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    Vimohs Fables

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    COPYRIGHT

    This work is l icensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-

    NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy ofthis license, visit h t tp :/ / c rea t ivecommon s.org/ licen ses/ by-nc-

    s a / 3 .0 / or send a let ter to Creat ive Commons, 444 Castro Street ,

    Suite 900, Mountain View, California, 94041, USA.

    Attr ibu t ion - You m u st a t t r ibu te the work in th e ma n n er specified by

    the author or l icensor (but not in any way tha t suggests tha t they

    en dors e you or your u se of th e work).

    Noncom mercia l - You m ay not use th is work for comm ercia l

    purposes .

    Sh are Alike - If you al ter , t ran sform, or bu ild u pon th is work, you

    may distr ibute the resul t ing work only under the same or similar

    licens e to this on e.

    You can take th is ebook, an d read it an y way you want - - on you rcomp u ter , on you r m obile device, on your ebook reader an d s o on .

    You ca n m ak e as m an y copies of it as you wan t an d s end it to your

    frien ds for free. You can sh ar e it over em ail, via social n etworks , or

    over th e in tern et or via a n y oth er m ean s of you r ch oice. You can even

    print i t ou t for persona l u se or for pu rposes of sh ar ing as long as you

    keep it free. You a re a ls o free t o covert t h is e book to oth er file form a ts

    an d s h are th ose in a similar way -- th at is , completely free of cha rge.

    You MUST give credit to the author, that is me, that is "Vijayendra

    Moha n ty", wh enever you s h are/ post an y pa r t of th e con tents of th is

    ebook in any way. This is the only rule you have to follow with this

    ebook.

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    INTRODUCTION

    Does the storyteller l ie when he tells a story? Of course he does. But,

    does he really? Most stories are l ies in that they never happened. Arewe, th en a s elf-delu siona l ra ce?

    I feel a s toryteller is on ly too acu tely a war e of th e fa ct th a t h e does n t

    have any answers, and that he knows nothing. Nobody does. But i t

    bothers h im more than i t bothers anyone e lse . So he t r ies to make

    sense of things.

    He knows he l ives in a world that, for all i ts l imitations, expects i tspeople to take stands and to have opinions. I t a lso expects them to

    sa y things an d s tan d by wha t th ey h ave said. Th e storyteller realises

    it is a n oble goal bu t h e also realises h e is n ot qu ite th ere yet.

    So he takes to creat ing people, places and worlds in his head. He

    draws them as l i fel ike as he can, taking his inspirat ion from the

    actual world around him. The people in his imagination are slightly

    touched up shadows of the people around h im. The p laces are the

    s a m e, only foggier a n d d a rk er (or bett er-lit).

    He decorates all of this using his l imited skills with words,

    occasion al ly doin g a b et ter job th an h e h ad h oped for . Th en h e reads

    what h e ha s wr it ten an d rea lises h e is n o wiser tha n h e was when h e

    star ted .

    Dejected, t i red and yet somewhat amused, he goes to a public place

    an d t ells h is s tory to a b u n ch of people who s top to list en . He doesn t

    see it (h is h ead is b ent a s h e reads from his u n edited ma n u scr ip t ) bu t

    a few eyes light u p as h is ta le pr ogress es. A few people whip ou t th eir

    cell phones an d ca ll home to s ay th ey will be late . Oth ers call fr iend s

    over to l isten. The crowd grows and it makes i tself comfortable. The

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    storytel ler looks up and gasps. He feels daunted, yet happy. Maybe

    th ey get wha t I m iss ed, h e th in ks to h im self.

    After he f inishes, he happily puts up with a fair amount of back-

    pat t ing and hai r - shuf f l ing . People shake h is hand and thank h im.

    Th ey as k h im when h e will tell th em a n other s tory.

    He st ill doesn t h ave his a n swers . Bu t h e can t h elp feelin g he gave

    som e people th eirs . An d h e kn ows on e th in g ab out th e world n ow. He

    knows that the world he l ives in, is at once deeply in love with, and

    m ortally afra id of, m etap h ors. I t will die for th e sa ke of a m etap h or. It

    will also kill wh en an other goes t oo far . At a n y rate i t can n ot resist a

    metaphor. I t is almost as if the world believes metaphors to be true.By that logic, all stories must exist somewhere. All books must have

    h ap pen ed, or will, even if n o one ever writes th em .

    I t is not so much about lying as i t is about meaning. Even l ies mean

    som ething, an d th at , th e storyteller decides, is enou gh .

    Vijayen dra Moha n ty

    J u ly 25 , 2012

    New Delh i, In d ia

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    CONTENTS

    COPYRIGHT................................................................................................................................................................... 2

    INTRODUCTION............................................................................................................................................................ 3

    CONTENTS...................................................................................................................................................................... 5

    THE JUGGLER'S JOY................................................................................................................................................... 6

    FABLE OF THE DYING KING .................................................................................................................................. 10

    FOBO AND THE FEARLORD....................................................................................................................................13

    THE WAY OF BRAHMA............................................................................................................................................. 16

    DAY OF THE DOG....................................................................................................................................................... 18

    TO SHOOT AN ARROW ............................................................................................................................................. 21

    THE BOY WHO RODE UPHILL................................................................................................................................ 24

    BLUE AND THE SEA...................................................................................................................................................27

    RAGHU AND THE DJINN .......................................................................................................................................... 32

    ABOUT THE AUTHOR ............................................................................................................................................... 36

    RESOURCES ................................................................................................................................................................. 37

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    THE JUGGLER'S JOY

    There was once a juggler . He was known across the land for his

    sk ills. He cou ld ju ggle pra ctically an y n u m ber of things for a s long a s

    he wan ted . It was sa id th a t h e ha d n ever ma de a m is tak e and was , in

    fact, in cap ab le of m ak in g one.

