⏮️ Read Part 2 of “Maya”

Within a year his doubts multiplied like algae in a stagnant summer pool. Raman now lay awake for hours almost every night falling asleep every three or four days out of sheer exhaustion. He stopped looking in the mirror. Krish upped the enhancers one last time. Raman didn’t call him anymore. Krish had done what he could. 

Raman knew there was only one path to peace. He had to get Maya tested. Would she agree? She probably would. Raman knew two consequences were assured. One, real or not, after the test he’d lose her. For good. Second, he'd lose his position in the KNOT program. Maybe he could try Xarina one more time. 

Xarina instantly quashed his attempt. “How’s the quota coming along?”

Raman was now seized by desperation to get Maya tested. But how? Even if he found a way to get the test done, no one, least of all Maya, could know. Because the worst case wasn’t that Maya would turn out to be a CF. Worst case would be finding out she’s real, and losing her. The other option was to slowly go mad. Or leave her for good! 

So he tried that, too. This time Raman told Maya he needed to leave to “work through his angsts.” She didn't say anything. So Raman tried leaving. Three times.

The first time he came back in a week with no answers, then in two and finally in a month. That first time she took him back. That second time she kept him hanging for a week. That third time she wouldn't let him back in. It made his heart and body hungrier for her, her voice, her touch, her chameli. Finally after a month she let him in saying this was the last time. He believed her solemn eyes. When they made love, she cried. He felt the shittiest ever.

Raman’s performance on his quotas was now critically behind. Xarina called him in. Without any preamble, she displayed Krish’s latest report. “Third level Eudaimonic Enhancement — I may have to refer you. Cautionary mark already on your file. You leave me no choice. One month. Fix it!”

Raman didn’t say anything. 

“Star officer losing it all for something so stupid. So outdated… ‘real’?!” For the first time Xarina expressed anything close to sympathy.

Raman tried to smile. “I’m working on it,” he lied. 

Making Senator at any point in his career was all but a lost dream. There was only one way out. Extremely risky. But everything, starting with his sanity, depended on it. Maya could never know. Raman needed an ally, preferably someone who owed him something. He knew exactly who.

A week later Raman brought Maya to a restaurant in old town Khyber, a place she loved, for dinner. To play the part even more completely, he’d entered the meditation pod that day, after months of having neglected it. He told her he was in the mood to celebrate because he was close to catching up on his quota and Xarina had removed the caution on his dossier. 

Maya didn’t ask him how he’d made it up so quickly. She looked particularly beautiful, in a flowing, purple, low-cut silk dress. Her hair was carelessly collected in a ponytail, which only accentuated her neck, her angular collar bones and cleavage all of which gleamed in the restaurant's candle lighting. 

As they sat down to dinner, he inhaled a whiff of chameli on her that took him back to the Mandakini. He looked at her jaw. The vein was calm. It made him feel guilty. How had he traveled so far from that paradise? 

He ordered a lot of wine. And added a double dose of soporifanes Krish had prescribed for his sleep, into Maya’s glass. By the end of dinner she could barely walk to the transporter. She was out before they got home. 

A little after midnight, Raman let Dr. Roshan into the house. It had been over two years since they met. She wasn’t pregnant anymore. Raman’s atypical delay — something he’d prepared an elaborate explanation for — in submitting the Roshans’ file meant he'd bought them more time in civilization while their baby grew stronger. He’d eventually have to submit but the more he delayed, the more the Roshans owed him. He wondered why he risked that for them, but that delay was proving useful now. Especially, since an accomplice like Dr. Roshan understood very well the need for such a test. 

“I can run the DNA and the biochemical. Not a full biometric or femto for obvious reasons. One invasive tech may be needed. Will take me a few hours to complete. Is she out?” Dr. Roshan asked as soon as she came in. 

Raman noted again that familiar feeling with the doctor. He nodded. “This will be clean, right? No blood?”

Dr. Roshan scoffed. “You have no idea what they make us do to people and insist we not leave a trace.” He didn’t want to know. They proceeded to their bedroom. Raman opened the door and motioned her in. 

Maya was laying on her back on her usual left side of the bed. The foot of the bed was closer to the door. Dr. Roshan moved up to the left side of the bed to look at Maya. She stopped short. Raman was behind her and couldn’t see her expression. 

Before Raman could catch up to her, she gently turned Maya’s face towards her. Then she traced Maya’s blue vein with her fore finger.

Raman came up to her. “All okay? I gave her a couple of soporifanes.”  

Dr. Roshan’s expression shifted as if returning from elsewhere. “How old is she?”

“Not important. Any problem?”

The doctor shook her head. “I’ll put her fully under before I continue.”

She performed a few basic checks. Raman could tell she kept returning to Maya’s face. Maya’s vein looked strangely aware, as if it was awake, watching them.

Then the doctor turned to Raman and asked him to leave the room. 

Raman was surprised. But Dr. Roshan looked resolute. 

“I’ll need to see the results,” he insisted. 

She nodded. Raman went to the living area and sat down on the couch. He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew, Dr. Roshan was shaking him. “The tests are done.” 

He looked at the time. It had been over three hours. He followed the doctor into the room. Maya looked beatific sleeping as if she’d not even been touched. 

There was virtually no evidence of the doctor’s handiwork. Too bad we’ll lose someone this skilled to snow country. Lately he'd heard rumors that snow country was building out a sustainable way of life. Even rumors about a younger population, better fertility rates. A few too many talented people were choosing to move there. Still, how far could they get? And for what? Extreme sacrifice for something not that important. He buried these thoughts. 

Dr. Roshan picked up her tablet and showed Raman the test results. “It’s all there. Nothing extraneous. Unadulterated human,” she announced flatly. “Give me another hour or two to make sure she comes out of this.” She motioned him to leave. 

Raman staggered out of the room into the bathroom and threw up. He walked back to the couch and must have fallen asleep again, because Dr. Roshan was shaking him awake for a second time that night. “She’s okay. A little blood pressure dip. But it bounced back. I gave her some accelerants. She’ll wake up in four or five hours.”

