Excerpt: Brahma Hathya Promises An Intriguing Blend Of Fantasy, Mythology

Something is stirring in the kingdom of Mithila. An ominous prophecy, fire raining down from the skies, the mystery of a severed hand and the indiscriminate slaughter of men, women and children. And who in the sixteen kingdoms possesses the depravity and malevolence to carry out that most sinful act of all— Brahma Hathya?

T.V. Mahalingam’s powerful debut novel roots through the complexities of violence, heritage, kinship and love. Engrossing and fast-paced, Brahma Hathya peels back the intricate layers of mythology and fantasy, oppression and hierarchy to weave a gripping narrative of love, betrayal and bravery against all odds

Here's an excerpt from T.V. Mahalingam’s Brahma Hathya 

The sign from his dreams was everywhere. It was chiselled onto the face of the ancient weather-beaten boulders which had once been mountains. It was carved on the barks of the old, dying trees in the forest. He saw it painted with dye on the walls of the caves they took shelter in at night.

At first, Ajiva thought the sign was merely a figment of his imagination, an extension of his dreams. He saw it almost every night in his dreams: the two wobbly lines entwined with each other. They could be earthworms, or snakes. Somehow, he knew they were snakes. Two snakes that crawled, stung and gnawed at each other.

The signs were everywhere, and yet not everyone could see them. Whoever carved these signs wanted only the ones looking out for the signs to see them, but not the others. Only the seekers would be able to spot the signs, all others would be blind to them.

While Ajiva could see them everywhere, the boy was blissfully unaware of them. The deeper they went into the forest, the more signs Ajiva was able to see.

What were these signs? Had they been carved out randomly or were they signposts leading to some place?

This sign wasn’t the only thing that seemed familiar to Ajiva. He would look at the rotting trunk of an ancient tree and suddenly, a vision of the same tree would flash before him. Only in his mind’s eye, the tree would be alive, green, flowering and full of birds.

During the day, he seldom had to look at the sun to plot his way through the dense jungle. He seemed to know exactly where he was going. Sometimes, he would look at a mossy lake and know that after an hour’s walk from there eastwards, he would reach a clearing in the forest where there would be an old conical-shaped rock. And sure enough, the rock would be there, with the sign carved on it.

Other times, he was able to remember narrow trails and tracks in the jungle that were once well used by men but which were now covered with shrubs and plants. It was as though the jungle had reclaimed them. And yet, in some parts, the trails were alive—perhaps a few men had used the path recently.

Ajiva also remembered the trails that he knew he should avoid, ones that herds of wild elephants used, and he stayed clear of them. He knew where the watering holes that they used were—the empty caves in the hillocks which were once home to tigers.

The deep silence of the jungle did not haunt him. The jungle felt familiar and comforting.

It felt like home.

The boy, on the other hand, seemed ill at ease. He kept humming most of the day and sometimes, even talked to himself. It was as though the silence was his enemy, a foe to constantly break.

‘What is that?’ said the boy, pointing at something in the horizon as they walked uphill. The boy had wanted to lead the walk up to the trail and Ajiva had let him. The boy was two dozen paces ahead and almost at the top of the hillock they were trying to climb, Ajiva was well behind him.

The boy’s finger was pointing upwards. Ajiva knew that they were walking up one of the tallest mountains in the forest. Only one mountain was taller than the one they were on.

‘Langur Peak,’ said Ajiva, as he walked past the boy, who was gaping at the dark, black hill that towered above them, mouth wide open.

Jeeva stared at the face of the angry, snarling monkey carved on the face of the mountain. The dark rocks that looked like bulging eyes, the massive outcropping of rock that looked like the snout of a langur and the waterfall that cleaved its way through that feral face.

He decided he did not like the Langur Peak. For once, he wished he were back home, in the little village below the mountain, in his warm bed covered by woollen rugs, watching his grandfather sleep.

Ajiva was ahead of him by now, taking long strides. The boy ran after him, gasping. An hour later, they were almost at the foot of the mountain called Langur Peak. The face of the langur looked gigantic as they looked up the mountain—the eyes were now covered by puffy, white clouds that moved lazily.

The jungle path had, suddenly, disappeared. Ajiva was now leading the way, hacking his way through the dense outgrowth. Halfway up the mountain, he paused and raised an arm.

The boy froze and slowly walked up to Ajiva, who was squatting on his haunches. They hid behind a bush with red blossoms.

‘There,’ said Ajiva, pointing through the bush. ‘Down below in the valley.’

The ugly peak was there, the waterfall that fell off its face was flowing as a small stream at the base. The boy looked at it and did not spot anything unusual.

‘Look at the clearing on the right of that small stream at the base,’ said Ajiva, whispering. ‘Can you see it now?’

Jeeva could see it. From where he sat, it looked as if a cluster of small pale pebbles lay scattered around the base of Langur’s Peak, at a little distance from the stream. As he looked harder, he realised they were oxcarts, not pebbles.

It was a camp.

‘Who are they?’ asked Jeeva.

‘Most likely a merchant’s caravan headed to Kampilya,’ said Ajiva.

From their vantage point, they stared at it for a while, wondering what to do next.

‘Should we join them?’ asked Jeeva, who was a little tired of the same diet of fruits and boiled roots. ‘They might have some food.’

‘I am not sure,’ said Ajiva. ‘Look at the flag that is flying on that tent. From here, it looks like the crimson flag of Mithila. And we are fugitives from the law.’

‘So, what do we do?’ said the boy, his voice heavy with disappointment.

‘Let’s go down this mountain once it’s a little darker. And make camp near the stream, so that I can get some fresh water … maybe even hunt some fish, even though it might be difficult to do that in the dark,’ said Ajiva. "We can look at the camp from closer once we are down there and make up our minds on what to do. For now, let’s just hide here.’

Jeeva sat down and stared at the mountain. Ajiva sniffed the air and looked up at the skies.

‘We might have a rough night,’ he said flatly. ‘It might rain.’ 

Extracted with permission from Brahma Hathya by TV Mahalingam, published by Westland Books.