Knowledge is the key to power.

****

Days passed like flipping pages of a book. Devipuram was rolling on with time, leaving the past behind. It was as if it had gotten habituated with the murders that had occurred and just waited for the next big one to come.

Maya's days were spent thinking about the clues she had collected– the keys, the blood, the helpless prostitute...

And then came the day to nourish a growing bond.

A telephone call had come to Aadi Babu's house from Hrishav. The conversation had gone something like this –

"Hello, am I speaking to Aadi Babu?"

"Yes, you are. It's Hrishav right?"

"Yes. Actually, I want to know if your acquaintance Maya would be glad to write something about the temple in her article-"

"Wait a minute."

Clomping footsteps came down a flight of stairs. The phone was then handed over to the desired woman.

"Hello?"

"He-hey, umm, it's Hrishav. Are you free tomorrow at five thirty in the morning?"

"Well, yeah, I can wake up early. What's the plan?"

"I feel you are interested in traditions and this particular way of life– of devotion and rituals. So I am thinking of giving you a closer peek of it. My idea is that– we are going to the market to buy stuff for Mother's food. Then we will go to the temple to cook, talk about puja practices and stuff."

"That's, oh my god, that's amazing!"

"So you are in?"

"Totally."

– and that's how Maya and Hrishav now carried empty bags to fill at the market. It wasn't a typical date, not something an urban chic would hop at first opportunity, but Maya didn't want to leave the chance. She would probably get to feel how in such little, practical moments of life, love blossomed.

Has love already bloomed, or is it blossoming? she wondered. Maybe I should just go with the flow.

No one could have guessed it was early morning when visiting the market. It was a hubbub of buyers, bargainers and enthusiastic sellers. There were crows waiting for an opportunity to snatch away that one piece of prawn, cats and dogs biting away bits of meat and the cacophony of loud, eager tones announcing the prices of commodities. While one part of the market was all about fresh veggies, fruits and animal food, the other part was concerned with grains, snacks and edible oils.

"Is the market open everyday?" Maya asked.

"You will not be able to buy fish everyday or get the desired vegetables. Those come to the market only on specific days, like today, which is Friday. Chicken you will find everyday."

"You are a Brahmin right?"

"Well, priests are so. Why do you ask?"

"That means you cannot have chicken and eggs. It's forbidden for you."

"You forget that I am a priest of Kalika." Hrishav smirked.

Realisation dawned on Maya. Yes, the worshippers of Kalika often ate meat and wine.

"But it isn't the case with every worshipper of Kalika. It depends on which stage of sadhana you are in and the sect you belong to," Hrishav elaborated. "And with the insurgence of modern ideologies and the embracing of foreign cultures, Brahmins have come to feed on chicken and eggs."

Hrishav stopped and knelt to inspect some brinjals. The seller joined his hands in a namaskara upon seeing him, and Hrishav acknowledged him with a slight nod. Some people who had been also buying from there moved aside to make space for the priest.

"But I am right in that sense that you, being a priest of Kalika, can have meat, but not that of a hen or rooster. Neither eggs," Maya argued. "You can have red meat."

Hrishav's unblinking eyes sparkled, his brows lifted up. "You are right. The ones who wish to perfect this path of life once they are initiated must give up on certain things."

"Poor thing, you cannot have chicken burgers or tandoori."

"I really don't care. I am happy with what I can do."

The seller extended a big basket to Hrishav where the latter put the veggies and fruits that he wanted.

"Is she your relative?" the seller asked, referring to Maya.

"She is a guest of Aadi Babu, and also of our village. Do you know she is here to write an article about all of us?"

"All of us?" the seller asked, with widened eyes.

"Yes! So I am introducing her to what I know– about temples and traditions. Then she can add those too in her article. Just think, the cityfolk are going to read about us!"

"It's going to be wonderful," the seller scratched his chin, looking at her askance, "I hope she writes about the good things."

Maya rolled her tongue around her mouth, clenching her fist. "I can assure I willl attract more visitors to Devipuram with my article. They will fall in love with this place."

And they too will know what goes on here.

"We are happy to get another city girl. Just don't end up like the previous one," he murmured.

The man gave her a piercing look. Maya felt the guy didn't entertain the idea of hosting outsiders in his village, but something about his words made her feel unsettled– like someone squeezed her heart out of blood, made her feel the cold chill.

Previous one...

She noted it down in her mind.

Instinctively she looked at Hrishav, and a priceless discovery was made. The priest glared at the seller like a lion warning a pack of hyenas. His ochre eyes had a malevolent glow.

"I will take these," he said to the seller, whose teeth now clattered after beholding that deadly look. "Tell me the price."