At the door, she turned to look at him. “Give us three months.” 

He wanted to hug her, but she kept her equipment box between them. He noticed it had a little insignia in the corner. A little bunch of white flowers. Chameli? Before he could say anything, she was gone. Raman realized he didn’t even know the good doctor’s first name. 

Maya and Raman slept in for most of the next day. When Maya awoke, he told her they’d both had too much to drink. She didn’t say anything. His beloved Maya. How could a man get so lucky? 

Their days resumed as before. Maya was attentive. But quieter. She seemed tired, and slept more. Something had changed. She couldn’t possibly know, could she? He vowed to never doubt their love again. His sleep got better. He told Krish he'd finally made peace, and asked to lower his enhancers.

Raman needed to focus on his KNOT quota. But he found he had no stomach for it. He asked for a reassignment. 

Xarina shook her head. “You can’t ask for it back.”

Raman nodded. 

Xarina exhaled. “There’s leniency for those with heavy angsts. The Center needs brain scans of your angsts. I saw the psych report.”

“I don’t have them anymore.”

“We know. Residual data.” 

Raman nodded, a little nervous. There was no way they could know. He’d been careful to cover his tracks and he knew Dr. Roshan was rock solid. He went in for the scans.

Raman took a few days off and insisted he and Maya get out of Khyber, to spend a few days in the newly opened old Delhi town. All of it was virtually created from what was once a town of havelis, temples and mosques in the old subcontinent. Quaint and beautiful, even a little musty. Those generations were easily amused. 

It was a place Maya would love. Something about the place’s atmosphere left him sad. Maya walked around, quietly touching a few things. But she didn’t talk to any of the elderly who sat at the street corners. 

A few days later the full scan report showed up on his desk. He’d been cleared. And he had a new assignment entailing a pilot program — convincing the most promising young men and women in Khyber to accept Cyborg partners. He sat in his module reading about it. Perfect enabling partners for promising, ambitious youth. The cosmos would be the limit for what they could achieve. Productivity’s next frontier! 

Except that he knew deep down that if he were on the receiving end, he couldn’t do it. This was for the young. Maya and he were thankfully past the age for it. A twinge of guilt accompanied his relief.

The sadness he sensed in Maya persisted. Her uncanny sense of knowing worried him. She couldn’t possibly know! That night he had a dream — once again playing ball with his father. This time however when the SereniGuard carried him away and he turned to look at his father, his father was his younger self from when Raman was three. When the SereniGurad had first moved in. As his father strode to claim him, Raman woke up crying. He wanted to call his father and tell him he’d left KNOT. That day, he told Maya about his dream and his intention. She smiled, almost her old smile. Raman’s heart expanded. He’d give anything to get her spark back!

Raman still had one task left to complete. Dr. Roshan’s file had resurfaced. Xarina wanted to know why it was pending from his last assignment. He made a case of due diligence, “The Roshans are A-calibre people I put on my exception list. Worth trying third level incentives, especially with two kids I thought they’d cave. I’ll complete a final check and determine.” 

He got a week to get it done. He looked in the file and noted the good doctor was Dr. S Roshan. There was nothing more. Odd. He made an appointment to visit the Roshans. Only the doctor was home with their baby girl who was walking about with her mother’s calm. She looked at him directly. Large jade eyes. 

Raman entered and told the doctor they had a week. “You’ll be escorted to the snow country border within hours of my submission.”

She nodded. A week went by and he submitted the report. 

That evening he found a note attached to his transporter. Old fashioned words etched with a stylus on a leaf. The kind that left no trace or trail. From Dr. Roshan, 

“I’m telling you because you’ll find out soon enough. The new CFs are more sophisticated than current tests can detect. New protocols are classified. But Maya is real. I KNOW! As real as I am.”

Raman stopped reading. Maya? How did she know Maya’s name?

He couldn’t recall how he got home that evening. Maya was gone. She’d left him a leaf-note too. His second one for the day.

“I’m pregnant. I’ll never allow KNOT into our lives. You are what it produces. Unable to believe. Unable to love. I’ll raise our child with my people.” 

— Maya

Raman sat down and reopened Dr. Roshan’s note to read the rest:

“We’re leaving for snow country tonight. Come with us.”  

— Sameera Roshan

Maya’s sister! 

Raman packed a bag. Besides the basics and a thick jacket, he had bought for Khyber winters but never used, he only packed the pen Maya had given him on his birthday and his mother’s rudraksha necklace.

If he left now he could get to the snow country border before morning. Then he’d have to find his way home — to Maya, to his real family, and to the Raman he’d lost a long time ago!

The End

Glossary of Hindi/Urdu terms

• Zari - Thread traditionally made of fine gold or silver used in traditional Indian-subcontinent garments, especially as brocade in saris etc. This thread is woven into fabrics, primarily silk, to make intricate patterns and elaborate designs of embroidery called zardozi.

• Nani - Maternal grandmother in Hindi

• Khyber - No relation to current day Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa region or its residents; except perhaps being considered “ungovernable” even if for entirely different reasons.

• Haldi - Turmeric.

• Chameli - Jasmine flower or plant.

• Tulsi - Basil, is considered holy, a sacred plant in Hinduism and is widely used in traditional medicine systems like Ayurveda.

• Rudraksha - A seed traditionally used as a prayer bead in Hinduism, Buddhism, and other spiritual practices. The seed comes from the fruit of the Rudraksha tree (Elaeocarpus ganitrus), which is found mainly in the Himalayan region.

• Ganesha - Ganesha is a Hindu god with the head of an elephant. He is one of the most popular deities in Hinduism.

• Murgh Musallam - A traditional dish of the Indian subcontinent that consists of a whole chicken marinated in a mixture of yogurt and spices.

• Kashmiri - from Kashmir, a northern state in India with a part of the Himalayas.

• Kaju - Cashew.

• Haveli - Refers to a traditional mansion or large house, typically found in the Indian subcontinent.

