Fate of Eight

By Dhiraj Singh

“Fate of Eight” is a thriller about eight people whose lives are entwined through the three key milestones of one's life: Birth, Marriage, Death. Diya, Mira, Pratima, Radhika are the four strong ladies with traits designed by God herself, and whose destinies were linked to the unique personalities of four other men – Venkat, Guru, Jagdambe, and Rahim. Birth, marriage, and death are the common and the final destiny points for this chosen group of eight. The four ladies find love amongst the four men but for some the love is reciprocated and for some it is not, and for some it leads to marriage, which might not be lasting! In parallel, there are the natural and some “created” bonds of siblings from within this group – not all of them though survive the trials of destiny! Finally, who in this group of eight will be linked together in the eventual final destination of death? This fast paced entertainer will leave you hooked, and guessing till the last: who are the final three “pairs” amongst the protagonists with the respective “linkages” to birth, marriage, and death!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
• Release date: Jun 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9789389449266

Book preview

1

A ‘tall man’ with a long, flowing white beard, riding a yellow horse with outstretched wings, came flying through the clouds and entered God’s personal chamber. God’s chamber was in an air bubble inside a large cloud, floating just above a lake. The water was calm and pale pink in colour.

‘God, is everything all right? I heard your command in my mind and rushed over to you immediately,’ the man asked with a worried look on his face.

‘Yes, yes, don’t worry! I called you to discuss an idea I have,’ she said. God was wearing a long, white silk robe which covered her entire body; only half of her hands were visible. 

‘You are the controller of destiny of people on planet Earth. I understand you would not like your overall system to be disturbed. But can you please experiment with just four pairs of men and women?’ God continued, looking thoughtful. 

‘God, your wish created the planet Earth. Your wish can destroy the Earth or other planets where life exists. Your wish to experiment shall be taken care of immediately. Please let me know what you would desire.’ 

‘I want you to simply grant the three main stages of the destiny path within this group of eight souls. Birth, marriage and death. Let a pair from within this group be related by birth or as siblings; let a pair from within this group be related in life in a long, happy marriage; and, finally, let a pair from within this group be related in death. Please do not define any other parts of their destiny. I would want to see the natural path that they would take to achieve the relation of birth, marriage and death within this group of eight people!’ God excitedly said, and her face was lit up by a bright aura.

‘What kind of personality traits will these people have?’ The ‘tall man’ kept looking down at God’s feet.

‘Do we necessarily have to define them? Will their circumstances not make and change their personalities?’

‘God, only you can define the thirty-six personality traits of every human. I just feed them into my system and create the circumstances to develop those personalities. I will need at least one defining personality for each individual in the group for my system to grant the three stages of destiny you desire.’

‘Okay, I understand. I will then define only one key personality trait of each individual in this group. Let them develop the rest of their personalities on their own.’ The ‘tall man’ had rarely seen God being so experimental and inspired since the Big Bang. 

‘Have you thought of the personality traits already?’ He was eager to fulfil God’s wish and wanted to start work early.

‘Yes! The first man in the group will be ambitious. The second man will be adventurous. The third man will be hardworking. And the fourth man will be rebellious.’

‘Very well, my God. I have created them already and they shall be on their way to planet Earth in the near future,’ the ‘tall man’ said with a little snap on his finger. ‘What about the women though?’

‘I needed more time to think about them. They are so special to me as you know.’

‘We all know that, my God!’

‘Okay, I think I know what their personalities would be. The first woman in the group will be politically inclined. The second will have religious orientation while the third will be inclined towards business. And the fourth woman will be interested in marrying the man of her dreams!’ God emphatically stated.

‘Done. Just one last question, my God. How will we know this experiment has finally come to an end?’

‘Don’t worry. You will know. If not, we will meet again.’ 

The long, flowing beard of the ‘tall man’ caressed and cleaned God’s feet as he always did while leaving her divine presence. The yellow horse emerged out of another smaller air bubble within God’s chamber, and the ‘tall man’ jumped on its back, turned around and patted the horse fondly. ‘Get ready, my son. You have a lot of interesting goods to carry to Earth soon!’ 

2

The man on the bullock cart was shouting and whipping the bulls to make them move fast. It was evening, and the ebbing sun was slowly sinking at the horizon. The sky seemed to be on fire with splashes of red randomly thrown on a vast, blue canvas. The cart pierced through a dirt track with yellow and green mustard fields on either side. Ramakant Mishra, however, had no time to see the beauty of this evening. He was only looking at the beauty of his wife who was going to deliver a baby for him after six long years of their marriage. She was in pain and was screaming in labour. But she was happy to bear the pain, knowing that this will lead to the most cherished dream of her husband—a baby boy. A junior Ramakant Mishra who will carry forward his legacy of being the most loved and feared landlord in his village. 

Ramakant Mishra had inherited more than twenty-five acres of land in the village from his father. He had bought another fifteen acres in his short lifetime. And his wife had brought additional ten acres as dowry from her parent’s side. Ramakant was a king in his village—anybody who owned fifty acres of land in a small village would be no less than a king. 

