Maya: The Beginning

A science fiction short story.

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” ⏭️

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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.