Chapter 5: Dreams, Mandirs, and Honey Traps

Turns out, one shouldn’t be too lacking in virtue—karma comes fast!

Karma, as Ma always said, never forgets an address. My stomach full, I drifted into sleep, not suspecting payback was already coming.

After robbing the offerings, I fell asleep!

The straw was scratchy, but exhaustion took over. My last thought was hoping no snakes would visit at midnight.

Devas don’t dream!

But mortals do!

Without powers, I did too!

My mind swirled with images—familiar, yet strange. Even in sleep, the boundaries between worlds blurred.

I watched as the fox mandir turned into a marble haveli. The stone idol on the high platform changed, gaining colour, soon becoming alive!

Lights flickered, jasmine filled the air. The idol was no longer stone but flesh, his presence flooding the room like the monsoon.

The fox spirit lifted a fair hand, removed the chunni from his head, and looked at me with mischief!

A sly smile, the chunni falling away. He looked at me like we shared a private joke.

Knowing it was a dream, I couldn’t wake up!

I struggled to move, to call for help, but the dream held me tight.

So I let the fox spirit walk step by step toward me!

He moved with the grace of a Bharatanatyam dancer, each step deliberate. My heart thudded in my chest.

He picked me up, and suddenly a four-poster bed appeared!

I was cradled in his arms, the world spinning, straw giving way to silk sheets and attar.

The fox spirit, whose face I couldn’t see clearly, tossed me onto the soft bedding, then pressed down—gentle, but not allowing refusal!

His touch was both electric and terrifying. I tried to push him away, but he laughed, low and wicked, pinning me as real as my guilt.

“You ate my offerings, you’ll have to pay me back!”

His voice was honey and poison, curling around me like a snake.

His voice was pleasant, but wrapped in mist, indistinct!

Even his laughter slipped through my fingers, like early morning fog.

I wanted to speak, but he stopped me!

A finger to my lips, a warning look. My protests died.

“Shh, your mouth only tells lies, I don’t want to hear you anymore!”

The authority in his tone left no room to argue. My heart pounded, confusion and fear twining together.

Then, he really didn’t let me say a full sentence again!

Every time I tried, he hushed me, as if words were the greatest danger.

No wonder this fox mandir was so remote—this fox wasn’t an ordinary spirit at all!

It hit me that some places are hidden for a reason—some truths too.

Even the pleasure god in the upper court might not be as skilled as this fox!

A blush crept across my cheeks—surely, even the heavens had nothing on this fox’s mischief.

The arm at my waist sometimes turned to stone, looking strange and eerie. I turned away, only for him to grab my chin and make me look back!

The chill of stone, then the heat of flesh—each touch a reminder I didn’t know where I belonged. He tilted my chin, demanding my gaze.

“As long as it improves sadhana, a statue is fine too, right? Hmm? Why don’t you want to look at me—does the deva look down on me, this wild fox pretending to be a deity?”

His words stung more than I cared to admit. Shame prickled my skin.

He asked the question!

But blocked my mouth, not letting me answer!

No matter what I did, he found ways to silence me, as if the truth would break us both.

I don’t know how long it lasted, but when I got uncomfortable, I reflexively kicked out!

A burst of rebellion—my foot connected, and he just laughed, delighted by my resistance.

The fox laughed strangely: “Still can’t stand a bit of hardship, but why should I spoil you?”

His laughter echoed off the marble, somewhere between affection and warning.

After that, he coldly picked me up, pulled the red velvet chunni I’d put on the idol, and wrapped me in it!

It was almost tender, the way he draped the cloth, but his eyes were sharp as a blade.

The empty fruit plate was swept aside, and in its place on the table was me, wrapped in red cloth!

A tableau for the gods—a caution in silk and flesh.

Above was a dizzying mural of gods and asuras, behind was the empty altar. Amid endless shaking, I sleepily closed my eyes!

Somewhere, the murals seemed to shift, gods and asuras locked in dance. I let the images blur, surrendering to exhaustion.

I fell asleep in the dream from exhaustion!

Even the sweetest fruit has its price, and tonight, mine was paid in restless sleep.

When I woke, I was still on the ground, straw beneath me!

Cool air prickled my skin; morning had come. I blinked, unsure what was real.

The fox mandir was still just a lonely mandir, the idol back on the altar!

Sunlight streamed through the cracks, painting stripes on the stone.

Only that piece of red velvet cloth!

Was neatly covering me!

I stared, half-expecting it to laugh in my face.

...

Must have been the wind!

I muttered, voice trembling. Better to laugh than dig for answers.

The wind in these mountains is really strong, ha ha!

Sometimes, it’s safer to joke than to chase truths you don’t want.

I bolted out of the mandir!

No folding the cloth, no parting prayer. I fled, feet pounding the mossy stone, heart racing.

This time, I didn’t circle in place!

The air felt lighter, the path clearer—as if the mountain had decided my sentence was done.

I left the fox mandir far behind, and halfway down, I could see the outline of the town below!

In the distance, rooftops shimmered, the promise of chai and civilization ahead.

I breathed a sigh of relief!

Finally, a taste of freedom. The world seemed brighter, possibilities stretching ahead.

But too soon!

The gods weren’t done with me. Peace is always temporary.

Around noon, thirsty, I followed the sound of water to a lakeside!

A narrow stream twisted through the rocks into a small lake, wild hibiscus lining the banks, and a kingfisher darted low over the water as I hesitated. The air was thick with jasmine.

There, in the misty water, was a beauty bathing!

I stopped short, nearly tripping. Half-veiled by mist and sunlight, a figure so striking I forgot my thirst.

He had his back to the shore, face unseen, but just the view from behind could steal your breath!

Long hair clung to his back, his shoulders sculpted by the gods. Graceful movements—definitely no ordinary man.

Very handsome, but isn’t wild bathing a bit uncivilised?

I frowned in mock disapproval—the kind my mother reserved for boys climbing mango trees. Civilization had its standards!

I have no interest in bathwater, so I was about to leave, when I bumped into an old yellow buffalo demon whose demonic energy was off the charts!

I spun, and there it was—a buffalo demon, all horns and swagger, trying hard to blend in but failing.

The buffalo demon thought it was disguised, mooed twice, then whispered:

“See the clothes by the water? If you take his clothes, he’ll have to stay by your side and be your little husband!”

He grinned like a villain from an old Doordarshan serial, tongue flicking in anticipation.

Me: “...”

This plot, I’d heard in bedtime stories a hundred times!

Feudal, and immoral!

As if a woman’s worth was measured by clothes stolen. I folded my arms, glaring at him.

I pushed away the buffalo demon: “Kindly refusing!”

My words were cold as Delhi winter. The buffalo huffed, disappointed.

Just as I was about to find another path, I saw the buffalo pause!

The world slowed. I braced for more nonsense.

Then it shouted at the bather: “Someone’s peeking at you!”

Me: “...arrey yaar”

My jaw dropped. Betrayal, thy name is buffalo!

The next moment, a damp hand landed on my shoulder, warm breath at my ear:

“Where did this lecher come from? Peeking at someone bathing in broad daylight, aren’t you afraid I’ll take you to the police?”

His voice was teasing, yet dangerous. I froze, searching for a comeback.

Alright, I get it!

My destiny was to stumble from trap to trap.

This is a honey trap!

Not the first, and definitely not the last!