The man pushed aside a concrete circular door, the size of a manhole cover. The feeling of suspense that I had all my way down to this side of the street was now overridden by an awful sense of deja vu. How many times had I passed along this very street? The location was covered with overgrown dried grass and stacked rocks. An entrance to something large and peculiar hidden beneath this thatched area could be anyone's guess, right?

"Please, follow us," the man said. He seemed overly polite and respectful, that I could do nothing but be the same.

Nodding at him, I studied the boy's hostile attitude. He somehow reminded me of the Singh before the challenge in his realm, who had been doubting my disposition until I succeeded to prove myself to be different. The boy gave me a cold shoulder and descended down, holding the stairs leading to the underground shelter where they claimed dynasty to be hiding.

It was getting darker as I stepped further down. Slowly the blackness seemed to be pushing away by lanterns and oil lamps hung on the stone walls beside the stairs. There should be around a zillion threads since I kept stepping down and the ground nowhere getting closer. The smell was hard and of decaying leaves. Wherever I was being led to, definitely had one advantage though. The warmth and dryness should be worth it as if forever living in a comforting embrace of an Eskimo jacket.

I let out a huge sigh on finally stepping down the last thread. The distinct mummers rang in my ears, eventually realizing that it was the sound of busy people at work. Panting and heaving, I swallowed heavily to clench my thirst. I gazed across. And on perceiving what I was actually staring at, my heart thudded like a drum beneath my chest.

It was an endless sea of people, hidden in this confined huge chamber built underground that seemed like an age-old catacomb crackled to life. There was an exhilarating feeling as I walked inside watching the men and women, immersed in the day to day activities that were supposed to be done in their own respective huts underneath the glowing sun.

"Look," said the boy, grudgingly, "what your grandfather has left us to live with."

"Don't get started, Yuvan!" said the man, "It's not just anyone you're complaining to."

"Hold on a second," I hedged the man and fixed my focus on the boy. Somehow there was an overwhelming feeling of possessiveness. "Before we start off on the wrong foot, I want to know what your problem is. Care to explain?"

He looked at the man and then back at me. He didn't care what the former one's opinion was. "My mother died giving birth to me, here, in this dark catacomb. Oh how lucky she must be, to die and get cremated in the same spot. She died because there were not enough resources to take her to the infirmary at the right time. King of Sharad denied to send us help because Panchayat didn't allow him to. What a great country it is!"

"Yuvan, stop!"

"Please," I said to the man, "Let him speak."

"For the past twenty-five years, we have been living in this crude. Families separated only by a thin sheet of cardboard. Sharing meals among thousands of people. Deaths and cremations every day. Children crying for an extra drop of milk. There are seven other dynasties up and running, their kings taking utmost care, why is this the only dynasty suffering?"

I remained silent.

"Your grandfather believed that the Knight Yodhin Ojha was a traitor and died leaving his family and the others to lead this life. According to him, we are safe from Shashi and Almourah. But he wasn't realizing he was shredding his own dignity by dumping us down here. And these innocent people blindly believe that the King has given us a sanctuary to live. Where are we living? Aren't we are equal to a dead because we are forever stuck underground?"

His eyes filled and tears dropped down which he didn't even care to wipe them. "Now you are here, as a Samagraha. I have been watching you for the past couple of months. You do nothing but roam around for an hour and leave. I bet that is what you were asked to do, right?"

I numbly nodded.

"Exactly. And if you become our King, you will just leave us to live this life because that's what you'll be told to do. May be having no king at all will leave us to blame our fate and no one else. That sounds better to me!"

"Alright, that's enough," said the man, pushing Yuvan behind, "Your Majesty, if you'll allow him to speak he'll just go on and on. It's just the young blood speaking. He is hysterical. The truth is the King of Sharad has been helping us with the basic facilities even in this grave conditions. We are fine."

Yuvan rolled his eyes and stepped away.

"Fine?" I asked, raising my brows, "The term we predominantly use to end the topic and is indirectly meant to say that we're not fine?"

"No, Your Majesty," he said, "We are honestly more than fine. Just because we don't see the sun anymore, doesn't mean we are not having the light. We make the dynasty. King Harsh had taught us to live like a family and that is what we are doing. Supporting each other, sharing our necessities of life. Sure we don't have a lavish life as the rest of the dynasties, but we do have a life here. We work. We educate. We get trained. We are really fine."

