Vishan stepped into the road through the open door and stretched to receive the morning sun’s rays, feeling the soft breeze from the river. The man was tall of stature, sinewy of muscles; his long pleated braid lay over his right shoulder. His cotton garments hung loosely from his wide shoulders, and he wore no shoes. Behind him, the two floor building belonging to his family sparkled under the sun rays, the laugh and voices of his sisters escaping through the narrow windows.
The young man walked to the baths finding several carts carrying foods and goods to the market stands along the way. One of the carts carried mangoes, and he asked one from the driver, who gave it to him in exchange for help pulling the cart. Mangoes were available in the region, but it was early in the season, so he was happy to enjoy one now. After helping the farmer to his stall, he reached the colonnades flanking the baths’ building. He always marveled at the construction, made by the ancestors with the greatest architectural skills.
The space under the columns was cool and shaded, so he rested there for a while, finishing his mango and enjoying the view before his eyes. The town spread to the west, ending by the river and across it lay the forest where he had played as a child, and where he now went to gather wood for his work.
He washed his hands in the small stone receptacle at the baths entrance and went in. The baths were very cool and he shuddered at the temperature change.
A group of young people played at the farther end of the pool, their joyful cries resounding in the emptiness. He took off his clothes, leaving on a loincloth, and stepped on the narrow ledge surrounding the pool.
The group invited him to join them; they were playing at something resembling water polo, men against women, sending the ball toward the side of the opponents. The players had introduced themselves during the game, but Vishan only remembered a girl’s name, Damyanti. He had seen her before, but never this close, and he liked her. He played with them for a while, but suddenly realizing it was getting late, he left them and went back into the burning sun.
He was glad for it, though. They lived in a region that experienced the changes of only two seasons: dry and wet. Now, they were in what could have been called winter, but for them was the time between the rainy monsoon season. True, rain was needed, but living beside the great river provided them with enough water to see for their crops and personal needs. When the rains came, though, during the monsoon season, sometimes the river overflowed, and damage to homes and crops were common.
The young man shook his head, there was no need to call worries now. He set out to his family workshop that had been theirs through generations. Now, however, only he, his father, and his uncle worked there. The men were good craftsmen and the workshop had gained renown because of the magnificent sculptures, figurines and furniture they made. Other craftsmen in town liked to work with metals, stone, or ceramics; Vishan and his family preferred wood of all textures and colors available in the surrounding forest.
When the time had come for him to choose his line of work, his father had wanted him to learn the science of the stars and planets, or perhaps to learn healing. He had refused, he wanted to do what the men in his family had done all their lives and the father had accepted his son’s decision.
Vishan reached the locked workshop’s door. His father should still be home, or perhaps he had chosen to go to the woods before starting work. Vishan unlocked the door and entered, putting on the heavy cotton apron he used when carving; he then stepped out to the shed where they matured the logs they would use. He picked a piece of mulberry log they had used in previous tasks, its size seemed appropriate for the new idea; carving a statuette of the young girl he had met that morning. The wood would not reflect the original’s colors, but perhaps he could dye the wood to intensify the various shades. True, his father expected him to complete several tasks, but this would take a short while and he would work on it during his leisure time.
He returned to the workshop and laid the wood on his working bench. He took his carving instruments which he kept carefully wrapped for protection. The tools consisted of wooden rods of various sizes and shapes with sharpened blades at the end. He also had chisels, and a fire-mountain stone. He had bought it from a merchant who came to the city and told him they were found near volcanoes. He had called it pumice. Vishan had realized it would be useful to polish the roughest parts of the carvings, those the deerskin couldn’t handle.
The young man got so absorbed into his work, he never heard his father and uncle entering the workshop, and only when a hand touched his shoulder did he realize he was not alone.
“Are you working on something new?” Asked his father, Ekavir.
“An idea I got today, at the baths.” He replied.
The father raised an eyebrow.
“A girl I met there.” Explained Vishan.
Ekavir nodded, watching his son’s carving for a while until his brother, Idha, reminded him of the work they had to do. Leaving Vishan to his sculpting, the older men went to their workplaces.
