The Asura of Electronic City

The Modern Stage: BengaluruEons dissolved, and the primal heat of Lanka was replaced by the cold, sterile air-conditioning of Electronic City, Bengaluru. The oppressive gold light transmuted into the unblinking, fluorescent white and cool blue glow of the InfoCys corporate towers, where fate now flickered across screens. The new King, Chaddichandan, CEO, sat in his glass enclosure. His office on the 40th floor was a study in controlled opulence.
It smelled sharply of new, rich leather, freshly polished granite, and a subtle, obscenely expensive cologne that cut through the recycled air. The dominant sound was a controlled, deep hum-the thrumming of million-dollar servers, the low, amplified, smooth cadence of the CEO's voice during conference calls, and the distant, muffled roar of the city traffic far below. On his monitors, the global market flickered in urgent reds and stable greens.
Down in the cubicle farms, the Twenty Souls were reborn as female engineers, project managers, and analysts. Their collective scent was practical and fleeting: hand sanitizer, stale coffee, and the faint, clean smell of synthetic clothing. The light on their faces was the stark, blue-white glare of their monitor screens. Their sound was the constant, rhythmic, staccato click-clack of keyboards-a modern, rapid-fire whisper of labor.
They did not consciously remember the jasmine or the blood-red gold, but they unconsciously felt the familiar, cold pull of the cycle, the sense of their time, effort, and dignity being appropriated by the man in the corner office. The stage was set. The ancient debt, hidden beneath layers of code and corporate strategy, was finally ready to be paid.