⏮️ Read Part 1 of “Maya”

The “accursed” day was the day he worked late in the KNOT Collabrium, and Xarina, the woman he reported to, carelessly left her privacy shield open. She sounded agitated, but spoke in her usual clipped way. “Two reasons. One, production can’t keep up. Replicating third gen CF fertility tests costs us. Two, we’re behind on well-being checks for the test CFs in circulation. Nearly 7% of officers are showing excessive angsts…” Then Xarina sealed off her space. 

Raman had heard enough. A CF test? Cyborg Females already in circulation in the population? Raman knew about the CF program — to furnish men with perfect girlfriends, partners, wives. Much like KNOT, the rationale and the data behind the program were impeccable. Men needed steady, fulfilling primary relationships to reach even higher productivity levels. The next phase in maximizing potential of the dwindling human race. 

Despite KNOT, genetic rewrites, and super matching algos, marriage or even temporary partnerships were yet to be perfected. A stable marriage, which The Center encouraged, was high stakes. It could make or break a man. Details beyond this were above his pay grade. But now Raman knew CF’s were in test, even in marriages. Perfect partners? Maya? NO!

When he got home that day, Maya was preparing his favorite Murgh Musallam with Kashmiri chillies, extra kaju and garlic. The way he loved it. He’d craved it that morning but hadn’t said a word. Instead of watering, his mouth went dry. Raman shook his head as if to shake off a prickle. “How did you know?”

Maya just laughed. Her gushing waterfall laugh. Raman tried to smile, nodded, then ran his hand over his face. 

Maya didn’t miss his hesitation. “All OK?”

He shook his head. “Khyber quotas!” 

Maya made him go to the meditation pod. He felt calmer. She ALWAYS knew, didn't she?

That night Maya came to him after her ritual perfumed bath. A field of chameli engulfed him. A pull he could never resist. Maya arched herself towards him, coaxing him closer. Raman shook his head and turned away. It was a first. Maya put a hand on his back. Raman turned to her. She was looking at him, puzzled. 

“Work,” he lied.

Maya made a sympathetic face. Then she got up, went out and brought him a cup of her warm haldi concoction. Raman took it, forcing a smile. He fell asleep. The next morning he woke refreshed, kicking himself for thinking Maya could be anything except his perfect Maya. 

Then Raman met the Roshans. Their dossier indicated they already had a two-year-old son. On the night before their appointment, Raman had woken up in the dead of night, unable to go back to sleep. When he headed out in the morning he had a headache. It was pouring rain. That was the other thing he hated about Khyber, how unoptimized weather could change at any time! How did people live like this? 

Raman landed his transporter by the Roshans’ home. It took him a minute to find the front entrance, strangely off to the left side of the house. A visibly pregnant Dr. Roshan let him in. They forgot THAT on her dossier! He stared at her. Had they met before? Then he noticed the brass urn near the door with chameli flowers in the water. Must be a Khyber thing. See? He did learn from Maya!

Dr. Roshan didn't smile or ask who he was. She silently handed him a towel to dry off. Then she led him into a bare living room. Packing up? Not a good sign. A man entered and nodded. Mr. Roshan. They looked united. Another bad sign. 

“Please begin,” said Dr. Roshan, dismissing all possibility of small talk and pointing to an uncomfortable looking chair where he could sit. She and Mr. Roshan sat down upright in two similar chairs facing him. He felt as if he was being interrogated. 

Raman nodded, and shook his wrist to activate the presentation. His hand trembled. A virtual display shot up. Raman cleared his throat and began his spiel, “You want to maximize your children’s potential. Parents are vital for that, and…” 

Raman displayed the latest KNOT data. “Here’s data on child development from the past 30 years.” He pointed to three key numbers. “We can safely reject the notion that any parent unassisted — ANY — can be wholly present, without any trace of trauma, to raise a maximally productive child.” 

The Roshans didn’t say a word.

He pushed harder. “Personally, I look no further than my own life. My parents were brilliant people. My mother, a LEBON physicist, my father a leading neuroscientist with The Center. Yet they understood the importance of KNOT. I wouldn’t be here if those two brilliant people had free rein.” He felt a tiny discomfort telling this story about his parents. But it had to be done. What greater cause could there be? 

Finally, Dr. Roshan looked directly at him. “We’ll move to snow country.” Final bad sign! 

“Do you know the life expectancy there?” Raman barked back.

“We’ll raise our own,” the husband answered. 

“No one’s taking your children away!”

“We want a real family.” Dr. Roshan cut Raman off.

Raman stared at her. “Optimized families are REAL families. I was raised in one!” 

The Roshans looked at each other. The husband turned back to him. “How much time can you give us?”

Raman shook his wrist. The display shrank back. Raman felt the back of his neck heating up. He spoke slowly, “My parents… it was a real family. I’d never have gotten here without KNOT. I’m on track to make senator some day!” 

No one answered. What was it about Dr. Roshan that bothered him? The thought of her pregnant and wandering in snow country? But he’d sent dozens like her out there. 

The Roshans remained expressionless, but they were both standing up now, dismissing him. They left him no choice. He’d have to stamp their case file with the dreaded “D” for deportation. He mumbled something and found his way to the door. He turned back to look at them. The doctor was standing right behind him. Pregnant, small and calm. Why, why, why? The Roshans’ fate now hung on their case file, which he was required to submit within twenty-four hours.

Raman staggered to his transporter, sweating. He sat in it and immediately sent Krish an SOS. The enhancers kicked in. As he closed his eyes, calming visions appeared. He breathed deeply for two minutes. Raman looked at his hands. The tremors lessened. But his reaction to the Roshans? What was that all about? He still hadn’t said a word to Krish about how the angsts had arrived soon after the Xarina incident at work. 

Raman looked at his reflection in the transporter window. His hair was in disarray. His skin was parched. His eyes gave away that he hadn't slept in days. 

Raman leaned back and thought back to when Maya and he married, two people with no families — real or otherwise — to witness.

