Elsewhere, earlier that evening

Time was running out fast. The sun was starting to set already. Ashia, Savir’s younger sister, had already given up and was now just swinging her bare feet in the refreshingly cold stream as she waited. Harvith, their grandfather and a renowned Siddha healer, was relaxing with a partially chewed neem twig between his lips and a walking stick loosely held in his hand as he leaned against a tree and took a break from the harvesting expedition. But Savir hadn’t given up yet. This was the third and last basket he had to fill in time to beat the time record that his father, Navir, had set at 13 when he beat his father’s, Harvith’s, record that Harvith had set when he was 13.

There was a skill to harvesting a neem tree, a wondrous species of plant that was antibacterial, antifungal, and anti-inflammatory, and every part of it could be used for anything from cooking to brushing your teeth. The rest of the tribe didn’t care much about practicing themselves as neem was a hardy tree and grew like a weed even in times of drought. But they didn’t use it to heal as Harvith did, as Navir did, and as Savir would once he had completed his training. Neem, particularly older neem trees like this two centuries old one that they’d just discovered on their forest expedition with their grandfather today, was priceless for its medicinal value. 

Savir was almost done. He’d filled the bottles in the first basket with neem sap, stuffed the second basket with leaves, and the third one was soon to be filled with rectangular strips of neem bark, each exactly two inches long and one inch wide. He just had a couple more strips of bark left to carve off and then drop into the basket. Savir used his knife to outline the rectangular shape he needed on one of the branches. Then he wedged the knife in at the top of the strip and pulled down with a swift motion, too fast and it would splinter, too slow and the strip would be uneven. As he approached the final goalpost, Ashia’s feet stopped swinging as she switched her attention to the contest and she began to oscillate her gaze between Harvith, who was keeping time, and Savir, who was close to winning. Finally, she’d just ran up to Harvith to wait with him.

Harvith gazed intently at Savir, his gnarled knuckles tightened on his walking stick. Harvith then winked at Ashia as Savir dropped the last two pieces into the basket. Ashia chirped, “Time! Time! You did it!”

“Really? You’re not just going easy on me?” Savir grinned as he wiped the sweat off his brow and tried to look at Harvith around Ashia as she danced whimsically around Savir, Harvith, and the baskets.

“And why would I do that?” Harvith gruffly responded, but both he and his grandchildren knew that Harvith’s gruffness was just a facade for his overwhelming affection towards his family.

“Time to head back,” Harvith said absently gazing at the descending sun.  The two children wanted to stay out longer but knew better than to complain. Especially after the winter sickness last year when Harvith and most of the tribe elders had almost died.  They valued any chance they had to spend more time with him and learn from him but also didn’t want to risk another decline in his health.

Savir stacked two baskets in each hand and led the way. Harvith and Ashia followed behind, each with one basket. Harvith used his other hand to grip his walking stick and Ashia used her extra hand to help support Harvith. When they got home, the sun was long gone and it was pretty dark outside. Savir’s parents were both waiting outside the door with their hands crossed and grim expressions on their faces.

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“Father-in-law, where were you gone for so long? How could you take the children out today?” demanded Razia, Savir’s mother.

“Father, really was today the best day for this kind of thing? ” echoed Navir, Savir’s father.

“They wouldn’t be at risk if you didn’t tempt the wrath of the gods,” Harvith started angrily as he prepared to enter what had become a familiar argument in the family. Razia and Navir tensed. Ashia whimpered and clutched Harvith’s hand harder. Savir dropped his baskets to the ground and moved to shield Ashia.

It’s not enough. The fight just started and it looks like they might go on for hours. Maybe I should just take Ashia to bed.

Savir then extricated Harvith’s hand from Ashia’s and gave Ashia his hand to hold instead and guided Ashia to bed. Ashia whimpered as she followed her older brother. He hushed her and tucked her in. Then he started humming a lullaby to try and cover the sound of the rising voices and patting her softly to try to lull her asleep. It was working. Her whimpering was starting to subside as she started to drift to sleep.

Back at the house entrance, Harvith continued, with his anger directed mostly at Navir, “You’re a disgrace to our entire tribe. Our ancestors made the oath to serve the serpentine race and its our duty to uphold that oath. We cannot break it at any cost and doing so will earn our tribe the curse of the gods.” 

“No father! We’re saving this tribe from its own downfall. Every year, we sacrifice our people and resources to either the serpentine race or the winter sickness or something else. We don’t have a lot of people left. Pretty soon, there won’t be anyone.” Navir retorted back, his fists clenching rather angrily.

“Father-in-law, Navir came upon the metallic compound accidentally during his studies. Who’s to say it was not a message? A message from the gods that had intentionally placed it there to save our tribe and the others?” Razia attempted to placate both parties.

Her attempt didn’t work. Harvith and Navir were both rather stubborn, like father like son. 

Before they could really start to go at it, Razia finally grabbed Navir’s hand, ready to drag him out, and said, “We don’t have time for this. We’re expected at the palace soon.”

“If you two go forward with this, then I’m really leaving this time,” Harvith shouted after them and stormed away in anger.

Savir’s heart fell. His grandfather didn’t really mean that, right? He tried to get up to go talk to Harvith, but Ashia had started whimpering again, somehow sensing the tension in the air. Without much choice, he sat down again and sang her to sleep.

Come night, take away the day.

Come dreams, take away the reality.

Come dark, take away the hurt.

Come truth, take away the lies.

An hour later, after Ashia had slept, Savir slipped out of the room silently and tried to find Harvith. Savir caught him just as he was leaving, true to his word, with a suitcase in hand. 

Savir stared at Harvith accusingly, “Are you going to leave?”

“What choice do I have? The entire tribe is doomed. We’re going to burn in hell. I can’t stay. Not after tonight. I have to consult with the priests and see if there are repercussions that can still be made, “ Harvith responded, uncomfortable to be so harsh with his grandson but still convinced that he couldn’t condone his son’s and his daughter-in-law’s actions any longer. He had to save his family and tribe from themselves. He had to talk to the priests. He had to convince the other tribes to rebel and free the Naga. Harvith had hesitated long enough. He knew that there was no comfort he could offer Savir that would make a difference. 

“Be safe,” Harvith finally offered as he left, unable to offer the traditional farewell I’ll go and come again because even he did not know if he’d be back.

Savir didn’t know it then, but time had indeed run out for his family as he’d known it.