“What should we do now?” I asked Sebastian, eyeing the chaotic marketplace grimly. It was nothing I had ever anticipated it to be. There were no twerking nymphs, charming musicians, or roaming seductress in veils. Instead, witches in tattered clothes (who hadn’t taken a bath since eternity or so it seemed) wandered around everywhere.
There I was, a crowd hater, in an ocean of pushed to poll and back kind of crowd who wouldn’t mind stepping over your throat once you accidentally fall under their feet.
All crammed in the fifteen miles long stretched piece of the right-angled triangular village that’s top edge opened in the ancient igloo-structured library at foothills of the Sanuali Mountain, the bottom right one in a disused upper chamber of the Dharma-Prasth, and the left other in a d
