Just Vatapi

Sarvesh had never been particularly timid as a child. Tales of terror and yarns of woe hadn’t really had much effect on him. Ghost stories swapped around campfires, and told with wide-eyed earnestness had only made him chuckle. During the course of his childhood, adolescence, and subsequent young-adulthood (for he was barely twenty-one at the time of this story) he had had the good fortune of not coming across anything that could even be confused with the supernatural.

Which is why, he was quite surprised (to put it mildly) to come across a fully formed ‘Rakshasa’ in an abandoned 2 BHK apartment in Gokuldham, Goregaon East.

In case you want to know the thrilling tale of how Sarvesh ended up in this demon-infested middle-class home in the first place; the one thing you should know is that it is not, in fact, that thrilling. Sarvesh had been looking for his ‘friend’ Sarika’s ‘rented’ apartment. The reason the word ‘friend’ is in apostrophes, is that it was quite evident that they liked each other, but each was waiting for the other to make the first move – making them ‘friends’ but not just friends. The word ‘rented’ was in apostrophes because the place she lived in was, in fact, rented.

A simple confusion about which wing she lived in and voila! Sarvesh was now standing in front of a seven feet tall Rakshasa from hell, just in the wrong apartment at the wrong time.

In the early days, while the Ashrama system was still in place, summoning a Rakshasa was quite a difficult task. You had to sneak into your Master’s master bedroom, find the old documents hand-written on the leaves

of a papyrus (or probably some less Egyptian sounding plant), and then secretly gather the ingredients from the village, and forest, and the flirtatious young wife of your Master.

But now, with a lot of stuff available on the internet, and the new curriculums changed to fit the rat race that students are forced into - any decent chemical engineering student will find it easier to mix the ingredients to summon a Rakshasa, than complete an assignment on time.

The only real hard part is to figure out the true name of a Rakshasa. The one in Sarvesh’s presence, Vatapi, had had the misfortune to have his name quoted in the Mahabharata. This had led to his name being used in the vastly superior first season of the Hindi series ‘Sacred Games’, which suddenly got popular for all the wrong reasons – which in turn had led to its usage in a semi-popular Hindi rock song, “Jab Aaye Ataapi-Vataapi, toh Zindagi Rocks”.

His brother, Atapi, long dead - Vatapi was now a Rakshasa most definitely not in his prime years. Not only was he quite done with being summoned and everything that that entailed, he was categorically against being summoned by a bunch of dumb idiots.

How Vatapi came to be in the apartment is much more interesting than Sarvesh’s story of confused addresses. He basically was roused by two girls and a boy – aspiring actors, dancers, models and YouTube personalities whose last video had recently crossed the 5k mark in three months – a personal best.

They had asked Vatapi to make them so famous that their names would be on the front pages of every newspaper. Vatapi had instantly killed them where they stood – knowing that violent death and dismemberment led to primetime news.
You see, when you ask something from a demon, you must word your request very carefully, so as not to leave room for ambiguity. But if you have read or seen anything in pop culture, you already know that. So, on with the story.

Vatapi had been trying to swallow one of his victims’ spleens, when Sarvesh chanced upon him.

“How dare you look upon me whilst I feast?” he thundered.

He did not speak in English, I’m merely translating it for you because it is difficult to type in Devanagari on Apple laptops (product placement). A Rakshasa will, in reality, speak to you in your mother-tongue. With the aspiring actors, that had been Hindi. However, since they frequently hung out in Bandra, they thought speaking in mother-tongues is ‘down market’, which led to the vocabularic confusion that would then lead them to their eventual deaths.
“I’m sorry, I did not mean to disturb...” answered Sarvesh (again, in his mother tongue – but you get my point).

“What you meant or did not mean is immaterial. Now be ready for my wrath.”
Sarvesh stood his ground. He looked down at the mandala that had been drawn under the Rakshasa. It contained the word ‘Vatapi’. In Sarvesh’s mind, he came to the conclusion that since Rakshasas apparently existed, all the rules that were attached to them must be true also – meaning that the Rakshasa had no power outside of his Manadala.

“Well, come here and get me, then,” said Sarvesh, praying that his logic was infallible.

Vatapi grunted – which meant that Sarvesh was either right, or the demon was just too old and tired for this shit.

Sarvesh stood there, seeing Vatapi eat a Human face. The Rakshasa choked, and spat out a silver piercing.