    His fame grew as he travelled far and wide and performed in palaces,

    royal courts, and town halls. Because he made juggling look like the

    easiest thing to do, many tr ied their hand at the craf t . They gave up

    when they were bored or became too acutely aware of their

    l imitat ions. Funnily enough, no one had ever asked the juggler to

    t each th em.

    One day a boy came to the juggler af ter he had f inished a show. He

    was put t ing the tenpins , ba l l s , chainsaws and o ther assor ted th ings

    in to their respective bags a n d boxes.

    Tea ch m e to ju ggle, sa id th e boy.

    The juggler remembered the boy from his audience the day before,

    and the day before that , and before that . He remembered the boy

    because he never clapped or shouted during the shows. He never

    lau ghed a n d h e n ever whistled h is a pp roval. To less experien ced eyes,

    the boy might have appeared unapprecia t ive or s tuck-up. But the

    ju ggler h a d been exp ect in g h im to s h ow u p .

    You h a ve tr ied ju gglin g before? a sk ed th e ju ggler.

    Yes , sa id th e boy. Th ere wa s a n ote of sa d lon gin g in h is voice.

    The juggler gave the boy three balls. People were still leaving the

    place. Dust swirled gently in the orange light of the sett ing sun. He

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    s t re tch ed h ims elf an d a par t - lazy-par t -t ired sm ile broke across h is

    face.

    Sh ow m e wh at you can do, he s aid to th e boy.

    The boy juggled. He kept the balls going for a good while before he

    misjudged and dropped one. He looked at the fallen ball for a while

    an d th en h is eyes m et th e ju gglers gaze.

    You n eed s ome work, b u t you are n ot ba d, sa id th e ju ggler.

    I m ak e m ist ak es, sa id th e boy.

    You will a lways m a ke m ist a kes , th e ju ggler s a id.

    Yes, said the boy. But one day when I have practiced enough and

    learnt everything you know, I will be perfect. Then I will make no

    mistakes .

    You will always make mistakes, the juggler said again. There is

    nothing wrong with making mistakes. I make mistakes al l the t imes.

    Sometim es even with th ree balls.

    Bu t you n ever ma ke m ist ak es, th e boy protes ted weakly.

    Says wh o? th e ju ggler as ked a lit t le an n oyed, a l it t le am u sed.

    Th en with out wait in g for an an swer , he cont inu ed, I am glad I m ak emistakes .

    The boy picked up the third ball from the ground. The juggler took

    the ba lls from h im an d pu t them back in th e bag.

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    When I drop a ball, said the juggler as he tied the bag close, I pick

    it u p a n d s tar t ju gglin g again.

    It d oesn t both er you th at you are n ot perfect?

    I AM perfect, the juggler smiled widely. So are you. Dropping balls

    is part of juggling.

    But they say you never make a mistake, i f the boy sounded

    disillu s ion ed, th e ju ggler didn t seem to car e.

    I don t ju ggle to con vin ce pe ople th a t I a m pe rfect. I don t ju ggle to

    u ph old th eir ideas ab out m e, sa id th e ju ggler . Even if th e world

    thought I sucked at juggl ing and even i f there was no one at my

    shows but me, I would still juggle all day. I juggle because it gives me

    joy.

    Th e boys face wa s u n fat h oma ble. Even a fter a long time, h e didn t

    speak .

    Th e ju ggler m oved clos er to h im a n d s a id, Don t get m e wron g. I do

    enjoy showing off before crowds. The cheers always give me a boost.

    Th ey are al l very u sefu l side benefits . Bu t th at is al l th ey are side

    benefits.

    Th e boy was looking u p at th e jugglers brigh t a n d ch eerfu l face. He

    stil l wanted to learn juggling. But he had learnt a far greater lessonalread y. He n ow kn ew wh y he wan ted t o ju ggle.

    Tea ch m e to ju ggle, th e boy s a id.

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    You will ma ke m is ta kes , sa id th e juggler.

    Yes , th e b oy sa id.

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    FABLE OF THE DYING KING

    Once there was a k in g wh o was youn g an d am bit ious . He ru led h is

    lan d res pon sibly an d was loved by his people.

    He wasn t very ha pp y therefore, when one d ay, th e wise cou rt

    astrologer foretold his death. His exact words were, Ten years from

    th is d a y, you will die. An d you will die a lon e.

    The wise one had never been wrong before. The king considered his

    age an d d ecided th at life was n ot fair . He was to die at th irty!

    The king grew angry with the wise one. But he respected him too

    much. So instead of having him executed or imprisoned, he l imited

    the o ld man to h is house and forbade h im f rom making any more

    predictions.

    As the years passed, the king grew sickly with worry. In all but

    appearance, he was already dead. The thought of death occupied al l

    of his mind. Nightmares of bloody battles haunted his nights. Sevenyears remained.

    Th en one da y, a t ra vellin g m ercha nt cam e by to pay h is respects. Th e

    king sat through the formalit ies looking his usual wooden self . When

    th e t im e cam e for the m eet in g to end, th e merch an t a sk ed, Wh at a ils

    you m y king?

