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Mirum, a centuries-old vampire, frozen in his early twenties, decides to revisit his old town despite his better judgement. After living the life of a hermit for over a century, always seeking the pleasure o...
It had been a long, long time since Mirum had set foot in the soils of Bengal. It had been so long that he couldn't even recall himself how long it had actually been. A decade maybe or five.
But of course, if Mirum could have had his way, he would have never come back to this place.
The memories of the last time he had been in Bengal were still very painful and sore like a fresh stab wound. It was the early 30s. Back then Mirum had been Mahim Mukherjee, a mediocre Bengali in his early twenties, running a grocery store inherited from his late father. Like most youth of that time, his brother had been sent to fight in the army while he earned a living out of the store and took care of his old, widowed mother.
one uneventful evening, when Mahim returned home after closing the store, he found his old mother lying dead in a pool of her own blood and his home looted to every last dime. This horrid scene in front of his eyes took every last ounce of gentleness out of him and left him with youthful fury and an insatiable thirst for revenge.
But of course it was too late when he realized that not everyone was meant for violence and definitely not himself. He lived like a vagabond thereafter and ate out scrapes of leftover food. He had almost tracked down the culprits. Until one night when someone grabbed him from behind and slit his throat with a knife, not giving him so much as a chance to defend himself or see the face of his murderer.
He was left for dead, his body abandoned in an alley, but his heart was still beating, faintly, barely.
And then in the last few moments of his life, a pale, angelic face loomed over his vision with a peculiar expression etched all over her face.
Next thing he knew, he woke up at the back of an abandoned temple with an insane craving for blood. And she had been there, the woman with an angelic face and bloodshot eyes, with a bottle of red liquid in her hands.
She had given him a new life, a life that he never wanted. It took him a while to truly accept what he had become. A vampire. An immortal who lived on blood. Never to age again, to be forever frozen in his early twenties with magical powers in his hands. The woman, his sire, taught him several enchantments and spells, how to exercise his immortal powers and finally, introduced him to a world full of magic.
That was when Mirum had been born, like a phoenix from the ashes of Mahim Mukherjee. After a few uncertain years spent under the care of his creator, his sire , he embraced his true self.
Then Mirum took off to travel the world and engaged himself in all possible luxuries that life had to offer. He made his living by performing magical favours to the rich, spoilt humans of the world in exchange of fat stacks of cash.
Every once in a while when he did get in trouble, all he had to do was make the mortals forget of his existence with a flicker of his fingers.
That is until he got bored and took off in search of another home, in the heart of another big city or another small village of the world.
All these times he had managed to avoid Bengal religiously.
But 'never' was too strong a word for someone who lived to see the end of the times.
Mirum had been informed that he was being summoned for an emergency. Emergencies in the vampire society of Bengal usually meant mass murdering in the streets of Kolkata by a bunch of rogue vampires or an inevitable tumbling down of the crown of Victoria Memorial Hall due to very renowned and sophisticated (and yet undoubtedly stupid) vampire elite's political duel in the empty fields behind it. Mirum had also been invited to witness the duel which he had not-so-politely declined by not responding to it at all.
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(Victoria Memorial Hall)
Mirum was still contemplating taking a detour to the Nicobar Islands for a year or so instead of actually showing up to the meeting. Mirum knew in his heart that no one really expected him to turn up after so many years of no-shows in the meetings. But for a change, Mirum wanted to experience what it really felt like to be someone who showed up and could be counted on in times of distress.
So he had made up his mind to attend the meeting as he hurriedly made his way through the baggage claim of Dum Dum Airport. With a very dubious mind, Mirum hailed a taxi with a swift motion of his hand outside the airport.
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