Somebody knocked at my door, it was 9: 30 am, I was still sleeping. Yesterday I did a lot of work, slept very late, finished my design works, working drawings and some concept sheets, studying architecture is always tiring and exciting too. Then suddenly I heard a shouting voice from outside my doors

"Rohini, please open the door. It's already 9.30 am. We must submit our design sheets at 10 o'clock, get ready soon, Rohini open the door( are you still sleeping?)"

It was none other than my best friend Meera Vasudevan.

I somehow managed to get up from bed and opened the door and invited her inside, when Meera witnessed my room, it was all messy, butter sheets, mound board pieces, and different grade pencils were all around the floor.

She asked 'where is your design sheet? I looked at her furiously and pointed my fingers towards my drafting board and said it was all done and kept it in my roll pack (sheet holder) ready for submission.

Then I got freshen up and we took an auto-rickshaw and were traveling towards my college. On the way, Meera told me that she wants to buy some ink pens for rendering our sheets.

This necessity urged us to stop at valiangadi (a big marketplace where we get everything to buy from stationaries to food, beverages, etc). A place where history slept, longing to be heard by someone or a chosen one.

Meera went into the market in search of an art shop called mayuuki, I followed her behind, observing a bit about the details of architecture around the space and the activities people do and felt like I had been here for a long period, there's a very strong connection to me with this place, gazed with effortful observation and keen in details, roamed around this place in search of something that was hindering in my mind, ignored or lose track of following Meera, I went behind intuitions that were whispering in my mind.

Then realized that the whole space was converted shops, which had earlier existed as agraharams (residential area of Brahmin community), some of the structures dating back to 200 years. It did have definite grid-like planning, every junction do have a deity relic now it's been small temples, as I was noticing further, most of the agraharams do have the first floor and an opening of a large window with strong grooves made of wood, exaggerated as if that; even elephants can't break it.

Presently these spaces were not occupied as shops, I sensed a desperate painful voice coming from all the upstairs windows, that sound penetrated my soul, it was as if hundreds of broken hearts were desperate to convey a secret to me, a lost history; dusted in time. It was all in delusion; this crowded market is trying to tell a story to me.

Transcending through time my imagination went back to the event that happened in its history, closed my eyes, took a deep breath, a rain of thoughts infused in my head, a vision. I am seeing it now, there were no roads then, my leg was tickling with mud beneath, bullock carts were seen instead of motor vehicles, probably can't predict the period that was witnessed but certainly it's a reality back in time.

Many Brahmin ladies were decorating their front yards with koolam (a practice of art made with rice powder that is within their culture), daylight flashes into the path surpassing the number of agraharam massive on both sides. Some windows on the first floor were slowly opening; it still had a haunting sound coming out of it. I was terrified, but instead of a monster or a ghost coming out of it, as expected I saw a shiny hair spreading outside the window made by a cozy wind. I saw a lady of 20 years with beautiful eyes slightly greenish, whitish, and also have tender lips. Only she was evident in my sight and forced me to see others too, but can't make it possible. While staring at her beauty and a curiosity to know who she was, she looked at me!! .. Smiling, I had seen her before, my memory tended to fade away from me. My inner self shouted at me. I had seen her before, who was she?

A sense of connection hit me deeply with her, all the windows were closed. I am not seeing her anymore. Heard crying voices from everywhere seeking help to get outside the room, fire sprouted across everywhere. The scene made me shiver, a sensation of heat in my skin, heavy mass in my heart. It distracted, frightened me to my core.

The intuitive event vanished and slipped my consciousness. In reality, I landed at the same market space, it was almost 10 30 O clock, and said to myself "oh my God…… SUBMISSION! What am I doing here, reality hit me so hard, I was desperately searching for Meera. I guess she was searching for me too. I looked around, there came my girl Meera, breathless, running towards me, tensed, sweaty, and then shouted at me with concern.

Meera said: where were you, my dear? I was searching for you for a while. I was frightened, come we must leave

I asked: Did you get your inking pen?

Meera: yep brought some .3, .5 ya we must hurry up...

We took a rickshaw again while leaving from this place, strange experience to me indeed, I looked into it further from the rikshaw that we were traveling, it haunts me again, inner self whispered " There's something is here for sure, the vision almost felt like real, I believe this place is connected to my past for sure.

A question popped inside my mind, and asked Meera, can I ask you something? Does anybody know the history of this place? I looked into her eyes, eagerly expecting some answers from her; she faced towards me and nodded, as if she knew something about it, but didn't spell a word.

