Kidnapped - Short Story

 

Mystery of the repeating sign

 

Radiation-eating vampire

 

The green-stone necklace

 

Magical Purple Flowers

 

 

The Krishna Key by Ashwin Sanghi


What is Order? Google defines it as “a structured arrangement, sequence, or organization of items.” But how is this structure created? For something to come into order, there must be some raw material, something at least. And if something exists which doesn’t have an order yet, it means it is in disorder. This implies that order is created from disorder. Order can be changed, from one type of structure to another, but it is clear that the base material for the order is disorder. The Krishna Key by Ashwin Sanghi is a fascinating tale that mirrors this dance of order and disorder, sometimes called Kalachakra in Indian mythology.

Kalachakra, or the Wheel of Time, refers to “movement of the cosmos,” from birth to rebirth, from creation to destruction to creation again. The players change, but this dance from disorder to order remains consistent, almost like a song, whose graph undulates between highs and lows, in its own unique rhythm. The novel blends everything from mythology to mathematics, from physics to history, from geography to spirituality, from suspense to mystery, and everything in between – a cocktail of arts and sciences to project a world that mimics the ancient life of Lord Krishna and how he materialized on Earth as an order-restorer when the world needed it.

An unputdownable thriller, The Krishna Key is divided into 108 chapters, each chapter unfolding a new piece of a bigger puzzle. It is written in a dual-narrative structure involving the first-person narratives of Lord Krishna’s life, from his birth in the prison cell to the destruction of his kingdom Dwarka, sewn together with a modern-day mystery connected to a series of murders and a set of four seals, which, apparently, are clues to the Krishna Key. The Krishna Key is nothing but these four seals put together.

The inciting incident opens with the murder of a renowned historian named Anil Varshney. The last person to meet him before his murder was Dr. Ravi Mohan Saini, his close friend. When the police suspects Saini as his murderer, he takes the help of his favorite student Priya Ratnani, whose father is a reputed lawyer. With Priya’s help, he escapes but he must solve the mystery that Varshney left, the only clue being a blood-splattered base plate and a cryptic code scrawled on it.

After some investigation, Saini realizes that Varshney’s code led to four seals, which when put together would form the Krishna Key. He had just one of the seals and the remaining three were with Varshney’s friends Devendra Chhedi, Rajaram Kurkude, and Dr. Nikhil Bhojaraj. Together with Priya, Saini travels different parts across India to find the seals - Indus Valley ruins of Kalibangan to the temples of Somnath and Vrindavan, from Jodhpur to Mount Abu, only to be met by a series of murders. Each person holding a seal is being murdered by a mysterious assailant.

Behind the scenes, this assailant, who’s revealed to be Taarak Vakil, is shown to follow the instructions of the Mataji, a cult-like woman who has programmed his mind with the belief that he is the modern-day Kalki avatar of Vishnu and their goal is to find the Syamantaka gem, a precious gem that brings immense wealth and power. Each chapter includes an ancient narrative from Lord Krishna’s life to the modern-day episode of Saini’s quest.

Meanwhile, CBI officer Radhika Singh is racing around to catch Saini, believing that he’s the one behind these murders. Many people join Saini and Priya, eventually leaving or getting killed. As Saini decodes the puzzle, he realizes that the killer is using ten avatars of Vishnu as a blueprint for his murders. Saini uses his knowledge of history deconstruct the clues obtained at every step and deduce the location of the Krishna Key.

Eventually, Radhika realizes that Saini is not the culprit. But by then, it’s too late, because the culprit, Taarak, and his Mataji have already planned their murder. Thanks to an officer named Rathore who saves their lives. And as they combine the four seals and get the location of the Krishna Key, it is revealed to be the very source of spiritual energy. Taarak realizes the misunderstanding and the true culprit behind the whole scheme emerges, the Mataji, who was none other than Saini’s beloved student Priya.

Personally, I loved the way Lord Krishna’s stories are stitched together with the modern-day narratives of mystery and how they mirror the same emotion, same process, suggesting how the battle remains the same in every age, just the players and the appearances vary. It’s the same battle, from disorder to order, but the form and visual of this battle differs from time to time. Almost every chapter has a strong ending, sometimes with a cliffhanger, other times with a plot twist. The 108 chapters are organized like pieces of a giant puzzle, unleashed in the reader’s mind for solving. Characters are relatable, especially for Indian readers. And lastly, I loved the fact that chapter names are designed like a lock in each chapter, a perfect way to keep the symbolism of Krishna Key alive throughout the book.


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Overwhelm - Short inner monologue film

 

I entered my room and slouched on the bed. I grabbed the folded blanket kept on my side, wrung it loose, and flopped it over my legs. It was cold and I needed warmth. The blanket trembled like non-circular ripples and long ribbons someone’s shaking from a stick. I sat there and started thinking about a feeling I was feeling in that moment. I couldn’t find a word from my memory to describe this feeling. I kept thinking, and meanwhile, turned my head to stare on an untidy pile of notebooks that lay on the bed and on the side table and all around me. My head was buzzing with thoughts and I needed to quieten their restless voices by giving them shelter in a notebook. But then I started thinking which notebook should I choose to do this task. It was a huge and laborious task. First, I needed to organize these voices in different categories and in the second step, I needed to see which notebook was to be assigned to thoughts of a particular category. So, now I was thinking about two things. One, finding a word to describe the feeling that I was feeling and second, which notebook should I select from the heaps to write down the thoughts spinning in my head. Both steps. I was still jostling with these two tasks when a third one popped up. A question that left me curious and terrified at the same time. Do I have all the words I need in my memory to describe everything I want, now or in the future? If not, then it’s a crisis. The thought jolted me in a bad cognitive dissonance. The emotion of insecurity gripped me. And envy. What if the other writer, who I despise, knows some words that I don’t? I clenched my fists. My fingers were sweaty and my elbows were quivering. My eyes became glassy with an intrusive pang of fear, the fear of impending doom, doom of my writing career. And before I could overcome this fear, I remembered that I still hadn’t found the word to describe the feeling that I was feeling a few moments ago and I hadn’t even selected a notebook for putting down my restless thoughts. I sat there, inside the warm blanket, frozen. And glassy eyed. After thinking some more for a while, I ditched the heap of notebooks. I regretted and mourned the loss of my ability to retrieve a suitable word to describe that feeling. And I apologized to my restless thoughts because since I hadn’t selected a notebook, I couldn’t do anything about them. After all these cathartic, therapeutic, and healing rituals, I pulled my laptop and wrote down all the things I had just did ever since I started feeling that feeling. I wrote everything down. And then suddenly, I realized, that I could describe that feeling with the word “overwhelm.”

 

And the moment I wrote this word, the restless thoughts quietened down and I no longer needed a notebook to write them down. Now caught red-handed for the feeling they were trying to evoke within me, they settled down, crankily on my shoulders, around my ears, and inside my fingers, well-mannered but frantic, like crowds of refugees in a shelter camp or drops of dew on a tree. And then I took the lead and started calling them one by one. One by one they could come to me and report their stories and questions and worries and I could write these down.

“Fear of losing my identity”

Okay, next. “How to deal with the feeling of overwhelm?”

Well, you write it down.