Yuvan scoffed. "Just go and watch other dynasties."

"I want to see," I said, ignoring the boy, "I'm interested to see everything. I want to know why you think you're fine. Can you please take me on a tour?"

And the man walked me through, Yuvan stayed right behind me. To the extremes of the catacomb, at both sides, hundreds of squared shaped sections were laid out divided by a sheet of cardboard. That separated one family from another. Children, grouped according to their age were playing in the middle of the living sections. Men and women, collectively doing regular household chores. I couldn't help but notice the smiles on their faces which I'd never seen in the people of other dynasties. There was no fear of the beasts, no fear of death, or losing someone to death.

Nazira's vision of a lively, picturesque village spilled in my mind. The striking similarities caused unsettling bewilderment. The only difference- there was no twilight.

As we walked further for a mile or so, there was a steep slope, the roof of the catacomb seemed to be extending, making me believe that I was going further deep into the catacomb. The three of us got mingled with the massive crowd, the number of people would be simply hard to figure out. They were literally working. The idyllic rural life of the people was absolutely blissful to watch.

The man was speaking, explaining things through -who they were and what were they doing, but it was Nazira's voice that I was hearing in my mind, subconsciously. The essence of her thought in my mind was an experience. "Clans are formed according to their occupation. Everyone, once reaching an age, must work. Some are forced to get involved in their family occupation, but that doesn't mean they can't have employment in the area of their interest."

"What do you do with the products you make?" I asked.

The man replied, "The Daulat Haat is still successfully running because of the most of the products we make. King Aghasthya helps us in all the business transactions." And then it was Nazira -"Every time Shourya took me to Daulat Haat I'd spend a lot of time just looking at the artifacts. Everything signified something about our culture. Sometimes I wanted to learn how to make them myself. But Shourya never allowed me to."

The first section of the people were working beside the hundreds of furnaces, fire burning gloriously amidst it. Men were holding the tongs to swirl, inflated the hot liquid eventually forming into a small glass artifact and gently placed them in baskets.

"What clan did you say it is?" I asked.

Nazira in my mind said, "I belong to the Clan of Khanets. And my clan makes and supplies such a beautiful variety of showpieces throughout the country."

"Heard one of the Samagraha is from this clan," Yuvan suddenly said, "And most of the people from this clan live in Rawat. Why isn't he the one guarding us?"

I smiled at him. "Because a Samagraha doesn't belong to a single clan. And belongs to every clan."

My eyes lingered on one of the artifacts I wished to own, but the man moved ahead and so did I. A large number of people sitting down on the ground in an orderly manner, with circulars wheels in front of them. There were barns filled with clay being mixed with water and other additives by the women and then passing on the clay to the men sitting beside the wheel.

"Pottery," said the man, "Needs flexible hand moving skills and sheer concentration to harden the clay to make strong pots. Only the Clan of Luthras can have such a talent."

"Weaving," he said, as we walked across the large but simple wooden machines, interlaced with looms and colourful fabrics, "The beautiful sarees and other traditional clothing are made by the Clan of Gorakh."

"Cottage goods- it's a small industry where these people make wooden goods. It was started by the Clan of Sarna in the mid of nineteen hundred."

"Poultry- They need space and that's why they are located at the far end of the catacomb. They are the Clan of Varman."

The man kept demonstrating about one clan after the other. There was a separate section completely dedicated to kids, which seemed to be a penurious school, yet it was something. I specifically noticed the kids that seemed to be disabled. Ahead of all them, stood a teacher signaling to them.

"There are tons of people like me," Nazira said, "Deaf and dumb especially. And are poor, as well. If I had the money, I would have gladly tried to do some services and helped them sustain. After all, we should have equal space in schools and colleges too, right?"

I sniggered inwardly, remembering the maddened expression on her innocent face.

"Finally," the man said, "The Clan of Asvin..."

"That's my clan," Yuvan at once said, "The knights of Paramarahtra belong to this clan. Once they are hired by the king, their clan changes and fall under the High clan of Rajya. They need more space to get training on archery, shooting and also horse riding."

"Horse riding?" I asked, "How is that possible here?"

"That's something we are doing unfairly," the man replied, "the youngsters sneak out of this catacomb once in a while and meet the Clan of Vaquiro- the cowboys, the owners of the ranch farms. They used to help them get the training. But now with the fear of Almourah pervaded everywhere, we strictly asked them not to get out of the catacomb anymore."