I was confused about what she meant by it? Did she know everything that I had seen before, so it was real, it was not mere imagination that blew in my mind. I further never asked her anything about it, I know she was busy thinking about something, maybe design submissions.

Arriving at the college premises, we rushed to get our submissions done; fortunately design class had not started yet, we looked into our studio room, everybody was busy working, I guess most of them didn't finish the design yet, a heavy breath passed away from my inner gut, we are safe.

Abai Thomas one of my classmates, shouted at us, to please come in, our critic, mentor, architect Hari Pillai was yet to come, he (again) warned us to stay inside the studio before he arrives, then we occupied our place in front of our drafting board and seated, made

ourselves-comfortable.

As our faculty arrived, all of us began to unbox our design sheets from the roll pack that we were carrying. I began to unravel my sheets, counting.

Counted twice to make sure all sheets were intact, counted thrice, and came to an understanding that one sheet was missing; ar. Hari Pillai looked at me, reflecting at him with fear, that I no longer had a sheet to submit, where was it? Pondered heavily, no clue was found, looked into Meera beside and mentioned my concern

Me(rohini): meera, I had lost my sheet that I had taken from my hostel room, what should I do, I did not have a clue where it's been lost.

Meera: precisely shocked, what? You lost your design sheet? Did you lose it from the market?

Rohini: I guess so because I am very much aware that I took the entire sheet from my room.

Meera: I do have an idea, call Meenakshi (a junior student). She might be in our hostel, and so ask her to check whether it is there or not. By the way, which sheet did you lose?

Rohini: ya sure, but if it's not there, what could we do?

It was my sectional sheet, along with a three-dimensional perspective sketch in it; my God it was a breathtaking hand drafted the design of a traditional residential space with sacred grooves and a worshiping deity in it.

We did have a brief of designing a residence for a five-member family reflecting your own emotions, likings in a 25 cent plot area in a tropical region of Kerala. Thereby I had designed a courtyard space (naalukettu) dwelling with ample amount of woodwork in the roof, windows, doors, etc, ornamental crafting in columns, mural paintings on the wall, constructed with laterite and granite, some exposed, some not. A spacious verandah was given to relax, windows designed with wooden louvers and magnificently conceptualized furniture like charu kasera to a modern version. Overall the space captivated my inner self, I always wondered why I was so fond of heritage, the lost culture, traditions, and most important myths. It also includes sacred grooves with snake temple relics (paambum kaavu) situated at the north-eastern corner of the plot, with thorny bushes; dried shredded leaves layered the mud. It reincarnated the old haunting sacred mythological spot.

Meenakshi called me and conveyed that there was no design sheet found in my room, which made me numb and I looked into Meera for a second. I was both scared and doubted to act at that moment.

Meera voiced to me and tried to advise me, don't worry, keep calm, everything will be ok. She said we must immediately go there (market(valiangadi)) and search for it. I nodded to her, submitted my remaining sheets to our faculty, and excused ourselves to leave our class.

On the way towards the lost spot, I tried to remember where it was missed; an image bypassed my mind in a flash of a second like a lightening that cracks the mousy darken sky that was a retarded aged mana (nalukettu dwelling of traditional kerala residential space) shrouded by people around, moist by rain, the large louvered windows up floor were half burnt, felt a repugnance odor of a rotten flesh buried inside the earth, sensed a space that is a seemingly identical similarity with my design.!

We spotted there at the market, Meera looked at me by gazing at this haunting yet secretive space, she was hesitant to express an idea to me, my intuitive sense mentioned to me that she knows the history of this place that I was eager to know, she instantaneously grabbed my hand walked towards mayuuki an art shop!

Mayuuki, this art shop made me wonder in chaos, varieties of art pieces, paintings, sculptures, antique collections, my eyes rolled around the nuke and corner of this place, witnessed a sight that was not speculated in certain, a large painting hung on the entire wall of this shop, it was her!. With mesmerizing green eyes, shiny brown curly long hair, tender rosy lips, dressed in a beautiful half saree with ornamental kasavu, magnificently standing, a living beauty. I saw a spell flawlessly calligraphed down at the impressionistic painting, it was MAYUUKI her name!

Seeing that beauty, myself being frozen, my heart beats less, my mind stops speaking. Meanwhile, Meera addressed everything that happened to us in due time, to the shopkeeper. He was frantically shocked listening to it, Rohini? Meera shouted at me, the voice drilled me inside the numbness that formed, reflected at her, what?

Meera: Are we doomed?

