Chapter 5: Prey in the Kalash

"Guruji, don’t worry. Let your Hanuman break this kalash." The monkey reassures me, muscles straining as he pounds the walls. But the golden kalash doesn’t budge.

He glares at me, resentment burning—like he’d have broken out long ago if not for us. I shrink back, guilt gnawing at me.

Bhondu tries to calm him: "Monkey Bhaiya, don’t be anxious. Call out the Panch Dikpal, the Shat Chandi—maybe someone will help."

He rattles off divine names with the confidence of a pandit, but his eyes dart nervously.

In the original Ramayana Yatra, Swami was mortal, but devas protected him. Bhagwan promised: in disaster, heaven and earth would respond.

I repeat the promise, hoping it’s true, but doubt creeps in. The monkey chants, voice growing ragged, sweat on his brow.

"No one is answering your Hanuman!" he wails, head-butting the golden wall. Each clang rings in my skull, mocking.

How can this be? The kalash shouldn’t block all help.

Have the devas abandoned us?

The thought settles on my chest, heavy as regret. My faith flickers.

A chill seeps into my bones. I huddle in my angavastram. Each clang of the monkey’s fists is a hammer to my hope.

Shambhu mutters, "Guruji, what should we do?" His voice is thin, anxious, threading through the dark. I ignore him, but his words burrow into my mind.

Only Bhondu is quiet.

Wait—Bhondu?

I look over. He crouches in the corner, breaths quick and shallow. My heart pounds as I edge closer.

He lies on the ground, body swelling, bristles sprouting like wild grass.

The transformation is horrifying—muscles ripple, skin splits as coarse bristles erupt. His body twists, reshaping into something monstrous.

"Snort." Bhondu lifts his head, snout and tusks growing longer.

The sound is guttural, a warning from the depths. His eyes are wild, fixed on me with feral hunger.

He stares, drooling, lips pulled back in a jagged smile.

The others freeze, fear and anticipation flickering in their eyes. A dreadful silence falls.

"Guruji, let’s break up."

His snout brushes my face, and I finally understand what it means to be prey.