Meanwhile, Vishan was already chipping out the bulkiest pieces. He planned to carve a rough egg shape, from which the form of the slender girl would emerge at the end. Slowly he carved, gradually bringing out the shape he wanted. He measured and measured again for the correct proportions he would give each part of the statuette; for the head, the torso, arms and legs. He would try to capture her as he had seen her last, proudly facing the group of boys they had defeated.
Some hours later, that seemed like minutes; his uncle asked for his help. The two brothers had been working in some furniture ordered by one of the rich merchants in the town. This man’s wife had thought of a way to keep her belongings in order. She was an able an intelligent woman, and had made a drawing of what she wanted. It consisted on several stacked planks of wood separated by carved rods. It had given the carpenters too many headaches, as it always resulted wobbly and insecure.
“Father, let me see Mathesas’ wife’s drawing.” Said Vishan.
Ekavir complied, showing him the sketch the woman had made on a piece of old cloth.
“I believe we should change this. You see? You have been separating the planks with rods, but what if we used four, one on each side?”
“How would you hold the planks then? That’s why she wanted the rods by the edges of the planks.” Explained his father, showing the woman’s drawing.
“No, look here. If we carve tight slots in the poles, at the same length each, we can insert the planks there, as we do when we want to do a watertight box.”
“I think that’s a good idea, Vishan.” Said uncle Idha, looking at the drawing with calculating eyes. “We would carve four poles, instead of the many ones she had thought. It would help because we could carve the slots at the same height each, that would be easy. Then, tightening the planks in the slots with some wedges, they will remain in place.”
“Won’t she object? I don’t want to alienate Mathesas.”
“I think she will love it, father.” Replied Vishan.
They set to work. The poles were measured and cut, and the slots carved in the correct places. The planks were ready; because they had not needed carving, just cutting and polishing the wood. They then began to place the planks on the slots. The planks fit tightly but when they started working on the next plank, something happened and the first fell off.
“I think we should use bitumen.” Said Vishan.
His father looked up at him with questioning eyes.
“Put some into the slots. Then when we put the planks there, they will stay put.” Explained Vishan, gesturing at the carved slots.
The young man went to where they kept the bitumen and brought it back to the bench. Carefully, and using an eagle’s feather, they placed a small amount of the sticky substance on the slots.
“Perhaps we should do one plank first, to see how it works.” Said the uncle.
“I agree,” said Ekavir. “The bottom one.”
They prepared the slot and placed the bottom side plank in the two matching slots. They left it there, well propped so it would not wobble, and went to the house for lunch.
Sashi, Vishan’s mother, had prepared their meal using barley, vegetables and some fish from the river. Vishan’s younger sisters were playing in the garden, but the oldest one had helped her mother cook and serve the food. When the family was together, the father stood with a cup of ghṛita (ghee offering), and prayed. The man finished and sat, and Sashi rose and lit a candle on a small stone burner at the table while she, too, whispered a prayer.
After this, they bowed their heads and started eating. The younger children were arguing at the end of the table, while Vishan and his father explained to his mother what they had been doing.
“I hope it works.” She said. “Because Anutri has been always good to me, and I would not want her to dislike your work.”
“She will not, don’t worry.” Said Vishan happily.
They finished their meal and while the men returned to the workshop, the women cleaned up, stocking the fire and leaving a pot with slow cooking food near it.
Vishan’s mother, Sachi, was a good weaver. She had learned to weave into her cloth colorful designs that made them unique together with her older daughter Abhaya who had learned to dye the fibers with different colors, even Indigo Blue and purple. Abhaya had also experimented with henna, and made a paste to color the fibers in a yellowish or dark-brown shade. The two, mother and daughter now wove colorful cloth they bartered in the market. The workshop provided enough to live and more; their house had good furnishings, beds, and toys for the little girls.
During the gathering season, the town’s women went to pick the cotton buds that would provide them with material to weave their clothes. The little girls helped; it was a work that only needed dedication and for a time they stopped playing their games.
Their mother had made dolls for them, using clay and letting it dry by the kitchen fire and gave them some from her own childhood, still intact. They had bought more at the marketplace, though, like the little dog with the leash, and other animals. The oldest sister made some with color paint on them, and these the little girls liked the most. Father had made tiny carts to wheel the dolls in and about, and they carried them while playing in the garden outside.
