Halycon Days

It only took another week for Anu to realise the gravity of his situation. In the world of cosmic jokes, this one seemed to be a Shakespearean tragedy packaged in a berth of comedy. Just like in the novels his ex-assistant, Ayano Inoue, read, Anutapura Sisodiya had somehow leapt through time or maybe the universe and reincarnated into a new world. In posterity, he had been Isekaied. Worst of all, no truck was involved, which, according to his three-hour-long research the night before the expedition, was integral to the process.

Among those, he had also read terms like: aura farming, overpowered, harem, revenge, and extra-long titles, each increasingly intellectually deficient than the last. Though the construct of his mind made him slip down the rabbit hole, and Anu, despite himself, ended up reading six works, sacrificing slumber.

First was the tale of a fresh matriculate student being summoned, betrayed, getting a lady with raccoon ears, and finally getting his revenge. That's the one Ayano was reading. Next was a high schooler shut in who gets transported to a Greek tragedy of time repetition. He dies and repeats the cycle until he can find his ending. Anu was disgusted by that one; the story was brilliant, and when he imagined it, the mechanic made him jitter. He never wanted to be in a world like that.

The third was trapped in a game, and the fourth was a reincarnation, similar to his situation. It was a calming yet weird read, but despite the kinks, he’d enjoyed it. The last three were from an online contest to celebrate the genre of Isekai. There he read the work of a time repeater meeting a time witch disguised in mystery, a pirate with charm, and another where a graduate gets thrust into a game world with cards and Quantum.

By the end, Anu was emotionally enervated. His eyes were bloodshot, with a sense of vertigo coursing through his body. He got up to drink water, but his mind echoed the tropes and terms he had unwittingly discovered. Worst of all were the linguists of the young generation. Terminology without etymology or a sense of intellectuality swarmed the internet. Gyatt, bakery, brain rot, each term incomprehensibly inept swirled around his mind until he forced himself to sleep.

And now, exactly nine days later, he was draped with a navy blue silk-chiffon shawl as a lady draped in a pink Innaphi and Phanek full skirt cradled his infant body on her lap. Her raven hair was tied into a bun as she uttered melodic yet opaque words to Anu, who swayed his arms, signalling the lady, his mother, to notice he was about to soil his freshly worn pants.

Isekai? What did I do to deserve this?

Another week sailed away, and the passage of time in this world was something Anu had yet to figure out. But after observing the sun glittering into his room, he got a general idea. Though the empirical data were inadequate, his intellectual brilliance made up for it.

On the fifth day of the week, when his mother had left him unattended in the afternoon, Anu had tussled over trying to will his immature body to stand. He used his flailing arm to clutch onto the jagged frame as his feet pushed into the cotton padding over the bamboo slats. For a moment, it worked; however, a second later, his entire body toppled on itself, bringing his unsupported crown tumbling over the folded Pheijom-cotton blanket.

It was soon followed by a sharp pain over his chest, arms and then a piercing cry as tears trickled down his pink-tinged cheeks. Hearing his pleas, the mother with the white-hair girl arrived.

Later, they pampered him. He wanted to mutter thanks, but all he could manage was an incomprehensible goggle and uncontrollable pee. He was embarrassed beyond measure and wanted to disappear.

A month had now passed, and Anu had started to recognise patterns. In the mornings, he would wake up soiling his pants, again, no control. Then at midnoon and dusk. As for pee, it had no fixed time.

Over the last few weeks, he had tried to train himself, but his body was still beyond his control. In his previous life, during a seminar in his matriculation days, he had heard a biology professor say that the body of an infant has no control; they live on instinct. It was a sound explanation that was satisfactory, but for someone like Anu who had craved control, it was a sorry excuse.

‘The human mind can be trained,’ he had argued. ‘If a baby has the intellectual construct of an adult, they would have control over themselves.’

Now, nearly a decade since then, he felt like an utter fool for making such commotion. Even with twenty-seven years of experience in living, there was nothing he could do against the natural occurrence of events.

Breastfeeding was the worst. His body craved it and asked for it when it was time. But his mind, that of a twenty-seven-year-old, writhed in resistance. He would shut his eyes when brought close and start counting the years from 3000 BCE to the twentieth century.

His lips instinctively latch onto the source, making his cheeks burn as knots of guilt and violation would form in his stomach. He would juxtapose himself with scum, a pervert and the worst criminals.

It would trigger nightmares, the most painful were of his final moments with Ayano, though every time, when he would tussle and writhe in agony during his sleep, a gentle and warm pair of arms would tuck him close. She would whisper foreign words of comfort, making him feel anchored.

In the second month, when he started teething and his first pair of teeth, the bottom central incisors erupted, Anu wondered for the first time, where his father was? Until that moment, the thought didn't occur to him. Was it due to the adrenaline of navigating a foreign land, he wasn't sure.

The very conceivement of him was shrouded in an enigma. There were only women present, not a single man in the vicinity. Ever since his birth, he has been kept inside this room. His mother and the white-haired girl, despite picking him up and carrying him occasionally, never took him near the window.

Incalculable thoughts swirled in his mind as he held his oversized head in his tiny palms. His eyes bulged, and his temples ached. Was this a matriarchal society? Or worse, an Amazonian-esque society or a gynocracy.

Although his questions were soon answered when, a week later, a man no older than twenty-six stepped in with a huff. He was clad in a charcoal-tinted cotton shirt with geometric embroidery and a golden serpentine dragon emblazoned at the back. Over his shoulder was a satchel, and a bamboo basket filled with fish in his toned arms.

He leaned over the yum bed as his amber eyes scanned Anu's face. His rugged, unkempt beard grazed his chin as the man carefully picked him up. He scooted him upwards in a throwing motion with a smile.

Anu was terrified. His body swayed upwards then down, each time his vision dimmed as he would see the creaking floor below. That day, he cried a lot and would do the same for a whole week whenever he saw that man.

Three months had passed, and Anu was still captive in the confines of the strawed ceiling and yum walls. His motor controls had finally gotten better. Even his ears, though sensitive, could now distinguish sounds better. The words that his mother, father and the girl spoke felt pristine, each syllable clear.

The language was still beyond his grasp, but phonetics like: 'Aa' 'Ko' 'Che' 'Ma' 'Da'- had started to shimmer down his tongue. This language, foreign, had a sense of familiar tonality. Its foundation was reminiscent of the Southeast Asian tongue. It varied from English in the diphthong, i.e. no change in quality of vowels mid sound.

Anu started listening closely to his parents' conversation. He wasn't sure why he was kept in confinement or what the future held for him, but at least he could try to learn this language.