CZM Book Club: "The Three Trials of the Wind," by Shiv Ramdas, Part 2 of 2

Margaret finishes reading you a reimagining of Hindu mythology by a masterful speculative fiction author.

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:01):
Cool Zone Media.

Speaker 2 (00:06):
Book Club book Club book Club. Welcome to the Cools
Owned Media book Club, your book club that you don't
have to do the reading for this week. I'm going
to finish the story of the Trial of Three Wins
by shiv Ramdas and it won't make any sense if
you don't listen to the first part. I think, who knows,

(00:26):
maybe it don't make more sense. What do I know
about anything? I'm your host, Margaret Kiljoy. Did I already
say that this is the cool Most Zone Media Club
for books? I think I told you that. You know,
if this was at nineteenth century, it would have been
a league. It would have been the Cool Zone Media
Book League, or the League for Cool Zone Media Books,
the League for Cool Zone Media Books. So this isn't

(00:50):
a nineteenth century story. I just like when everything was
named leagues. That's n't related to anything. What is related
is this story where we last left our hero Hanni.
He was on the path and then he faced one
of his trials and he got his head cut off,
but he didn't die because he managed to drink some

(01:11):
immortality juice. Before that. Part two, he reached up forgetting
he had no body and a hand obeyed his own.
This time he touched his neck. No wound there, although
it felt a bit sore. All there, said a voice,
and he turned his head to see a pair of

(01:31):
legs and tiger print. Looking up, he found the woman's
eyes glaring down at him. Our trial, Eh thought, you'd
never stopped shouting. Huh, how long has it been, asked Hanny,
two days? What I'm closer to three? Really? How did
you find me?

Speaker 1 (01:50):
Oh?

Speaker 2 (01:50):
That was the easy part, just followed the noise. Not
that I had very far to go, only about a
quarter yo, Jona, impossible, It's been hundreds at the very least.
Her eyes twinkled. Oh, the path gets a lot shorter
when you don't want to reward for walking it. Hani stood,
his knee still throbbed where Rakka had struck him. It

(02:11):
seems I once again owe you my thanks. But I
should be going because I'm running out of time, and
it appears this path keeps growing longer. Still pretty short
if you want to turn around, said the woman, But
not the direction I need to go. And with that,
on the third to the last day of heaven, Hani,
lord of the Wind, resumed his climb. This time he

(02:33):
made slower progress than earlier, For each step his leg
ailed him a little more. At first, Hani paid it
no mind, for he was grateful to have a leg
at all. But as the pain grew, so did his gratitude. Ebb,
was this what it was like to be mortal? This
constant journey from one ache to another. Still he persevered

(02:53):
hour after hour, yojana after yojana, until the pain was
so great that he could no longer lift his leg,
but had to drag it along the ground as the
trees grew closer and closer over the path, until finally
he knew that without rest, his good leg would also
give out. He settled on a tree stump by the path,

(03:14):
feeling the welcome relief in his joints, enjoying the cool
air on his hot cheeks. As he sat, he saw
a single gulmaher break free from its green home, floating downwards.
He leaned back to follow its fluttering progress. Then he
felt the embrace of soft folds of satin enveloping him.

(03:35):
He was in another hall, this when even larger and
more richly decorated than the last. Gone was the tree stump. Instead,
he sat on a throne, and yet another asura body
bejeweled and elegantly clothed. A massive crowd of people stood around,
staring up at him with adoring eyes. This time he
couldn't move or speak. He could merely be feeling what

(03:58):
that body felt. Looking whose eyes looked? They looked down
at the foot of the throne at a dwarf, his
head shaved smooth. The dwarf spoke, what say you, King, Bahaka,
will you grant my humble plea? A voice spoke, and
it came from the body Hani, now resided in three

(04:18):
steps is nothing, shappala, ask for a yojana of land
or a kush and it will be yours. No, replied
the dwarf. Three steps of land at a place of
my choosing is all I want? And vamana thanks you
for your generosity. Then Hani remembered and strove to cry
out to warn the king to beware that it was
all a trick. This was no ordinary visitor. There was

