It matters how one gains authority.
The teaser below comes from an extensive revision of a story that evolved from a response to a writing prompt from a long time ago. Over the years, I have returned to this character, Raj (initially Nakul), hoping to discover more of his story. Enjoy!
Excerpt From “Assuming Power”
Raj and his teammates waited, catching their breath, for the dust to settle on the dry, barren field where they were playing football. With over a month of no rain, even the slightest disturbance drew thick, golden clouds from the soil, necessitating an exorbitant amount of pauses in gameplay.
As they huddled impatiently, several boys complained of thirst and whined the game had gone too long. They argued for a timeout to get more water, but not Raj. He lived for the May school break with its steady string of hot, sunny days and didn’t feel like letting the game end in a tie. So, with a boisterous speech and an offer to give up the remaining water in his thermos, Raj convinced all but one teammate to continue playing.
With a semblance of visibility returned, everyone scurried off to their positions. But not Raj. He took his time, ignoring pleas to hurry up and throw the ball back into play.
Raj cherished the tense clarity of these moments right before the action resumed. So, he lingered, allowing the heat, sweat, and dirt to boy his focus as he ran the play through his head again.
CLINK.
Raj scowled, losing concentration.
CLINK.
Raj whirled about to yell at the kid they had left on the sidelines to rest and hydrate, but he was nowhere to be seen. Assuming his friend had drunk too much water and ran to the bathroom, Raj refocused and threw the ball back into play.
Raj’s spirits soared as his team worked together flawlessly, moving the ball down the field until it was passed to him in a perfect position to score. With tense concentration, Raj kicked.
CLINK. CLINK.
The sound distracted Raj, skewing the angle of his foot. He watched with horror as the ball clipped the goal frame and bounced back into play. Raj stood frozen with bewilderment as the other team took the ball downfield to score.
Devastated, Raj fell to his knees.
CLINK.
Furious, he searched unsuccessfully for the source of the offending clamor.
CLANK. CLANITY. CLANK.
* * *
Raj woke up.
He moaned and burrowed under the blanket, recognizing the dream for what it was.
“Was wondering when you’d wake up,” Raj’s mother said.
“You made me miss the goal. Why do you put the dishes away so loudly?” He asked.
“I’ve been tiptoeing around all morning. I’ve got things to do. It’s late. Time to get up.”
“I’ve decided to stay in bed until the rains stop.”
“Ha! You’ll be waiting a long time. The monsoons have just started. No use sulking about it. However, if it makes you feel any better, there appears to be a break this morning. It’s only drizzling. Best be up and enjoy the ‘dry’ weather while it lasts.”
Raj sat up, bleary-eyed, and yawned.
“Drizzle isn’t dry.”
“It is during the monsoons.”
“What time is it anyway?”
“Almost ten-thirty. You tossed and turned a lot last night. Was last night’s story too scary for you?”
“I wasn’t scared at all,” Raj said.
“You sure about that? I half expected you to climb in bed with me.”
“I wasn’t scared.”
“Well, anyways, I’ve decided it was a mistake letting you talk me into telling you stories about the Virūpa.”
“Mom, I said it didn’t scare me.”
“So you’ve said. But it doesn’t matter. I’ve changed my mind about it. You’re still too young.”
“Mom, how is it any different from the pirate stories or the story about the knight and the giant?”
“We don’t live on the high seas or in medieval Europe. Besides, giants aren’t real.”
“So you’re saying Virūpa are real?”
“No, I’m not saying that, although many people think they are.”
“So it’s like ghosts? Some people think they’re real, and some don’t.”
“I suppose.”
“But, if you and I know they’re not real…?”
“Look, those stories are old wives’ tales every grandma tells to keep unruly children in line. Mine did, and it scared me silly.”
Raj pondered what his mother said.
“You were unruly?”
“Not more than any normal child is.”
“So, why did she tell you the stories?” Raj asked.
“Because an ounce of prevention is worth more than a pound of cure, I guess.”
“Huh?” Raj’s face scrunched in confusion.
“Forget it,” His mother snorted, returning to the dishes.
Unwilling to let the matter drop, Raj insinuated himself between his mother and the pile of clean dishes to eye his mother suspiciously.
“So, you believed in them?”
His mother didn’t reply immediately. Raj recognized the face she wore when carefully considering her words.
“You do think they’re real.” He smirked.
“No. No. It’s all just stories. But I believed in them as a child, and after retelling one of them to you last night, I remember more clearly how they terrified me.”
