you would remember." 

As the men muttered under their breath and dispersed, she changed her mind, still angry with them and decided to take a walk. She should have told her mother, or sent word about where she planned to go; she had been often admonished for disappearing without a word. Vahin had often tried to reason with her, saying that it was not that they did not trust her, it was just that they would like to know her whereabouts, in case they needed to reach to her. However, she was not the one to pay heed to words of caution, especially when uttered by Vahin. It was rare that  she ever heeded anyone, she just did what she wanted, and had decided that the mile long walk to reach the stony out crop was not an insensible idea.

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Breekai was perched on a rock when he saw Aindri march towards the outcrop, there was something in her stance which warned him that she was not to be messed with and would also not welcome his company. He stuffed the knife into his belt and slipped behind the rocks, from where he would not be visible, hoping to leave once he was sure he would not cross her path. He had heard of her, her unbelievable sword fighting abilities and unlike the rest of the crowd, did not dismiss them just because she was a woman. He was not going to cross paths with her.

Aindri walked to the centre, and folding the shawl to a square, placed it on the rocky floor and sat down. The sun would be setting soon, the rock was quite hot from the heat but then the spot which she had selected was covered in mud, and with the folded shawl, was only warm. She looked around and then closed her eyes, hoping to calm her agitation. This was the chance, Breekai thought, and so focussed was he on Aindri that he nearly missed them, by the time he noticed that gang of men headed towards them, he could not return to his hiding place.

They radiated trouble, of that he was sure. He also had a feeling that Aindri might need help, it was an inexplicable feeling, considering that he was not trained in any combat techniques. He was light and lithe, quick on his feet and nimble in his steps but he was no fighter; though he pulled out Adrushta's knife and held it before him.

She heard them before she saw them. 

Opening her eyes, she  looked at the six young men and then at Breekai, the odd man, or rather a boy, he would be her age, she thought. It was laughable, he was uncomfortable with staying, unwilling to be a party to what the rest wanted and though he carried a knife, he was unsure what to do with it. And he was earnestly trying to dissuade the rest of them, which made her wonder why he was with them in the first place. The one whom she had hit earlier, appeared to have hurt his wrist for he was cradling it and wincing in pain. The leader was the one who glared at him and then tried to leer at her, again.

They were at the head of the the gentle slope that led to the edge of the rocky platform. The platform was a rough long elliptical shaped one; the top of that particular rock had been knocked off, stories circulated that it was due to lightning though Aindri often wondered how it had happened to cleave the rock in so neat a fashion, so as to render it straight and smooth. Half the rock, was surrounded by the low rocky hills forming a wall of rock and the rest faced the open land. It formed a natural amphitheatre, and apparently, it was going to be one great show, though she was in no mood to fight. Not even when the leader shoved Breekai out of the way and tried to move ahead.

She got up with deliberate slowness and said, "I would think it is preferable if you just went along your way, I do not wish to hurt any of you. At least today."

And almost had to stifle a laugh at their comic expressions; her response was not what they had expected. She shrugged her shoulders, they appeared to have no weapons and as she truly did not want to fight, she turned to leave.

It was her well honed instincts that save her, she heard the swish and slightly swerved; and then grasped as the knife slashed through her, stifling the cry as the blade burned its way through her muscles and nerves, effectively numbing her left arm. She gritted her teeth, refusing to submit to the pain, to the apparent hopelessness of the situation and twisted to look back at them. They stood still and she wondered why. When she realised that none were moving, she was perplexed, till she looked down, her clothes were getting drenched in blood. They presumed she would bleed to death and had decided not to bother chasing a woman who would soon be too helpless to move. They were wrong, she was not going to die. And even if she did, she would kill at least half of them. They started this battle, but she was going to finish it. 

Ignoring the burn in her shoulders, she took small steps backward, holding their gazes, noting their perplexity. She walked in a slight angle till she reached the rocky walls, which was what she wanted. She had rock at her back and a knife within reach, sort of. 

Aindri breathed, shallow and quick and then willed her breaths to turn deep and slow. As her breathing settled, her purpose returned, she had a knife and she would get it, even if it meant ripping it out of her own flesh. She moved her hand to reach her left shoulder and realised that the angle of the knife was such that she would not be able to grip it from front. Gritting her teeth, she changed tactics, she raised her right hand, stretched the straining muscle and in a fluid motion, moved it over her head and behind. 

When her finger tips brushed the hilt, she felt a chill sweep through her, but there was no change of expression on her face. She rested her left arm on her waist, this time the pain showed but not one of them moved. It helped that they thought her to be helpless, thought her to be easy game, thought her to be crushed and broken. She looked at Breekai, who was lying on the ground, blood seeping, was he dead? Apparently the leader had pulled the knife from him and then pushed him hard to the ground, before throwing the knife at her. He had a smug sneer, he thought luck was on his side, though he was not going to get into a direct fight with her. Another of the men snickered, he found it funny that she would try to remove the knife, removal of the blade would only hasten the bleeding.

Everything changed once her fingers touched the hilt, the handle grew warm and almost seemed change to fit her grasp. Closing her eyes, she withdrew from her surroundings, it did not matter anymore, she knew it was different, that something had changed and she would never be the same again.

Wrapping her fingers round the hilt she tugged and almost groaned as the chill pervaded her bones, then gritted her teeth  harder as she felt the blade free itself. There was a burning agony and then she felt the bone joining on itself and the muscles knitting up as the blade left her body. She flexed the fingers of her left hand, the movement returning sensation to her arm. And as the chill left her healed body, she felt the calmness descend on her, one that bespoke of an icy rage.