(04:41):
no shippala. It was my Tar himself, in the fifth Avatar,
here to write the balance once more. But he could not.
He was powerless to do anything but wait for Bahaka
to reply. Certainly, shappala, if that is what you wish
you may have your three steps of land anywhere you want.
Shappala bowed, straightened up, and began to grow, as has

(05:04):
been written, larger and larger, until he blocked out the sky.
And still he grew until his foot covered all the earth.
My first step, said Shappala. Then he lifted a leg
and with his other foot he covered the heavens. My
second step. Tell me, o king, now that your kingdom
belongs to me, how will you keep your promise? Where

(05:26):
should I place my third step? And Hani found himself
looking up as Bahaka tilted his head to regard vamana.
Place it on my head, my tar, he said proudly,
and Bahaka will have kept his word. Hani screamed again,
with no sound or success, as that great foot bore

(05:46):
down with all the weight of heaven behind it, slamming
into his head with a force that made Raka's Vodra
seem a mere inconvenience. His backbone twisted, snapped, and still
the great foot bore down, driving his head down into
his body and further down, deep into the earth itself,
and still it pressed down with no respite at all.

(06:08):
Hani screamed until he could scream no more, And yet
the foot stayed where it was, pushing down unabated. He
counted the seconds as they turned to minutes, which turned
to weeks, and still the terrible force pressed down against
his skull. Hani had long since given up on escape,
on scaling Bahada, on finding Acnos. One hundred years went

(06:29):
by a hundred more, and still it bore down, sometimes shifting,
ever so often, replaced by a different foot, but always there.
Two hundred and fifty years, with a heel to his head,
Paradise Racca Acnos all faded to faint shadows, nebulous strands
of a forgotten cobweb in a dark corner of history

(06:50):
that he forgot them no longer irked him. All was
futile anyway. The only reality that of the foot, and
in time Honey came to love the foot, to draw
comfort in knowing it would always be there. But no
matter what happened, the foot would never abandon him, never
leave him to float out into an uncertain future without

(07:11):
its anchoring restraint. Until suddenly it was gone, and he
was lying curled on the path, head leaning brokenly against
the stump, watching as the Gomaha leaf continued its slow
spiral down to the forest. Floor. He tried to get up,
but his legs would not obey. There was a heaviness
in them, seeping through all of him, a weight, but

(07:33):
one very different from that of the foot, one that
told him that it was finished. He had taken the
second trial and it had broken him. He would not
even meet with the third. All he needed to do
now was to rest, to give into the darkness that
spread across his mind. And given he did, gave into

(07:54):
these sweet, sweet deals. Am I right? You can get
all your foot needs from all our foot vendors at
cool Zone Media where we put at brakes and things.
Here we go, and we're back on the next to

(08:22):
last day of heaven, Hani, Lord of the Wind, lay
where he had fallen and did not stir Hani opened
his eyes and the first thing he discovered was that
his neck was broken. His head lolled to one side,
and try as he might, he could not move it.
He could feel the pain spreading through his frame in deep,

(08:43):
widening circles, beginning at the base of his neck all
the way down to his knees, where all feeling stopped completely.
When he attempted to shift his legs, like his neck,
they refused to respond. While lying there helpless, he saw it.
There It lay at the very end of the path,
at most half a yojana away, a massive black outcropping

(09:07):
of rock, like a great lingam that had fallen over,
upon which shone a large, luminous semicircle of light, the
first light he'd seen since he stepped on this accursed path.
Around it grew flowers, also, the first he had seen,
row upon row of them, curving around the light. In
the middle. At the center of the flowers sat a

(09:27):
woman in her tiger skin tracksuit. She was smiling, beckoning
him to come to her. Then Hani knew knew it
as surely as he knew himself that his ordeals were over.
Everything would be all right now. All he needed to
do was to reach her, even if the only part
of him that was working was his arms. And so Hani,

(09:50):
god of the Wind, began dragging himself on his belly
towards the light inch by agonizing inch, minute after tortuous minute,
past several times he lost consciousness. Each time he woke
up and resumed pulling himself forward once more. His forearms
were a raw mass of flesh, his fingernails long since