Ramakant’s grandfather was a Brahmin and priest at the local village temple. He had performed some special rituals for a very wealthy Marwari couple in the nearby city after which the couple was blessed with a healthy son. They had not had a child even after fifteen years of marriage. They were so happy that they gifted ten acres of land in the village to Ramakant’s grandfather. 

Ramakant’s father then started farming on this land and worked very hard, day and night. Money started coming in, and being a clever man, he began lending the surplus to local villagers at an attractive interest rate. His wealth increased over the years, and he gradually aggregated another fifteen acres of land adjoining his existing land. 

Ramakant was born into a family that had transformed itself from a religious Brahmin household to a powerful landlord and moneylender family. Ramakant’s father was the principal and Ramakant was the interest on the principal. And to a moneylender, the interest is always more precious, more attractive than the principal. So, Ramakant was indulged day and night by his entire family. He was the only son, just as his father was. Wealth creation is easier when there is no wealth division. 

Ramakant got married to the youngest daughter of a local panchayat member, who owned 125 cows and used to supply milk to the nearby city. Ramakant loved his wife as much as he loved the ten acres of land she had brought with her. Equally, he loved the regular, free supply of milk from his father-in-law. 

Today, he was going to be a father. A proud father of a boy who would add another forty acres of land for the family. And bring, at least, ten acres of land from the girl’s family he would get married into. The Mishra family would finally be the proud owner of hundred acres of land in this village. The land ceiling act was a dampener, but he knew how to get lands registered under the names of various relatives or a religious institution. His clout amongst the relatives and his grandfather’s legacy as a temple priest allowed him to circumvent the land ceiling act. His son had to be the main protagonist of his dreams. He had to first become a proud father of a boy before he became a proud owner of hundred acres.

When the bullock cart finally reached the town hospital, Ramakant carried his wife in his strong arms from the main door to the emergency ward. It was already eight in the evening and most of the staff at the hospital had left for the day.

‘Who is in charge here? I want somebody to come and help my wife immediately!’ Ramakant’s voice was urgent and loud.

‘Sir, please take a seat and we will find you a doctor as soon as possible,’ the petite girl manning the reception said softly.

Ramakant took a chair. Twenty minutes passed. For him, these twenty minutes were worse than the six years he had waited for this moment. He looked at the old pendulum clock hanging on the opposite wall, then looked at his wife writhing in pain and then looked at the receptionist. He had lost count of the number of cycles he repeated in this circular motion. Finally, a nurse, brisk and pretty with sharp features, came running out from inside the ward.

‘Sir, my name is Shabnam. And the doctor is ready now. I will take your wife inside,’ she said, as she made Ramakant’s wife sit on a wheelchair.

The front wheels of the wheelchair were not working properly, and as Shabnam tried to push the chair, Ramakant’s wife felt a slight jerk. Ramakant’s pent-up anger could no longer be contained now.

‘You whore! Who made you a nurse? You should have remained a bloody concubine!’ Ramakant was livid.

‘Sir, it was not my fault. And please mind your language,’ Shabnam tried to remain calm.

‘Mind my language?! First, you go and get your mind checked! I know nurses like you just have fun with the doctors in the hospital. You are running a prostitution racket here!’

The doctor had also stepped out into the reception area hearing the commotion and was clearly embarrassed at this outburst. ‘Sir, please calm down. Your wife is in pain. Let us do our work for your own good,’ the doctor said firmly.

Ramakant shut his mouth and stared angrily at Shabnam as she took his wife inside the ward. He was not going to let his joy be diminished today by any Shabnam. No one was going to come in the way of his dreams today. No one.

Ramakant waited anxiously near the door of the operation theatre. The doctor and the nurse, Shabnam, were inside. After about an hour, he heard the cry of a baby. Ramakant strained his ears near the door to hear that voice again. Just then, the door opened, almost knocking Ramakant on the head.

‘Sir, I have some good news and some bad news for you,’ Shabnam said solemnly.

‘First, tell me the bad news!’ Ramakant demanded.

‘Sir, there were complications during the delivery and we could not save your wife.’

‘What?! How can that be? My wife cannot go! Who will raise my baby? No, no, this cannot be true!’ Ramakant collapsed on the nearby chair and burst into tears.

He looked up at Shabnam again and asked, ‘Give me the good news now.’

‘Sir, you have a healthy baby girl.’

Ramakant started to cry even more loudly. The receptionist had also come inside to console Ramakant. ‘Sir, I understand it will be difficult for you to manage the baby. Also, you would be remembering your wife every time you see your daughter. I can understand why this makes you even sadder.’

‘Shut up! Just shut up! Today, there is no good news for me! It’s all bad news! You want to hear another bad news? I will tell you! Ramakant Mishra is going to be a proud owner of forty acres of land by the time he dies!’ Ramakant had decided to give not more than ten acres of land as dowry, in case he ever had a daughter to marry off.

The doctor, Shabnam and the receptionist looked perplexed and continued to just stare at Ramakant in complete bewilderment.