Three months after they married, Raman had received a message that his mother had passed away. Maya urged Raman to reconnect with his father, who was as good as estranged now. She knew what Raman failed to mention to prospects as he was trying to convert them to KNOT.

His own parents had come to oppose KNOT by the time he turned fourteen. Although unable to do anything about the SereniGuard who was firmly embedded in the family, they resigned from their esteemed positions in the scientific community in protest. They lost everything including the respect they once commanded. Even close friends didn’t dare to ask after them. Teenager Raman had to work extra hard to maintain his upward trajectory. Thankfully, the SereniGuard was instrumental in making sure Raman made it. Raman never forgave his parents.

When Raman watched the message from his father about his mother’s death, he was shocked to see how much his father had aged. His father spoke resignedly to the camera, wiping his cheeks, “Her spirit died when you were three. She was freed from her cancer yesterday.” Raman knew what that meant. The SereniGuard had moved in when Raman was three. Ramblings of a bitter old man who unfairly blamed The Center. Raman was not sure he even wanted to see him. 

But Maya insisted, “He’s old and our only family. My parents are gone. And my sister, Sameera, I don’t even know where she is.” 

To Raman life with Maya felt complete. But he agreed reluctantly. That night he woke up gasping from a nightmare. He dreamt he’s young, maybe five years old, playing outdoors with his father. He throws a ball. His father catches it, laughing out loud. Then his father sits down on his haunches, stretches out his arms, beckoning to Raman. Raman runs towards him. Just then a dark figure scoops Raman up and starts walking away. Little Raman can’t see the face of this figure. But he knows it’s the SereniGuard. Raman looks back at his father and is shocked to see his father has aged to his current years. The dream ends. 

The next day Raman and Maya arrived at his parents’ home. Maya immediately hugged his father. His father held her, then looked at her and nodded. He looked at Raman. “Help me sort through your mother’s things.” 

“I’ll help,” Maya piped up reassuringly. 

Disposal of the deceased's belongings simply meant having to donate everything to the lower colonies. Raman was grateful Maya took charge. His own brief exchange with his father didn’t go so well. His father shook his head when Raman told him about his progress with KNOT. “Poison! We believed in it, everything The Center pushed in the name of science.”

Raman couldn’t hold back. “I’m proud to serve. Can’t you see what KNOT did for me?” 

“You’ve forgotten what happened to you when the SereniGuard left. Moved on, to another family. Nothing about that was real!”

Raman paled. “I came out stronger. The program works.”

Raman’s father turned away. Maya brought over warm tulsi tea for them. But it was too late for this bond. Soon they bid goodbye. Maya hugged Raman’s father tightly and was quiet on the way back.

A few months later on his mother’s birthday, Maya gave Raman a small present — his mother’s necklace. She’d kept it, not surrendering it to the death donation. It was simple, eighteen inches long, made with dark, carved rudraksha beads. It had a little locket that opened to a tiny Ganesha painting. Raman held the necklace gently then pulled Maya close. Grief? Love? Fear? How did she know what he needed before he did, or even when he didn’t?

Now staring at his reflection in the transporter outside the Roshans’ home, Raman wondered how he could doubt such a beautiful creature? Has to be the angsts. Malfunction in the body. Just coincidence that it all started when it did. 

But in the next six months after the Roshans’ encounter, Raman’s suspicions got worse,  raging from a spark into an inferno. And every evidence of Maya’s goodness became the vehicle that transported her from perfect to…? No! He didn’t dare utter the words. 

Raman started staying late at work trying to find out more about the CF program. But no luck. He continued waking up gasping at night and looked and felt like he’d aged a decade. Maya assumed the quotas were getting to him. She brought him her remedies — massaging his back, bringing him her haldi drink when he couldn’t sleep and urged him to use the meditation pod. 

Why could he not simply love this creature whatever she was? So what if she’s a CF? Why did he suddenly care about “real” — whatever that was? Doesn’t The Center know best?

Besides, Krish had assured him that these were just the angsts. Raman realized he could hardly function without enhancers anymore. He had to find a way! 

 Before he could do anything, Raman’s birthday arrived. Maya prepared a special dinner for him. As they sat down, Maya put a small object on the table before him. It was a present wrapped in a faded green silk fabric, probably from old Khyber. He felt himself tensing but he picked it up and unwrapped it. 

It was an old “pen”, a thick, old style turquoise stylus with gold edging. Near the end of the cap was etched a tiny figure. Looking closely, he saw it was Ganesha. Ganesha’s trunk was holding a flower stem. A tendril from the stem spiraled into words, Love is illusion. The stylus nib shone with an aged gold tinge that made him want to write freehand again. The last time he’d done that was at the academy in KNOT training — to learn how to read and write the old Khyber script in preparation for this assignment. He’d fallen in love with the act of free writing. Everything about this gift left him speechless. 

He stared at the pen, caressing its smooth surface. Then he felt his head getting hot. He put the pen down on the table roughly. 

“Aren’t you spending too much time in old town Khyber?”

“No. I had it delivered.” Maya looked surprised.

“Ganesha again?”

“I thought you’d love it!” 

Raman stood up. “Are you trying to get me fired?” 

“What?” Maya looked completely baffled. Her blue vein deepened in color before his very eyes.

“Your obsession with this… this shit can jeopardize my career!”

Maya tried to reach for his hand. He pulled it away. He looked at the pen. All he wanted to do was write with this exquisite object. 

“What is wrong?”

A rage possessed him. He stepped away, gesturing wildly at everything. “Is all this, anything, any of this… even fucking real?”

“What?!” Maya’s mouth was open.

Raman seethed, left the room and offered Maya nothing for the rest of the evening.

The next day Maya demanded they talk. He said nothing. Then after two days of his silent rage, she walked out of the house. She’d always known when to be angry. But this was the first time she’d walked out, leaving a note that said: “We’ll talk once you’re calm.”

He paced most of that night. He couldn’t meditate or eat or sleep without her. He called her. 

When she came back the next day, he tried to kiss her. She pushed him back. The vein on her jaw looked bright and angry. “Talk!”