Maya thought how many more layers and complexities she had to peel off to understand Devipuram and her head priest.

"Let's go. Don't mind his words. He is a bloody fool."

And just like that he grabbed her hand and pulled her into another direction in the crowd.

In that little cluster of moments, surrounded by the wildest of chaos and the most unknown of people, she felt she was going to lose herself for good.

He held her hand. On his own.

While Hrishav kept looking at the food items, Maya's downcast eyes were unwilling to see anything else, but her palm in his.

The magical moment ended soon like a beautiful dream when he released the grip and went towards the fish seller. Maya, heartbroken and sullen, stood there pulling up a disappointed face plastered with a pout. Hrishav had almost walked some distance when he realised his companion wasn't there. Frantically he looked around, and finally his eyes fell upon the upset woman.

"What? You don't like fish?" he shouted.

Maya faked a smile and joined him. "Don't worry about it."

Hrishav batted his eyelashes. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah yeah, I was just thinking how rude that seller was. Whatever he was saying didn't make sense to me."

"It's good that way. You should not listen to stupid people like him."

And after that Hrishav bought fish for his Mother, some more fruits and spices, divided the bags with Maya and headed off to the temple in a bullock cart. By now it was half past six and the gates of the garbha griha only opened around half past seven. After an uneventful journey of ten minutes, they reached the temple. The garbha griha, as expected, was still locked. Maya and Hrishav went past the temple to the back of it.

Passing by that same place made Maya wince. Just days before this same place was covered in blood and dumped with the body of Radha. She died without being able to confess to Hrishav what feelings she bore for him.

It made Maya increasingly afraid.

The two reached a building that looked much like a little temple, but was broader at the top. It had the same designs on the walls like the main temple. Hrishav pushed open the door and kept the bags inside.

"Here, this is the kitchen."

There was a huge mud stove on one side of the kitchen close to the window. Piles of wood were stacked beside it. There were various pots, utensils and shelves full of containers.

"I cook for her with my own hands. It gives me pleasure," Hrishav said. "Do you know how to cook?"

Maya shrugged. "Just the basics. I can survive, that's it."

"Tut-tut," Hrishav clicked his tongue. "You should learn. Today, you will watch how I do things. Now, can you tell me what is choddo shak?"

Maya clapped her hands. "Ah! I know. It's an assortment of leafy greens, fourteen types. People usually consume it on bhoot chaturdashi, the ancient Halloween of us."

"Yes, correct. But do you know why people have choddo shak on that specific day? Why is it a must?"

"Well, I don't know."

Hrishav pulled out the fourteen types of greens from the bag and spread it in front of Maya. "It is said that during the Bengali month of Karthik, the God of Death and Dharma, Yamraja, becomes very powerful and all the gates to his abode Yamlok are opened. So in order to boost our immunity and essentially lengthen our lifespan we have the choddo shak. Also, it's fourteen because we offer it to fourteen ancestors."

"And it's also the fourteenth day of the waning phase of the moon. That's logical."

Maya sat down and played with some of the leaves. "To me, they all look more or less the same."

"God, is life so bland?" Hrishav laughed. "Okay, let me tell you the names."

One by one he took a bunch of leaves in his hand and told the names- starting from mustard leaves and shushni shak to kolmi and pui shak. It felt like a garden of edible greens to Maya. Hrishav, with great dedication, explained it all to her, but the uninterested girl was just going along with it to impress the priest. The words didn't get into her head, only his smile got engraved on her heart.

Well, it was apparently clear to the wise woman that her heart had given a tiny green signal. Yes, it was most definitely a crush. And she would try hard to enjoy this phase and keep it restricted to being just, a crush.

"We need to wash them properly. That's the most important step."

Maya helped him clean the veggies, fruits and leaves. They kept the veggies and leaves aside and began cutting the fruits.

"We serve fruits and kheer to her in the morning as breakfast. Then during lunch comes the first bhog. Later around six in the evening we serve her the final meal, and by eight she is off to sleep. But on special occasions, she is awake till late at night," Hrishav informed.

"So what are you going to do now? The fruits are all cut."

"I will start making the payesh. Then I will move to the fish curry, the choddo shak and at last simple boiled rice and potato fritters which I want to serve hot."

"I bet Mother likes it with a dash of ghee."

Hrishav nodded. "You have good tastes. Well definitely, what else does a Bengali need? Bhat and ghee will satiate all hunger."

"You are a foodie, Hrishav."

"People who love to cook also love to eat. I just hope I don't grow a potbelly like Manas by eating too much!"

