And She Kissed a God

5. Coffee

Waking up in a dark room helped. My eyes didn't hurt. I found a tiny chandelier hanging on the roof above. The air was thick and cold and my body felt restrained. I stepped down from the bed, touching the bandage plastered on my cheek. The scenery didn't seem like an after effect of a weird elephant attack. Someone attended to my injuries, and I was resting on a king-sized bed.

"You are awake," said a voice.

I turned right, and a young woman smiled at me. She wore a formal pencil fit dress that ended at her knees. The black cloth of that dress shone against her dazzling skin and a courteous glow bled out of her face. Walking to me, she said, "Ms Samidha is getting worried about you."

"I'm sorry, where am I?"

"You are in Ms Samidha's house."

"Who are you?"

She smiled. "I'm Priya, Mr Anil's personal secretary."

Her voice echoed in the room and I barely paid attention. My head throbbed.

"Who's Anil?" My voice was callous.

"Mr Anil is Ms Samidha's great-grandson. He is the one who brought you here."

The pain crossed my head and reached the back of my neck.

"It is all confusing." I lamented. "I don't remember everything. An elephant attacked us and I passed out. Where is Samidha? Did we escape? Or . . ." I thought for a while. "Did Samidha's grandson attack us? If he did, then why are we at her house?"

She took a step forward. "Ms Samidha said you will have a lot of questions. She wasn't wrong."

My eyes watered because of the pain. I winced and staggered like a drunk.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

I shook my head. "Do you have any painkillers?"

"No, I have something better." She strode across the lush marble floor of the room. The Victorian lamps lit up as she walked and turned off when she left. On my right, tall, oak doors stood fast, separated by a moderate distance.

The woman returned with a food table. "I have hot coffee brewed from fresh beans." She picked a porcelain jug, poured the steaming coffee into a cup, and handed it to me. "I hear it does wonders on headaches."

Smiling, I sipped the coffee. It smelled divine but tasted bitter. Without thinking of sitting down, I drank the coffee in the next two minutes. Not a proper medicine, but it salvaged my senses and my mouth felt good.

"Back to your questions," Priya said, "I need not answer them."

Then she walked to the oak doors, held their latch, and heaved them open. The wind rushed in, and so did some screams.

'How dare you attack me . . . grandmother, listen to me . . . who do you think you . . . why are you yelling at . . . he could've been hurt . . . he's an imbecile . . .you shut your . . .I'm your . . . I don't. . .'

Priya closed the doors again, and the roars stopped. "They have been yelling at each other since the sunset."

If I had known what happened or would happen, I could've talked. Instead, I stared at her.

She took the cup back from me. "I understand your distress. I can help with a quick recap of what happened. Stop me when you feel like not hearing about it anymore."

I nodded. Then she gestured to me to take a seat on a divan to my right. I hadn't noticed its presence beside me.

"Yesterday, Ms Anil got a late-night call. It was about an attack on Ms Samidha during your anniversary dinner."

I raised my hand as if I were a student in a class. "How do you guys know the anniversary?"

She smiled. "Ms Samidha's family always monitors her. Nevertheless, every time she finds out, she changes her location. It's constant hide-and-seek with her."

"So after the call," Priya continued, "Mr Anil knew his great-grandmother would change her location. He made a rough guess she might go for her house key since she loves you too much to leave you behind and disappear."

Apart from the hell I had been through, I chuckled at someone else saying Sam loves me. It sounded well, a relief of sorts.

"So we were watching you until Ms Samidha got the key. Meanwhile, Mr Anil got someone to drug an elephant from the circus to dangerous levels and left it in your path."

"So, Anil wasn't the one who hired a shooter."

"No."

"But he tried to kill her at the circus."

"Well, not precisely."

I narrowed my eyes.

"He knows she can't be hurt."

I jumped to my feet. "He's trying to kill me."

"I hate to be blunt, Mr Aditya, but Ms Samidha's family doesn't share her emotional endurance. They hate everyone in your place."

Before I remarked, the oak doors banged open. An old man walked inside. His appearance was grandeur, a subtle grey suit, polished expensive shoes and combed hair.

"You are still alive. Isn't that wonderful?" he said, his voice crude and sarcastic.

I heard that voice before. 'Great-grandmother, can you hear me? Tell me you didn't die in a crash after all.' He was Anil, Sam's great-grandson, and older than I expected.

"I'm sure Priya is taking good care of you." He added.

Then he stormed out. The anticipation to see me dead resonated in his words, and I had no idea how to react to someone like him.

"How old is he?" I asked Priya.

"Mr Anil turned fifty-nine this year."

"I know it sounds weird, but do you know how old Sam is?"

She laughed. "If you are asking me about Ms Samidha, I must warn you it's going to take me more than a sentence to explain."

"How many people know about her?"

"Not a lot, Mr Aditya. Her family and a few loyal employees like me."

I sighed. "So that means you can tell me about her?"

Priya walked past me to the bookshelf behind, which I hadn't noticed. "And to answer your previous question, yes, I may tell you about her."

Though she sounded robotic, it was a relief that she agreed. I walked to her, observing the massive book collection. Priya pulled out a book from one of the lower shelves and handed it to me.

It was a thin, old book with strong binding, and the vellichor was stronger between its pages. The title: Don de Dieu, engraved in bold letters on the ardently designed cover.

I moved the cover closer to my eyes. "Don de Dieu? Is that French?"

"You are right, Mr Aditya. A French phrase that meant 'Gift of God'. The book is a biography of Ms Samidha written illegally by a late French astronomer named Lucien."

Priya began walking back toward the bed. "You don't have to read it. I will tell the story according to this book, as I had learned from it."

She sat in a cushioned chair beside the divan. "We will begin with your first question. How old is she? No one is sure except Ms Samidha about that, but based on Mr Lucien's calculations, she is around four to five thousand years old as of our present decade."

***

#Thanks for reading the story.