When Vishan was younger he had gone to school as all men should, but had finished some time ago. The smaller girls were too young to go, so they played at home but Abhaya, the oldest sister, went to school in the evenings to receive her classes. Women her age had to attend, at one time or other, according to their scheduled tasks at home. For Abhaya, the best hour was the evening because then she could listen to her favorite teacher, Malika, who taught the Vedas. Her teaching was not limited to reciting or explaining the ancient science, but she also taught about medicinal plants and health care. It had been her teacher who had introduced Abhaya to the science of coloring. The young woman, who adored her teacher, aspired to be like her in the future.
While the women folk began their preparation of the evening meal, the men had returned to the workshop where they found the plank firmly set into the slots. Now they could continue with the other ones. The procedure was slow, because each plank needed a while for the bitumen to take. They decided they would finish next day with the other two poles.
“I would like to carve some figures for the top of the poles; I think she would like them, father.” Suggested Vishan as they put their tools away.
“What do you have in mind? Nothing very complicated I hope, I want to deliver as soon as possible.” Replied Ekavir.
“I thought I could carve two sets of dolphins playing. Dolphins are easy to carve.” Explained his son.
“Hmm, agreed, but try to have them ready by tomorrow evening. What about your project?”
“I am working on it, don’t worry, father.”
“I am eager to see how you carve a likeness of that girl.” Replied the older man.
The sun was setting when they closed the workshop and while father and uncle returned to the house, Vishan decided to go to the school. Not to take lessons, but his friends usually gathered there in the evening knowing many pretty girls came to school at that hour.
He was approaching the building when he saw her. Once again he was confirmed on his belief that, whenever you met someone you had never met, you found that someone several times again during the day. Clearly she had finished her classes, because she was on the school’s stone stairs, ready to leave.
“Hello again.” Said Vishan.
“Oh, hello! Are you coming to lessons?” She replied with a smile.
“No. I’ve done my years in the school hall. Had the adulthood rite. I’m practically an elder now.” He touched his chest dramatically.
She squinted at him. “You’re not old.”
“Wise beyond my years then.”
“Hmm. I’ll accept that.”
“Are you finished now?”
“So then, are you finished?” He repeated.
“Yes, though I have to memorize some verses my teacher taught today.” Replied Damyanti.
“Who is your teacher?” Asked Vishan.
“Malika, she is very good. Do you know her?”
“I know her, yes. She taught me, and she’s my sister’s teacher now, too.”
“Who’s your sister? Perhaps I know her.”
“Her name is Abhaya.”
“Well, I don’t know her thought I know about her! They say she is the best student in school, and that she will be a master, too!”
“Do they, really?” Vishan sounded astonished.
“Yes.” Replied the girl, smiling at the young man’s expression.
“I didn’t know anything about it. I hope it doesn’t make her too proud.” Commented Vishan and added. “It’s funny I haven’t seen you before. I come often to meet with my friends here and I never saw you.”
“Oh, I used to come to an earlier lesson, but my mother complained about me leaving her alone to do all the chores, so I changed my schedule.” She explained.
They were standing at the foot of the stairs, but now the rush of students coming in and out forced them down and into the garden. Vishan walked to the grove of banyan trees where the school masters had placed stone benches for the students to sit and relax or even listen to lessons. The sky was already getting dark, the moon full and reaching the zenith. The evening was cool and Vishan lamented not bringing his warm tunic.
“You told me your name was Damyanti. Is that true?” He asked while sitting on one bench.
“Why shouldn’t it be?” She countered, sitting leaving a broad space between them.
“Because it fits you so well, you are beautiful.”
“Thanks, but not everyone thinks so.” She said, making a little grimace of disgust. “It’s because of my hair, and my eyes, don’t you see? They are so dark!”
“Well, I think it becomes you. Tell me, what else do you do apart from playing at the baths and coming to school?” He answered, his eyes gazing at her in admiration.
“First tell me what you do.” Damyanti said.
“I am a woodcarver. I work in my father’s workshop.”
“Oh, I now know who you are! You are Ekavir’s son!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight.
“Do you know him?”
“He has done, I mean you have done furniture for my family, gorgeous furniture. And you know what?” She asked and continued immediately. “The toy I loved the most when I was small was a tiny cart my mother bought from your father in the market, many years ago!”
“And your mother is?” Asked Vishan, interested.
“Anutri.”
