Mariam Had a Little Lamb

Aloshy gripped the parcel tighter, humming Illaiyaraja’s En Iniya Pon Nilave, slowly making his

way to the amphitheatre. His eyes were busy seeking asylum beneath the overgrown strands of

hair. His palms burnt like they were carrying something cursed, rather than just heavy. But within

the wrinkled parcel, lay the answer to everything. With each step, his fingers sank deeper into the

biryani, letting the warm steam escape. The night’s peace was occasionally hindered by the

rustling snakes that slithered over leaves and pebbles. The other students were fast asleep in their

rooms, flooded with darkness. They curled beneath their cozy blankets, unaware of the quiet

battle between the dreams clawing to escape and the nightmares trying to creep in.

Aloshy often had a hard time finding sleep, and in the darkest of nights, food and music had

emerged as a strange comfort. Inching closer to the stairs that led to the amphitheatre, he softly

called out for Begum, the beloved campus cat with emerald eyes. Each night, he would call out

for her, and like clockwork, she’d feast on the leftover mutton, letting out a sharp meow every

time an unlucky elaichi slipped past her teeth. Today, Begum was nowhere to be found.

Aloshy sat alone, hidden amidst the shadows and an inexplicable sense of emptiness. He glared

at the pale moon’s reflection on the dirty pond. The scuttling water spiders broke the spiritual

stillness of the reflection, causing ripples resembling cracks on the glass of a beautiful painting.

Aloshy’s hand sank into the biryani, digging through the warm layers of rice. His fingers scanned

through it, pushing aside two slimy elaichis to the corner. There he found it! A tender leg piece

buried at the very bottom, soaked deep in the masala, as though it had been waiting for him all 

this while. His teeth pierced into the flesh, just a hair’s breadth away from cracking against the

bone. A primal crunch followed, echoing amidst the silence that pleaded to be broken. His pupils

dilated with a twitch, as though he had inhaled a psychedelic. The biryani tasted different.

Delicious, but different. Driven by an irresistible craving, his hands plunged back in, clawing for

a bigger piece. This time, the taste wasn’t as pleasant. His canines tore into the flesh, only for his

tongue to be smothered by a thick wad of fur. It clung to the roof of his mouth, wet and thick.

The more he tried to get rid of it with his tongue, the more the strands seemed to multiply,

clogging his throat to an insufferable extent.

He froze at the sound of a meow. His eyes fought the urge to blink, in search of a moving

shadow or the hint of a mere presence. He was alone. Then he heard it again. This time, it came

from within. A searing burn spread across his oesophagus, as though something inside was trying

to find its way out. Something alive. His gaze snapped back to the biryani. Sheltered between the

rice, lay not what he had thought to be elaichis… Gleaming with a familiar shade of green. Eyes.

Begum’s emerald eyes.

Aloshy woke up with a sudden, nervous gasp. His parched throat craved water, as though the fur

that gagged him had crept out of the nightmare. Struggling to breathe, he pulled out the earphone

cord that had clung around his neck. All this while, the hefty figure beside him had remained

still. It wasn’t until Aloshy turned, breath catching his throat, that he saw his roommate Vineeth

watch him from a distance. Vineeth’s unblinking gaze was lost between concern and dread,

something even he couldn’t explain. He was now used to the nightmares which plagued Aloshy

every night. They would always begin the same way, with a middle-aged woman who would offer 

him Biryani and everything would break apart. But each nightmare reached a different

grotesque conclusion- a dead snake, a rat, a frog, a dog. Tonight, it was Begum. Every night this

semester, just as the clock struck midnight, Aloshy would jolt awake and recite the latest horror

to Vineeth. And though he tried his best to lend an ear, Vineeth was visibly growing weary as

time passed.

“Bhai… you okay? What happened?” he asked, slowly crawling out from under his blanket.

The bed let out a sharp creak as he rose up, gripping the pillow within his fist. Across the room,

Aloshy lay motionless, like he wasn’t breathing. After a gap of several minutes, he finally broke

the silence. His voice, a mere whisper that was barely audible to Vineeth who was moving

towards his cupboard.

“Yeah. Kuch nahi, it was just… another bad dream, that’s all.”

Without a word, Vineeth passed him a bottle of water, followed by a large packet of potato chips.