He confessed, recounting what he’d overheard. And how he’d fallen for a stupid doubt. “Don’t you see, it’s precisely because you’re perfect!” 

She listened, her jade pools flooding with bewilderment. Then she told him he could ask her any question he wanted. But she’d only do this once. 

Raman gulped. Telling himself he was going to cleanse this festering wound once and for all, he subjected Maya to every question about her origins, her parents, siblings, upbringing, her most painful memories, her happiest times, her deepest insecurities, and then some. She answered. When he was exhausted, she offered more. Her story was complete in its humanity, its credibility, its rigor. 

“My parents went from being madly in love to barely being able to talk to each other. The SereniGuard came in and divided them within a few years. My mother, more progressive, remained committed to KNOT, to the sacrifice The Center demanded. My father couldn’t embrace it. At some point my sister and I were forced to take sides. Maybe KNOT was too new then? I don’t know. Anyway, they divorced. Eventually the heartache of it all killed them both within six months of each other. I lost everyone…” Maya stopped.  

She continued, “Even my sister. A woman of science. So much progress in her own field of life extension, yet she worked against The Center’s plans for Khyber. My father’s influence. The final straw was at our mother’s cremation. She tried to persuade me that life in snow country is preferable to all this. I told her I didn’t want to hear it. Now I don’t even know where she is.” 

Maya looked up at him. “My deepest insecurity? Losing you, us! Maybe it’s too late already.” She stopped. Her mood vein was throbbing hard. She looked so small. 

Raman sat down next to her and held her close. Maya didn’t respond. 

The next day Raman decided to tell Krish all of it, including the real source of his angst. Krish listened, not expressing any surprise. At the end he shrugged and nodded. “Same diagnosis. Bad case of angsts.” 

Raman felt better, lighter after this series of confessions — his to Maya, Maya’s that he’d forced, and his own to Krish. 

Six months of peace followed. He’d catch Maya gazing at him from time to time with that same bewildered look. He’d reach over. She’d let him love her, even loving him back. Her perfection grew every day, if such a thing were possible. She stopped frequenting old Khyber. But the doubts continued to fester. 

Then one day it occurred to Raman that Krish had to know the truth about Maya. He asked for an in person appointment. But… even if Krish knows, he can’t tell me, can he?

Still, Raman couldn’t help it. “She's real, right? All human? You must know!”

“You bored, Rams? Looking for action elsewhere?”

Krish shook his head. “Of course not!”

“Then?” 

“I need to know.” 

“Let’s think this through. Why would a CF be the kind of sentimental creature you’ve fallen in love with? And should I insult you by explaining how overrated ‘real’ is?”

Raman nodded. 

“Go home, Rams!” Krish wasn’t smiling anymore.

Raman tried to live with that. Six more months went by. He knew what he had to do next; try Xarina — one of the stupidest ideas he ever had. But this saga had erupted because of her carelessness. And it was affecting his performance, his quotas, Khyber’s transformation itself. He requested an urgent contact. 

When Xarina came up, he spilled the beans in an uncharacteristic rush, “Is Maya one of your CF's?” He blustered on, “You left your call open. That could cost you.”

Xarina's face hardened but she let him go on.

“No one else will know. I’ll go away,” Raman said.

He cringed under Xarina’s glare. His own foolhardiness in attempting this subtle blackmail was astounding to him. 

Xarina ended the communication. “This conversation never happened.”

That evening when Raman got home Maya was waiting. She told him she was leaving. “I can’t live with a man who thinks he’s in love with a ghost!” 

Raman fumbled, claiming he didn’t get the connection. 

Maya looked straight at him. “You never learned to trust. Ask yourself why, Raman! Better yet, call your Dad. Ask him.”

Raman felt his temper rising. “Careful Maya!”

Maya shook her head and retreated to the meditation pod. The next morning she was gone.

Raman pinged Krish for an emergency session. As soon as Krish came up on screen, Raman barked, “Is there a way to find out without a neural scan?”

Krish put up both his hands before Raman could finish, “Whoa! Neural scan?! I can’t even entertain this.”

“Then tell me, dammit!” 

Krish covered his mouth with his hand and stared quietly at Raman for a few seconds. He leaned forward. “She’s real. Pure human.” 

“You can tell me that?”

“Let. It. Go.” 

Raman stared dumbfounded. He felt a surge of hope. Krish couldn’t lie about things like this. That was a requirement. Or was this some new program allowance? 

“You’re bound to tell me the truth, right?” Raman asked.

“And I’m going out on a limb here. I’ll make a case for why I’ve entertained you on this. I’ve never seen angsts like yours, Raman. But for the last time, she’s as real as any unoptimized Khyber female. Think! Why would a CF be a sentimental fool like your Maya?” 

Raman ran his fingers through his hair. He felt an irritation at Krish’s characterization, but he had to focus. He paced up and down. “I’m not stupid Krish. Maybe the perfect CF partner for me is a sentimental creature. When my mother went, I got past it quickly. When our SereniGuard left, I was lost for over a year. But I recovered. The program worked! My productivity metrics never dipped below the top 0.5%. But when Maya and I married, my numbers accelerated to the top 0.1%. She even reconnected me with my father. It didn’t go anywhere but it closed off that one loose end. Unprecedented — all of it!” Raman put his head between his hands. 

“Excellent! You're a lucky bastard! And a very stupid man. Go live your life. And nail your damn quotas.” 

Krish stood up, dismissing Raman. “These angsts aren’t any kind of signal. Just noise of generations past. I’ll boost your enhancers. Although we’re getting dangerously high now.”

Raman left. He called Maya as soon as he sat in his transporter. He told her all of it and begged her to come back. A few minutes after he reached home, she walked in. Her eyes were red and her vein an angry blue. He hugged her to his heart. They made furious love. Finally this madness was behind them. He plunged into work like a maniac to make up for lost time. With Maya in his corner, he’d recover. It lasted longer this time.

