Chapter 4: The Sound of Defiance

Thappad!

A crisp sound rang out.

It echoed all the way to the veranda. A few crows on the peepal tree startled and flapped away.

Kabir was completely stunned.

His hand hovered in the air, mouth open. For a second, he looked like a goat before board results—frozen and panicked.

He tried to write again, but as soon as he drew a matra, I punched him right in the eye socket.

My knuckles met flesh with a satisfying thud, and a burst of pain flashed across his face. He staggered back, clutching his eye and muttering curses.

Dhadaam!

My punch landed squarely on his eye, sending him staggering backward.

He crashed into the ornate sandalwood table, nearly knocking over the brass diya. For once, Kabir Singh was speechless.

Seeing that I was about to hit him again, he hurriedly shouted, "Wait! I haven't finished writing yet. How can you hit me?"

His voice cracked, eyes watering. He looked almost comical—a bully exposed in front of his own audience. Somewhere in the background, a servant gasped and muttered, "Ram naam satya hai," as if fearing someone would die.

I shot back, "Why can't I hit you?"

My voice was louder than I intended, but I didn’t care. The old sweeper aunty outside gave me a quick, approving nod before hurrying away.

Kabir was momentarily speechless.

He spluttered, struggling to regain his lost dignity.

At the Pravesh and Shikshit levels, people can't write divine script quickly. Even though he was considered talented, he had rushed to learn thirty-six letters without truly mastering any.

His ambition outpaced his skill, just like those children who copy homework but never understand a word.

Kabir had no choice but to provoke me. "If you've got guts, let me finish writing!"

He squared his shoulders, trying to recover some pride. The room felt charged with challenge.

I replied confidently, "And what if I let you finish?"

I never imagined the divine script in this world would be Hindi letters. By writing different Hindi letters in the air, you could produce different effects.

If I'd known this earlier, I wouldn't have ended up as a servant.

My mind whirled—so all this power lay hidden in something I’d learned in nursery school back home? What a cosmic joke!

"You said it!"

Kabir began again, writing the letter 'patthar' (stone) in the air.

His strokes crackled with energy, shadows flickering across the walls. The very air grew heavy, as if a summer storm was about to break.

Powerful energies intertwined, forming a massive boulder above our heads.

The stone shimmered, its surface rough and pitted. The other servants gasped, ducking behind doors and curtains.

He wanted to crush both Meera and me.

For a split second, I saw fear flicker in Meera’s eyes. Her hands clenched the edge of her sari, the blue of the fabric paling in her grip.

I narrowed my eyes. "You're even willing to kill your own sister?"

My words were low, barely above a whisper, but they cut through the tension like a knife.

Kabir replied indifferently, "Raja Saheb doesn't know what she looks like. I can just find any woman to marry him."

He shrugged, as if swapping brides was as simple as switching out a servant’s tiffin.

Meera clenched her fists tightly.

Her lips quivered, a silent fury burning in her gaze. I knew at that moment she’d never forgive him.

Her own cousin wanted her dead.

The truth of it seemed to settle on her shoulders, heavier than the boulder above.

Whatever family bond they had completely shattered at that moment.

I saw a single tear slide down her cheek, quickly wiped away before anyone could notice.

Seeing the boulder about to fall, Meera gave a bitter smile, guilt in her eyes as if she had dragged me into this.

She looked at me with a mixture of apology and resignation, as if asking for forgiveness in her final moments.

I stretched out a finger and quickly wrote a letter in the air.

My hands moved almost of their own accord, muscle memory from a thousand childhood slates guiding me.