Snacks and cold drinks were Vineeth’s default first aid. His compulsive snacking had stuck with

him ever since childhood, though he claimed to not care. His side of the room mirrored a

complete disaster. Scattered with unwashed dishes piled over the study table, half empty

Coca-Cola cans balancing over the edges of window sills, and a week’s worth of clothes hung

awaiting a judgement, having long given up on ever seeing detergent. It was chaos, but the kind

of chaos Aloshy didn’t mind.

Aloshy’s side of the room, on the other hand, was unnaturally tidy. As pristine as any place of

worship. The only hint of disorder came from a few withering notebooks, tucked away under a

shelf. They had been left behind by Aloshy’s ex-roommate, who had left midway through the 

previous semester. Students often fled away from the university, unable to keep up with the

relentless fee hikes. Aloshy never bothered to check up on him. A few days later, Vineeth had

moved in.

But some things in the room never changed. A half-torn red checked shirt hung from a rusted

nail above his bed, swaying gently from one side to another. It had belonged to his father. The

only thing that was left of him. The last time Aloshy saw him was a year ago. He had dropped

him off at college, said he was stepping out to smoke and then simply… vanished. Aloshy had

waited. For hours. For days. It was as if he had never existed at all. No goodbye, no call. Just

silence. When Vineeth first heard this story, something inside him drowned a slow death. He

hadn’t let a word out for hours afterward. There was something wrong about it. Not just the

disappearance, but the way the torn shirt lingered from the nail, waving gently in the dark,

casting shadows that never disappeared. Flaring with red, the shirt battled the only other crimson

in the room. The blood red binding of Aloshy’s holy Bible. Aloshy gripped it now, holding it

tight against his chest. Faith was wrapped within his sweating arms, while the ominous red shirt

lingered over his head.

Vineeth didn’t wait for the usual late night monologue to resume. Within no time, he pulled out

his laptop from underneath the pillow. The screen lit up with a dim light, throwing a dull glow

across the dark room. His eyes occasionally flicked sideways, to where Aloshy lay. His heavy

breaths and the occasional gasps were the only signs that he was alive. His gaze had not shifted

from the Bible that lay on his pulsating chest, fixated on a single verse as though it held the key

to everything. Vineeth had often wondered whether Aloshy had a favourite verse from the holy 

text. But each time he watched him with it, it felt less like reading and more like trance.

Something sacred, private and rather intimate. Vineeth never wished to get in the way of that.

The laptop resumed from where he had paused it, an Animal Planet documentary about

predators. David Attenborough's soothing voice spread through the room.

“The creature emerges, not with a roar or a snarl, but with silence. It doesn’t strike with reckless

hunger. Instead, it waits, watches and woos. In the eyes of the prey, it remains a gentle presence

amidst a world full of harshness. Over time, the prey draws nearer, lulled by the illusion of

companionship and trust. And just when the rhythm is right, the creature strikes. Not out of

desperation, but design. Not out of mere hunger, but of the undying love to hunt.”

And then, all of a sudden, the power cut out. The video froze mid frame. The buffering circle

spun endlessly before the screen went black and the voice vanished. The room, already

shadowed, grew darker. The screen, no longer emitting light, reflected Vineeth’s silent

expression, still unreadable. Across the room, Aloshy finally looked away from the bible. His

eyes drifted towards the window as though he sensed something.

“Bhai, feeling better?” Vineeth asked, desperately trying to break the silence.

“Pata nahi, Vineeth… Ab toh har din ka ho gaya hai. Jab se papa gaye hain, tab se...” (I don’t

know, Vineeth… It’s been the same way ever since dad left.)

Vineeth tossed a pack of Marlboros his way.

“Abey, aisi waisi baat mat kar. I’m sure uncle is fine. He’ll come back. He has to.”Aloshy struck 

a match and lit the cigarette, the flare barely illuminating his side of the room.

“Saath mahine beet gaye hain. He’s gone. And all I’m left with are these nightmares. Pata nahi

agar unke hi yaadon se bhaag raha hu ya phir unhi ki talaash mein.” (I’m not sure if I’m running

away from his memories… or inherently chasing them.)