3

Fifteen years later

Ramakant was crying loudly, sitting in the courtyard of his house. His mother had died this morning after a protracted kidney ailment she had been fighting for the past three years. Ramakant was very close to his mother after the loss of his father at a very early age. She had raised Ramakant on her own and, more importantly, had raised Diya like Diya’s own mother would have had she been alive. Diya Mishra was the only child Ramakant ever had. There were numerous marriage proposals for Ramakant after the death of his wife, but Ramakant said he could not bear living with three women under the same roof. There were rumours that Ramakant had found solace in the arms of Munni Bai after his wife’s demise. Munni Bai was the renowned classical dancer in a town near the village. Along with her dance moves, she was also famous for her other moves on rich men. Ramakant was rich, and he was sad and lonely. Munni Bai could not have asked for more.

Diya was a beautiful girl with the face of an angel. She would not talk much but her eyes were very expressive. She used to sit for long hours with her grandmother during the prayers in the family temple. She would be very interested to know more about different gods and goddesses, and about different religions and rituals from her grandmother.

‘Dadi, why do we pray?’ Diya asked innocently when she was about ten years old.

‘To keep the gods happy, my dear!’ Dadi smiled and said.

‘But does that mean the gods are not happy?’

‘No, my darling. It means we pay our respect; we show our gratitude to God. That makes him satisfied. And hence happy.’

‘So God created us to keep himself happy?’ Diya looked at her Dadi with a puzzled look on her face.

‘Sshh! Don’t speak like that! God will get angry and upset!’

‘God will get angry and upset by my questions? Oh, then he must have a short moustache!’ Diya excitedly shouted.

‘Short moustache?! What do you mean by that Diya?’

‘Dadi, I learnt in my school about this man in a land seven oceans across who had a small moustache and never liked to be questioned! My teacher called him Hitler, I think.’

It was difficult to argue with Diya’s innocence and her brilliance. Diya was an outstanding student in her school and was a favourite of her teachers. The headmaster would often give her example to others in the school and predict that one day Diya would make her school proud. ‘Not only proud Master ji, I will make this school much larger and better,’ Diya would add.

Diya had a huge heart; she was kind and generous. She would ask her maternal grandmother to send her additional cans of milk, which she would distribute amongst the poor children at her school. Both her grandmothers were aware of this but they loved to indulge their granddaughter. A child without a mother is vulnerable to the wolves of this world, and the grandmothers ensured that they stood like lionesses around their darling cub at all times.

Diya also loved the cows and buffaloes in her father’s fields. She would run behind them, take a bath with them and often talked to them. Ramakant once overheard her talking to a cow.

‘Holy cow, don’t you get tired and bored working all day in this sun?’

She then paused, as if listening to something, and then added, ‘Yes, I know it gives you satisfaction to help us. And satisfaction brings happiness to you. I wish my father would also be satisfied and happy.’

Ramakant had never come to terms with not having a son. His dreams had been shattered, and he could never accept his daughter as a bearer of his legacy. He would try and avoid talking to her or even look at her. He would go out early in the morning and come home late at night. The only day he would take her out with him to the town was on her birthday. Ramakant would buy her new clothes and toys, treat her with a softy ice cream and buy coloured balloons that floated above her head. Diya used to be very happy on her birthdays, and come back and share all the stories with her grandmother.

‘Dadi, why doesn’t Papa behave like this every day? Why does he not take me out like this every day?’

‘Diya darling, would you have so much fun if he took you out like this every day?’

‘No, I would not,’ Diya used to say and hug her loving grandmother.

Diya had learnt to meditate from a very early age. She would spend at least an hour every day meditating. ‘I get aligned with the universe during that time Dadi. I feel my mother whistling to me in my ears when I am meditating!’ No one was allowed to disturb her during her meditation. Everybody knew this and respected her wish.

On the day Ramakant’s mother had passed away in the early hours, Diya was meditating. The servant had stood in front of her room for an hour before he could hear her stand up inside the room. He rushed inside immediately.

‘Was she at peace when she breathed her last?’ Diya asked the surprised servant.

Over the last few months, Diya had developed the ability to read certain thoughts in the minds of others. This happened only when there was a very dominant, single thought in the mind of the person standing in front of her. Usually, since everybody had so many flickering thoughts running through their brains, Diya did not waste much time in trying to read all the thoughts. Her extraordinary ability was not known to Ramakant also.

Diya sat in front of the motionless body of her grandmother and touched her wrinkled hand. The hand that had guided her through the first fifteen years of her life. She tried hard to read her grandmother’s mind one last time. All she could read was a feeling of eternal bliss. Diya was happy that her grandmother had finally found bliss.

She looked at her father and felt pity for him. He looked frail and had lost most of his hair. He walked with the help of a walking stick. The walking stick had a small but sharp sword made of steel and enclosed inside the wooden outer case. Ramakant had lent money to many villagers, and many of them did not want to return the money. Diya tried to concentrate on what her father was thinking. She finally converged on a single recurrent thought in his head. He was thinking of how to get the money back from the nurse attending to his mother over the last three years. Ramakant had given an advance amount of fifty thousand rupees to the nurse.

Diya laughed as her father looked at