Vishan showed his amazement at the coincidence with wide open eyes.
“Do you know we have been working all today in some furniture she ordered?” He replied.
“Really?”
“Yes. So what about my question?” Asked Vishan again. “What else do you do, Damyanti?”
“Apart from school and playing?” She said laughing. “I have a secret project but I don’t want to tell you. You will laugh, or you will tell the others and I don’t want you to.”
“I promise I will not.” He said, serious.
“Will not laugh, or will not tell?” She giggled softly, and looked up at him with averted eyes.
“Both, now tell me!” He replied, insistent.
She fidgeted, not sure if she should confide her deepest dreams to a young man she had just met. Something made her trust him, though.
“All right, I will tell you. You know how we have to memorize everything the teachers tell us, all the verses of the Vedas?”
Vishan nodded.
“And it is so difficult to remember everything!” She complained.
“Well, that is how your memory grows and improves.” He replied, matter-of-factly.
“Yes but, what if there was a way to help remember?” She said, softly.
“A way to help remembering?” He repeated, amazed. What was she thinking about?
“You know those marks and signs your father makes so the buyers know he did this or that job? Or the ones the merchants put in their products, in the square seals they attach to them?” She continued, her head bowed, her toe toying with a stone.
“Yes, each little mark is different; they also draw animals, which helps understand whose it is.”
“But think, Vishan, think! We could do the same for the Vedas!”
Vishan was awestruck. What this young woman saying was incredible, impossible, forbidden.
“You can’t do that!” He exclaimed.
“Why?”
“You know what the teachers say. The science should come from teacher to student, mouth to ear, always. For hundreds and hundreds of years it has been in this way, the only way!”
“Yes, yes, I know. But suppose… Suppose I learn the Vedas, and there are verses I cannot remember, so when I teach them I skip something important. Suppose it happens to many people, that they don’t remember parts of the teachings. We could lose them!”
“I don’t think so, that will not happen; the gods wouldn’t permit it.” He replied, unyielding.
“Don’t you see? Even though you think it will not happen, it would help keep the knowledge safe!” She exclaimed, looking up at his face and Vishan realized how strongly she felt about it.
The young man looked at her with compassion, she was still so young. She didn’t know how things worked in the world, how the teachers wanted things done. Special laws ruled their lives and their learning.
She looked back at him, and saw his face. She could understand him perfectly.
“Oh, well,” she said. “You wanted to know. I shouldn’t have told you. I am going home now.”
“No, wait. I am happy you told me, it is an interesting project. Don’t leave.”
“I am sorry, Vishan, it is already late and I have chores to do before bedtime.” She answered directing her steps toward the town; clearly she felt let down in her expectations.
“Will I see you soon?” He cried after her.
“Sure, good night!”
“Good night Damyanti!”
Vishan dreamed about Damyanti that night and when he woke, his only purpose was completing the statuette and showing it to her. Perhaps she would even like it, perhaps she would accept it as a gift. He had forgotten the job they had in progress, though, and his offer to carve the dolphins.
His family had gathered at the table when he went to the kitchen, waiting for him to arrive. He sat and ate some fruit and drank some goat milk from the one they kept near their home.
“Are you ready, then?” Asked his father.
“Ready?” Vishan repeated, nonplused.
“Those carvings you promised? The dolphins?” Explained Ekavir.
“Ah, yes. I will get to it right away.” Vishan replied.
He felt disheartened. He wanted to continue working on the statuette, and the task he had forgotten was now in the way. As always, though, once he started working he forgot everything, even the statuette.
The dolphins were coming out superbly, body’s flexed in jump. He had managed to carve two together, one farther ahead in the jump than the other. The sensation of movement this gave was fantastic. He showed it to his father.
“I like it, I like it very much. Do you think the second pair will come out like this one?” Said the father.
“I am sure, father. Now, do you see this stub I left under the dolphin’s belly?” He asked, pointing at a small lump in the carving. “I will use that to place the dolphins on the pole. I was thinking I could drill a small hole atop it and use the same procedure we used for the planks.”
Vishan explained, moving his hands to explain better what he planned to do.
“It will seem all carved together! Good idea, my son.” Approved Ekavir.
Vishan helped his father and uncle finish the shelves, adding the bitumen so they could stay well fastened together. At last they were finished. The object stood squarely in its four legs, the wood polished and gleaming in the afternoon sun. They hadn’t realized it was so late and had missed lunch.
