Bhurut!

Demon-spawns of the desert. The scourge of these wastelands. An all around pain in the neck, foot and ass. Bhuruts have been a major part of this operation. And not in a good way.

Bhuruts are dried and hardened flowers of wild cactus grass. They are sharp, stubborn and spiny. They are like tiny anchors with lots of teeth. And they grow in clusters by the thousands.

Heat from above. Needles from below.

The festival site is a battleground. Soldiers return wounded every day.

And they have brought the demon back with them.

The bhuruts attach themselves to your clothes, your shoes, maybe even your brain. We now see bhuruts everywhere. There are bhuruts in the quilt. There will be a bhurut in the seat of your pants every time you sit down. There will be bhuruts in your nightmares, I kid you not.

Attached files could be potentially dangerous

The land has been cleared today. Tomorrow should be an easier walk.

But the damage has been done.

“I’m sure we can do the Siddh ourselves,” says Sheriff. (There’s going to be a Siddh performance at the festival.) “Walking on coals will be nothing after this.”

By that time, I tell him, we’ll be able to set a carpet of bhuruts on fire and walk over that.