(10:11):
ripped out dusty fingers encrusted with dried black blood, eyes
watering from the combination of sweat and dirt. Then he
was there, finally, mercifully, at the rock with a semicircle
of light on which she sat. Only she was gone,
and it was no rock. It was a toe, a
colossal toe. And what had appeared to be light was

(10:32):
in fact the nail. A haze stretched its web over
his mind. The darkness was returning stronger. Come with me,
it said, and Hani was almost ready to acquiesce. Almost
with the very last of his strength, Hani gripped at
what he thought was a rock with fingers of bloody meat,

(10:55):
and swung himself up. On the last day of Heaving
the Broken God, Hani laid his forehead on Ocnos's toe.
All around Hani, the earth and the grass and the
rocks in the air armed and vibrated together, and the
sound they made was the voice of Acnos, little wind, God,

(11:16):
you have come a long way. Hani lay there, unable
to speak, for there was nothing left in him but
the faintest spark, watching itself blink out of existence. From
somewhere far above, a great hand came down. A finger
touched Hani's head and he felt the golden glow of
life burn within him again, muscle and sinew knitting back

(11:38):
into place. He still lacked the strength to do anything
but stand. But stand he did, as befits a god.
Forgive me, my Lord, he said, for I failed to
take the third trial. The earth and rocks, in grass
and air all around shimmered once more, and Acnos was gone,

(11:58):
and in his place once again sat the woman in
the tiger print track suit. Yet here you are all
the same. Speak, Are you here to claim your boon?
He bowed his head in assent. What was it again?
Anything in my power? Was it not? I really must
stop making that promise? All right? What will it be?

(12:21):
And in that moment, with the task he had suffered
so much for finally at an end, with fulfillment of
his purpose, with one sentence away, all he had to
do now was utter the words. He opened his mouth
to answer, and he found he could not. They would
not emerge, even as he searched himself in vain for
his dharma, his duty to his king. It was in

(12:41):
there somewhere, yet it eluded him, like golden drops of
rasa From a time. Both eons passed and yesterday tantalizingly
out of reach. He opened his mouth and shut it again,
opened it once more, then shook his head. I'm not
hearing a request. The Apanas have no answer to the
Asora advance. They have tried to the last of them,

(13:04):
and they have failed. They shouldn't you be saying. He
opened his mouth and shut it again. We aren't you
an apana. It had been so very long since he'd
set out home, so very far away and long ago,
that it now felt like just another stop on the journey.
Here to this moment. Well, and under that gaze, Hanni

(13:29):
found himself giving voice to the dark shadow nestling in
his heart, to the thoughts he feared to utter, even
to himself ever since the churning. When I set out,
I was, and now he hesitated. I know not what
I am, only that it is not what I would be.

(13:50):
Does this person not want me to destroy all creation
for Raka's glory? Or did you think your task a
secret from me? Hanni said nothing. He dared not, even
as reality shimmered again and the mighty form of the
destroyer loomed over him once more. A silence pressed down,
hard and cold, a silence to last an eternity or

(14:12):
a moment, no telling if either was any different. Akno
spoke again, and Pahada itself trembled at that terrible voice
speak Hannie, does Raka wish me to end all creation
so that he may feel victorious? Or will the extinction
of merely all the Asa race suffice? And that's not

(14:33):
something we sell, but we do sell other stuff like
these ads. We don't actually sell you the products of
the ads. We actually sell the advertising space, which we
have no control over what they sell. Yah, I'll probably
figured that out a while ago. Here's the ads and

(15:03):
we're back. Hani hung his head, staring down at his toes.
Neither a great one. They've done nothing but engages per
the rules and means that Raka himself demanded. When Raka wins,
then all means are just. When he does not, it
is called a dharma. Are you saying you no longer

(15:23):
wish me to save paradise? Hani? Hanni hesitated, feeling the
words build up, smashing against the inside of his lips,
yearning to be free, until they would be held back
no longer but burst forth, and as each one emerged,
Honey knew it to be true. No great one, because
paradise requires no saving. Once again a silence that lasted forever,

(15:46):
or a moment unbreakable save. But by the voice of Acnos, finally, yes,
it is not paradise that you were sent here to save.
But Rakka Raka, who calls himself King of Heaven, yet
flees to the Preserver in the name of balance every
time his strength is tested. He sent you to me

(16:06):
so that he and his ilk will not lose what
was first stolen and then squandered. But my Lord said Hani,
and his voice quavered as he spoke. Would the Preserver
ever be unjust?