Vishan didn’t feel like eating, though his mother had kept the lunch warm for them. He took some fruit and returned to the workshop. He wanted to finish the other dolphins soon, to see if he could work on Damyanti’s statuette.
When his father and uncle returned, he was so absorbed in his carving they didn’t bother him. At last, when the sun was setting, he finished the dolphins. He had carved them with no difference between the two sets, except one was the mirror image of the other. Thus, when Vishan placed them on the front poles, it seemed as if the dolphins were converging toward the center.
“It looks great!” Said Idha, admiring the finished work.
“Yes, it looks good.” Replied Ekavir. “I hope Anutri likes it.”
“When will you take it to them, father?” Asked Vishan.
“Tomorrow morning, I think.”
“Well, perhaps then I could do some carving on my project tomorrow.” Replied the young man.
“I will give you time for it, don’t worry.” Replied Ekavir, hugging him.
The night had come too soon, and Vishan decided he would share in the sparse evening meal; some fruit and a thick vegetable broth Sachi liked to cook. They sat at the table, and after giving thanks and asking for blessings, as it was the custom, they started eating.
“I heard good comments about you yesterday.” Said Vishan, addressing his sister.
“Yes? What did you hear? Who told you?” She replied.
“I met Anutri’s daughter, Damyanti, and we started talking. When I said I was your brother, she said everyone thought you would be a great master, like Malika.”
Ekavir looked at his wife, smiling.
“They say that, do they?” He asked, proud to hear the compliments to his daughter.
“Yes, they do.” Replied Vishan. “But let’s be careful, unless she becomes too swollen with pride.” He finished laughing.
Abhaya blushed; she was not used to being a topic of conversation
“Malika is a good teacher, it is no merit of mine.” She said.
“Then why are there no more masters like her? I think it is true you are good, daughter, don’t doubt yourself.” Replied Ekavir.
“I don’t father; I think it’s excessive praise and I would be happy if you didn’t talk more about it.” Replied Abhaya.
“As you wish.” He replied. “I will then praise your brother Vishan.”
“Why, what has he done now?” Asked Sachi, smiling.
“Not only did he have a great idea for Anutri’s furniture, but he has carved two sets of dolphins that seem alive.” Interjected Idha, who had been eating silently up to know. “The two sets aim toward the furniture’s center so it gives a good sense of completion.”
“I would like to see it, before you deliver it.” Said Sachi.
“So will I.” Said Abhaya. “But I hope so much praising will not go to his head, either!”
“What humble kids we have, wife.” Commented Ekavir laughing.
“Too humble for my taste.” Said Idha, with a mock sigh. “They’ll never be famous if they continue like that.”
“I don’t have a need for my children getting to be famous, just good men and women.” Replied Sachi. “Now finish your meal; I have many things to do before going to sleep.”
When they finished, it was already too late to work on the statuette or to catch Damyanti at school. Nevertheless, Vishan set out in that direction; he could meet some of his friends and perhaps have some fun.
He found them as he had hoped; standing or sitting on the ground under the banyan tree surrounding two who were intently gazing at something laying on the floor before them. Vishan approached them.
“What are you doing?” He asked.
“Silence!” Several of the other young men hissed. “Be quiet!”
Vishan took a better look at what the other two were doing. On the ground lay a tablet, perhaps two hands long and half a hand wide. The tablet had some shiny bits of conch or ivory in carved holes. Neelam, one of the young men, held in his hand what could be some animal’s knucklebones. The other player, Gadin, was urging him to throw them.
“What is that?” He whispered. “A new game?”
“Yes!“ Replied one of the young men. “Gadin brought it from the trip he went with his father, you know, the one with the caravans.”
“I know of him, yes. Is it fun? Do you know how to play it?”
“No, no. Only Gadin knows, and he is trying to teach it to Neelam, don’t you see?”
“Yes, and what is in his hand?”
“Oh, he says they are called dice. They have different marks that tell the player how to move on the tablet. Hush now, he is going to throw!”
He was right, just then the knucklebones sprang from Neelam’s hand and fell turning and twisting on the ground besides the tablet.
