Page 87 of Tiger's Quest
Kishan was working on his discus again when I took a break. I sipped some bottled water while watching Kishan practice.
Nodding toward Kishan, I asked Mr. Kadam, “So how’s he doing with the discus thing?”
Mr. Kadam laughed. “Technically, Miss Kelsey, it’s not a discus. A discus is used in the Olympics. What Kishan is holding is called achakram. It’s shaped like a discus, but if you look carefully, the outer edge is razor sharp. It’s a throwing weapon. In fact, it’s the weapon of choice for the Indian god Vishnu. It’s a very valuable weapon when wielded by someone with skill, and Kishan, fortunately, has been trained in its use, though he hasn’t practiced in a long time.”
Kishan’s weapon was made of gold with diamonds embedded in the metal, similar to thegada. It had a curved leather handgrip like a yin-yang symbol. The metal edge was about two inches wide and razor sharp. I watched as he practiced, and he never caught it on the razor edge. He either caught it on the handgrip or on the inside of the circle.
“Do they normally return like that? Like a boomerang?”
“No. They don’t, Miss Kelsey.” Mr. Kadam stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Watch. Do you see? Even if he targets a tree it makes a good jagged slash in the trunk and then spins back to him. I have never seen that before. Normally it can be wielded like a blade in close combat or it can be thrown over a distance to disable an enemy, but it will remain embedded in the target until it’s retrieved.”
“It looks like it slows down when it approaches him too.”
We watched him throw a few more times. “Yes, I believe you are correct. It slows on approach to make it easier for him to catch it. Quite a weapon.”
Later that evening, when we returned to our hotel, Kishan placed a board game on the table after dinner. I laughed.
“You got Parcheesi?”
Kishan smiled. “Not exactly. This is called Pachisi, but you play it the same.”
We took out the pieces and set up the board. When Mr. Kadam saw the game, he clapped his hands together as his eyes twinkled with a competitive gleam.
“Ah, Kishan, my favorite game. Do you remember when we played with your parents?”
“How could I forget? You beat Father, which he handled fine, but when you beat Mother at the last roll of the dice, I thought she’d have you beheaded.”
Mr. Kadam stroked his beard. “Yes. Indeed. She was rather put out.”
“Do you mean you guys played this game way back when?”
Kishan chuckled. “Not like this exactly. We played the live version. Instead of pawns we used people. We constructed a giant game board and set up a home base that everyone had to get to. It was fun. The players would wear our color. Father preferred blue and Mother, green. I think you were red that day, Kadam, and I was yellow.”
“Where was Ren?”
Kishan picked up a piece and twirled it thoughtfully. “He was off on a diplomatic trip at that time, so Kadam subbed for him.”
Mr. Kadam cleared his throat, “A-hem, yes. If the two of you don’t mind, I would prefer to be red again, as the color brought me luck last time I played.”
Kishan spun the board so the red color was in front of Mr. Kadam. I picked yellow; Kishan, blue. We played for an hour. I’d never seen Kishan so animated. He almost seemed like a young boy again, with all the cares of the world lifted off his shoulders. I could easily envision this proud, handsome, taciturn man as a happy, carefree boy who grew up to stand in the shadow of his older brother, loving and admiring him, but at the same time feeling that he was somehow less important. Somehow less deserving. By the end of the game, Kishan and I had left Mr. Kadam in the dust. There was only one pawn left for each of us, and mine was closer to home.
On the last roll, Kishan could have knocked me out to win the game. He stared at the board for a moment studying it carefully.
Mr. Kadam’s steepled fingers were tapping his upper lip, which was turned up in a small smile. Kishan’s golden eyes met mine briefly before he picked up his pawn and skipped over mine, moving into a safety zone.
“Kishan, what are you doing? You could have gotten me out and won the game! Didn’t you see that?”
He sat back in his chair and shrugged. “Huh, I must’ve missed that. Your turn, Kelsey.”
I muttered, “It’s totally impossible that you missed that. Okay. Then too bad foryou.” I rolled a twelve and made it all the way home. “Ha! I beat the two infamous live-version players!”
Mr. Kadam laughed. “Indeed you did, Miss Kelsey. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Mr. Kadam.”
Kishan helped me clean up the game.
I said, “Okay, so ’fess up. Why’d you throw the game? You’re not a good bluffer, you know. I could read your expression. You saw the move and deliberately skipped over me. What happened to doing whatever it takes to win?”
