Dear Reader,
I have a confession. What you are holding in your hands (or your ears/talons, etc., etc.) is none other than a feral, hungry…story.
“What nonsense!” you say. “Obviously it’s just a story!”
Harrumph.
Tomorrow, I’d make sure your book is in the same place where you left it yesterday—stories are living things, after all. They’re quite sensitive. There’s no such thing as “just” a story, which brings me to my next point.
Like so many of the stories I have written in the past, I consider this one a living thing and believe it is important for you to know that this story’s roots come from a living, active religion: Hinduism. One of the most beautiful aspects about Hindu mythology is that it is deeply intertwined with the sacred. As a practicing Hindu, I wanted to let my imagination take flight but also do my best to make sure that it doesn’t stamp its feet on hallowed grounds. For that reason, the majority of the deities you will meet in these pages are those who had more prominence in the Vedic Age, starting in roughly 1500 BCE. Many scholars consider Vedism a precursor to what we might now call classical Hinduism. Deities such as Durga-Maa, Vishnu, Brahma, and Shiva will not be characters in this series.
This story is not intended to serve as an introduction to Hinduism or Hindu mythology, which is beautifully nuanced and varies from region to region. Instead, I hope you see this story for what it is: a narrow, vivid window peering out into an even brighter ocean of tales and traditions. As storytellers, we respond to what we love, and one of the things I loved most growing up was listening to my Ba tell me stories about gods, heroes, and demons. To me, this series is one long love letter.
I hope it sparks your curiosity, tickles your imagination, and, if I am so fortunate, sneaks into a corner of your heart and stays there.
With love,
Roshani
Aru Shah felt like she’d been struck by lightning.
Seriously.
And she knew all about that feeling, thanks to a terrible experiment. Once, when she was extremely bored, Aru had decided to find out what being struck by lightning would feel like by using Vajra, her lightning bolt and sometime Ping-Pong ball.
“Dude, are you serious?” Brynne had said.
“I can’t watch this,” Mini said. “You could—”
“I’m not going to die!” said Aru, rolling her eyes. “I’m a demigod!”
“That doesn’t mean Indra is going to protect you,” said Mini, crossing her arms.
Aru tossed up the Ping-Pong ball (“Trust me, nothing’s going to happen.”), then knocked it higher with her forehead.
Six hours later, Aru had woken up with a splitting headache, a twitch in her left eye, and a serious case of frizzy hair.
For a week straight, it had felt like someone had played soccer with her brain. Although this could also have been because Mini kept quizzing her about geography trivia to check her “neurological state.”
Aru had never wanted to feel that way again.
And yet here she was, chained to a rock in the Sleeper’s cave lair, feeling like she’d been electrocuted. She stared at a girl named Kara, who was crouched on the ground across from her.
I’m his daughter, Kara had just said.
Aru blinked, her head buzzing. “You…You’re the daughter of the Sleeper?”
Kara nodded. Earlier, she’d said it with pride, tilting her chin and looking down her nose at Aru. Now, something sad and unsure crept across the girl’s face. “But you’re his daughter, too…. Does that…Does that make us sisters?”
Sisters, thought Aru. She considered Brynne and Mini her sisters, even though they weren’t related to her by blood. But her and Kara? This was different. For a moment, Aru wondered whether the girl was another reincarnated Pandava brother, but that was impossible. There were only five, and they’d hit that number when they met the twins, Sheela and Nikita.
Could we be related? Aru wondered. Kara looked about Aru’s age…. Did that make them nonidentical twins? Aru searched the other girl’s features, hunting for something shared in their faces, but she couldn’t find it. Kara had a wide mouth, large honey-brown eyes, straight chocolatey-brown hair that fell to her shoulders, high cheekbones, and dark, glowing skin. Aru could brush her own hair for a century and it would never look that sleek. And the closest she ever got to glowing skin was standing under a lamp and spinning really fast.
Usually she tried not to let these things bother her, but Aru knew she looked nothing like her elegant, beautiful parents. Whereas Kara…did. But if Kara was her sister, then why hadn’t Aru seen her in the Pool of the Past?
“I know what you’re thinking,” said Kara.
“Doubt it,” muttered Aru, but Kara didn’t seem to hear her.
“He was worried you’d try to run, so he made my room look like an awful dungeon,” Kara said. “But it’s really not that bad.”
Kara tapped a nearby stone with the shiny white-gold ring on her finger. When it touched the rock, the cave walls started to shift. The space transformed into a sumptuous library with shelves carved into the stone. Near the ceiling, an enchanted orb cast the illusion of warm sunlight, and all around Aru could see little niches piled high with pillows and stacked with dolls and other toys. In the back wall of one of the niches was a half-opened door, through which Aru could glimpse a neat bed with a bright-yellow quilt and a plush bunny on the pillow.
Aru was still chained to a rock, but she forgot all about it when she saw the huge built-in screen on the opposite wall, where a Netflix box read ARE YOU STILL WATCHING?
Aru stared. How did one even find an evil lair with Internet? For a bizarre second, she pictured a demonic real-estate agent patting the stone wall: Comes fully equipped with a crocodile-infested moat and complimentary Wi-Fi!
“I’m sure you’re used to a lot nicer things in the human world,” said Kara quickly. “But Dad did his best.”
Dad.
An ache bloomed inside Aru’s ribs as memories from the past day flew back to her. The only time she had ever called the Sleeper Dad was when she’d thought that she and her sisters didn’t stand a chance against his army. She’d hoped calling him that had hurt him as much as it had hurt her.
She could still hear the sounds of clanging swords and battle cries as they’d fought in the magical grove that belonged to Aranyani, goddess of the forest and protector of Kalpavriksha, the wish-granting tree.
Aru remembered throwing her arms around the Sleeper’s neck like she was hugging him. But it was never a hug. It was a reminder of the person he could have been, of all the memories he’d sacrificed in pursuit of the tree that he’d thought could change his destiny.
Aru even remembered finding the Tree of Wishes….
But she no longer remembered whether she’d made a wish on it. When she pushed herself, all her mind could conjure was a vision of snow.
It made no sense.
Aru shook her head. She could worry about it later. Right now, she needed to find out what happened to Brynne and Mini, Sheela and Nikita, Rudy and Aiden. Were they safe? Had they gotten away? Or had the Sleeper abducted them, too?
“What am I doing here?” demanded Aru.
“He wants you to be safe,” said Kara, before adding nervously, “I hope you don’t mind me prying, but I know lots about you, Aru. Dad told me your mom kept you away from him.”