Breaking the Bow: Speculative Fiction Inspired by the Ramayana by Edited by Anil Menon and Vandana Singh

books that talked about the Ramayana. He was going to do post about it, but I know he wanted the artifacts especially to showme, show me the history of the stories. It was at a warehouse in North Vegas where he often went to trade or buy contraband paper goods. The police later said that someone was probably tipped off , knew an Indian was coming, and that he would probably be carrying cash. A lot of Indians were known to have cash at that time, in getting ready to Reverse, a lot of people liquidated their accounts so theywouldn’t have to declare anything and leave behind the thirty percent that the US government instated that year. It was probably four guys with cro-bars, or planks of wood. When they looked in his wallet, all they found was a benefit card for people with low percentages. No one was ever charged with the murder.
    I pull off the remains of my wig, and try to untangle my black curly hair. The streaksof whitened skin and dark skin make me look diseased, mottled like those Indian kids who waste away from plugging directly into the web for twenty hours a day. I need to get Val out of my head, I need to get everyone out of my head and just do the work, get Ma to India, or somewhere close enough that at least has good dialysis machines.
    It’s Tania’s time of night now. I watch for awhile fromthe tunnel before emerging onto the floor. The Golden Deer is always a dancer—gyrating and twirling on the platforms. My Golden Deer crush makes me think she’s otherworldly, and the crowd does, too. They are going wild for her now and she leaps from dance platform to platform. I decided to forego the wig thistime, though I straightened my hair, made it a big mane around my head. I wear a blacksari with fluorescent embroidery. I step out onto the floor and ease my way into the crowd, the Lust Dust creating large masses of writhing bodies—connected by a hand, sweaty waists, tips of fingers. I went easy on the skin lightening, at this time of night, it’s better to get out to the crowd, people tire of the disguises, they just want the story.
    Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I turnand it’s the short Russian man I saw earlier with the Nicoya Ravana. He is sans costume, dressed in black and carrying a small case.
    “Can I interest you in an elixir, maybe a moment in our booth?” he asks, all business. He motions over to a private booth in the corner. I can’t see much, but I know that this might be the break I’m looking for. I nod and follow.
    The booth is empty but it feelswarm and sweaty, as though it was recently evacuated. The Russian pours me a drink from the faux-bamboo carafe on the table.
    “Terrible touch, the carafes. Everything should be bronze, silver or Gold,” he says, sneering mildly. “You’d think Val would have better taste.”
    “Val makes mistakes,” I say.
    “He certainly knew what he was doing with you,” the Russian says, finally looking slightlylecherous—it made me relax more, the expression familiar. “You give great demonness, I hear.”
    “Not hard, growing up here.”
    “Ah yes, the best players bring themselves forward,” he says, looking me up and down. “My client is willing to offer you a substantial percentage to come to work for him.”
    “Tell me more.”
    “He’s creating his own stable of players—they would work where he requires,but it’s worth it.”
    “Space stations? West China? What are we talking about here?”
    “My client has various locations. He is working on developing some frontier boutiques.”
    I feel my heart thud in my chest, frontiers, that could mean space frontiers or the Border. Either way, the play would be rough and possibly deadly.
    “Sounds exciting,” I say boldly. “I’ll do it for a Reverse voucherfor my mother.”
    The Russian looks at me carefully. “There’s no such thing,” he says.
    “Oh really? That’s too bad.” I say innocently, getting up from the booth “It was great to talk to you. Sounded like a great