The third day dawned with a palpable tension in the air. The students knew this would be the most demanding trial yet, but none of them could predict what was to come. Vajra and Agastya awoke early, the cool morning mist still clinging to the trees around the ashrama. The quiet serenity of the morning did nothing to ease the knot in Vajra's stomach. He glanced at Agastya, who was deep in thought, mirroring the silent apprehension shared by the other students.

By midday, they were summoned to the open grounds, where Rishi Agastya stood waiting. There was no fanfare, no weapons in sight, just the quiet hum of nature and the wise sage before them. His expression was as unreadable as ever, yet there was a sense of gravity in his eyes that made even the wind seem to hold its breath.

"Today's test," Rishi Agastya began, his voice calm yet filled with hidden weight, "is not just about what you know. It is about who you are—deep within. Today, you will face a choice, a choice that will test your understanding of dharma, your inner strength, and your clarity between right and wrong. This is not a test of the body, but of the mind, the spirit."

The students exchanged uneasy glances. Many had expected another trial of endurance or strength, but this was something different, something deeper. Vajra's heart quickened, sensing that what lay ahead would push them in ways they hadn't imagined.

Rishi Agastya stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the gathered students. "Listen carefully," he instructed. "You will face a dilemma, one that has no easy answer. What you choose and your reason will reveal the depth of your wisdom".

He paused, allowing his words to sink in before continuing. "Imagine you are in a village stricken by famine. The people are starving, and there is little food left. The village elder, a man revered for his wisdom, has hoarded a small supply of grain in secret, enough to feed a few. He plans to distribute it only to the strongest, believing they will ensure the village's survival in the long term. Meanwhile, a mother and her young child, frail and on the brink of death, beg for food. They are too weak to offer much in return, and many believe they will not survive the coming days."

Rishi Agastya's voice dropped to a near whisper, the intensity of the question hanging over the students like a storm cloud. "You find yourself in possession of the last grain. The elder tells you to give it to the strong, the future of the village. But the mother pleads with you, not for herself, but for her child. What do you do?"

The silence was suffocating. The students stood still, grappling with the weight of the decision. This wasn't about physical strength or endurance—it was about the deepest moral conflict. A test that would force them to confront the very nature of dharma, of duty.

Vishant, one of the more outspoken students, spoke first. "I would give the grain to the strongest," he said, his voice wavering slightly. "If the strong survive, they can rebuild the village. We must think of the future, not just the present."

Tejas, who had proven himself wise in earlier trials, disagreed. "What is the point of survival if we abandon compassion?" he said quietly. "The child represents innocence. If we sacrifice them for the sake of strength, we lose a part of our humanity."

The other students followed, offering their perspectives. Some sided with Vishant, others with Tejas, but none seemed entirely sure of their answers. The dilemma had struck at the core of their understanding of morality.

Finally, it was Vajra's turn. He had been silent, listening to the others, reflecting deeply on the question. When he spoke, his voice was steady, but his eyes held a certain clarity that the others had not shown.

"I would give the grain to the child," he said firmly, his words measured. "But not out of pity, and not because I don't value the future of the village."

The other students turned to him, some confused, others intrigued. Rishi Agastya watched him closely, his gaze sharp but unreadable.

Vajra continued. "The elder's wisdom is not wrong—strength is needed for survival. But the true strength of a village, of a society, is not in the physical power of a few. It is in the compassion, the values that bind us together. If we abandon the weak, if we forget that every life has worth, we lose more than just a few people—we lose our dharma. We lose the essence of who we are."

He paused, his voice gaining conviction. "The child may not seem strong now, but strength is not just about the body. There is strength in resilience, in hope. The future is built not just by the strong, but by those who carry forward the values that make life worth living. If we sacrifice the weak today, we create a world where only might is right. That is not the world I would want to help build."

The courtyard fell into a heavy silence. Rishi Agastya's eyes never left Vajra. The other students were silent, their earlier confidence shaken by the depth of Vajra's words.

Finally, the sage spoke. "Your answer shows a deep understanding of dharma, Narasimha. True wisdom lies in seeing beyond the surface, in understanding that strength without compassion is hollow. The choices we make today shape the world of tomorrow, not just in what we build, but in how we build it."

He turned to the other students. "Many of you spoke well and there is no one right answer. But remember this: dharma is not always about choosing between right and wrong. Often, it is about choosing between two rights, or two wrongs. There is no easy answer in life's greatest challenges. What matters is the clarity with which you make your choices, and the understanding that every decision you make shapes not just your future, but the future of all who follow."

The third day's test ended in silence, but the students knew they had been forever changed. This test was in itself a lesson they would not forget easily—it was a truth that would guide them for the rest of their lives. For Vajra, it was more than just a test. It was a glimpse into the immense responsibilities that lay ahead, and the kind of leader he would one day need to become.

The air was thick with anticipation as RadhaGupt, a senior student of Rishi Agastya, stood at the center of the courtyard, scroll in hand. The morning sun bathed the ashrama in a soft glow, but the atmosphere was tense, the echoes of the three days of grueling tests still lingering in the minds of the young students. All of them—Vajra, Agastya, and their peers—stood in silence, waiting for the names that would determine their future.