Speaker 1 (16:19):
Just?

Speaker 2 (16:20):
The Preserver is not concerned with justice, only with keeping
things as they are. Justice does not come from above, Hani,
It comes from those who would seek it and hear.
And now Racu searched for the Preserver time and time again,
and knew not why he could not find him, because
he has been here all along. The great hand ascended again,

(16:42):
colossal fingers unfurled, and in its palm lay a thin,
worn figure, curled up with skin of unmistakable blue. My
Lord cried, Hani, can it be? How is this come
to pass? And the voice of Acnus was heard again
because Each time Raka invoked the balance, it weakened the

(17:03):
preserver a little more, until the day came when he
had no power left, until even the illusion of balance
was gone, and all that was left was Racca's desires.
And when that day came, Raca ceased to seek balance
and instead sent you here seeking destruction. He has drunk
so deeply of the chalice of his hubris that he
sought to use not just God's but creation himself, just

(17:27):
to have his way. I no longer believe in his way?
Why not? I do not know? You do? Do you
remember as you called it the foot? Hani didn't answer,
He had no need to. They both knew he remembered
it very well, or to give it the name by

(17:49):
which Creation knows it. Raka's balance a balance you felt
for what it truly was a scale where he and
his kind sit born aloft on one end, while all
the weight rests on the other. But how, my Lord,
the scriptures and songs and stories they all say something else?

(18:10):
Whose scriptures are those who tells those stories? But my Lord,
the things of which you speak have been since creation itself?
And does that mean they must be true? Tradition does
not bestow virtue or truth. Only age, and Hani of
the woken mind knew that this was true too. Every

(18:30):
word Akno said was true. He shivered as though an
invisible cloak had worn out, without ever realizing it had
now been cast off, leaving him cold, defenseless, and vulnerable
for the first time. So the answer to Raka's request
is no, as it would have been even if you
had asked it of me. I offered you a boon,

(18:50):
not Raka. Hani hung his head. That leaves but one thing,
the boon I promised you, For all who journey to
me shall ask me of what they desire. Another silence,
one that stretched across eternity. What is yours? Hani fell

(19:10):
to his knees, trembling. Finally, he spoke, to make right, Lord, nay,
not right, for Yugas of wrongdoing can never be made right.
But grant me the strength to do what I must,
to make what reparation I can. And if I do,
what of you that is also no longer part of

(19:31):
this story? My lord? An Aknos smiled a smile very
different from the one Hani had grown accustomed to ceiling.
It was warm, gentle, and the very sight of it
sent new strength flooding through his limbs. Now you have
passed the final trial, So be it. I grant your boon,
little wind God. Now do what Raka asks you to

(19:55):
fly to him, My Lord, for too long has the
balance been waited on one side alone? Heaven will not
cease to be heaven if there is no Raka. It
is merely Raka who will cease to be Raka without Heaven.
So it shall be you shall return home to Paradise.
But you will not return alone. Let it guide you
and fly you back over the fallen walls of Paradise,

(20:19):
so that you may plant it hilt deep in the
chest of Raka and give him the destruction he so
deeply craves. And without him and his vision of heaven,
perhaps they'll be a better one. Rise Hani, instrument of
my will, and hold out your hand. Hani obeyed, saw
the trident falling into his outstretched hand. He felt it pulse,

(20:42):
power coursing through him, power as he had never imagined,
enclosing them both in a shimmering white glow in the
last hour of heaven. Hani, servant of Aknos, breaker of
the Balance, sword up into the sky trishol in hand.
Although we no longer knew which was him and which
was the tree show they were one, an incandescent, white

(21:05):
hot ray of will, racing towards paradise and the heart
of a king until the last moment of heaven. The
great god Raka, waiting for the end, never saw it coming.
But the end of the story came just now, because

