The Time Machine of Marwar

The Time Machine

At first light the following morning, Anand was buried.

Ramu quietly told Salim and Chotu Kaka to begin. He then turned to Anand’s body and whispered, “My brother, I cannot let you return to Bombay like this. “

His eye rested on Anand’s belongings, several parcels and pieces of luggages which he knew held the gifts Anand had bought in Pali for his family— the fabric, the nuts, the spices and the little toy camel for Mahadu; a small light parcel had his notebook in it filled with pages of mathematical puzzles, little games they had invented together along the road. Then there was another parcel wrapped with layers of cloth. Ramu reached for it. Unfolded. There lay a pair of boots, still soft beneath a thin layer of desert dust, removed from Anand’s feet when his body was wrapped and brought with them.

Ramu sat down, emptied the sand from them, then polished slowly and carefully. After that, he took off his own boots, and put on Anand’s.

He continued the journey in Anand’s boots, across Banaskantha, and reached the Rann.

The air was the first sign. It was dry and hard. Every breath felt as though something dry and solid entered his nostrils, then snapped apart inside them. The wind carried fine salt that stung the skin until it cracked.

The Rann, unlike the desert with dunes, was white and flat, endless, boundless. No direction, no anchor, no start, no end. Ramu felt like a drowning person. The bright sun reflected the sharp white. The world became blinding and unreal. He could not even see the footprints on the salt.

The camels’ hooves were wrapped in thick cloth right before entering the Rann but not even half a day, the wrap was torn by the salt blades.

Since entering the Rann, Salim seemed capable of only two things—checking their direction again and again, and murmuring prayers beneath his breath without pause.

On the third morning, Salim looked back.

Behind them, low against the white horizon, shapes were moving. Not upright. Not on camels. They moved bent low, sliding across the salt as though they were part of the ground itself.

Salim's face went white.

"Puggees.” The word escaped his lips like a curse.

Chotu Kaka looked up sharply. "Are you certain?"

"Yes. Puggees. They can track anything. A footprint. A crushed stone. A broken blade of grass. They do not lose their quarry." Salim said, his voice brittle and trembling. “They are moving at a walking pace, reading our footprints in the crust. They are still hours away. But they will not stop."

The two older men did not waste a single heartbeat but started making the defense. If the puggees were after you, dreaming to escape was stupid.

The luggages were stacked under the camels to protect them from the jagged salt crystals. Salim and Chotu kaka pulled hard on the nose-ropes, yanking the heavy beasts to the ground and bounding their legs with thick hemp ropes, forcing them into a tight, defensive ring of living ramparts. Ramu hid the leather box at the bottom of a pile.

By early afternoon, the pursuers finally closed the distance.

There was no dramatic cavalry charge, no thunderous battle cry. The British-led column of camels approached in a grim, silent line. There were 20 or maybe 30 of them. On the first of them sat Charles, the Governor of Bombay.

His eyes fell on Ramu. Just about to say something, he gasped, staring at his empty sleeve.

“What happened to your arm?” His voice was high, genuine concern crossed his face.

“Gone.” Ramu looked at him, as if he were a stranger, no longer someone who he had known for all these years. “Also gone was Anand. And four of my companions.” He took a breath. “You sent them, didn’t you?”

“No.” Charles responded without consideration. Then he faced Ramu’s look— disbelieving, ironic. “I sent them for the time machine. Nothing more.”

“Five lives and one arm.” Ramu smiled bitterly. “For what?”

Charles suddenly straightened his back, as if the realization came back to his body. He dismounted the camel. Walked toward Ramu.

“People like you, Ramu,” He paused a second, “and Anand, deserve a fair world with fair competition and fair achievement. Inspiration, miracles, effortless success should not be happening.”

He reached out his hand, “Show me the time machine. Let’s redo the history. Let’s correct it.”

Ramu’s eyes opened wide with shocks.

“Charles… You hate miracles? And you want to change the history so to erase all miracles?”

Charles looked at him silently but affirmed, allowing Ramu to ponder upon this thought.

After a while, he heard Ramu saying in a calm voice, “Charles, I will not cooperate with you. Do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because my life is a miracle too. And there will be no better history than the one I have lived, no better people than the ones who came across my life.”

“Charles.” Ramu looked deep into his eyes. “Don’t you have people like that in your life?”

Charles’ stood quietly. For a while he looked at the far horizon. Then he took out a quick breath. The same look came back to his face.

He stared at Ramu with a disappointing and an almost sympathy look, then gestured to the soldiers behind him.

The soldiers quickly climbed down the camels, formed a circle and marched toward the defense ring. Once getting close enough, they went directly searching among the parcels.

Ramu ran back to stop them, a soldier knocked him down. He fell forward on the spiky salt crystals, right in front of the wrapped leather box. Blood immediately came out from his left palm, legs and face.

Salim and Chotu kaka rushed over, trying to help him up.

Then came gunshot. Once. Twice.

Two bodies flew backwards. The red blood sprinkled on the salt. Ramu watched Salim and Chotu kaka fell on the ground. He abruptly turned back, only saw a soldier holding a rifle, pointing at his direction.

The next second, the Rann began to twist. He could feel some strong wind behind his back. A low echo seemed to rise from the underground.

The British stopped moving. They all stared at something behind Ramu, terrified.

Ramu looked back to the defense again. He did not know which he noticed first— the hole on the box or the salt dust loop that was forming above the ground.

A bullet hit the box for the time machine and went through it. Next to it, the salt dust was swirling in the air, like an eye on the Rann.

Some soldiers were too shocked to move; others ran backwards while holding their rifles tight. Many could only made meaningless sounds as if the view in front of them deprived their function of expression.

Not Charles. His eyes locked at the salt dust loop. Tears burst out but he did not wipe them as if he was afraid the loop would disappear within the blink of time. He walked forward in near hypnosis. His voice was trembling with ecstasy and gratitude.

“Finally… You chose me.”

Next second his feet left the ground, the dust loop sucked him in.

Ramu could see the dust loop keep expanding. The fierce wind blew him down. The salt swept and cut his face, body and wound.

He crawled with all the strength toward the time machine. The moment he could feel the loop reaching him, he threw himself forward and wrapped his remaining arm around the leather box.

A sharp metal-like sound pierced through the space. The soldiers covered their ears. Their terrified yells and screams were swallowed by the penetrating sound. The strangely waving horizon quaked for a few times. Then everything quieted down. The “dust eye” disappeared. The wind calmed. The view of the Rann stopped squirming.

The bodies of Salim and Chotu kaka were lying on the salt flat. One of the British soldiers suddenly ran to the camels on hands and feet. The others followed him, as if they just got their souls back. They grabbed the Puggees who were shaking behind a camel, yelled at these desert tracers, hit the camels violently. They fled without formation. The proud column dissolved into scattered figures disappearing into the endless white.

Charles and Ramu were never seen again.