He exhaled slowly, the smoke drifting towards Vineeth, who had just lit his own cigarette. The

two streams of tobacco met halfway in the dim air, lingering around like silent witnesses.

Vineeth had somehow managed to get his hands on sleeping pills for Aloshy, with the hope of

having him sleep a few more hours than usual. But Aloshy had refused. He believed that the

answers he craved lay hidden within these nightmares, waiting for him to unravel them.

Tonight, for the first time in weeks, Vineeth offered to listen to the latest nightmare. Not out of

an obligation, but from a place of genuine care. Vineeth didn’t really have any friends at college,

just passing faces in the crowded corridors and names that were as recognisable as white noise.

But Aloshy was different. A face that mattered. A name that evoked several brotherly instincts

that Vineeth never knew he harboured. He was a necessary respite in the form of a person,

having been the butt of every cruel joke for years, the quintessential fat kid. He tried to laugh

along at times and cracked his own jokes before others could. But he felt it all. Every jibe pierced

through him, every whisper left a scar seeping out with gloom and disgust. Aloshy was indeed

different. One of the rare ones who actually saw Vineeth. Just him. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Before a word could escape Aloshy’s mouth, a scream tore through the night. It wasn’t the howl

of a dog or a screaming student. It sounded like an elderly woman’s frail voice, as though it had

been chained with fear and fatigue. The room froze with the echoes of her scream. The two

stared at each other, before Vineeth rose from the bed, slowly inching towards the window. The

curtains had begun to dance, rising and falling, as though they too were waiting for someone.

Vineeth crept towards the window, curling his fingers around the rusted grill. His eyes peered

out, searching everywhere. They moved from one side to another. Nothing. He let out a heavy

breath, loosening his grip on the grill. And then, he felt it. A cold palm pressed against the back

of his neck. A light caress, barely there, like a whisper. His body locked, every muscle growing

stiff. He clenched his fists and with all the courage he could summon, turned around. It was

Aloshy, silent and still. Staring out the same window, his gaze frozen at one spot.

“This is it. It's her!” Aloshy said, pointing towards the canopy.

Vineeth’s eyes followed his finger, and clenched shut for half a second as they met with what

waited outside. A woman. Clad in a glimmering purple silk saree, squatting on the muddy

ground. Her grin stretched wide, stacked with broken teeth that glinted alongside her ornaments.

Blood dripped fresh from her mookuthi, way too fresh. She wiped it across her chapped lips,

tinting them in an unholy shade. And then she throbbed. Her body pulsed with a strange rhythm,

akin to a bird moments before death. With each jolt, the silver golusu around her ankle jingled to

produce an eerie rhythm. A fork in one hand, a spoon in the other, she drew them closer to her

face, the grin forcing her eyes downward, sinking beneath the folds of her dark, wrinkling skin.

Aloshy's voice was barely audible. “This is her. The Woman from my dreams.”

He didn’t need to explain. And Vineeth felt no need to ask. They both knew, this was it. The edge

of the cliff, leading them down a fall of either answers or unexplainable darkness. Vineeth turned

to him, and for a moment, they shared a glance that carried a silent promise. The only way he knew 

to repay a friend who had seen him, as nothing else, but Vineeth. Zipping up their hoodies,

the boys sprinted out, leaving the door to their room ajar. They charged down the stairs, skidding

across the ramps and railings.

The woman was already drifting away from the canopy. The campus dogs circled her, revealing

their barred teeth and thick strands of slimy drool. Yet she didn’t flinch. Moving at the same

pace, her lips whispered phrases in an unknown tongue. Occasionally, she let out a giggle, so

soft, yet eerie that it silenced the dogs mid-howl. Her purple saree shimmered at a distance as

though it were a bait. The boys followed.

They trudged towards the pine forest that echoed with the whispers of creatures. The crunch of

brittle leaves under their feet stirred serpents awaiting a prey. The campus had long disappeared

behind them. Vineeth’s sleep deprived eyes, barely functional, followed the purple blur. Aloshy

on the other hand, marched like a possessed marshal, as though his body remembered the trail

better than his mind. The woman’s whispers, the jingle of her golusu, and the faint drip of blood

from her nose together produced a chilling rhythm.

