Blue City

When he stepped into the blue city- the promised home of the royals, a place oozing with love and hope, a place that could heal you- he had hated it.

And why wouldn't he, a ten-year-old boy, torn apart from the only friends he had ever known. Dragged away from the serene abode of the eastern mountains and brought where? An old city lost to the passage of time.

Yet, when the boy set his sights on the Archaic Bastion for the first time, he felt drawn to it. His eyes shimmered with joy and innocent curiosity. In his stomach he could feel a warm sensation being radiated, calming him. It was the best day of his life.

Taken aback by his elation, the mother had asked, ‘What’s wrong? For someone who was complaining the whole ride, you seem quite excited.’

In return, the boy had blushed and hid his face. Even to him, this was new.

Never had he experienced such bliss. For the first time, he felt it in his bones, I am home. It was mystifying. As someone who had not known the existence of this place until a month ago, his reactions were perplexing. But still, he knew this wasn’t the first time he had seen this view.

Basking under the eternal glow of the sun, blessed with pristine azure sky, were the timeless streets filled with the hustle and bustle of the evening crowd. The walls on the edge were flushed blue with patterns depicting stories never told. The king and his crown, the lion and his frown, the cries of the Queen yet the war won in vain, heroes slumbered in rain, hoping for one last descent.

Shifting his gaze upwards, he was blessed with the towering sentinel, the icon of the city, Mehrangarh fort. This fortress nestled at the top of a hillock gazed down over its subject in a protective embrace. Centuries had withered its golden walls yet for the boy it was a relic of an era, singing an ode long forgotten.

As he slid down the seat of his car, towards his new home on the outskirts, he whispered to himself with a smile — It is not as bad as I thought.

He was lucky. He had arrived at the blue city in winter, a pleasant time when the heat wasn't as treacherous, and the sun not as brutal. Still, it was no jest. For someone who had spent most of his life under the veil of The Seven Sisters, the boy wasn't ready for this drastic change.

From the cold and pristine winters to the dry and barren summers, it was a journey he would normally have never partaken in. Like others before him, he struggled, cried, and complained. But in the end, he accepted and adapted. That was when the blue city opened her arms for him.

Poetic yet hardly amusing. From the sadness to the joy, from the highs and the lows, he came to accept this new home. And today three years after his fated arrival, he sat in a quiet stupor gazing over the cracked window and towards the barely lit holographic board which read Jodhpur Sweets.

He sighed as the hot and dusty gale made its way towards him. The rushing electric cars, some levitating and some still with tyres honked, giving the young boy a headache. Meanwhile, his own bus stood silently, waiting for the road ahead to clear.

<Master Sidharth> A robotic female voice called for him. <It is time to drink water. Your hydration level is low.>

Lowering his gaze towards the glass screen of his blue watch, Sidharth lightly tapped on the warning sign, ignoring the remarks of his AI companion. Free from its chains, he continued judging the shop on the other end of the street. The glass doors looked broken, as the worker – an old man with a mechanical arm or two Sidharth guessed – tried to serve all the customers alone. His arms were filled with kachoris along with cool drinks.

How can one eat something so oily in this weather? Sidharth wondered, retracting his gaze back. Not that he had any qualms against those who did. It was just a wonder: how their bodies allowed such food to digest.

It was two in the afternoon, and the sun was as devilish as it could be, the golden rays that had once mesmerized the young boy, now only aggravated him. On the window opposite to him was a newborn tree. His amber eyes filled with curiosity as he observed the green leaves, tiny yet brave. It was barely tall. Sidharth guessed it might be smaller than him. But he couldn’t help but admire its courage, daring to bloom despite the brutal heat.

There was a certain beauty to it. Mesmerized, an impulsive desire to touch the leaves took over him. He pulled up his legs and crawled towards the other side. Movement was easier today, as he wasn’t wearing his navy blue school uniform.

Once near the window, he stretched his arms out, his pale finger struggling to reach the seedling. He pressed his shoulders over the railing, one last try, only to fall short by an inch. In defeat, he quickly retracted his arm, as the bus started to move forward.

He shook his head, cursing himself. This was a bad idea. After all, the last thing he wanted today was to accidentally get his arm amputated.