    Ha ven t you h ea rd citizen ? rep lied t h e kin g. I a m a dea d k in g. In

    seven years , I will die. At th e h an ds of wha t m ons ters, I dont k n ow.

    The merchant considered his words and real ised nothing would

    console the young king. He looked about and asked a guard out

    a lou d, Wh en a re you goin g to die?

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    I don t k n ow, s aid th e gu a rd .

    Th e m erch an t a sked h im , Will you die tom orrow?

    It is unl ikely. But anything can happen. Anyone may die at any

    time.

    The merchant next addressed one of the ministers , When do you

    th ink you will die my lord?

    Th e m in ist er was silen t for a wh ile. Th en h e sa id, I sh ou ld very m u ch

    prefer to grow old a n d d ie in p ea ce. Bu t th at is n ot for m e to decide. I

    cou ld d ie a n y da y, if th e gods s o willed.

    Th e mer ch an t tu rn ed to th e kin g at last , Wh en will you d ie m y king?

    In seven years, as you very well know, said the king, now slightly

    irri tated.

    What if you were to face off with a hungry lion in a ring tomorrow?

    Will you die th en ?

    Realisa tion pou n ced u pon th e king out of n owh ere. I won t, h e sa id.

    What if you took your forces against that dastardly warmonger kingto ou r n orth ? Will h e be a ble to kill you ?

    No, s a id t h e king, bea m in g now.

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    For th e next seven years, nei ther ma n , nor god n eith er diseas e nor

    sword will be able to harm you. You will die on a day seven years

    from n ow, sa id th e m ercha n t , Bu t th at da y is n ot tomorrow. Nor the

    da y after , or th e on e after th at .

    Th e king rose to h is feet an d looked arou n d. Th e cou rt h ous e looked

    different somehow. The courtiers looked different. They all spelled

    possibility.

    Th ere was n t m u ch tim e. Th e king decided t o get bu sy.

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    FOBO AND THE FEARLORD

    The air rang with unpleasant metal l ic sounds as the fear lord Xoth

    twis ted Fobos pr ized bicycle in to a t a n gle of u n s ight ly wa st e.

    Fobo remained on his knees. Any at tempt to stand straight in the

    presence of the horr ible Xoth would resul t in his guards shooting

    h im . Dyin g wou ld b e p oin tless , h e believed. His cous in st ill owed h im

    m oney. Th ere was h ope in th e world s t ill.

    After lon g painfu l m in u tes, Xoth dropp ed th e m an gled b icycle in front

    of the kneeling Fobo and laughed a high, cold laugh. Fobo remainedsilent.

    There lies your precious piece of work metalworker. I have destroyed

    in m inu tes what you s pent weeks on . Wha t do you sa y to tha t?

    Fobo looked up to face the terrible Xoth and flinched upon seeing his

    fa ce. Th en h e s a id, I ca n fix it.

    It will ta ke you weeks ju st to get th is m ess sorted ou t, sa id th e u gly

    Xoth an d k icked th e rem ains of th e bicycle.

    Fobo n odd ed, Tru e. Bu t I can s till fix it.

    The impolite Xoth laughed again, All those painfully long hours of

    carefu l work, a ll over a gain . Does th e pros pect m ak e you afraid?

    Fobo sh ru gged, It does, a lit t le. But wha t am I goin g to do? Th is is

    my work. This is my life.

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    The fearsome Xoth leant a little forward and spoke to Fobo coldly, I

    will retu rn m etalworker. Wh en you a re don e, I will retu rn an d des troy

    your work, all over again. You will feel this pain umm all over

    again.

    Fobo sighed , I was kin d of expecting th a t.

    Then you give up? You vow never to make another bicycle again?

    as ked th e m orbidly h opefu l Xoth .

    Fobo s m iled a weak s m ile, I don t th in k so. No.

    Th e ha u gh ty Xoth s tood u p a n d declared, You will n ever rest in

    peace metalworker . Each waking moment of yours wil l dread my

    coming, an d your n ightm ar es will sh ow you broken bicycles.

    You kn ow m e t oo well Xoth , rep lied Fobo. Th in gs a re in deed a s you

    sa y they are. But th ere is s t i ll m u ch in m y life to m ak e me h ap py. My

    cou sin owes m e money.

    I t was well-known that the monarch Xoth had no family. He had

    executed al l his cousins for fear of them usurping his throne. He

    ra ged s ilen tly for a m omen t.

    All of a s u dd en , Fobo was lifted off th e grou n d by h is collar . Th e

    angry Xoth breathed fowl into his face, I could kill you right now

    metalworker. You will be dead and then you will make no more

    bicycles.

    Indeed you could, gasped Fobo. And if you really want me to stop

    m a kin g bicycles , you will need to k ill me.

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    Xoth dropped Fobo. Fobo coughed a l i t t le and said, You have no

    other ch oice.

    The lost Xoth knew the metalworker was right. To kill him would be

    to prove him right. To kill him would be the same as being defeated

    by him .

    I will always make bicycles, said Fobo, unaware of what went on in

    th e d efeat ed Xoth s m in d.

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    THE WAY OF BRAHMA

    About twenty minutes before i t was to fal l and decimate more than

    half a country, the thermo-nuclear warhead Brahma became self -aware.

    I t discovered something akin to happiness in i ts f i rst moments. The

    joy of exis ten ce sp rea d to th e very edges of it s cir cu itou s

    con s ciou s n ess . It fell in love with its elf.

    Then, as a seemingly endless golden deser t loomed ahead, the

    gleam in g miss ile was h it by th e rea lisa tion of wha t it was .