Read Part 3 of “Maya” ⏭️

Glossary of Hindi/Urdu terms

• Zari - Thread traditionally made of fine gold or silver used in traditional Indian-subcontinent garments, especially as brocade in saris etc. This thread is woven into fabrics, primarily silk, to make intricate patterns and elaborate designs of embroidery called zardozi.

• Nani - Maternal grandmother in Hindi

• Khyber - No relation to current day Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa region or its residents; except perhaps being considered “ungovernable” even if for entirely different reasons.

• Haldi - Turmeric.

• Chameli - Jasmine flower or plant.

• Tulsi - Basil, is considered holy, a sacred plant in Hinduism and is widely used in traditional medicine systems like Ayurveda.

• Rudraksha - A seed traditionally used as a prayer bead in Hinduism, Buddhism, and other spiritual practices. The seed comes from the fruit of the Rudraksha tree (Elaeocarpus ganitrus), which is found mainly in the Himalayan region.

• Ganesha - Ganesha is a Hindu god with the head of an elephant. He is one of the most popular deities in Hinduism.

• Murgh Musallam - A traditional dish of the Indian subcontinent that consists of a whole chicken marinated in a mixture of yogurt and spices.

• Kashmiri - from Kashmir, a northern state in India with a part of the Himalayas.

• Kaju - Cashew.

• Haveli - Refers to a traditional mansion or large house, typically found in the Indian subcontinent.

Maya

“Maya” is a concept in Hindu philosophy, especially in the Advaita (Nondualist) school of Vedanta, and in Sanskrit, a feminine name that means "illusion" or "magic". Derived from the Indian philosophical concept of Māyā, mā meaning "not" and yā meaning "this".

Raman’s first episode of the “angsts” arrived exactly three months following his third wedding anniversary. That’s what Krish called it. Raman woke up in the middle of the night gasping for air, his heart racing. Nightmare? He couldn’t remember. He reached for a drink of water; sensing his approach the cold glass lit up and self-filled halfway. As he picked it up, he felt a tremor in his hand. Gripping tighter, he whispered, “Time please?” 

A softer whisper from his robo assistant came back, “2:30AM, Raman.” Calming music started playing in his ear. Raman exhaled and looked over his left at Maya. She was sound asleep on her stomach, hair spread thick across the intricately embroidered, navy, satin bedcover she’d found on one of her old town jaunts. The bedcover gleamed in the soft light from the little crescent moon she kept suspended over her side of the bed. Loose zari threads in it shone through her hair like fireflies that came alive to her gentle breathing. 

Maybe he should have taken Maya’s nani’s panacea, a bright haldi potion she produced whenever he struggled to calm down for the night. The sight of Maya’s back rising and falling slowed his breathing. Her face was turned towards him, and he could see the blue vein that ran along the edge of her right jawline and disappeared behind her ear. He called it her mood vein, changing to a brighter hue and rising whenever she was excited or upset. Right now it rested easy, sharing in its owner’s trusting slumber. 

For Raman though, sleep was lost. Throwing off his covers, he sat up and walked to his office pod, his path lighting up as he went. He spent the night working. 

Four days later it happened again. Then again. The third episode came faster and was the worst. Raman sat up gasping, dizzy. His hands shook visibly. He lay back down and reached for Maya. Almost immediately he pulled back and sat up again. This time he went to the meditation pod, a space Maya had created for them, insisting he spend at least fifteen minutes there daily. The pod was round and bare, with a single curved aquamarine wall and a circular ceiling. One third of the wall pretended to be a window to a verdant valley and flowing river. Part of Maya’s design for “lulling the wayward mind.” Old, silk rugs covered the floor, along with several cushions and a small carved, wooden stool. As soon as he entered, soft music came on, attuned to his heart. Raman’s breath slowed. 

Maya would be pleased he used the meditation pod. Thankfully she wouldn’t probe unless he wanted to talk about it. Raman didn’t plan on sharing details with her. How could he tell her what was troubling him? Besides, he knew she’d suggest he take time off, which was exactly what he couldn’t do. He was already behind on his quotas. Though she wouldn’t be wrong either. Meeting KNOT quotas in Khyber on this timeline was likely what was getting to him. Couldn’t possibly be this other thing.

He knew what he had to do. Get a prescription of enhancers. Other KNOT officers, quick to every aid that gave them an edge, urged him, “It’s approved tech, designed for us, bud. So why not?” He resisted. Making quota was one thing but such aids could end up on your dossier. No officer who’d used them long-term ever made Senator. He wanted to resist as long as possible. Yet jeopardizing his quotas was a non-starter. Maybe a short stint would do the trick without showing up on his record? So Raman asked for a psych interaction. 

His first appointment was, as mandated, in person — Krish Mhatre. As he walked into Krish’s chambers, a cool air blew over him. He felt himself ready to tell Krish all of it. Well, not ALL of it.

Krish sat assuredly behind a large old-fashioned mahogany desk. There were two settees in front of the desk, in a forgettable pale shade of a forgettable color, facing each other. To one side of the desk and settees was a wall which was two-thirds bookcases with simulated “books”. 

The guy has a sense of humor. Raman smiled slightly, noting some of the titles: “The uncharted heart”, “Love before duty” and “Finding that one soulmate”. Topics no one would bother with anymore. The wall behind the desk sprouted a great variety of tropical foliage ceiling to floor. 

Krish rose immediately. Short and stable, he looked rooted to where he stood, but he bounded over and took Raman’s hand firmly. “Ah Raman! Mind if I call you Rams? Like the ancient king! Ha ha! Top officer. Toughest transformative assignment. The Center’s watching. Do I see Senate possibilities in the future?” he sing-songed as he guffawed. 

Raman brushed off his irritation at having been read so quickly. But of course! The Center knows it all.

Krish bounded back to one of the settees while chattering off options for Raman, “This trad therapist setting work?” he waved broadly around him. “Or shall we walk in the garden? or get a drink at the bar? Your choice Rams!” As he spoke, alternate settings flashed on the bare side wall that faced the bookcases.

Raman shook his head and said, “This is fine.”

Krish nodded and motioned to Raman to sit down in the settee facing him. 