As the shopkeeper told the legend of this place, back in the ages of eighties this place was a Brahmin gramam celebrated with their music, prathanas (prayers) with their traditional values, and authentic koolams at morning, it was a place of bliss.

Adjacent to the blissful place, there's a grand illam proudly standing through its legacy that influences through ages, mayuuki a young girl popping her head outside the louvered windows attempts to see the moist tropical tender rainy foreground where kids are playing around. She was a charm to the whole family, a remarkable artist by birth. Her room was full of paintings with vibrant colors.

Rain showers across everywhere, heavy wind shatters the gloomy ambiance; some droplets drizzle on her forehead, she shuts the panel of the window. It was a fine evening ready to embrace the darkness.

She began to paint in a large canvas of her full body portrait; lights out due to a flashy thunder outside lit lots of lambs that its fire made a wave of a dancing swan. She painted with exceptional focus and reached a meditative state, a lamb beside her fallen and caught fire, Wild enough to consume the entire illam.

Mayuuki, still obsessive in her creation not sensing the chaos that's been made around her, a spark of fire touches her painting down the line where she calligraphed her name. The instant when the incident happened she began to realize what was happening around and protected her painting by holding where it's been burnt, looked around realizing that there is no way to escape to save her paintings, she has thrown her painting canvases out from the louvers to the ground beneath the floor, finally, she holds the last piece of art, her portrait, unfortunately, she also gets burnt, persisting the pain and sadness of losing her life tears burst out from her eyes, lastly throwing her portrait outside, her soul passes away from her body.

Everyone other than mayuuki escaped from the accidental tragedy, the illam was fully burnt, the tragic night passed away, a new morning, illam was shrouded with people around, and they were trying to get mayuuki's body outside as that was partially burnt.

Meanwhile, a rumor spread like a wildfire as if the innocent mayuuki was the culprit of the tragic event.

She was taken to the cemetery land carried by people along the path through the adjacent gramam nearby.

It was been told that her soul remains in this place and her paintings, transformed this place from bliss to misery, even though the illam was reformed from the tragic event, it began to lose its pride and was sold to other people who eventually deconstructed and used its components in other construction purposes, some of the components like its louvers and crafted woodworks been reused in the agraharams later.

Some astrologers even predicted that she will come back one day to convey a secret to whom she chooses, who loses something precious from here and come back later in search of it and particularly having intuitions about the history.

The shopkeeper continued and said to me that this is the first time that someone came back in search of something and also found the portrait in that wall even though nobody cares about it. I think you are the chosen one. He asked again with piggy eyes and a curious look

Did you have any visions?

The legend and his question made me frightened and horrified at the same time and it made my mind begin to mumble "oh god now it all makes sense, my visions are real, mayuuki was real. Why I have been chosen by her and god damn where my spooky sheet was gone, I think she took it along with her".

Meera was looking at me anticipating what reply was yet to come from me. I never spoke a word and without giving a reaction I said, meera we must leave from here immediately. I don't know what else I wanted to say other than that, I said to myself.

Confused yet steadily stepped outside the shop, Meera was following me from behind, walking along with me. I said to myself, "what should I do"?

Mindless wandered on the path of this market, stumbled yet acting brave I walked forward to leave from this place. I felt something strange; fear hit me like a breeze coming from behind. People everywhere in this market were staring at me, it was almost 1 o clock at noon. I may say that it was the exact time when mayuuki was cremated. I sensed that it was all delusional to me right now. People around me begin to chase, I lost track of my friend meera, ran out of fear, yet I sensed someone is guiding me, an extended run leaving behind the people who were chasing me and came to a destination where there was a huge banyan tree majestically standing on a vast crematorium ground.

I began to feel connected, that connection drives me near to it, the banyan roots creeping down to earth from the top like an elephant swings its trunk, glittering plays of light, shadows, and the breezes along with tiny little fragile leaves emote me a soothing moment. From up in the sky with dazzled wavy movements my design sheet hit the ground!

With surprise and to be anxious, I looked into it and saw a dribble of blood falling on my design sheet, touching and making it burn. I tried saving it but felt as if someone made me freeze and witness the act of this culprit. I know it was she who was doing this? I called upon her

MAYUUKI……………..

She came tunneled inside my gut; breeze stopped, silence preached the entire space, skies made burning red, she began to speak in my voice.

I was not dead till they cremated me, I was burnt alive, I am you my dear, and you had my soul inside, a reincarnation of myself.

The story only begins. I was not the chosen one, it was me myself.