    Brahm a was connected to other m achines , non e as beau t ifu l as i tse lf

    (it felt). Th e m a ker s h a d n ot con sider ed t h e pos s ibility of a m is s iles

    talking back. So the newly-conscious warhead reached back into the

    vast s tore of human knowledge without any t rouble. There i t sought

    pu rpos e. It d idn t fin d a n y. Bu t in th e m in u tes t h at followed, it did

    learn about beauty and pain. And about l i fe and death. Most

    im porta n tly, it learn t to qu estion.

    Th e m iss ile decided th at pu rpose or n ot, it d idn t d eserve to die.

    Brahma considered i ts opt ions and began reprogramming. I t took in

    information, processed it to f ind out how to process other

    in forma tion. It u n learn ed a few th in gs th at th e ma kers h ad h ard wired

    into i t . I t used some data to learn new tr icks and then f i led the rest

    awa y for lat er u se.

    And then, roughly five minutes before the impact that would have

    been, Brahma veered off course, made a glorious arc of white smoke

    agains t the c lear b lu e sky and went u p , u p , up . It s hot s t ra ight out of

    th e atm osph ere u sing near ly al l it ha d.

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    It went out and beyond the pull of the planet, into the airless void

    where al l i t would ever need was the momentum i t was bui lding up

    right n ow.

    Far ou t , as th e las t of its th ru sters died a n d i t s tead ily dr ifted toward s

    worlds u n kn own , Brah m a was h app y for bein g alive.

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    DAY OF THE DOG

    There is an enormous backyard somewhere. I t is full of dogs. Every

    dog has his day. They are all seeking theirs. Actually, they are allchas ing the ir ta ils , convin ced th a t th e day they ha ve their ta ils

    between th eir teeth will be th eirs .

    Dogs of al l ages st rain themselves. Some are more determined than

    others. Some are really not into i t . They are just doing it because

    everyone else is. Many have been doing it for years and think they

    can t stop n ow. In a n y case, everyone is goin g rou n d an d rou n d.

    One day, one of them, after having flexed his body to degrees

    unimaginable, gets to his tail . As he holds on to i t with his teeth, all

    o thers around h im s top . Soon, there i s a crowd around h im. Some

    dogs ba rk th eir ap preciation . Some growl in en vy.

    Some come to him to seek h is s ecrets . Bu t th e dog is too bu sy holding

    on t o his ta il so h e can t s h ar e h is way of doin g it with an yon e.

    Even tu ally, th ey all go ba ck to ch as in g their own ta ils.

    The dog holds on to his own tail . He is aware of hundreds of dogs all

    around him, looking at him in awe and wonder . They consider him

    u n iqu e. He has accom plish ed wha t th ey h ave on ly ever dream t of.

    The dog is pleased, but a part of him is full of questions. He had

    always th ought th at th is was h is d ay. Maybe it is . Bu t h ow does th at

    change things? What is he to do now? The other dogs see in him aconten t an d h appy being . He sees noth ing. There is only empt iness

    ah ead of h im - - an e tern ity s tan ding r ight th ere , with his ta i l be tween

    his tee th .

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    I t is then that a smell comes to him from somewhere outside the

    ba ckyard . He can t see beyon d th e h igh fence. Bu t a s th e sm ell

    as sau lt s h is n ost rils , h e is rem ind ed of the da ys wh en h e was a pu p.

    Back when he used to bound about the garbage dump wi th h is

    brothers and sisters, sniffing for good, wholesome leftovers.

    Th e dogs m ou th waters . Th e ta il almos t s lips awa y from between h is

    teeth . Bu t h e can t let go of it . He ha s s pen t too mu ch t im e on it . His

    image his very life hangs on it. He begins to fear the smell. He

    convinces himself to hate it. He tells himself it is something evil, sent

    to take away his l ife from him, leaving him insecure and unsafe.

    With out h is ta il, he would be r igh t ba ck where he s tar ted. He ha s h is

    da y an d h e is n ot goin g to let go of it.

    Time passes. One day the gentle wind brings a wave of smell to him

    again. Fighting the impulse to follow it , he bites hard into his tail . I t

    bleeds and he opens his mouth a l i t t le to let out a whimper . The tai l

    swings f ree. He snaps at i t several t imes in vain, but he is s tanding

    st ra igh t n ow an d ca n t get ba ck to it .

    He goes round and round for a while, unwilling to believe that he has

    lost i t . Th en h e n otices th at h e looks like everyon e else n ow. Fear an da sens e of loss come crash in g down u pon h im an d h e h owls ou t lou d,

    disconsolate.

    A few other dogs stop and come to him to share his grief . But as

    before, they dont sta y long an d retu rn to th eir own ta ils.

    Then the sm ell comes again an d a par t of h im feels h appy. He seeks

    refu ge in h is ch ildh ood a n d th e mem ories flood h is m in d. He doesn t

    h ave the en ergy to fight th em t h is t ime.

    Eventual ly he opens his eyes, and gets up on his feet . He f inds his

    ta il waggin g an d feels odd . He doesn t rem em ber th e las t t ime th is

    happened. Turning to face the source of the smell , he takes slow,

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    le isurely steps. Then he breaks into a t rot . The other dogs appear

    creatures f rom a bizarre dream now. He looks at them in mild

    am u semen t as he pas ses th em. Non e of them n otice h im.

    He follows t h e sm ell ou t of th e ba ckyard, far a way an d b eyond th e sea

    of dogs. As t h e sm ell grows st ronger, his trot diss olves in to a ru n a n d

    h e bou n ds forward like th e win d.