Raman sat down and instantly the settee adjusted his temperature and molded to his back and legs. Within minutes he was telling Krish about the night awakenings. 

“My assignment… it’s everything I’ve ever wanted. My personal life is perf… great! So this nighttime drama — I don’t get it.” 

Krish asked him about Maya. Raman told him their story, starting with the day in the old cafe. “I don’t make friends easily. I wasn’t even looking for a partner. But when I met Maya…”

That day Maya was a couple of spaces behind Raman in an old style cafe line. Once in a while, Raman would get coffee from these places. It meant standing in line waiting for a bunch of inefficient Khyber citizens to make coffee by hand. Ridiculously wasteful in every way. But it helped him keep tabs on the locals, he told himself. 

The line was a bit long that day. He noticed Maya as soon as she entered the cafe. She was dressed in a maroon velvet blouse above loose fitting cream pants. Her dark hair fell just below her shoulders. She walked up and waited four spots behind him, standing still, gazing out of the window. Later she confessed she’d noticed Raman right away, too. 

The line’s glacial pace made him restless. He needed to use the restroom. He asked the man with Khyber fair skin behind him to hold his spot. The man looked the other way. 

“I’ll save this one,” Maya offered, pointing to the spot just ahead of her. That day Raman lost rank in the old cafe line but found much more — Maya the chance acquaintance, date, girlfriend, eventually wife. 

Maya with those eyes — wide set, lucid, jade, with a jawline and aquiline nose that announced Khyber origins. Her skin, a couple of shades darker than most Khyber locals, held an unusual translucence. A blue vein that ran along her right jaw line up behind her ear gave her face a partial frame. The whole combination struck him as gloriously beautiful, and wild, just like the region where she’d grown up and where they’d met. She was perfect in every way, including her old fashioned whimsies, which Raman felt duty bound to resist. That day they couldn’t stop talking; that is until the cafe, being human run, had to shut down for the day.

After that Raman and Maya saw each other every day. The first time they made love, Raman felt like he relieved himself of an old terror, taking off the heavy cloak of loneliness he’d donned as a teenager. 

Within a month of meeting they took a trip together to Kedarnath. As they hiked along the gushing River Mandakini, Maya hopped off the path. Stepping a few steps down, away from the path, and across the tall, white grass that came up to her knees, Maya took off her shoes and stepped into the ice-cold river. With a delighted shout, she beckoned Raman to join her. He shook his head. Playing in nature in uncontrolled settings was not his idea of fun. He tried to get her to come back. But Maya stuck out her tongue at him, and continued walking in the water, stepping on rocks, barely keeping her balance, laughing her big laugh that owned the world. 

After she nearly fell in the water a couple of times, Raman stepped down and pulled her out. Then bringing her close to him, he put his mouth on hers. Her chameli scent invaded his entire being. He kissed her harder. The taste of her mouth, her touch, and the scent heightened his senses in ways he’d come to hunger for. 

He withdrew and held her back. “I want this for good,” Raman found himself admitting.

Maya looked at him, nodding, her eyes lit. The blue vein along her jaw jutted out, rising to her emotion. “I fell in love the day we met, Raman.” 

Love! What a primitive notion! 

“She grew up in Khyber, you see. But her parents were among the first Khyber families to embrace KNOT voluntarily,” Raman assured Krish. And himself.

And since that day his life with Maya had been ecstatic. That is up until now. When his doubts… he didn’t tell Krish that part.

Krish listened to Raman keeping a slight smile on his lips. When Raman stopped, he didn’t say a word. Instead, he grabbed a tablet from the large mahogany desk behind him, scribbled something, and held it up for Raman. It read: “The ANGSTS”.

Krish launched into an explanation with a nonchalance that put Raman at ease, “Nothing to worry about. Artifacts of previous generations’ legacy in our bodies. It's great you’ve got two generations of KNOT in your lineage!” Krish shrugged and continued, “Sometimes despite that, antepartum gene editing, and neuro modifications, a small percentage of people retain remnants of maladjustments. Even more reason KNOT needs officers like you!” Krish laughed out loud. 

Raman exhaled. See?!? Nothing to do with my Maya!

Krish continued on his tablet, setting up the enhancers bioprint with assurances Raman needed. “Don’t worry, Rams-boy. Enhancers won’t show up on your dossier until we’re at least three-X this level and it goes on for more than a year. Not gonna happen! Now get on with Khyber, will you?” 

Raman nodded, and walked out relieved. As he flew away in his transporter, he brushed aside the twinge of unease from all that he’d kept from Krish. All that terrified him, starting with his helpless euphoria in Kedarnath and Maya’s old fashioned whimsies.

“Love at first sight! That’s what our great-grandparents called this, Raman,” Maya continued in Kedarnath. 

He threw his head back and laughed. “Those same people who tried to fit five billion of them into less than two million square miles of our Indian subcontinent? Did your Khyber history texts teach you what it took for us to re-emerge as a world power?” 

Maya nodded, her smile fading a little. “But we lost something too — a way of knowing. Our family bonds frayed—”

Raman’s smile vanished. He cut her off, “Dangerous talk! If The Center hadn’t channeled our frivolous attentions, we’d probably be extinct by now. Or barely existing like animals. Excessively bonded to a few, living far below our potentials!”

Raman realized Maya was staring at him, her brows furrowed, her blue vein throbbing. He softened and slowed. “Every generation is having fewer children. Maximizing the productive potential of our kids is imperative. That’s why we have KNOT. But too much emphasis on bonds could be fatal to us. Your parents — at least your mother — got this.”

“When I first went out to the mainland I saw how much more productive Khyber could be. Yet…” Maya stopped. Her eyes looked even larger wet. 

Raman reached for her. “Sweet darling! Nostalgic for a past she’s never even seen!”

Maya pulled away and started walking back up to the trail they’d been on. He couldn’t see her but he sensed her sadness.

“My father had a brass urn in which he floated chameli blossoms in water every day. My mother found him a chameli plant — an original — not the new repro clones. Now I can’t find old chameli anywhere. That fragrance is lost forever,” Maya said. 