They were going to pay. And she was the one who would make them pay, for she held a powerful weapon in her hand. There was stunned stillness Aindri drew the knife over her head and let her hand hang to the side.

For what Aindri had pulled free was no longer a sharp ordinary knife, it was a long sword, of an ancient make, its edge glinted wickedly in the dull sunshine, as though mocking the men who had dared her.

Breekai stared at the still figure of Aindri; Aindri who stood tall, hands limp to her side and head bent, one that should be a personifcation of helplessness but for the gleaming sword blade that she held. The blade transformed her. Where had she pulled it out from?

She was belligerent yet benevolent, beautiful yet fearsome, young yet ageless, a fragile frame that radiated the strength of steel, a woman who was a warrior. That was how a goddess should look like. He almost laughed when he realised that he was writing poetry, what was it with his family that they resorted to poetry when death stared at them?

Adrushta might have agreed with Breekai; that was indeed how a goddess would look like, though at that precise instant she was filled with an angry admiration for Kala Bhairava, he did have a sneaking sense of humour. For aeons that blade, a puny nondescript knife had been resting at her feet; she and that knife had been the butt of many jokes during the Godly Conclaves too, no one seemed to know how exactly it had ended up in her ancient temple in that tiny little sea port, but not one had imagined it to be the Singing Sword. Of course, since Bhairava was never a part of those conclaves nor was he known to favour any one of them over the others, there would have never had a hint either. Not that knowing about it would have helped her; she could never touch that blade but then...

She watched with bated breath, wondering what would happen next. With Aindri, it was almost a foregone conclusion as to who would win, but then one never knew which other gods' whims were at play and the battle could be a long drawn one.

She was a whirl, and they could not make out where she jumped and when she slashed, a furious swirl to twists and cuts, all of which found were true and found their mark. And when she had finished, she stood straight and supple, her breathing still even and the blade gently dripping crimson.

Breekai almost chuckled at that sight; which would have been possible but for the blood gurgling from his slit throat. The rumours were true; that knife was cursed. It was those stories that had attracted him to the knife, he had to have it, the stories of it being cursed had only increased its allure. And when he held that knife in his fingers, he had felt and had even uttered a few words of gratitude to Lady Luck. And she had not favoured him, that man, had used his knife to cut him before flinging it at Aindri.

He closed his eyes, as he felt the blood coagulate on his chest, strange he could no longer feel the warmth of the blood, had he bled out completely? Was he almost dead, now? But he could make out the sounds, the swish of the skirts, the faint scrape of the blade against the rock...

Adrushta's anklets chimed as she shifted in her cushioned swing seat and when she heard his thoughts, she sighed, 'humans and mortals were such naïve creatures as though she was around only to serve their interests. But she let them think that, their praises and did perk her up. It did not matter what they thought, she was a goddess and in the end everything she did, every benediction she gave, every bit of fortune she bestowed was in truth, only to serve the Gods. And yet, she adored them for the praises they sang and the devotion they showed. It felt nice to be worshiped.

Aindri was about to bend down to check if Breekai was breathing, the pool of blood made it impossible that he could be alive, when she heard the sound. It was faint, a chime of anklets bells and she swirled to see who it could be; she was distracted and she left Breekai to track down what she felt was a sudden movement.

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Almost an hour after Aindri left Beerkai, Vella and her companions stepped up. Her decision to run away had been taken when she had seen Aindri return with blood splattered clothes. She had not bothered to find out what had happened, it would not end well, and there was no way she could stay back, It could be a coward's way to run away but she was not going to take chances and find out how the rest would react. 

And when they came across Breekai and the other dead men, she knew her decision was right. She knelt beside Breekai, wondering how he had come to be with them and on an impulse, held his wrist. He was still alive, the pulse was weak; he had bled quite a lot yet he clung to life. She now had another quick decision to make.

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The crack, a faint line the zagged across the rock face, when Aindri had dragged the sword for a couple of minutes, would have been only a scratch, if either the timing or the blade or the hand had been different. Now the crack, infinitesimal though it was, ran deep into the dark earth.

It felt the change, a mere whiff of change, but it could feel it. And welcomed the same, it meant freedom from its imprisonment in that rocky dark bowels of earth. It did not know how many years had passed since it had last roamed free but it yearned for it, despite the burn and the pain that the light would bring; it was worth being free.

It shifted its form and marvelled at the way it could move; and slowly stretched out a wispy tendril through that crack.

It was a feast, a fresh residue of seething resentment which also carried the smell of a long festering anger and a hint of brutal lust; it loved those emotions and anger, the sinful kind was the most attractive of the lot. The thickening fumes of black fog, swirled in ecstasy as it absorbed the negative energies left behind, only stopping at the silver gossamer strand that shimmered. It lifted a tentacle, which looked more like a human hand made of charcoal mist and ran its finger along the strand which immediately disintegrated causing the creature to shake in inhuman laughter.

Adrushta blanched as that touch slithered down the strand of her hair and it left her queasy as she made out the vileness of that being, even if it had been for a mere fraction of an instant, she could still feel the evil emanating from that form. She knew what it was and Adrushta shivered, rather shuddered; the Pisachas were to be feared by all living beings and gods alike. With one now freed, she wondered who had been desperate enough to summon one from the depths of the earth. 

It did not bode well, if the next war was to begin with the arrival of the Pisacha.