Destroyer Of Worlds

Chapter 2

2

Mumbai, India. 10.35am

The massive statue of the god dominated the room. Its golden surface glinted, reflecting the light of the candles before it as Shiva Nataraja, Lord of the Dance, ushered in the next cycle of destruction and renewal. A wreath of bright orange marigolds, their petals still wet with dew, lay around his neck and the thick smell of them permeated the room, hemmed in by heavy curtains that kept the city out. The calm gaze of the god rested on the dying man in the bed before him. The room was luxurious, a fitting place for the final hours of one of the richest men in Mumbai. But death came for the rich in their towers as well as the poor crouched in the slums down the road, and Vishal Kapoor couldn't buy any more time.

Asha Kapoor stood by the bed, watching her father. She counted his breaths as his chest rose and fell in slow motion. Her fingers lightly stroked the aquamarine silk sari wrapped around her slim body. She had dressed as a good Hindu daughter to please him but his eyes hadn't even opened today.

She walked with soft footsteps to the shrine and looked up at Shiva, his features serene as he gazed into eternity. Mankind was nothing to the divine and yet she had a plan that would cause a ripple in history.

Even the gods would take notice.

The candlelight flickered and she trailed her fingers through the flame, the edge of pain sharpening her senses. Fire represented the end and a new beginning. Her father's body would soon be on the pyre and she would see a new world created after he was gone.

A rattle came from the bed and her father's breath caught in his throat. Asha's fingers tightened until her nails dug into her skin. Could this be the end? Her heart beat faster and a smile played at her lips in anticipation. He had lingered long enough.

The handle rattled on the locked door behind her, then a brisk knock on the wood.

"Asha, are you in there?"

Her brother's voice held a note of concern. Asha took a deep breath. Mahesh had hired the best doctors in Mumbai, but none held out any hope for their father's survival. Vishal had given up on life in the last days, choosing to succumb to his disease. It's karma, he had whispered one night as she had read to him from the Mahabharata of the battles of ancient India. His lungs were riddled with cancer caused by chemicals he had inhaled in his years of digging up the earth, first on archaeological digs and later in the mines as he had expanded his business empire.

But Asha was still angry at him for giving in. Despite her ambition to take the business further, her Papa was still the only man she loved. She brushed tears from her cheeks.

Once he was dead, she would take over and make the company greater than he ever had. He would be proud.

She composed her face into that of the concerned daughter. Her long dark hair hung about perfect features, her light coffee skin inherited from her mother, Rani, a Bollywood actress her father had wooed and won. Mahesh had both the looks and the weakness of their mother but Asha had inherited her mind and ambition from her father, and for that she was glad. She opened the door.

"It won't be long now," she whispered, as her brother strode inside the room. "I couldn't bear to have the doctors poking him with needles anymore. He never shied from death and now he will go to the gods peacefully, without all those tubes."

Mahesh reached for her hand and squeezed it.

"You're right. It's how he would want the end to be."

Together they walked to the bedside and looked down on their father. His head faced east according to Hindu custom and, above it, a lamp flickered soft light across his features. Vishal's expression was composed and there was no suffering on it even as he wheezed his final breaths. The Hindu priest had placed a mark of ash on his forehead and his arms lay on top of a simple white sheet. Asha knew that her father would be pleased. Despite his wealth, he preferred the simpler things from the days of his youth.

She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. His skin was dry and cool against her lips. The prick of tears stung her eyes again but she brushed them away. He would want her to be strong.

Mahesh bent to his father's right ear and whispered a mantra. If his party-boy friends on the Mumbai circuit could see him now, Asha thought. Suddenly the religious good son. Mahesh's movie-star looks and endless money had made him popular before his marriage and many of his friends had tried their chances with Asha. Of course, there had been dalliances in the dark, but none of those men understood her ambition and she had shunned their marriage proposals, much to her father's chagrin. He had tolerated her choice of independence, wanting her to have a love match as he had. There was one man she respected, one whose company she sought. He awaited her now, but she couldn't go to him empty-handed and she shivered a little at the thought of his displeasure.

Asha walked to the window and pulled back the curtain to let some light in. The wall of glass overlooked Back Bay and the Girgaon Chaupati beach on one side, while the other looked out towards the Arabian Sea. From up here in the Malabar Hills, she could see the ocean and endless horizon. The tower was testament to what her father had achieved, working his way up from a young laborer on archaeological digs to one of the richest men in India. His wealth stretched from the ship-breaking yards of Bangladesh to the mines of Karnataka and West Bengal and into the digital age. This very building contained cutting-edge scientific labs and the hub of their e-commerce division.

As Mahesh whispered his mantra, Asha turned back to the statue of Shiva, the god's golden face promising something even more remarkable than what they had already achieved with the company. There had always been rumors about the discovery that propelled her father from obscurity to extreme wealth. Of course, there would always be those who spoke ill of success, but she had seen a look in her father's eyes that told of a darker truth. When he had fallen sick, she had pored through his old diaries from the time before and discovered what he had given up in exchange for money and power.

But that secret was worth much more than everything they had now, and Asha wanted it back.

A gasp came from the bedside.

She turned quickly and strode to the bed, her sari brushing the floor. Vishal Kapoor opened his eyes and stared at the statue of the god as he breathed his last. Asha saw wonder in her father's gaze as Shiva Nataraja began his dance of death, and he slipped into the beyond.

Mahesh wept, silent tears running down his cheeks as he mourned his father.

Asha took a deep breath and as she stepped back towards the window, her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out to see the text she had been waiting for.

It is done. The package is on its way.