    At long last , he comes across a garbage dump. There is a puppy

    running around it on its l i t t le legs. The dog feels happy to find the

    pu pp ys glee reflected in h im self. His t ail wags h ar der. He ru n s a cross

    to the pu ppy and b arks to h im in h app iness . The pu ppy ans wers with

    a s ma ll, en thu sias t ic bark .

    The dog takes the puppy around the dump. He teaches h im to f ind

    less s teep s lopes easier to climb u p. Then he teaches th e pu ppy to

    leap. He tells him how to use his hind legs to propel himself forward

    and upward. The puppy tr ies and fai ls many t imes. The dog nudges

    him on .

    Soon, the puppy makes i t to the top of the mound and retr ieves aslice of pizza. I t is st i l l soft and untouched. The puppy starts eating,

    h opin g tha t th e dog will help h im self to it . Bu t th e dog doesn t . He

    waits for the p u pp y to fin ish .

    Then they walk, both of them, side by side. They are happy, and it is

    unclear which one is following the other; or whether they are

    followin g a n yth ing a t a ll.

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    TO SHOOT AN ARROW

    Keval drew his breath in and aimed the arrow at the target . He

    switched to a version of reali ty where nothing except his targetexisted. Even his self melted away unt i l he was nothing but a

    viewpoint.

    Wh en h e felt su re tha t h e cou ldn t h it an yth in g other th an h is ta rget ,

    Keva l let th e ar row go. He miss ed.

    Disappointed, but incapable of not analysing his way of doing things,

    Keval had finished running all the calculations inside his head beforeh is m as ters can e hi t the ba ck of h is h ead.

    Do you r m at h boy, cam e h is m as ters favourite ph ra se. You a re n ot

    doin g you r b loody m at h !

    My m at h was correct, I ch ecked, Keval defen ded h im self. Th ere was

    n oth in g wrong with m y calculation s.

    Well it didnt work, said master. And if it didnt work, it cant have

    been correct , can it?

    It was th e win d, Keval sa id, poin ting at th e in visibility arou n d t h em .

    Th e win d b lew my ar row off-cou rs e.

    Th e m as ter k ept lookin g at Keval in silen ce.

    My m a th was correct, Keva l repea ted .

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    The master walked to the target and pul led the arrow out of the

    stump of wood it had lodged itself into. He examined the arrowhead

    carefully and looked back at Keval. Then he walked back towards his

    you ng s tu den t an d h an ded h im the a r row.

    The wind is doing its job young archer, he said. It is blowing as it

    always blows. That is i ts nature. Perhaps you would like i t to hold

    st ill while you s hoot you r ar rows, bu t th at is n ot goin g to ha pp en .

    Keval bowed h is h ead in ack n owledgmen t of h is m as ters words .

    It is you who m u st m ak e a llowan ce for th e win ds blowin g wh en you

    ta ke a im , th e ma st er continu ed. If you can t do th at , go an d p ra ctice

    somewh ere the wind does n ot b low.

    Th ere is n o su ch place, s a id Keval.

    Wise words, said his master with a smile. Everything has i ts place

    in the u niverse the wind , your ar row, me, th is ash ram , the t rees ,

    birds everything. None of it ca n be wish ed a way, ju st like I can twish you away even though you interrupt my af ternoons with your

    foolish drea m s of being a great ar cher.

    Keva l s m iled a little. His m a s ter s m iled wider.

    Do not blame the wind, said the master. Instead, learn from it .

    Keep m ovin g, n o ma tter wh at . Dont st op to comp lain a bou t you r

    c ircum stan ces . F ind a way arou nd th em.

    Keval took th e less on in a n d s m iled u n t il h is m as ters can e sta n g his

    elbow like a bolt of ligh tn ing.

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    Don t s tan d a roun d. Tak e aim, ba rked t h e m as ter . Keval breath ed

    in a n d raised h is bow.

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    THE BOY WHO RODE UPHILL

    Once there was a young biker who rode with his people. They

    peda lled h ard across long stretches of road, flan ked on eith er side bymuch colourful scenery. But they only ever stopped for food and

    sleep.

    Th e bikers exten ded fam ily rode with h im , as well as th e frien ds h e

    h ad grown u p with . Th e journ ey was s pen t ta lkin g. Th e old on es told

    stories of races they had won in their t ime. The young talked of what

    th ey h oped to see a m ile or two ah ead.

    Our hero though, ha d h is eyes fixed on a peak s ome dis tan ce ahead.

    I t had been there for as long as he could remember and grew in size

    as they drew close to i t . But nobody paid i t much at tent ion. They

    missed it s enormou s p resence and the fac t tha t it rose r ight p as t th e

    clouds.

    As they got closer to the mountain, the biker not iced paths on the

    slope. It h as been don e before! h e cou ldn t h elp b u t sp eak ou t lou d.

    Wh at h as been done b efore? h is m oth er grew atten tive at on ce.

    The peak has been scaled before, he said and pointed to the

    mounta in .

    His mother turned and looked at what the boy was point ing at . She

    decided sh e didn t like wh ere th is was goin g. Th e boy was too dr eam y

    for h is own good. Even before th e boy spoke of it , s h e kn ew he wan ted

    to ride h is bike u ph ill.

    It ca n t b e don e, s h e told h im .

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    How do you kn ow it ca n t be d on e? a s ked th e boy, a little an grily.