"Yet we didn't stop," said Yuvan with a slight boastful look on his face. "In the minimal place we have, we are still getting trained among ourselves. Believe it or not, we are working really really hard."

Although I guessed the reason for it, I still wanted to hear it from him. "Why?"

He twisted his jaw. "Because we know our future King is here. And that he's a powerful Samagraha who killed Shaytan Rup. Not me, but others do want their King to make an impression on them when he finally takes over the throne."

I looked away guiltily, feeling the eyes of the boy boring deep into my skin.

The man then mentioned that we were approaching the end of the catacomb. It was the large space, tall fire logs lit at the corners providing better illumination than the rest of the catacombs. The youth of the dynasty was there, stood in countless rows with half of them carrying the bow and arrow pointed at the target, and others the muskets directed at the poorly made effigies of the beasts. The look on the young faces of the boys spoke loud and clear about the fair share of tenacity they had been holding in their hearts.

"Oh, I forgot," Nazira said, "My teachers used to say that even girls can become the knights. Well, there was a king, and I'm not bringing his name, who once wanted to allow them to participate in the ceremony to hire knights every year. You know how it is though, anything against the Book of Law is strictly prohibited. But I wished they are given one chance because all they need is a bit of support and encouragement."

"Fire!" A loud shriek startled me.

A cloud of dust from the firing of the musket filled in the air. Most of the effigies ripped apart and disintegrated down to the ground.

"Release!" I jerked at the shout that came from the other side.

Thousands of arrows zoomed past me. Most of them hit the target, a few of them lost by an inch and rest dropped down midway. A heaviness in my heart began to prove its existence watching the young girls run towards the boys to applaud and also checking the weapons with sheer interest. The expression on their faces, their movements resonating the confidence. They seemed convinced and joyful with they got, and what if they had better...

"What do you think, Your Majesty?" the man asked.

I remained silent feeling the tremor of incredulity. It was the jitters perhaps, watching this beauty suppressed by the fear of getting smushed if went outdoors into the open space where they actually belonged.

"It's an impure dustbin, filled with garbage."  Those were the exact words I had used to describe this country. And Nazira instantly correcting me, "Dustbins can be purified. All we need is someone capable to clean this garbage."

I felt my heart getting squeezed. It was forcing me to take my words back. Damn, the self-esteem.

"We are leading a better life than the other dynasties, aren't we?" the man said, finding me quiet,  "We are the dynasty that's literally working. Others are simply dependant on us. It's all because of your grandfather who gave us this life."

I looked aside at Yuvan who folded his hands, the only youth who seemed unconvinced.

"It's an adjustment," I said, my throat pained, "You deserve better."

"Can we expect that from you?" The man said, his voice full of hope.

I stood there, having a numb mind and did not rebel against that. There was nothing else to say, nothing to ask. I swallowed hard, and rubbed my nape, being in devastating confusion and wavering.

Without answering, I thanked the man instead, for giving me the tour. Yuvan was looking at me with his cold eyes as I walked past him patting his shoulder. The long walk through the catacomb was a struggle, to scrutinize the people around and to consciously admire their work. My eyes fell on the glass artifact I had seen earlier. It was a tiny glass dome covering a crystalized shining golden-yellow flower of Vrindahina. I smiled knowing where it truly belonged. I paid double the amount for it and walked quickly away feeling the necessity to oblige to what my heart wanted me to.

I closed the lid of the entrance and sat down on the rock beside it, analyzing and reanalyzing every decision I had made in the past months.

What was done, was done, right? Fretting over it might not bring me out of this melancholy. I needed to focus on what was getting to the point where my heart wanted to go. The corners of my eyes filled with tears on now presuming why Nazira had lately been saying, 'Mistake' in my mind. I slightly groaned out a wordless lament, feeling my insides demanding for liberation before I rose up refreshed and ready to start over.

But in the midst of my relentless battle with my own thoughts, Pruthvi's voice burst in my mind. "Hayden, where the hell are you? Ira said you never returned..."

"Pruthvi," I interrupted, being highly elated for having someone to share my thoughts, "There is something I need to tell you."

"Yeah?"

I wiped the tear and declared it without any more hesitation. "I'm done processing."

-x-