What a wonderful birthday that would be? He sarcastically thought.

Pressing his back on the worn-out leather seat, Sidharth drew his lids, taking a deep breath before slightly opening it.

He was welcomed by the interior of the primordial bus. Devoid of anyone except the driver, conductor and a girl he had never talked with, the vehicle creaked, as it travelled through the green corridor of the Blue City.

As he gazed upwards, he could see the crevice-adorned roof spread across the length like a spiderweb, with openings allowing the sunlight to creep in.

The windows, or what was left of them, were mostly fragmented, with a few somehow still holding their own. The seats had torn covers with their white, feathery filling all over the metallic floor which was covered in grease and oil. The air conditioner had long stopped working. The legend was it never had worked in the first place.

The bus took a slight turn towards the right, entering the military complex. Nestled in the outskirts of the city, this locality was a far cry from the antiquity that Jodhpur was.

Designed systematically with tree-lined avenues and grids of officer quarters, bases, automata units and a war centre. This place was the reason why this city prided itself as a fortress, even in the modern era.

The driver braked, bringing the olive bus to a screeching halt. This was the last stop before Sidharth was home.

The girl who was sitting five seats ahead of him stood up, dusting her navy blue skirt, she pulled her white bag and glanced at Sidharth for a second. Her auburn eyes shimmered with familiarity as she slightly bowed, quietly wishing him happy birthday and then walked down.

He raised his brow, staring after her, but soon looked away and shook his head to bring his focus elsewhere.

On the other side of the bus, was the old and tired conductor, who had stepped down towards the supposed automatic door. He was clad in his olive-green combat uniform, with a polo cap as he pressed his worn-out fingers on the deformed door frame, forcing it open as the door loudly protested.

It was so bad that Sidharth could feel the rusted metal scraped against each other wailing, before jerking into place with a final clunk.

Dropping the girl, the ancient chariot once again continued its journey. In this advanced age of cybernetics and neural implants, this was a relic which somehow survived the passage of time. Stubborn to be put out of service, yet only a step away from falling apart.

From the back seat, Sidharth’s gaze lingered at the rearview mirror. On it was the reflection of a man whose face was wrinkled, crow feet adorned his eyes as the white untrimmed beard announced his age. Admiring his silent resilience he observed the brown, bony fingers gripping the steering. They were calloused by the hours the man had put in. Yet in his brown eyes, the fire to live burned, rebelling against time.

With a sigh, Sidharth ran his fingers through his raven hair, trying to brush off the stubborn dust clinging to the strands. The heat clung to him too, relentless and inescapable, foreboding the arrival of harsh months ahead. Despite it still being April, the city was unforgiving as ever.

Trying to shake his frustration, Sidharth focused on the events that awaited him. It was already a fun day at school, with the allowance of wearing regular clothes and being allowed to roam all over the campus with his best friend – Swara – to distribute chocolates, he was ready to dub this day as his epoch. However, that wasn’t exactly the reason why he was so elated.

What made today special was the fact that for the first time in six years, his entire family would be present. Despite his father’s harsh duty at the borders along with the skirmishes from the Imperials, today he had made it home.

Only a few minutes away from his home Sidharth smiled. The scenery outside changed once again. From the dust-stricken barren land, there were now rows of trees acting as a cool shelter for this stretch, there were pink-washed high walls on either side. From his height, Sidharth could see a platoon of soldiers running drills within them.

This familiar sight made him smile even wider. He was home. This locality: Jodhpur Military Cantonment — often called Jodhpur Cantt — despite being a fortress, it was also home to the prideful warriors who defended this nation.

The olive-coloured bus made a sharp left turn, pushing Sidharth forcefully towards the metallic wall on the right, which he avoided by using his bag as a cushion.

As Sidharth pulled himself up from the awkward position, he could see the statue of the Generation Five Automata, dubbed ‘Karna’, outside the window. It was a black and white, ten metres tall giant robot with humanoid features, that once served the armed forces.

The bus then entered the eight-foot-tall, black metallic gate, with a golden circular shield emblazoned with the logo of two swords crossing each other attached to it. Above the gate was a rectangular board with the words — SOUTHERN HQ JODHPUR — printed on it in bold.

