Uzma races into the living room just behind Aman. He flings himself on a sofa and turns the TV on. By the time Tia strolls in a few minutes later, Aman has found the channel he's looking for; DNNTV, India's most trusted, most popular and least modest English news channel. A very pretty reporter - standard issue, fair, well-ironed hair, early twenties, wearing a blazer in the channel's colours -- stands with a heavy DNNTV microphone in front of a large white building that seems to have done something to annoy a mob of about a hundred people, who are all productively occupied in hurling bricks, bottles and other handy projectiles at its windows. The red bar underneath the reporter's face announces that her name is Namrata, and she is in front of the N.H. Sukumar Hospital in Chennai, Tamil Nadu. A scrolling ticker under the bar also announces that a sweetshop owner from Amritsar has set a new Guinness record for eating sweets, and a former Indian test cricket captain has announced his return to the sport. 'Unparalled scenes of public frenzy shatter the placid peace of Chennai in this path-breaking global exclusive brought to you exclusively by DesiNow News,' gushes Namrata. 'The brutal murder of a young and innocent couple sparked off a fire last night. Tonight, will this fire burn Chennai's heart? We bring you uninterrupted live coverage - after these messages.' 'Why are we watching this?' asks Uzma. 'Wait,' says Aman, his eyes fixed on the TV. After a few minutes of educational lingerie advertisements, Namrata returns, and accompanied by lots of flashy visuals narrates the tragic story of the Iyers, a young couple, software professionals who had been savagely attacked by an unknown miscreant while driving towards the N. H. Sukumar hospital the previous night. Their car had pulled into the hospital driveway with Mr. Iyer dead, Mrs. Iyer clearly dying - and in labour. She had clung on to life long enough to deliver her baby, and then passed on. But there was something about the baby Iyer that had caused the hospital to shut its doors to all patients within an hour and turn out most of its staff by dawn. 'All through today, an unusual collection of politicians and public figures have been gathering at the hospital behind me,' chirps Namrata, making sure to indicate that the massive building behind her with N. H. Sukumar Hospital written on it in shining letters is, in fact, the mysterious hospital to which she alludes. The cameraman zooms in closer on Namrata to make sure other reporters wandering around delivering pieces to camera don't mess up the frame. 'While other media channels have missed this breaking story, choosing only to focus on the first match of the new Indian Giga-League Gully Cricket Tournament - watch it live on DesiNow Sports, or online at DesiNowGigaLeague.com - we at DNNTV are here with you because we have confidential sources on the inside - and soon, exclusive footage that will show you what happened inside this hospital today.' 'Her accent is slipping,' observes Tia. 'That doesn't matter. Look, this is the same girl. She covered the riots in Hyderabad the other day.' 'What riots?' asks Uzma. 'Bunch of attention-seekers, crackpot Hindus against crackpot Muslims fighting one another to a draw over some non-issue.' 'But doesn't that sort of thing happen all the time?' asks Uzma. 'Sure. Filler news, but this looked like getting bigger. Same girl also did the story that happened ten days ago in Calcutta - bunch of people burning effigies of all four thousand employees of the Cricket Board of India. I think there's a connection.'
'You think this reporter's causing these riots, somehow?' asks Tia, languidly stretching out on the sofa. 'No, you do hear about the media setting up stories, but that's not what I think this is. These were all big stories - I don't know what this hospital thing is, but look, she's a junior reporter, she shouldn't be beating her seniors to scenes of actual violence. She's going to get lots of promotions very soon, or get kicked out on her butt. I think she might know something. Maybe she has an unusually strong nose for news.' 'I don't understand,' says Uzma. 'You think this girl knows beforehand where important news is going to be?' 'Aman, was she on the plane?' asks Tia, sitting up. 'What plane?' asks Uzma. Aman nods. 'Later,' he says, as Uzma turns to him, eyes blazing. 'What plane?' 'I sat next to her on a flight, not long ago,' says Aman. 'Look.' Namrata has slipped into the hospital through a back door held open by an exclusive secret inside source. 'I'm the only person inside this hospital - this place of healing now under siege -- who isn't a part of the conspiracy that surrounds this mysterious baby Iyer like a fog,' she says, blithely ignoring her cameraman and all the patients and remaining staff in the hospital. 'But soon we will find out, together, exactly what is going on. Live and exclusive on DNNTV.' By one of those strange coincidences that often happen on TV news, the people Namrata needs to interview are miraculously waiting around together in a well-lit room, all miked up and ready to be surprised. In swift succession, Namrata names a series of slightly eccentric politicians, mostly small-time guardians of the nation's morals, famous for such things as vandalizing stores on such Western Imperialist occasions as Valentine's day, or for beating up girls in pubs or jeans, or random acts of violence towards gay people, Muslims or celebrities who refused to dance at the weddings of party leaders.There are four fat men and a woman named Rosy; it is she who steps forward, possibly not by consensus, because the men wobble angrily in the background. 'We wish to announce formation of new political party that will change world,' she says. 'Yes, tell the viewers of DNNTV,' trills a thrilled Namrata. 'AKWWEK' says Rosy, clearly not a fan of concise names. 'Avatara Kalki Whole World Ethirkaala Katchi.' 'Could you translate that for the viewers of DNNTV?' 'We are forming fully global party of future with benevolent grace of holy tenth Vishnu avatar Kalki,' explains Rosy to a furiously nodding Namrata. 'Do you have any answers as to who might be responsible for the gruesome murders last night?' rallies Namrata, who was clearly expecting murder-related political intrigue, not gibberish about ruling the world. 'You are not understanding important significance of what I am saying,' says Rosy, now irate and puffy. 'We are presenting to whole world most holy tenth avatar of Vishnu, preserver god of Hindu trinity. What I am saying is Baby Iyer is not only Baby Iyer. Baby Iyer is Baby Kalki, same tenth avatar as mentioned.' 'I am knowing - sorry, are you saying this baby is Kalki? How do you know this? Could you show us the baby?' Namrata is gamely fighting both Rosy and growing suspicions of her own insanity. One of Rosy's fellow AKWWEK party leaders steps up and shoves her aside, like a rhythm guitarist taking over the band.