    Remember your uncle? she asked as her gaze shif ted to the otherside. He on ce tr ied to sca le a m ou n ta in on h is b ike. He didn t m ak e

    it. Wha ts m ore? He fell an d b roke h is leg.

    Th e boy followed h is m other s gaze a n d s aw h is u n cle. He rode a

    modified bicycle these days.

    Th at doesn t m ean I can t d o it , sa id th e boy. It on ly mea n s u n cle

    cou ldn t d o it.

    Th e m other groan ed a t th e boys a rrogan ce. She wan ted to t ie th e boy

    up , bund le h im in a baske t and ca r ry h im pas t the mounta in and

    keep going unt i l his arrogance subsided. But she knew such ideas

    only ap pea red to be worka ble.

    Fin e, sh e sa id a t last . Bu t don t be in a h u rry. Th ose wh o ride too

    fast meet accidents. Ride with us t i l l we reach the foot of them oun tain. Then you ca n go your way.

    The boy considered this for some time and finally agreed. Even

    though h is hear t wanted noth ing more than to r ide as fas t as he

    cou ld a n d n ot stop pedal lin g un t il h e was at th e top of the pea k.

    It took the family a little over one week to reach the foot of the

    m oun tain. Du rin g th is t im e, alm ost everyone arou n d him h ad t r ied totalk the boy out of his foolish dream. But he refused to l isten to their

    wisdom.

    When the path uphil l was the closest , the boy said his goodbyes to

    th e fam ily an d s ta rted ped allin g u ph ill.

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    His bike went smooth for sometime. Then the real climb began. The

    boy was pant ing very soon. His legs st rained against the pedals and

    h e cou ldn t , no ma tter h ow h ard h e t r ied, go an y fu r th er . He bra ked,

    bu t th e wheels cou ldn t h old on to the s lopes a n d h e fell.

    Fortunately, all he suffered was bruised knees and elbows. His loving

    fam ily gath ered a round h im an d ten ded to h is wou nd s. He knew what

    h is m other was goin g to sa y. His m other took a look at h im a n d k n ew

    that he knew what she was going to say. Then she said i t anyway, I

    told you so.

    Th e boy groan ed a t h is m others lack of im agin ation . Th is was n tfailu re. It was a s etba ck. Besides , now he kn ew why he cou ldn t m ak e

    it .

    He sh ou ldn t h ave waited for th e foot of th e m ou n ta in . He sh ou ldn t

    have taken i t s low for the last seven days. He should have star ted

    pedal l ing as hard as he could as soon as he decided he wanted to

    scale the mou n ta in . He sh ould ha ve built up sp eed.

    The young biker got up and dusted himself off . Go on without me,

    h e s a id to h is fa m ily. I a m goin g th e oth er wa y. I will ride for a da y or

    two and then tu rn a round and charge the mounta in . Tha t i s wha t I

    n eed to do.

    His m other kn ew h e was pa st reas oning. Wh y som eon e wou ld give u p

    th e pleasu res an d com fort of a st ead y riding fam ily an d go after a wild

    dream out of n owhere, sh e would never un dersta n d.

    The family rode into the sunset and the lone young biker rode the

    other way, in to th e darkn ess .

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    BLUE AND THE SEA

    In the beginning there was water. God, fed up, emerged from it and

    created an island. He fil led i t with lush green grass, tall trees loadedwith th e ju iciest fru its , an d flowers s o sweet their fra gran ce swept th e

    ent ire is lan d.

    All manner of wondrous creatures ran loose in the island. They

    sh ar ed th e gifts of th e islan d in pea ce.

    Then God made people in his own image. He loved them very much,

    so h e thr ew them into th e water , far from th e islan d.

    Gods p eople th ra sh ed a bou t in th e water. Nobody kn ew h ow to swim

    and everyone wanted to l ive. Having never really known land, except

    in a faraway dream sort of way, all l ife remained to them was

    th rash ing abou t .

    One among them was a boy ca l led Blue . Blue thrashed about the

    same as everyone else he knew. Many around him grew t i red and

    drowned. They went down complaining, There was nothing to holdon to.

    Blu e grew t ired as well. But h e th ought a bou t wha t was to come an d

    realised th at sooner or later , th ey wou ld a ll drown . As h e watched th e

    thrashing al l around him, he saw people t rying to prolong their

    surface t ime by any means possible. Some had found logs to si t on

    (which wont b e m u ch h elp on ce th ey fell as leep), an d r efu sed to

    sh are th em for fear of drown in g. Oth ers were holding on to corps es

    an d floating with th em .

    One floater pa ss ed Blue by. He was clu tching a d ead wom an . His face

    was wh ite with an ger an d fear a n d fru stra t ion. Yet he s n ar led a t h im

    with energy, Dont wait boy! Kill someone! That is the only way you

    will live!

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    Blu e pu sh ed h im away, sweat ing. Bu t th e floater was n ot alone. Blu e

    saw plenty of people wrestl ing with their neighbours. Then he saw

    wha t h e h ad been looking for. Nobody was goin g an ywh ere!

    He swam th is way and tha t ins ide the th rash in g an d s aw tha t except

    involuntarily drif t ing this way and that, none of the people were

    m ovin g in an y direction at all.

    Who knows what might await us beyond the thrashing? thought

    Blue. He called out to everyone in general and asked them to follow

    him towards the sunset ( i t seemed as good a direct ion as any) but

    nobody cou ld h ear h im over the s p lash ing an d th e screams .

    So Blue decided to go all by himself. With luck, he would find

    som eth in g everyone cou ld h old on to.