“Mom… you’re being dramatic again.”
“I am not. Trust me, Raj, last night’s story is tame compared to all the others. It was cruel of my grandma to put those ideas into my head. No matter how unruly you may get, I won’t make the same mistake with you.”
“I’m a perfect angel. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Raj’s mother cupped her son’s chin affectionally.
“No one’s perfect, especially people who claim to be. What do I always say?”
“Progress, not perfection,” Raj rolled his eyes, “whatever that means.”
“One day, it will make sense.”
Raj turned the phrase over in his mind before trying another angle.
“Well…you don’t have to be a perfect mother. I’m okay with you telling me super scary stories.”
“Nice try. But I’m not telling you these stories about evil men and women doing horrible things to themselves and others, Raj.”
“But the giant was evil, and so were the pirates!”
His mother laughed.
“Evil? Selfish, immature, and comically stupid, but not evil.”
Raj giggled, recalling a scene where the pirate accidentally lit his beard on fire.
“Ridiculous, right?” His mother asked.
“Yeah, Captain Bluebeard’s pretty stupid.”
“I want to see you laugh, Raj. And yes, I know the pirates and giants are bad guys, but the humor and the fantastical settings make it all quite harmless. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yeah, but I like the idea of having animal powers. It was a cool story. Change it so the bad guys are stupid, or make it happen long ago, or in the future, or somewhere far away from India.”
“I’m not that creative.”
“I’ll help you. I could help tell the story.”
“We’ll see. Now up. You’ve got chores to do, and I want to wash the bedding today. Come on. Up, up, up.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Raj rolled out of bed with a sigh, stretched, and stumbled over to wrap his arms around his mother.
“Aw. I need to remember to treasure these moments. You’re almost as tall as me. It won’t be long before you can’t be bothered to give your old mother a hug.”
“That’s right, Ma. No more hugs when I’m thirteen,” Raj said.
His mother tussled Raj’s hair before turning him about and shoving him toward the bathroom.
“Wash up and change those clothes. You’ve worn the same pair for two days now.”
As he prepared for the day, Raj plotted ways to persuade his mother to continue telling him the Varūpa stories. He knew from experience pushing too hard to get his way would backfire. His best chance lay in exhibiting behavior she deemed mature. So, Raj actually combed his hair and cleaned up after himself. He further calculated doing his chores without being reminded would be the surest way to get his mother to tell him more tales of the strange Virūpa, who increasingly lost their humanity as they robbed animals of their abilities.
Satisfied with his plan, Raj concentrated on a more immediate need: his grumbling stomach. He tucked into the breakfast his mother had set out hours ago.
“Slow down. There’s plenty, and it’s not going anywhere,” Raj’s mother said.
“I’m hungry.”
“Obviously. Feeding you is getting expensive.”
“I could get a job working in the mines. I’m finally old enough.”
“And leave me all alone like your father did? No. The mines may pay well, but they’re dangerous.”
“The forest is dangerous. The mines are dangerous. The city is dangerous. You don’t want me to go anywhere.” Raj said with his mouth full.
Raj’s mother’s face grew serious.
“I know. I can’t protect you forever. Simply living in this world is dangerous. Be patient with me, Raj. Losing Maya and your father changed me. I’ve become quite the coward.”
Silence lingered between mother and son.
“Tell me what Maya was like again.”
“I wish you had known her. It’s unnatural, having to live life without her. Siblings typically grow old together.” Raj’s mother smiled sadly. “But you and I keep her memory alive, don’t we?”
“That’s why I always ask.”
“You could probably tell me everything I know about her already.”
“I guess, but I feel like I learn something new when you talk about her…like there’s some secret Maya’s trying to tell me from Heaven.”
Raj’s mother looked sharply at her son.
“Secret? What do you mean, Raj? Maya was an open book, no secrets.”
“I like to imagine her and me driving you crazy like Hazan and his sister do their mother.”
Raj’s mother’s face softened.
“Ah. That sounds delightful. Yes, the two of you together certainly would have. I’d undoubtedly have more than these few gray hairs you’ve given me.”
The sudden sound of a ruckus outside interrupted their daydreaming. Raj recognized the distinct chirruping of an agitated mongoose. His mother jumped into action, grabbing a stout-looking stick, sharpened at one end, and peered through the mosquito netting-covered doorway.
Please click the link to continue reading and learn how Raj finds himself unexpectedly thrown into a world rife with unlooked-for possibilities and dangers.
Mythos Creative Writing 