A Prologue

Everybody knows that blood is red, but what they don’t tell you, is how warm it is. A thin trickle of blood made its way down from Rajiv’s forehead, hung off the tip of his nose for a moment, then slipped into his mouth. It tasted so warm.

Rajiv blinked. He was lying flat on the concrete pavement. His skull felt like it was being pounded by a hammer from the inside. His breath came in wheezing gasps. He tried to stand up, but couldn’t move a muscle. He tried to raise his hand, but it wouldn’t respond. Even lifting his neck felt like a herculean effort.

His t-shirt was torn, and blood oozed from deep gashes on his chest. His left ankle was swollen up to the size of a football.

He was in a narrow gully, next to a row of garbage boxes. Sounds of chanting emanated from the main road at the end of the gully.

“Ganpati Bappa, Morya.”

“Mangal Murthi, Morya.”

Rajiv saw a throng of people carrying a large orange-colored idol of Lord Ganesh, the great Hindu god. It was visarjan day of the Ganesh Chaturthi festival, when devotees took out their idols in grand processions and immersed them in the sea.

Rajiv lay still, staring into the Mumbai night sky. It was thick with smog, yet he could see a star or two. 

What had he done to deserve this?? He only tried to help some people who desperately needed help….a little girl in a faded kurta…a dark boy missing his front teeth…

He didn’t want his life to end. Not like this, lying alone and battered in some obscure gully. He closed his eyes and prayed.

“Please don’t forsake me, Ganpati.”

“Don’t leave me here to die.”

Every inch of his body yelped in pain.

“Rajiv baba?? Is that you?” A voice called.

Rajiv saw a bald, old man bend over him. His face was lined with wrinkles. A face that Rajiv recognized.

“Cha…” Rajiv opened his mouth to speak, but what came out was an unintelligible splutter.

“Don’t say anything,” The old man said. “Don’t try to move.”

“I’ll get help,” He scampered off towards the main road.

Rajiv had no idea how long he remained there, breathing and praying. Could have been minutes, could have been hours. 

At some point, he heard the shrill sound of an ambulance. Voices of men came closer, yelling things at each other. A torchlight was pointed at his face.

Next thing he knew, he was inside the ambulance, an oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth. In that weary, drug-induced haze, he had a sudden flash of memory. He remembered the faces of the men who had come for him. They had grabbed him and thrashed him with sticks.

One face in particular, illuminated in his mind. The face of a hulking man with broad shoulders and a small neck. And fiery red eyes that never blinked.

Those eyes. He couldn’t forget the look in the man’s eyes, even if he wanted to.

That was his last thought, and then there was darkness…