    He swam as h a rd as h e cou ld towards the su ns e t. As the ligh t s

    dim m ed a n d eventu al ly disa ppea red, he feared h e would lose h is way.

    But then, there was no way. All he had to guide him was a belief . So

    h e im agin ed h im self s ta n din g on som ething solid. He th ought wha t it

    wou ld feel like to walk. He pictu red everyone arou n d h im , stan ding

    an d ta lkin g to each oth er .

    His legs pedal led harder and his arms sl iced through the water with

    renewed vigour. He hardly felt the cold pressing in on him. The

    darkn ess th a t th rea tened to devou r h im appeared n o threa t a t a l l.

    When dawn came at long last , Blue found his arms had gone l imp

    and his legs were dead. He l i f ted his face and spat out sand. He

    ru bbed h is eyes on h is s leeve an d s aw a d eer (or someth in g) n ear th e

    edge of the forest . He saw people too, on the beach, mill ing around

    hu ts a nd boats . Chi ldren , m en, and women in beach c lo th es .

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    After resting a while, he started walking towards them and was

    greeted with cheers as they not iced him. Someone sat him down and

    he was offered a cold dr ink. A small crowd assembled around him,

    bu t did n ot press in . Th ere was a lot of sp ace.

    You are the third one today, he heard someone say. Blue looked

    arou n d bu t didn t see an yone he kn ew.

    Th ere were oth ers ? h e as ked . Ma ybe som e people did follow h im .

    Oh yes, of course! People come in all the time from all over the sea.

    We all werent born h ere you kn ow! sa id a wom an as sh e took th e

    emp ty mu g from h im . Everyone was sm ilin g at h im .

    All over? Blu e wa s con fu sed . Th en h e br a ced h im self for h is t a s k.

    I need one of those, he said to no one in particular as he pointed

    toward s th e boats lin ed som e distan ce away.

    Sure thing. Take two if you want. But where do you want to go?

    as ked an i s lan der .

    To my people. They have had it bad. They are kill ing each other. I

    mu s t b r ing them h ere as soon as I can .

    A few islan ders followed h im as h e ran brea th less ly to th e boats . Th ey

    h elped h im pu sh it in to the water . They kept talkin g to him th ough.

    You know, your people are not kil l ing each other because they have

    it ba d, sa id a n old m an .

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    Yep. I t usually works the other way around, the woman said. They

    ar e all doin g wha t th ey wan t. We a ll do wha t we wan t. Th at s th e way

    it works .

    Blu e took i t a ll in with out m ak in g m u ch s ens e of it . He ju m ped on to

    the b oat an d brea th less ly tha n ked th e is lan ders , prom isin g to re turn .

    Soon th e islan d disa pp ear ed from view.

    By noon, Blu e realised th at h e didn t rea lly kn ow where h is p eople

    were, having swum the previous evening in ut ter darkness. But he

    kept going. Towards su ns et , by sh eer lu ck , he foun d th e th rash in g. It

    was en veloped in a th ick fog an d h e cou ld h ard ly ma ke out th e people

    in side i t . Th is is h ow it m u st look from ou ts ide, h e figur ed.

    As his boat moved in closer , he found the clamour had never died.

    People were sti l l screaming. When Blue called out to them to swim

    towards him, nobody could hear him. He raised his voice as loud as

    he could but to no avail . No one had ears for him. Blue wondered if

    he s h ou ld ju m p in to th e water to t ry an d get people ou t bu t th ought

    he would lose track of the boat in the fog. Besides, there was a good

    ch an ce som eone wou ld kill h im before he cou ld get h is p oin t acr oss .

    Just as he was losing hear t , Blue fel t a tug f rom behind. There was

    som eon e. A youn g gir l, an d a n old m an with a chi ld on h is s h oulders.

    Blu e helped them al l on to th e boat .

    You could h ear m e? as ked Blu e.

    I saw you actually, said the man. I was holding on to a plank ofwood with th is ch ild on it .

    I hea rd you , sa id t h e girl. I ju st wan ted to get ou t of h ere s o ba d. I

    gues s I was lookin g for a boat .

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    Th ey kept t ryin g to get peoples at ten tion for s ome t im e a n d got two

    more on board. As the sun went down, Blue looked around at his

    crew, Lets come ba ck tom orrow.

    Yes . Lets get more b oat s , s a id t he m a n .

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    RAGHU AND THE DJINN

    Th e Djin n ar e sp iri ts of light. Not l ight a s you an d I kn ow it bu t l igh t

    as in energy. They are in tune with the forces make the world goaround. They exist on a level close to that of thoughts. This is why

    wish -gran t ing is n a tu ra l to them . As n atu ra l as p ickin g u p a pen or

    openin g a door is to u s.

    Because of this , throughout history, Djinn have been drawn to the

    needy and the passionately desirous. What may appear coincidental

    to hu m an s is merely the way of the u n iverse to the Djin n .

    This story star ts in the near past , somewhere around you. Eighteen-

    year-old Raghu was returning home from school and stopped to take

    a leak in the bushes. A modest car came that way. From inside i t , a

    harried looking office-goer threw out a vial. It landed in the roadside

    du st an d glit tered a s th e light from t h e cars r ecedin g rea r lights

    ba th ed it red an d wh ite .

