The Death of Vishnu

centuries ago, during the days that the Pandavas and Kauravas were living the Mahabharata, Jeev had just risen from being an insect. Sometimes he would be born a bird, and a few times even a small animal. Brahma had awoken from his sleep and breathed out the universe only recently. The air was still new, the streams had cool, clear water; there were enchanted forests in the land, and even the trees had spirits living in them. The lives Jeev led were easy ones—he hopped and flew and ran, using the tiny quantities of pure air and water that he needed for his existence. He went through many deaths and rebirths, it is true, but when one is so small, it is not too painful to be born again.
    It was during one of his lifetimes as a bird that Jeev found himself being carried to the Pandavas’ house. He had been about to alight in a tree when an arrow came flying through the leaves and grazed his skin. A puff of feathers flew into the air, the sight of which caused him to fall to the ground in shock.
    “Open your eyes, little sparrow,” a voice said, and Jeev found himself cradled in a palm. “The arrow was not meant for you. I was practicing hitting that branch without looking, and you had not appeared when I put on the blindfold.”
    The voice belonged to Arjun, the greatest archer who ever lived. Jeev saw Arjun’s handsome face, saw the rippling chest made strong by archery, and felt a surge in his little feathered breast.
    “Such a pretty bird you are,” Arjun said, stroking Jeev’s beak. “Come, I will take you home—you can stay with us till you feel better.”
    Arjun wrapped Jeev in a handkerchief and tucked him into his vest. As they made their way home, Jeev lost himself in the scent of Arjun’s body. Even in the time it took to be carried to the Pandavas’ hut, Jeev found himself helplessly in love.
    They reached the hut, and Arjun called out, “Look, Mother, come and see what I have found.”
    His mother answered from inside, “Whatever it is, you must share with your brothers.”
    Being a Rajput, Arjun was bound by his mother’s words, words that once spoken could not be retracted. So it was that Jeev became a mascot for all five of the Pandava brothers. They took care of him day by day in turn, feeding him from their palms, letting him alight on their shoulders, petting his tiny head with a finger. And when they traveled, they took him along wherever they went, carrying him in a golden cage when his wings could not flap fast enough to keep up.
    At first, Jeev tried to live with this arrangement. But he was not happy. He wanted to eat only from Arjun’s palm, nestle only against his body, sing only in his ear. He lived for that fifth day in every cycle, when everything felt and smelled and looked perfect, when he was with the only brother out of the five he truly cared for.
    Eventually, Jeev could not hide his feelings. He started becoming ill-tempered the four days he was not with Arjun. He refused to eat anything, and pecked at fingers if Arjun’s brothers tried to stroke him. His greatest ire was reserved for Arjun’s mother, whose directive had been a curse for him, and could never be taken back. He began leaving droppings on her bed and pecking at her head while she was asleep. The brothers tried mollifying Jeev, but the rage he felt would not be controlled.
    The day came when Arjun put Jeev in his cage and started out for the forest. They journeyed for many hours, past unfamiliar trees and streams. As they traveled, Jeev kept his eyes on Arjun’s face, and tried to understand the sadness in it.
    They reached a clearing, and Arjun opened the door of the cage. Jeev hopped onto the finger Arjun offered, and felt himself buoyed through the air.
    “Each creature has its own karma to follow, little sparrow,” Arjun said, and kissed him lightly on the side of his head. “Today, it is time for you to find yours.”
    For a moment, Jeev saw the face he loved so much right next to his, gazed at the mouth, the lips, that had just pressed into his feathers. Then it all disappeared in a blur as Arjun whisked his finger into the air. Despite himself, Jeev found his feet letting go of their perch, found his wings unfurling, found the muscles in his breast begin to pump. He found himself rising, rising above Arjun, rising above the plants and the trees, rising above the forest, until he could look down and see a sea of green, and in the distance rivers cutting through, and further beyond, the