Gadin gave a shout of joy, plainly the throw had not been successful. He now took the dice in his hand and shaking them slightly, threw them. His smile was enough to see he had made a good throw. He took one piece he had in a little pile before him and placed it in one of the holes in the tablet. The game continued.
Meanwhile, Vishan was staring at the tablet and the different markings it had; he also looked carefully at the pile of little items each player held before them. He then asked Gadin to let him look at the knucklebones. This Gadin did, urging his friend to be quick about it. Vishan returned the dice to his friend and continued watching. Finally, Gadin gave a victorious shout, as clearly he had won.
“Big victory.” Said Neelam mockingly. “This is the first time I play and you have been at it for… How long?”
Gadin smiled sheepishly.
“I played all the days we took returning from Mohenjo Daro.”
“Well, I think that’s a long time. You give me some more chances at the game and we will see who’s better.”
Neelam stood up and left the group.
“Gadin, can I play now?” Asked Vishan, but heard several voices responding, instead of Gadin.
“No way! It’s my turn now.”
“No it isn’t, I am next after Neelam.”
“That is not true, I was next after him.”
And so they went, on and on.
Vishan spoke no more. He stood there for a while, looking at the tablet and pieces, and then turned to go home. Watching Gadin beat his opponents was no fun.
He was walking out of the grove when he almost ran into someone.
“Hi, Vi!” She said.
“Oh, hello Damyanti, where are you going?”
“My mother sent me to call my brother. Is he there? Did you see him?”
“Your brother?”
“Gadin, my oldest brother. He said he was coming to the grove to meet with his friends.”
“Gadin is your brother? I didn’t know.” Vishan replied, avidly looking at her.
“He is. Well is he there?” Insisted Damyanti.
“He is there all right, winning at the game he brought from wherever it was he got it.”
“Oh my! Father is not going to be happy with this. He complains that since Gadin got it, he hasn’t had mind for anything else.”
“I did see that.”
Damyanti looked quizzically at him.
“Well, I shall go and call him, good night.”
“Good night Damyanti, be well.”
He watched her until he couldn’t see her anymore in the gathering dusk, then he retook his path home.
He thought about it for a while, perhaps the game was not such a good idea, but what did they have to pass the evening hours? If he could make more tablets…
Next morning he woke up early and ran to the bath-house, hoping to find Damyanti there. But the bath-house was almost empty, only the man and woman in charge of it were cleaning and organizing. They looked at him startled, but after recognizing him, dismissed him from their minds.
Vishan took a quick bath, no need to delay and he had that statuette to finish. He half hoped to see her when he came out of the stalls, or perhaps in route to the bath-house, but he reached the workshop without meeting anybody.
He started working, and was soon as absorbed in his work as he used to. Ekavir and Idha came in, and not caring to interrupt him, went to the corner where they had kept Anutri’s furniture and started covering it with a broad piece of weathered cloth they used for this. They would then place it in their cart and carry it to the merchant’s house.
They returned at noon, looking satisfied. This time Vishan saw them, and came to ask how it had gone.
“Let’s go to meal.” Replied Ekavir. “I will tell you about it.”
Anutri was enchanted by her new furniture. She immediately realized how safer it was to have it made that way, with the four poles at the corners, and she admired the two sets of dolphins, celebrating Vishan’s workmanship.
The family was happy with this result, and praised Vishan for his good job.
“What did they give you for it?” Asked Sachi. “I hope you asked a good price?”
“Oh, they were more than happy to give me what I wanted, and even some more for Vishan, for the beautiful dolphins. We will have enough to cover many needs, and for you to get whatever you need for your cloth making or the little ones. Here you are, son, Mathesas gave me this for you.” He finished, handing a square piece of steatite engraved with some signs.
“What is this?” Asked Vishan.
“He told me if you went to any market that offered his wares, and you gave them this, they would give you what you wanted.” His father explained.
“Oh! That is a great, don’t you think?” Asked Abhaya who had been listening with a smile. She was proud of her older brother.
“Yes, it is. I will need to consider very well what to do with it. Perhaps I could get some tools to improve my carvings, or some of that wood that comes from the north, from the high mountains. What do you think, father?”
“Well, let’s not decide right now, and remember it is your payment for a great job. We will go to the market tomorrow and there you can look for anything you need.” Said his father, while the rest of the family silently agreed.