So in between conversions, swirling the milk boiling over the mud stove and crushing nuts, sweet words were exchanged. Hrishav talked more than he ever did, Maya listened more than she did in her journalism classes. Sometimes Hrishav would let her swirl the milk, again holding her hand and guiding her like a master. Maya would steal glimpses of his sweaty face. Even with the smoke that emanated from the stove and the coughing which followed, Hrishav looked exquisite in her perspective.

He was so natural and down-to-earth that Maya wanted to look at him working all day long. She would never be bored this way.

"Hrishav, how did you learn to cook?"

The priest wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead. "At a young age. My mother died when I was ten, so I had to adapt to the new life."

"Didn't you have servants?"

He gulped. "Yeah, we did, but I just fell in love with cooking."

And yet, he was sitting so far away from her in the picture, Maya thought. Maybe they had had an argument during that time.

"Yours is a Brahmin family. You are a priest, so you don't touch chicken and eggs. What about your other family members?"

"Father never cared about the traditions," Hrishav said coldly. "My brother has followed in his footsteps. And my sister, even though she respects traditions, also doesn't follow the rules. She doesn't have a problem with me choosing my destiny but also doesn't want me to interfere in hers."

"So you are the only one. It's nice knowing that you stick to what people will often mistake as some orthodox foundation."

"Which caste do you belong to?"

"My mother is a Christian, and my father is Gupta, a mixture of Brahmin and Vaishya castes. So basically I am a hybrid."

Hrishav's hands ceased to be active. With crooked brows he stared at the payesh. A pleasant smile then lit up his face.

"You are different, Maya. Yet so similar."

"What?"

"Oh no!" His smile faltered. "Just that you are different from us, yet so similar by our interests."

"Okay, so answer one question of mine– I have heard about panchatattva and tantra. Is it something regarding the five elements?"

Hrishav turned bug-eyed, much to the astonishment of Maya. He had a set smile on his face which reminded her of Mona Lisa. It was so mysterious and hard to crack.

"Panchatattva is related both to Dakshinachara, the right-handed path of tantra and Vamachara, the left-handed path of tantra"–Hrishav ruffled his hair, a gesture too manly to distract Maya for a second from the conversation–"but I guess it belongs more to Vamachara. It is about five things that one must involve oneself in during the worship of Kalika."

"And they are?"

Hrishav tried hard to suppress a smile. Maya quizzically looked at him. To her, his mischievous smile wasn't making sense.

"First is madya, meaning alcohol. Second is mamsa or meat. Third is matsya or fish. Fourth is mudra or dry grain. One must consume all these."

"And the fifth one?"

Hrishav pursed his lips. His eyes glittered like that of a little kitten up to some prank. "I really don't know how you are going to take this, but it's maithuna. Meaning, ritual sexual intercourse."

Hrishav turned red as the beetroot kept near his feet. A slack-jawed Maya stood with an awkward tightness in her chest.

"Sacred sex?" she asked, biting her lower lip.

"Yes. An exchange of energies between the representatives of Purusha and Prakriti."

"Oh."

Quite an uneasy and embarrassing silence hung in the air. Both of them felt utterly self-conscious and decided to keep quiet.

Maya felt it would be rude to ask which path he followed. She should not poke her nose into his business. If he had to do maithuna, of course, it shouldn't be her issue. She avoided looking at him unlike all this time, an itchy feeling causing distress to her throat.

"But maithuna isn't done by everyone," Hrishav clarified with a wave of his hand. "It's a secret art not to be performed by anyone.It is very difficult. Not like regular, you know, stuff."

Maya nodded her head. What else could she do? But at least he had read her mind and eased the fiddly tension in the air.

"It's very difficult," Hrishav muttered to himself.

"So you have a guest today?"

The two were joined by a smiley Shekhar. He twirled the keys in his hands, the very keys wrapping which Maya's mind now created a whole theory of blood and gore. Soon the mushy feelings flooding her heart got replaced by a sense of alarm, rousing fear in her soul.

"I am going to wash and clean a bit before presenting Kali the breakfast," Shekhar said. "Just keep it ready."

Wash and clean, again. Maya felt she was standing in close proximity to a murderer. At least, a potential suspect.

"I need to go. Aadi Babu must be waiting for me for breakfast."

"Ah, yes. I had some fruits and tea in the morning. I cannot eat again before I finish cooking. You can go."

Maya was going to leave when Hrishav gestured her to stop for a second. He went to a pitcher and scooped out some kheer into a bowl, handing it over to her.

"It was given to Mother last day. It's still good, you can have it."

"Thanks."

"We shall meet soon."

And the two stood there looking at each other, refusing to move even an inch until Maya, at last, broke the hypnotising magic.

"Something is brewing fast," she whispered to herself, while Hrishav intently watched her retreating form vanishing in the horizon.