The Hiss of Vāsuki

By Eric Sanghvi

Avi and Avni, land in a sleepy ancestral village in Bharat (India) to spend their vacations with their estranged grandparents. They find themselves in the middle of an ancient war, on the cusp of realms of Myth and Reality. The vacation turned out to be a roller coaster ride for the NRI siblings, who had no idea what they were walking into or who they were…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eric Sanghvi
• Release date: Mar 23, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224402502

Book preview

Chapter 1

The deep, tanned, strong biceps were flickering with power as the warrior lifted the majestic sword and pulled himself up from the dusty ground, pushing his giant stature through the brown cloud of dust. His left hand was bleeding like a river. He took a deep breath and exhaled hard, pushing his pain out of his mind and assimilating his strength. The red dust was blinding. He detected the movement of an enemy sword cutting through the air approaching him. With the agility of a tiger, he pounced in that direction, cutting through the dusty cloud, with his sword towards his enemy with a thunderous war cry....

Avi jolted awake; he could hear his breathing and felt a strange connection with the warrior in his dream. He was breathing fast. Faster than the fan above. The summer in Bharat (India) was too harsh for him, even when the air conditioner was on. He was excited to come to Bharat to see his ancestral land, but the heat was getting to him. He had been coming to Chennai city ever since he could remember, but this time, he had come to his estranged grandfather's house in the middle of nowhere, far away from Chennai city. The house was huge, and the garden was ever-never-ending, subsumed into a mysterious jungle. London city was so familiar and buzzing with all kinds of faces. He was out here for two days, and he felt bored. 

He had met his grandfather, senior Swami, only once in the last two days, a tall, elegant old man buried in his books in his library. He was a retired senior civil servant, and though the service had retired him, he refused to retire. Ten years of retirement also could not take the government official out of him. He was talking and acting like one. 

His head cook was called H.O.D. (Head of the department), his cleaner, who would help him in the library, was to be addressed as P. A. (Personnel Assistant), and his wife, senior Mrs. Swami, Secretary of Home Affairs.

Senior Mrs. Swami was the only solace in this jungle. His parents had para-landed him for a week, as his father had to rush to Delhi with his mother regarding a flat they had bought many years ago and were selling the same. Senior Mrs. Swami was very attentive and loving, but his irritating sixteen-year-old older sister, Avni, mainly monopolized her. Avni considered herself very attractive; that's at least what Avi thought that she thought, and she completely loved it here in the middle of nowhere, to much irritation of Avi. 

Avi was dead bored; he had explored every wall and corner of the old ancestral house of Swamis and the garden attached to it. Though the jungle engulfing the adjoining open land had fascinating noises coming, he would not dare explore it alone. But neither did he miss exploring the same.

The frequency of Avi's such dreams had increased in the past two days and filled in for the thrill the jungle promised. Though he had had similar dreams since childhood, the multi-media upgrade was mind-boggling. Yesterday evening, while he was napping, he almost felt that the warrior had finished some fifty attackers whom he thought were pirates. Strange! This place makes your dreams so vivid that, at times, it may look like you are walking into it. He was particularly drawn to a building always locked at the corner of the garden. The H.O.D. would chase him off that place. Avi thought only the out-of-bounds board was missing. Avi's thoughts roamed everywhere as if whirling along with the fan above. His bed was huge, yet the room had a significant space despite the massive, heavily carved wooden almirah, a teak wood table facing a huge window that invited the jungle in. His thoughts were interrupted by the H.O.D., a short man thick in the middle, someone who took his designation way too seriously. 

He was carrying a file cover with some loose sheets. He walked inside with an air of being deputed to duty much below his pay scale. He looked at Avi disapprovingly and said, Time for breakfast in six minutes. Sir wants you on your assigned seat at the dining table in four minutes. 

Can you please translate that?

Without obliging him, the H.O.D. hurried out of the room as if he had to attend a Cab-Sec (Cabinet Secretary) meeting, and lesser humans were delaying his rescuing the world.

Reluctantly, Avi pulled himself up and rushed to get ready. He did not want to take any chances with senior Swami’s orders.

Chapter 2

The dining hall of the Swamis was four times his bedroom, and at the center sat a huge teak table with five seats on each side and one at each end. At the top of the table was a plastic name plate placed in front of the seat displaying senior Swami’s name in neat handwriting, 'K.P.N Swami,' and on the right side was another nameplate with senior Mrs. Swami’s name, 'Lata Meru N Swami,' right to it was 'Avni N Swami,' his sister and on the left side of his grandfather’s nameplate was placed another nameplate showing his name 'Avi N. Swami.'

Avi was the first one to enter the room and take his seat. Soon, he heard his sister’s laughter as she entered the room with senior Mrs. Swami. Her hands were full of all kinds of flowers. They were both too excited about how they would make perfume with them, a technique senior Mrs. Swami was more than happy to oblige to pass on to her.

Senior Mrs. Swami was a tall, broad woman who looked completely in control of everything she did. She loved wearing handloom cotton sarees in naturally dyed colors; her hair was silver.

Avi could never understand how his elder sister always managed to be happy in all circumstances. She, of all people, was permanently glued to her gang of giggly girls in the virtual world, and here, there was no internet, and yet he heard her not complain even once. He knew he would be missing his games on the net, but the expectation of some adventure had made him agree to come here, but he had nothing to do. 

Avi, you! Sleepyhead, we went on the jungle trail. You missed all the fun, she said, disturbing his gelled and spiked hair as she deliberately went around the table to reach her seat. Like a reflex action, Avi reached to put them back in place.

Avni! Don’t touch them. Protested Avi.

Granny, he is so sensitive about his stupid spikes, as the serpent would be of his hood.

Who knows he is? Senior Mrs. Swami laughed, joined by Avni.

It’s not funny, Avi retorted. Not knowing how to express his disapproval, he grabbed a table napkin and threw it at his giggly sister, who was partnering up with his grandma to laugh at him.

The giggles dispersed as the