Eventually, the boys faced a clearing. A wooden signboard awaited them, ‘Mariam’, carved into

it with uneven scratches. An arrow painted in red pointed ahead, towards the woman, who now

smiled wider with toes wiggling in delight. Scattered nearby were a few broken chairs and a

table stained with blood and rotten puke. The ground was rather barren, except for the jagged

rocks that it housed. She sat, dragging a chair closer, and pointed towards Vineeth.

Aloshy’s voice remained flat. “Let’s go in.”Vineeth hesitated, his head clogged with dread, 

forcing out uncontrollable tears. He couldn’t turn back, the campus was too far, and so was any other choice. 

Unnerved by her stare, he plodded ahead. With each step, the cold breeze brushed against the boys, 

like an ominous warning that refused to stop. Vineeth was now a foot away from the woman. His heart 

scrunched at the sudden sight of her smile dropping. She circled him with heavy tramps, her golusu producing a

stark jingle with each thud. With a final rattle of the metal beads, she dropped to the ground. Her

eyes, stapled to Vineeth, awaited an applause as though her magnificent recital had come to a

closure. Desperate not to meet her gaze, Vineeth looked away to the fireplace at a distance. And

there he saw it! Pulsing with the same red that dawned over his room for months. The other half

of the shirt that belonged to Aloshy’s father, drenched in oil. It hung from the pole next to the

fire.

“Aloshy! Bhaag!” Vineeth screamed, sprinting back towards the forest.

But Aloshy didn’t move. Vineeth halted mid-stride, barely balancing on his shivering feet. Out of

the corner of his eye, he saw a figure charging towards him. He assumed it was the woman, only

until he realised that there was no jingle from her anklets. He spun around in uncertainty,

witnessing the final image his eyes would ever hold. Aloshy pounced high over him, a massive

rock held high, wearing a grin that mirrored the woman’s. Before Vineeth could clench his

eyelids, a jagged edge of the rock slammed against his forehead. Following an audible crunch of

the skull, blood poured out in thick spurts. As the rock dragged downward, it scraped off a patch

of flesh, eventually slicing through his eye socket. The gouged eyeball dangled by a nerve, right

at the brink of tearing apart.

“Muttaal!” The woman snapped at Aloshy. “Kannu mukkiyam! The eyes… they’re the best part.

Don’t you know that?”

“Sorry, Amma. Paravala, isn’t that why God gave us two?” Aloshy said, grinning with a face

drenched in Vineeth’s blood. “For Mariam Amma.”

Vineeth lay dead on the ground, his face resembling a mangled ruin of flesh. Aloshy dragged the

body towards Mariam, with no trace of guilt. He spared one final glance at it. A glance that

emerged not out of grief, but of hunger for tomorrow’s feast. Mariam hauled the body towards

the fireplace. Staring at the disfigured face, she licked her lips with widening eyes. The place

was filled with steam, emerging from the oil that boiled in a humongous pot. The same pot that

had once witnessed the simmering flesh of Aloshy’s father, who was murdered by his own wife

and son. The same pot that submerged Aloshy’s roommate who wept until he felt his own lungs

burst with the blistering oil.

Aloshy was already making his way back to the campus, not yet full, but fulfilled. Yet another

friend turned into flesh. Yet another meal that he couldn’t resist. Mariam’s little lamb wasn’t just

returning to rest his weary eyes. They were clouded, not with sleep, but with the hopes of baiting

another friend. Someone to share the weight of stories and nightmares soaked in lies. Someone to

follow him down a spiral darker than what they could ever imagine. His room awaited his return

to fill the void of emptiness. The shirt swayed slowly from side to side, while the withering

notebooks fluttered. The power flicked on, and Vineeth’s laptop sprung to life with a beam. The

documentary resumed.

“... Over time, the prey draws nearer, lulled by the illusion of companionship 

and trust. And just when the rhythm is right, the creature strikes. Not out of desperation, but design. Not out of mere

hunger, but of the undying love to hunt.”

Amidst the silence and staleness, the answer to Vineeth’s unanswered question found its reply.

Resting on the bed was Aloshy’s Bible, revealing the exact verse he had been reading. The one

he had cherished the most.

John 6:53

Jesus, therefore, said to them, 'Verily, verily, I say to you, If ye may not eat the flesh of the Son of

Man, and may not drink his blood, ye have no life in yourselves.