(21:25):
the story is now over. So I really like this story,
and I like it more each time I read it,
partly because I understand it a little bit more each
time I read it because it's not a mythology that
I was previously familiar with. But I asked Shiv what
he wanted to say about it to you all, and

(21:45):
this is what Schiff told me. The story is a
sort of interrogation of mythology as well as an exploration
of how it changes with shifts in perspective. To that end,
it takes two well known stories about two separate avatars
of Vishnu and sort of recontextualizes them and examines what
happens to the foundations of what they say when we
do that, and as a result, it ends up being

(22:07):
a commentary on a fair few things, from the importance
of isolating viewpoint from vantage point to various other sociological
and maybe even psychological aspects of how that plays across
the human condition. But the whys and what's and how's
of those are perhaps best left for a reader to
interpret within their own frameworks, because isn't that the whole
point of telling a story? Okay, and Shiv that makes

(22:30):
a lot of sense to me, But I'm not the writer.
I'm one of the readers, and so I'm gonna offer
my frameworks and not my own contextualizations, but like my
own thoughts on it, right, because it's a book club,
and that's what we do here at book club is
sometimes I tell you how I think about things, and
oh god, I mean it's so hard to say things

(22:51):
besides just like, well, I like it, but I also
I find it to be just this amazing commentary on
what's happening India right now, where you have this Hindu
nationalism that is almost like beyond Islamophobic, right like it's
basically Nazis. They're really into Hitler, the people who just
lost a little bit of power compared to what they

(23:11):
have had for the past what eight years or something.
I don't have my notes in front of me, but
you know, it's been a while India's went far right,
and honestly, in general, I think the West would do
well to pay attention to India because two of the
things that are most pressing in our lifetimes is the
rise of nationalism and fascism, right and also climate change,

(23:33):
and probably the place with the highest population density where
those things are hitting really hard right now is India.
And things are real bad. But I really like how
this story takes all this mythology and it turns it
on his head without stopping being mythology. It's not like

(23:54):
ha ha, gods are dumb, fuck you, but instead it's like, hey,
all of these stories, all of these traditions. First of all,
tradition doesn't mean anything except that it's old. What can
they say instead instead of like ha ha, we tricked
those people because we're clever and good and children of
light and everyone else is bad, you know, and we're

(24:17):
like dealing with this thing right now. Obviously I don't
know whether this is what she was thinking about or
not during it, but you know, obviously the sort of
fear of the other and the fear of Islam is
like huge right now in India and hear these stories
about how actually we could all work together. All you
got to do is like not be a dick and

(24:37):
don't trick people the whole time, but instead, like, together,
we can churn the sea and bring up the nectar
of divinity and all become gods if we just work together.
And that's pretty cool. I don't know if I need
to be a god personally, but like metaphorically, fuck yeah,
let's work together. And also I like how the recontextualization.

(25:00):
It's just like, well, what if you were was like
literally on the other side of this, you know, what
if you were on the other team, how would that seem?
So I like this story. And here at the end
of it, I want to plug a few things. I
want to plug a short story that I haven't read yet.
I basically was like, hey, Shav, what should I plug
at the end of this? And there's a short story

(25:22):
called Batiya Pi b a h Tia like and then
Pi isn't like Private Investigator, And it's in a light
speed magazine and it's kind of a prequel to Shiv's
current work in progress novel, So y'all should check that out.
I will also also I want to plug that. If
you're listening to this on one of the two podcast feeds,

(25:43):
it's on, and you should check out the other one.
If you're listening to this on It could Happen Here,
you should try listening to Cool People did Cool Stuff.
I tell history stories every week twice a week, Monday
and Wednesdays. Well, it's one story, it split over two
parts because it's so good. And then also, if you're
listening to this on Cool People, It's cool Stuff, you
should check out It could Happen Here, which keeps up

(26:03):
with current events. But I obviously really like fiction too,
and you probably do too, unless you listen to this
by accident, in which case, how'd you make it this far?
Proud of you? Good job, buddy, good job.

Speaker 1 (26:25):
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You can find sources for It Could Happen Here, updated
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