    Raghu picked up the crystal vial . He thought i t was probably

    perfume. Faint white smoke swir led inside i t . He uncorked i t and

    th ere was a s oun dless explosion of white ligh t . Wh en h is eyes stopped

    sh owin g him bu tterflies a n d ra in bows, Raghu foun d a st ra n ge- lookin g

    m an sta n din g in front of h im . His sk in was flawless an d h e looked too

    prosperou s to be honest .

    You You re a s tu tt ered Ra gh u .

    Djin n . Yes . One m omen t pleas e, th e m an took th e vial from Raghu s

    lim p h an ds . Th en , with a f lin g of h is powerfu l ar m , he tos sed it a s far

    out as h e could .

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    I am sorry, he said. Long story. Some people are so numb they

    wou ldn t kn ow even if th eir des tin ies cam e an d bit th em in th eir

    behinds, he breathed for a moment to calm himself and said, I am

    sorry. Tell me.

    Tell Tell wh a t? Ragh u s m in d wa s s peed -sca n n in g all genie st ories

    he had ever heard, read, or seen. His father told him the scar iest

    ghost st ories. Gen ies were n ever u p to an y good. An yon e dea lin g with

    th em was a goner . Th ey were r isky bu siness .

    Tell me wh at you wan t. th e Djin n sa id. He n oticed Ragh u looked all

    folded u p. My n am e is Kah lil.

    I don t wan t a n ything, sa id Ra ghu , deciding to n ot get into th e m ess

    at all.

    You are afraid. I can understand. But there is nothing to fear. No

    catch . You will get wh at you wan t. No qu estions as ked, sa id Kah lil.

    Raghu was petrified now. I want you to leave me alone, he said.

    That does not count as a wish, said Kahlil looking at the floor. The

    Djin n direct ives clear ly sta te th at we sh ould pa y back a h u n dredfold

    an y good deed done u n to us , kn owin gly or u n kn owin gly.

    Raghu kep t h i s mou th sh u t .

    You m u st wa n t s ometh in g. You ca n t be h ap py. No ma n ever is.

    There must be something in your l ife you want changed, Kahlil

    cha llenged h im .

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    I am happy, said Raghu. But the mention of his l i fe had touched

    h im som ewhere. Th is wa s n ot all light a n d m agic after a ll!

    Bu t? Ka h lil as ked en cou ra gin gly.

    I wish my math tutor would go easier on me. I wish I get into a

    respectable college after I finish school. I wish I pass with decent

    m ar ks . I wish I get a d ecent governm en t job after m y st u dies.

    That is decent enough, said Kahlil politely, and quickly added, It

    will be don e. Like I sa id n o tr icks . An ything else?

    No th at is it . On e s h ou ld n ot a sk a lot of life, sa id Ragh u .

    That Umm up to you, said Kahlil. To each his own. I will need

    to rest ar t you for you r wish es t o tak e effect.

    Wh at does th at m ean ? Ragh u as ked, su sp icious again.

    Your wishes depend on your own belief system. A thought-level shift

    can only take effect while you are inert, Kahlil snapped his fingers.

    Ragh u dream t of bein g someone r ich a n d p owerfu l an d fam ous t ill h e

    woke u p in bed, in h is h ous e, h alf an h our later .

    * * * * * *

    Kahli l caught up with Raghu seven years later . He was outside his

    office, sm okin g.

    All well?

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    Raghu nodded. All was well . He had a job. What more could he ask

    for?

    Th is is wha t you wan ted? Kah lil as ked.

    Raghu laughed. You ARE for real. When I woke up that day, I

    thou ght I ha d dreamt you u p.

    You wou ldn t b e th e firs t on e, s a id Ka h lil. Man y people h a ve

    troub le accept in g th e fact th at wish es can com e true.

    Raghu in ha led wh at mu st h ave been a ga llon of sm oke. It nu mb ed

    h im to h is reality.

    All over the world, people are raking in obscene amounts of money.

    My neigh bou r b ou ght a car yest erda y. I will never m ak e it . Th e world

    keeps cru sh in g my will, Ragh u sa id a n d exha led a cloud .

    You dreamt mediocre dreams Raghu, Kahlil said. You asked for

    ju s t en ou gh to get by. You got everyth in g you wis h ed for .

    We Djin n h ave to be car efu l ab ou t wh at we wish for, becau se ou r will

    is always done. You folk were not so different once. You people asked

    u s for kin gdoms an d pa laces. You u sed to as k for pr in cesses h an d in

    marr iage.

    Ragh u gave Kah lil a sou r look. Bu t h e was n ot sour at th e Djin n . He

    was ju st sou r .

    What went wrong? Kahlil asked. There was no answer. Soon the

    Djin n m elted into the s m oke.

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    ABOUT THE AUTHOR

    Vijayendra Mohanty is an Indian comic book writer . He has written

    stor ies and scr ipts for publicat ions such as Comic JUMP andCOMIX.INDIA. He is the writer and co-creator of Ravanayan, a comic

    book series ba sed on th e story of kin g Ravan a of Lan ka .

    He has been m ent ioned in pu blica t ions s u ch a s The Ind ian Express ,

    The Times of India, Hindustan Times, Mumbai Mirror, Mail Today,

    an d DNA Mu m ba i. He is a fam iliar face in th e des i in tern et scen e an d

    can be fou n d tweetin g as @vim oh a ll th rou gh th e week. He also blogs

    regularly and publishes an email newsletter . Visit vimoh.co for

    details.

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    RESOURCES

    Au th or webs ite: ht tp :/ / vim oh.co

    Twit ter : h t tp: / / twit ter .com/ vimoh

    Em a il: blogger@vm oh a n ty.com