Chapter 2
A Riddle
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Under the nag does stand the door,
To the land of reptiles and ancient lore.
Created by an emperor of old,
The entrance to the eternal springs is cold.
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Nitin reread it, and then read it again. What the heck? The man was a riddle master? After all he had been just asked to solve a silly riddle?
‘I am being sarcastic,’ Nitin thought. Taking a deep breath, he shifted back his chair. The mysterious box lay in front of him on the table. The cool wind still poured in the room, the bed sheets flapping.
For the sake of the dramatics of the situation, Nitin rubbed his palms together and squinted once more at the wooden carvings. The box was approximately the size of the geometry box of the school (with giant rounders and all). Nitin wondered if it was the same. Vines ran all along the edges, and on the face was inscribed a very frightening symbol. A seven-headed serpent lay coiled in the center. Around it were ripples of water, something like falls.
Feeling the shiver for the second time, he averted his eyes. Outside, the starry sky somehow looked less intimidating, as if he were now used to it. He closed his eyes.
The man had died. Shattered like a glass.
The images replayed in his mind.
The man’s lips curved up a little. His eyes twinkled. Then his head fell down. Nitin caught his breath for a moment, his eyes wide open. All of a sudden the man erupted in a flash of green and splintered into a thousand pieces.
Nitin staggered. His knees threatened to give away. His chest was a drum. Beads of sweat trickled down his face and arms. He looked as the pieces melted away and eventually vanished.
The valuable box could have fallen any second, had not Nitin thought of sitting down. A lump had formed in his throat. Though his mouth was now in Rajasthan now, he didn’t know why he wasn’t reaching in his pockets for the bottle.
The place beside the car where the man had died was clear of any mark. No blood. Nothing else. When Nitin got hold of himself, he took emptied the bottle fully and was back on his two. No windows open. Great.
Nitin hid the box under the car, just in case, and strolled further. He was expecting to see a heavy bike full of technology and devices. He saw nothing. The lane was empty. Only cars on one side and trees on the other. He retrieved the box.
Nitin told himself to go and hide in the house. It was not his business. He had to dispose of the box, quickly. He took a step towards his house, and nearly destroyed the box.
The one-eyed cat had returned. It stood on the gate of a nearby house silhouetted by a lamp. Nitin took a sigh of relief. Next time he would take care to throw away the cat in another neighborhood. It meowed and leaped away in the lawn.
That thing could have broken the box. But that’s what he was going to do. No. He shouldn’t destroy it. The man had looked more than serious while handing out the box. He glanced for a last time behind him, then headed for his house.
A knock on the door brought him back to reality.
Nitin jumped in his chair. He had to conceal the box.
A second knock resounded. Nitin, of course, knew it could be no one other than his father. Who else lived in the house except him and his father? His mother, was a sad topic, not because she had died a terrible death, rather because he didn’t know who she was. He had tried every form of blackmail with his father, but to no avail. However, he was able to get some basic facts. She was a Kashmiri. Vyom, his father recounted his journey into Kashmir as an educational tour. And their he met Mansa.
That was all. No more explanations.
Nitin chucked the box among his clothes in his wardrobe.
“Nitin!” his father called out.
“Coming!”
He threw the wardrobe’s door close and let his father in. Vyom’s eyes were squinted, as when he did to search for some mischief in Nitin.
“May I know what were you doing, my dear son?” The sweet-tease. Nitin got lots of them every day. Vyom was a doctor. And it is always grapheme-hard to live with a doctor who is your father. Vyom was exceptionally handsome for his age of forty. Rimless spectacles adorned is long and pointed nose. His eyes always glittered behind those glasses.
“What does a ninth grader do at night, my lovely father?” Apparently, Nitin had taken the bait.
“Sleeping is out of list,” Vyom paused and tilted his head toward Nitin’s desk. Nitin followed his sight. “Where’s your phone?” Vyom asked, nearing.
“Somewhere,” Nitin backed. Vyom, even without glancing at his pockets, withdrew his phone.
“Who does sleep with a phone in his pockets?” Vyom held the phone up in Nitin’s face.
“Err…” Nitin began, but he found no explanation. Don’t tell anyone.
Vyom laughed a made-up laugh of triumph. A second letter, the phone rang out a message tone. Vyom eyed Nitin again.
“Give me my phone back!” Nitin tried to snatch away the phone.
“Not without reading the message.” Vyom pocketed the phone and ran a hand over his short hair. “But the real reason I am here is to ask you why you went out of the house.”
Nitin sweated. He had to tell now. But what about the man? He had promised…no, Nitin didn’t remember making any promise.
But first, Nitin had to try stories.
“For your knowledge, you dragged me in my room and locked me from outside. You returned after half an hour. You sneaked, but I saw your shadows under the door. You unlocked the door, without telling me, thinking I was asleep.”
“What does that have to do with it?”
“I mean you are forgetful,” Nitin said, a mask of seriousness on his face. “I didn’t leave the house, but the open door is in fact the result of your carelessness. You left it open. Last time also you came in and charged me of leaving the main door open but it was you. You slept after me. So it was your duty to check the door.”
Vyom looked confused, trying to remember if he had checked the door. “Okay, sorry.”
“And what were you doing in the night?” Nitin said.
“I woke up just to have water and decided to feel some fresh air outside. Then I noticed the door was already open. And if you remember that your Sunday is over, get ready in twenty minutes, or you will miss the bus.”
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