“This is the fourth one from his face. How did he expect to be cast in diverse roles if he made himself look like a pin cushion?” the monster grumbled, bad temperedly.

“Sir,” said Sarvesh, unsure of the preferred respectful terminology when it came to demonic beings. “Do you want me to destroy the Mandala and set you free?”
The Rakshasa blinked in surprise.

“You seem knowledgeable in the workings of this. Are you a priest?”

“No,” reassured Sarvesh. “I just watch a lot of horror films. So, do you want it or not?”

Sarvesh could see the Rakshasa try to think. He obviously did not want to appear over eager to accept help from a human – but he longed to go back to wherever Rakshasas live.

“Fine,” grumbled Vatapi. “I will give you a wish in return for doing that – a reward.”

“That is not necessary,” Sarvesh stated.

“You have to! It’s the system. Do not question the system.” Vatapi spluttered.
Sarvesh saw that the demon was a proud being and did not want charity. Sarvesh respected that.

“Okay, let me think about what I want.”

Both demon and boy sat in silence. Sarvesh wondered about what he could ask for. Asking for huge riches or fame would definitely backfire. There are ways to misinterpret that. If you asked for riches, you could end up under the Pacific Ocean with some sunken treasure.

Finally, Sarvesh decided to go down the practical route and ask for something with a utility value.

“I want you to give me headphones with a great bass boost...” he began. “That is preposterously easy,” said Vatapi, getting up.

“... that never get tangled,” finished Sarvesh.

“What?” the Rakshasa stopped in his tracks. “But, how is that possible? They will get tangled if you just throw them in your pocket as is! I cannot just invent magic headphones! (I cannot stress how much from this conversation is sadly, getting lost in translation, by the way) Why don’t I get you the best ones available, with lifelong warranty, and you just keep them properly in their case?”

“No. I just want ones that will never get tangled!”

“Why don’t I get you those cordless ones, like the air pods? So they don’t have cords to get tangled to begin with!”

“Okay, but then make it so that I never lose them.”

“How,” thundered Vatapi, “is that possible? I can make your memory really sharp if you want, so you know where you keep them. But I can’t stop you from losing them – they could slip and fall, or be stolen...”

“So, give me the normal ones that can’t be entangled,” said Sarvesh, folding his arms.

Vatapi paced around in his mandal, grumbling. It was hard to make out what he was saying (Rakshasas have protruding teeth, so they speak with lisps as is).
“I cannot help you, human!” yelled Vatapi, finally. “So I will give you my greatest gift – immortality!”

“No, I’d rather have the earphones.” Sighed Sarvesh.

“YOU GODDAMN FUCKING HUMAN PIECE OF...” Vatapi started yelling, and then immediately started coughing. One of his victim’s ball and socket joints was caught in his throat. As he coughed and sputtered on the floor, Sarvesh felt a surge of pity.

Also, he was just getting late.

“Fine. Just give me whatever you feel I would enjoy,” he said.

“Just take the immortality...” pleaded Vatapi, his eyes watering. “I don’t like thinking. That was my sainted Brother’s job.”

“Atapi?” asked Sarvesh.

“How do you know? How do you know his name?” asked the giant being, incredulously.

“Sacred Games. And that song...”

“DON’T SING IT!”

“Okay, chill... If it makes you happy, I guess I’ll take the immortality,” shrugged Sarvesh. “Though I want the record to show I’m doing so under duress.”

Grumbling to himself about how the boy knew nothing of real duress, Vatapi gathered his strength, and gave away his gift of immortality to Sarvesh.
Sarvesh then rubbed off a bit of the Mandala with his foot, and Vatapi vanished – 30 % grateful, 27% exasperated, and 23% humiliated.

Sarvesh stood in the room and breathed in his newly acquired immortality.
“I don’t feel any different.” He shrugged. He looked around at the dusty room, then breathed in again.

“Huh,” he thought. “My allergies are gone. A side effect, maybe.” 

Twelve minutes later, he was in his ‘friend’, Sarika’s apartment. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, as he sank into the sofa next to her. 

“Watching Sacred Games...” she replied.

“What episode are you on?” he asked, curiously.

“I don’t know the name.” she said.

The Immortal Sarvesh smiled. 

Because he may have started believing in Rakshasas, but he still didn’t believe in big co-incidences.