PART 1

Even at the morning twilight, it was cold.

The town was known for the cold winds that whipped through the mountains surrounding its East. Beyond the mountains, rested a huge lake - a common tourist attraction, where even people from the cities nearby would come. In the spring, many schools brought their students for trekking and boating.

Rudra wasn't one of them.

He preferred staying at home, next to a graveyard where the Christians buried their dead. He always avoided field trips or picnics or any outdoor activities the school would organise. His only favourite activity was reading. The small room that he shared with his elder brother had a tiny section below the stereo system, full of books. In those days, literature was a luxury, and so most of the stories Rudra would read were either from English text books of every higher class or some ragged novels from the scrap dealer. Those were the only books his family could afford.

He'd save his lunch money, at times skipping brunch at school. His brother, Adrith, would do the same but only to find ways to get out of the house.

Unlike his brother, Adrith was adventurous, outgoing and would always find excuses to leave the house, or the town for that matter. They were young, Rudra being three years younger, and so he couldn't necessarily leave the town for anything. He faced deadlines, a curfew, if one may. He never paid attention in school too, his mind always wondering, looking outside the window through the school gardens. Spring was his favourite season, for he loved to run out in the park or playgrounds. His brother's achievements were always set as a bar for him by his parents. But that never tarnished their relationship.

Even though Rudra was about a thousand days younger than Adrith, they were always there for each other, from their earliest of memories.

Their mother was abusive and short-tempered. And from their earliest known years, they witnessed her violence. She was, for reasons unknown, never happy, and she'd inflict her unhappiness on others. She was a little too traditional, even though her husband didn't care, she bound herself with ideologies that didn't necessarily matter.

Rudra was her favourite, often pampered a lot by her, and perhaps why he was somehow much more affected by her behaviour. Their father was wise, kind, gentler even. He was the senior teacher in the town, and so, everybody there knew his name and family. He'd often sit in the veranda, on a chair made of mahogany to smoke his Dunhil switches. It was expensive, but it was not just a cigarette, it was his personality, his lifestyle now. He loved his sons, and often stopped his wife's motives towards them. He was a known atheist, and everybody seemed to be okay with that, except his own wife. She loved him nevertheless, but despised him for that. He'd let her have a temple, to pray, chant, preach their children about religion, without any interference.

In their mid-teens, the brothers would sneak out of the house, with their father's smokes. Every night one or the other, would enter the parent's room quietly, and pick out the box from top of the bedside table. While one took care of the cigarettes, the other would carry the matchbox from the temple. They'd run from the gate behind the building, and enter the graveyard, sit on one of the graves at a blind spot and share a smoke. They'd count the puffs - seven each.

That night, they sat on a grave named Chase Solomon Island. They'd decided to smoke two cigarettes, one each. The night was a little biting, but the sky was clear, the stars visible, the moon half and bright. Rudra inhaled the burning nicotine - a long drag, and closed his eyes for a moment, letting out the smoke slowly, his lips very slightly moistening the tip of the filter, his breath both - minty and smokey. It was quiet, no bird, no human, no vehicles, nothing. It was as if Adrith wasn't there too.

In that arc, he was aware of the breeze against his skin, perhaps even of the sun approaching from miles away, the hair on his body growing, the sound of two heartbeats - even though it seemed crazy to him - steady and strong, pumping warm blood through veins and capillaries throughout the body. For a few short seconds, he only belonged to himself, that was until he felt his brother's hand on his shoulder pull. "Wake up! Rudra! Run!"

He opened his eyes suddenly to a blur of yellow flashlights that made his eyes squint. He was pulled upwards by his shirt, the cigarette falling on the rustly leaves, a smoke already starting. They were being chased by the security guard. Adrith pulled Rudra with him, not going towards their house, and Rudra was startled at that, their legs still sprinting, the guard's flashlights still flashing in all directions due to their chasing.

"Where are we going?" Rudra tsked.

"I have no idea!" Adrith replied, breathlessly.

"Then why are we running?"

"Because we're being chased, you fool!"

"Then why don't we just go home?"

Adrith then stopped for a second, looking behind, beyong his brother's breathlessness and sweaty face, the guards still running, far behind them in the dark. He again pulled his brother by the shoulder, behind a very old and thick banyan tree by the side. They really had ended up somewhere they couldn't easily recognise in the blinding dark.

"Adrith!?" Rudra shreiked, in a whisper.

"Shh! If we'd have gone home, they'd have known who we were and tomorrow would've been a long day." he paused to inhale. "Just stay quiet for a while. Once they leave, we'll find our way back."