Raman caught up to her and put his arm around her. She leaned on him. But Raman couldn’t understand. A tiny difference in fragrance in some old flowers, when so many new varieties, even more beautiful, and fragrant were everywhere?

Still, after they married Raman indulged Maya. Even when she insisted on trips into old towns wherever they traveled. The Center had wisely let slivers of old cities survive, even recreated some, so people could see how the vast unproductive majority once lived.

Invariably on these jaunts, Maya would stop to talk to the elderly, sometimes the dying, quizzing them about how life used to be. Was she the love of your life? When did you know he was the one? What kept you together all those years? She’d record these encounters and sometimes he’d catch her watching them later, her head tilted, eyes alive, barely breathing.  

He’d tease her, “It’s all maya you know, my dear girl of illusions!” And draw her in for a kiss. Raman had to admit to the grain of truth in Maya’s words. Because after the “first sight” in that old Khyber cafe when she’d walked in, he’d been unable to stop thinking about her. 

Nevertheless, even as he teased her, Raman knew he had to make sure Maya understood his commitment to KNOT and his ambitions. “If someone from The Center ever heard of your pinings, it may well be the end of my senate ambitions.” 

Nine months before they met, Raman moved to Khyber District for its final transformation. For the last three generations Khyber had been nudged, although not mandated, to adopt the The Kinship Nexus of Optimal Ties program. Introducing and integrating a SereniGuard, essentially a “family handler” — as Raman and his fellow officers called it — into a family, one who moved in as a third parent, took sustained effort. 

Some families in Khyber transformed voluntarily, taking advantage of the incentives The Center made available for proactive demonstration of good citizenship. Still, too many lived in independent nuclear families. That left numerous openings for trouble. 

Khyber maintained increasingly strong ties with snow country, smugglers to and fro, wayward ideas. A powder keg that blew up every so often. There had even been calls by the resistance to secede from the subcontinent. Interventions required to quell such disturbances were expensive. Too many were exiting for snow country where it was rumored the population was growing steadily. As a result, The Center now demanded a one-generation transformation for Khyber. 

Raman was sold before the recruiter finished his pitch. “...incontrovertible evidence from the main subcontinent, and confirmation from newly implemented regions. It takes three generations to fix behavioral issues and maximize productivity. A one generation transformation is aggressive, which brings me to each of you! The Center’s handpicked cadre for Khyber.”

Raman swelled at having been chosen. Besides, what the recruiter didn’t say, but what they both knew, was that being a star KNOT officer put Raman on the fast track to the Senate. Raman was among KNOT’s most promising officers. 

For the first couple of years of marriage, Raman's performance soared to unprecedented levels. Even as Maya warned him that Khyber wouldn’t be easy. Too many parents still wanted to raise children on their own, in the wild, something Raman couldn’t understand. “Fools! Sacrificing their kids’ lifelong productivity — and for what?” 

Maya listened as he emphasized to her why The Center needed to quash silly notions like parental rights. “The mainland’s progress — my own rise — is evidence for how much can be achieved with family optimization. I’d never have gotten this far without it! Letting families run wild… it’s unconscionable, given fertility rates.” 

“People are fiercely independent here,” Maya said.

“Which is why they have free reign for two years. By then most of them realize how much easier their lives can be.”

“What if they don’t?”

“Very few would be that stupid or selfish,” Raman barked. “But they all have a choice — adapt or move to snow country!” 

Raman told Maya about the last set of parents he’d signed up. How exhausted they’d been from their own infighting about child rearing. Their child was nearly three, and already showing signs of lowered productivity from internecine conflict. Raman was barely five minutes into his spiel about how parents’ own stunted needs rendered them incompetent to raise a maximally productive child, when the father had turned to the mother and nodded. Then waved for Raman to stop. “When can we welcome our SereniGuard?”

Maya nodded. She didn’t bring it up again. Raman reassured himself that Maya’s whimsies and worries were a small private indulgence he could afford. And her knowledge of Khyber and of the old ways could only be useful to him. Besides, Maya herself came from a first generation KNOT family. Hadn’t her parents voluntarily signed up? Even though her father later developed doubts, a fissure that led to her parents’ divorce. Maya’s sister left with their father. Fortunately, Maya continued to live with her mother who believed in The Center’s vision. 

Even so, Maya's warnings about Khyber turned out to be prescient. Raman had been in Khyber for nearly four years and meeting KNOT quotas was getting harder. He told himself that with Maya in his corner, Krish’s enhancers and his natural ambition he could beat this. 

But words from that accursed day, the day he had not told anyone about, continued to plague him.

Read Part 2 of “Maya” ⏭️

Glossary of Hindi/Urdu terms

• Zari - Thread traditionally made of fine gold or silver used in traditional Indian-subcontinent garments, especially as brocade in saris etc. This thread is woven into fabrics, primarily silk, to make intricate patterns and elaborate designs of embroidery called zardozi.

• Nani - Maternal grandmother in Hindi

• Khyber - No relation to current day Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa region or its residents; except perhaps being considered “ungovernable” even if for entirely different reasons.

• Haldi - Turmeric.

• Chameli - Jasmine flower or plant.

• Tulsi - Basil, is considered holy, a sacred plant in Hinduism and is widely used in traditional medicine systems like Ayurveda.

• Rudraksha - A seed traditionally used as a prayer bead in Hinduism, Buddhism, and other spiritual practices. The seed comes from the fruit of the Rudraksha tree (Elaeocarpus ganitrus), which is found mainly in the Himalayan region.

• Ganesha - Ganesha is a Hindu god with the head of an elephant. He is one of the most popular deities in Hinduism.

• Murgh Musallam - A traditional dish of the Indian subcontinent that consists of a whole chicken marinated in a mixture of yogurt and spices.

• Kashmiri - from Kashmir, a northern state in India with a part of the Himalayas.

• Kaju - Cashew.

• Haveli - Refers to a traditional mansion or large house, typically found in the Indian subcontinent.