This was one of the rare comics where the title carried two names—Nagraj aur Shango. Not hero and villain. Two heroes. You didn’t see that often. Much later we got Nagraj aur Super Commando Dhruva. But this came first. And it made sense.

Because after how Nagraj ki Hong Kong Yatra ended, it couldn’t be Nagraj aur Chango. The story had moved on. The misunderstanding had taken root. The rings had spoken.

Shango comes to Silverland looking for Nagraj. Not as a warrior, but as a dockyard laborer. The guards are cruel, the camp brutal. And Shango, true to his nature, leads a revolt. That’s when someone tells him—there’s another man with that ring. His name is Nagraj.

This comic book starts with a fight between the two men. With Princess Takashi as a witness. The same Princess Takashi, who hopes that the two men will help her to bring down Chango and restore her kingdom, Silverland, to her.

Nagraj starts soft—testing, not attacking. He knows who Shango is. But Shango doesn’t know yet. He comes in full fury. One blow after another, a storm of fists.

And then Nagraj says the line I’ll never forget:

And snakes pour out.

But Shango doesn’t flinch and dodge. He is Suzuki’s student. He kills the snakes mid-air. Like a man swatting away fate.

That’s the first time Nagraj blinks. The first time we see him wonder. But then, the overwhelm of snakes becomes too much for Shango and he runs away to the docks.

There Jambaloo is waiting for him. The terror we first encountered in the previous comic book. The solution to Chango’s problems.

Shango faces him alone. It’s not even a fight—it’s survival. And when the other laborers jump in to help, there’s a moment of hope.

That panel? That chilled me. Even today.

Shango is nearly gone when Nagraj arrives. A green blur of justice. Jambaloo, somehow is not very fond of snakes and he doesn’t stand a chance. He goes mad swamped with snakes and he starts to destroy the ship on which the fighting is taking place. Nagraj and Shango jump off, while the ship explodes. That’s the end of Jambaloo.

Nagraj and Shango talk now. No more misunderstandings between them. Nagraj tells Shango that it were Chango’s men who killed Master Suzuki. Then they plan. Nagraj will take on Chango’s fortress, while Shango will accompany Princess Takashi to the Raj Mahal, where Sabato, a lackey of Chango is sitting as the king.

But Chango- the Asian Crook has evolved too. He has seen too many opponents to take these new ones lightly. His new force—snake-proof, head to toe. Nagraj tries his usual attack. Nothing.

“Yeh mere saanpon ka hamla kyon nahin kaamyab ho raha?”

And for the first time in the series, Nagraj puts the snakes away.

He fights barehanded. Kung Fu. The old style. A silent nod to Master Suzuki, whose methods he once mocked.

They win, of course. Nagraj hands over Chango to Shango.

“Silverland aur Takashi tumhari. Mera safar abhi baaki hai.”

And just like that, the green-skinned hero walks into the next story.

But it wasn’t just another comic. Not for me. And not for a lot of other kids. Nagraj was the headliner—the one we all looked for first when a new set of Raj Comics arrived. Later, it was Nagraj or Super Commando Dhruva. One of them had to be there. Raj Comics knew what it was doing.

As a child, I read it for the fights. For the snakes. For the thrill of someone surviving Nagraj’s venom. But now, I see something else. Nagraj’s restraint. His respect. That moment where he chooses not to kill, even when he easily could. Or the way he switches styles when his old tricks fail—a hero adapting, not just overpowering.

Over time, I’ve come to see a pattern in these early Nagraj stories. He is never alone in his journeys. There’s always someone—a Romo, a Shango, even a Master Suzuki. Each one a fighter in their own right. Each one carrying their own pain, their own reasons for resisting evil. Nagraj doesn’t save them. He joins them. And maybe that’s what made those comics so special.

They weren’t about a lone hero fixing the world. They were about unexpected friendships. About strength recognizing strength. About the idea that even the most powerful among us needs someone to walk beside.

We outgrow a lot of things. But some stories stay. Not because they were flawless. But because they held a feeling we needed—then and now. A reminder that heroes don’t always stay. Sometimes, they leave quietly.

Because somewhere, someone else is being hurt.

And maybe, just maybe, the next comic is already beginning.