'Myself Muttiah, General Secretary,' he growls. 'Time has come to clean world of sins, and Baby Kalki will soon grow up to be Full-Power Avatar Kalki and destroy all rascals and rowdies while riding white winged horse Devadutta. No more of decadence of westernized Kali Yuga, all this McDonalds and IPL cheerleader and reality show promoting sex and obscenity and also vulgarity in tennis and films such as showing leg and kissing. Time of Satya Yuga is commencing shortly according to Vishnu Purana. AKWWEK will help most divine Avatar Kalki with process of democracy at grass-roots and all-India level thus allowing Avatar Kalki to become world's first democratically elected God.' 'Live and exclusive on DNNTV,' gurgles Namrata, eyes almost popping out of her head with excitement, 'your first glimpse of the baby that the newly-formed AKW - AKWW - Kalki Party claims will one day be the world's first god to win an election!' 'Who is claiming? Who is making claim?' Muttiah isn't pleased. 'We are providing 100% genuine divine avatar! Soon he will be manufacturing weapons of power and destruction of mass to shock and awe all evil societies in the world, making India glorious superpower! According to holy text, Kalki is scheduled to undertake travelling around earth with great speed, destroying millions of thief dressed as king in provocative clothing, displaying eight kinds of supreme power! He will lead army of superman against all evil. We are having new dawn of age of miracle and Kalki is most biggest miracle!' Uzma giggles at this and turns to Aman and Tia, and is surprised to find both of them absolutely riveted to the screen. In fact, Tia has huddled up to Aman now, and they're holding hands and completely unaware of it, like two children at a horror movie. 'What's wrong with you people?' asks Uzma. 'Don't tell me you believe him!' Aman and Tia disengage, embarrassed. 'No, of course not,' mumbles Aman. 'Sorry, every time I see politicians like this I'm generally afraid for the country. For the world.' On their screen, Namrata is trying to slip past the cordon of AKWWEK politicians to get a global first exclusive sight of the alleged baby Kalki, ignoring Rosy's protests of 'But we are showing Baby Kalki to live rally, not to single channel sorry.' At a signal from the intrepid reporter, the cameraman ups his game; he's off, treating his viewers to a video-game-like live view of his jerky run through the corridors of the hospital, peppered with occasional flailing limbs of AKWWEK party members trying to block him, until he barges in through a heavily guarded door, and there's just a flash, a smudge of blue, a suggestion of a bright blob on a white bed surrounded by kneeling women in white saris, a hasty zoom, a blurry image of more chubby arms than a baby should have and a blue head that's not human at all, before a burly party member cannons into the cameraman; a wild swing, a patchy white ceiling and then static fills the screen. So engrossed are Aman and Tia in this that they completely fail to notice Sundar Narayan wander into the room and walk right by Uzma, slumped in her sofa. They don't know he's there until he announces his presence, saying 'Good people, my Tia's unconscious. Can I have another one?' They both gasp and look at Uzma, and Uzma doesn't waste time asking questions; she springs up from the sofa and runs out of the room, ignoring Narayan's feeble greeting and Aman and Tia's shouts. She runs up the stairs, panting, barges into Narayan's lab and sees, lying on the floor with an ugly bruise on her forehead and a glowing green wire hissing and spitting in her badly
burned hand, another Tia. And when Aman, Tia-from-downstairs and the Scientist catch up with her, she's standing, grim and angry, arms crossed, eyes flashing. 'They're twins,' offers Aman weakly. 'Forget it, Aman,' says Tia. 'It won't work. You might as well tell her, she's nice.' 'Who are you people?' thunders Uzma. 'And what the hell is going on?'