Chapter 1: Curry…Sambhar...Curry?
The sitars were being played beautifully, the tablas complimented them with mellow percussion. India was lost in the wonderful Hindustani music at his palatial house.
"Master" called out his manservant. "Master?" he repeated, a bit louder than before.
He sighed that he had to go through this all over again, so he screamed at the top of his lungs "MASTER!".
"What? What? Where?!" jumped India.
"A letter." Said the manservant.
Now that he had snapped out of it, he read the letter carefully and slapped his forehead. It was not because of the unnescessary World Conference. It was not that he had to sit in the midst of bickering countries and it was DEFINITELY not America's plans of creating a hero to save the world. Oh no, that was much more tolerable than what the letter requested or rather demanded in big bold letters:
PLEASE BRING SOUTH INDIA WITH YOU AT ALL COSTS.
There were many attempts of futile convincing, begging and even threatening his older sister to attend World conferences. She would go only if she felt like it, which mind you, occurred once in a blue moon. What would he have to resort to this time?
" Even Ma Kali [1] isn't going to be able to help me. (sigh)."
He stood in front of his sister's mansion "Well, might as well get this over with." And entered.
A maid said "Welcome Master Uttar[2], Kumari Dakshin[3] is training." She led him through the west corridor into a large training hall. No sooner did he enter than a sword ( typical indian curved sword called khadgam) missed him by a hair. He had gone cold for a moment "N-Namaste, D-D-Dakshin."
The mistress of the sword withdrew "Oh, it's just you, Uttar." She said, less than pleased to see him. She had the same black hair as him, only longer and wavier, her brown eyes were a bit lighter than his. Anyone could mistake them for twins, but they had a sea of differences between them.
"Just practicing some Kalari Payattu.[4] So, what do you want?" she asked.
" Er…well…It's a world conference…" he said, the last part in a whisper.
" WHY DO I HAVE TO WASTE A DAY AMONG THOSE INGRATE, RACIST FIRANGIS[5] TRYING TO FIGURE OUT A SOLUTION WHEN NO ONE SEEMS TO RESPECT OUR OPINION?!" she bellowed.
"Well, not all of them are racist and ingrates though…and I suppose our opinions are heard…" he tried to justiy.
"Oh well now! Now that you're all buddy-buddy, palsy-walsy with them, I shouldn't even be discussing this with you, Maharajah!" she said storming off with vapour literally fuming out of her ears.
"There's got to be a way to convince her." India bit his lip. The maid, who had all well witnessed this many times decided to cross her limits and intrude into the business of these siblings. "Master, Uttar, if I may?". He had a questioning look on his face. She pulled his ear and whispered something to him.
He looked at her as if she was making fun of him "Do I look like an idiot to to you? There's no way something like this can convince HER."
"Believe me, Master, it works wonders." Grinned the maidservant.
He knocked at South India's door.
"Get lost." Came the reply.
He said, hoping the idea would work "T-There'll be Sambhar[6] for lunch…"
The door immediately opened and South India jumped into a hug "Really? REALLY?!" she asked with sparkles in her eyes. India sweatdropped "Y-Yeah." She said almost bursting into tears "Finally, a little respect for my wonderful cuisine! I'll go! I'll go!"
Sambhar, that's all it took. That's ALL it took?!
The maid thought to herself "How is it that, you live for curry but fail to notice your sister lives for sambhar. Stupid siblings." And went on tending to the lotuses.
_x_x_x_
Fierce destroyer goddess
North
South
A famous south indian martial art
Foreigners
A south indian soup-like curry.