3

Lately, her master Yama had taken to poetry quite alarmingly, like the old rajah she had escorted to the gates some years ago. The rajah wasn’t an actual rajah, but he was an old man who had too much wealth and not much to call family. He had a lonely life and around a hundred people hopping about the big house where he lived. He often made them listen to his absurd poetry and they practically drowned him in praise. “Bohot barhiya!” “Shabaash!” “Lazawab!” “Bravo!” “Wonderful!” “Sir, you have a gift” – and what not. Love of life. Drives people to outrageous feats. What’s a little flattery?

Yama was deeply devoted to the Mother. She was an entity who lived deep in the woods of Palomera and governed over all five kingdoms from there through messages sent to her trusted officials, Yama being one of them. Her messages were…