Once inside the gate, they had journeyed into a new land. It was truly a city within a city. Sprawled with lush greeneries and lakes, this place was akin to an oasis. It had maintained smart roads, houses–smartly planned and placed–libraries, a golf course and even state-of-the-art military drones securing the campus. It was one of the only few military cantonments to have the feature.

Crossing the first avenue, the bus made a stop at the second, right in front of another gateway. Albeit this one was smaller, and without any proper enclosure, still it was charming. And under the harsh glare of the sun, the name —Shaitan Singh Enclave— was projected over it in its full glory.

This was Sidharth’s stop. He picked up his bag and the white data pad before walking down the exit. As he stepped onto the greasy stairs, he felt the weight of another hand on his back. It was the old bus conductor.

“I will see you in July,” he said. “That is unless you leave, hero.”

“Even in the end,” Sidharth shrugged. “You wouldn’t stop calling me that.”

“It is a good name.”

“Sure is.” Sidharth shook his head, giving the conductor a wry smile.

The bus conductor, Jagannath Balakrishnan, had been very fond of Sidharth ever since they met three years ago. He even gave him the nickname — Hero. Sidharth never truly understood the logic behind the name but he allowed it. Despite his previous exasperation, he had grown quite fond of it.

“As for leaving.” Sidharth sighed. “Don’t worry, I am not going anywhere.” His gaze lingered over the old bus. “After all, who would travel this broken chariot, if not me.”

“It’s not broken,” Jagannath retorted, as he pushed the door open and close. “See, it works just fine.”

“Sure,” He smiled. “I would have agreed if this wasn’t here.”

Sidharth flicked his index fingers upwards. Gesturing towards the tiny glass box that hung atop the door. Covered in layers of dust and grime, the words— Automatic Door—pulsed feebly in red. He smirked, his tone laced with dry humour. “Not very automatic now.”

Jaganath sighed. “There is no winning against you.”

“You should have learned your lesson on Christmas.” Sidharth chuckled, giving him a devious look.

“That was all you.”

“Sure it was.”

“I will be missing this a lot.” He replied, lightly ruffling Sidharth’s hair.

Enjoying the gesture, but not wanting to express it, Sidharth replied in a sarcastic tone. “I know I am amazing, but eh… missing me? Isn’t that a bit too much?”

“You and your endless shenanigans.” Jagannath shook his head with an exaggerated sigh. “And then you complain about your nickname?”

“My acting skills,” replied Sidharth defiantly. “And you calling me a hero are two separate things. Don’t lump them together.”

“Sure-” Jaganath was cut off when the old driver blasted the horn, signalling to him: it is time to go. I have more important business to deal with.

Sidharth chuckled, knowing all too well, the driver just wanted to return to the cool barracks and sleep. And in this heat, he wouldn’t blame him.

Jagannath sighed yet again as he climbed up. Giving one last glance to Sidharth, he forwarded his right hand. On his wrist was a golden-black analogue watch, whose hour hand was stuck at midnight. Sidharth’s amber eyes lingered on them for a second before firmly returning the handshake.

“I will see you around then.”

“Yes, you will.” Sidharth nodded. “July is just a few months away. Not that long.”

“Maybe for yo,u it isn’t.” He smiled. “But for today, enjoy yourself.”

“I will!”

“Good,” Jagannath waved. “Send my regards to your sister. Tell her, you have been behaving yourself. Oh and also, Happy Birthday hero. I will be looking forward to your future.”

Sidharth faintly smiled. The door creaked shut for the last time as Jagannath signalled the driver. Making a faint rumble, the ancient chariot drove away following the dusty roads.

His hand was raised, bidding farewell, as his gaze lingered on it. Today felt different, maybe it was his birthday? Or maybe it was just overthinking? But as he watched the olive quietly disappear, he knew it.

Under the canopy of a blazing sun, Sidharth felt an unseasonal chill. Whispering in his ears— This might be the last time he would see the bus.

After all, summer is a long time, a lot could change.

A/N After seven years and many rewrites, it is finally here. Imma go cry now.

Happy Reading!!