Yamlok: The Realm Of The Dead

Chapter 2

The lights glared at her.

In the dark backdrop, they looked like stars- the ones that she could touch. She was told that those lights were warm.

Unlike the others, she could not see colours nor could she feel.

To her, sadly, the world was black and white and grey.

'What colours are those?' She asked Laksh as she pointed at the bright spots.

Laksh was handsome. He had long hair drawn into a bun, contrasted by a slight stubble on his cheeks. He wore the usual saffron kurta under the black armour. It was tight over his splendid body, highlighting all the masculine features. He looked strong and was the kind of man that would have women swooning over him.

However, to her, he was like a brother.

He smiled at her as he named the colours, 'Yellow, orange and white.'

Yellow was the colour of the late-morning/early-evening sun. Orange was the colour of the rising sun. White, she knew very well for it was one of the colours she could clearly see.

Her mind filled with wonder. 'That sounds so beautiful.'

Laksh looked at her with a brighter smile on his lips. She had grown over time. The first time, Rohini had introduced her to them, she'd been so scared and fragile. He didn't blame her. She'd met Dhurya first and he could tell from experience that Dhurya wasn't the best at first impressions.

She had no memories, he had told him. Laksh refused to believe him. From the moment he saw her, he took it up as his duty to protect her. He'd always wanted a little sister to pamper. Even when he was alive, he had wished for one.

No one spoke their true names, the ones they had been given by their Prithvilok parents.

In the Yamlok, they were named based on their attributes by someone they were close to. Dhurya, Gomeda and Laksh were named by Rohini.

Rohini was about to name her too but Laksh declared himself as her brother-in-arms and took the liberty to name her.

He'd named her Anamika, the nameless one, the mysterious one.

She loved that name. It made her sound enigmatic and powerful. When everyone started calling her Anamika- she truly felt it.

The mysterious one.

Names had power in the Yamlok.

She began to train. Despite his affections, Laksh wasn't easy on her. He would manoeuvre and attack and attack, relentlessly.

Presently, she was skilled with the bagh nakha, the katar and the talwar.

Laksh was far more talented. He knew how to use all of them effectively but he was better with bow and arrows.

He slung his bow, Indria, over his shoulder and began to retrieve the arrows that were crafted by him at the station forge. He made it a point to retrieve all of them after their mission was done. When she'd asked him why he always carried eighteen arrows, he told her that it was a sacred number. He also told her if he managed to retrieve all of them after the mission, it was considered to be a success.

'Was the mission successful?' Anamika asked him. He gave her a smug look as he showed her his quiver, 'What do you think?'

She counted the nasty arrows in his quiver. 'Perfect.'

They had just finished hunting a group of bharmanas- or as known as to the world, werewolves. Laksh had told her that there the living had a different perception of the bharmanas. It was after a certain movie. However, Anamika couldn't imagine those creatures being romantic. She eyed one of the dead bharmanas. Even dead, they were disgusting.