RadhaGupt began reading aloud, his voice calm but carrying the weight of finality. "After three days of rigorous testing—of body, mind, and spirit—seven students have been chosen for the privilege of learning under Rishi Agastya."

Vajra felt Agastya's shoulder brush against his as they both stood, tense and alert. The names came slowly, each syllable seeming to stretch out in the quiet of the forest.

"First, Narasimha," RadhaGupt called out, and Vajra's heart leaped in his chest.His face remained calm, though inside, he felt a wave of relief and pride.

"Second, Mrityunjaya," RadhaGupt continued, and Agastya grinned, his usual seriousness breaking for a brief moment. They exchanged a glance, a silent celebration, though the moment was fleeting.

RadhaGupt read out five more names, each of them belonging to students who had shown their mettle, not just in strength but in wisdom and perseverance. When the list was complete, those selected stepped forward, their hearts beating with a mixture of joy and humility.

Rishi Agastya himself stepped forward, his presence commanding yet serene, the lines of wisdom etched into his face. "You have all shown not only your physical endurance but your clarity of mind and purity of heart," he said, his deep voice resonating through the courtyard. "The path ahead is long and full of challenges, but it is also rich with the rewards of knowledge. May you walk it with the same strength you have shown here."

One by one, the students approached Rishi Agastya, bowing low as they touched his feet in reverence, receiving his blessings. When it was Vajra's turn, he felt the sage's hand rest briefly on his head, and in that moment, he felt not only the weight of the blessing but the enormity of the journey ahead. Agastya followed, and like Vajra, he too felt the gravity of the path now open before them.

With the formalities complete, the students dispersed, and Vajra and Agastya found themselves drawn to the quiet corners of the ashrama. They had been immersed in the tests for days, but now they could explore the place that would become their home for years to come.

The ashrama of Rishi Agastya was no ordinary place. Hidden deep within the forests of Agastyakootam, it was a marvel of nature, wisdom, and innovation. As they wandered, they came upon various sections of the ashrama—each serving a distinct purpose. There were fields where medicinal herbs grew, tended by students who had mastered the ancient art of Ayurveda. Another area housed complex water systems, crafted ingeniously to irrigate the land and sustain the students through the harshest seasons. Vajra marveled at the harmony of nature and intellect here, a reflection of Rishi Agastya's profound wisdom.

"This place... it's like a living embodiment of balance," Agastya said, his voice filled with wonder as they observed the innovations in the ashrama. "GuruDeva has mastered not only the spiritual realms but the physical world too."

Vajra nodded, his heart filled with admiration for their guru now. "This is more than just a place of learning. It's a sanctuary of knowledge—where the mind is sharpened, the spirit is nurtured, and the body is strengthened."

As they ventured further, they came upon something that both surprised and intrigued them—a separate ashrama, tucked away deeper into the forest, where young women were training. It was unlike anything they had ever seen before. In their kingdoms, gurukulas in remote places were usually male-dominated spaces, and women were often taught in more urban settings. But here, in the heart of the forest, these young women were receiving a rigorous training as the boys.

"Is that...?" Agastya began, his voice trailing off in awe.

"Kanyakula," Vajra whispered. "A gurukula for girls."

They stood there, watching as the female students practiced archery, read from ancient texts, and trained their minds and bodies with the same intensity as the boys in Rishi Agastya's ashrama. It was a sight neither of them had expected.

Vishant, who had accompanied them on this exploration, smiled at their expressions of surprise. "In the southern lands, there is little distinction between boys and girls when it comes to learning Narasimha," he explained. "GuruDeva believes that knowledge is for everyone. Strength, wisdom, and skill—these are not bound by gender."

Vajra's mind raced with thoughts. The customs in the deeper south were more progressive than he had known, far ahead in their approach to equality. It was a revelation that deeply moved him.

Agastya, standing beside him, smiled thoughtfully. "We have a lot to learn, don't we?"

Vajra nodded. "Yes, we do. More than we ever imagined."

The sight of the Kanyakula stirred something in Vajra's heart—a sense of joy in the fairness and wisdom of Rishi Agastya's teachings. He realized that the path to true wisdom lay in breaking down the boundaries that society often imposed. In this place, hidden in the heart of the forest, knowledge flowed freely—without restrictions, without prejudice. And in that, there was an immense power.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows through the trees, Vajra and Agastya returned to the main ashrama, their hearts and minds filled with new thoughts, new ideas, and a profound respect for the place that would shape their futures. They had come here seeking knowledge, but what they had found was far more profound—a vision of a world where wisdom was shared equally, where boundaries dissolved in the pursuit of truth.

As the first rays of dawn broke through the thick canopy of trees, casting a soft golden light over the ashrama, Vajra quietly made his way to the small, secluded space where Rishi Agastya had summoned him. The air was crisp, filled with the scent of wet earth and the faint sounds of birds beginning their morning songs. 

When Vajra reached the clearing, he saw Rishi Agastya seated under a large banyan tree, his back straight, his eyes closed, deep in meditation. For a moment, Vajra hesitated to approach, feeling the immense presence of the sage even in his silence. This was not the first time he had seen Rishi Agastya, but it was the first time they would speak alone, and Vajra felt the weight of it.

With reverence, Vajra knelt before the sage, touching his forehead to the earth in a gesture of respect. The sage's eyes fluttered open, deep and piercing, yet filled with a quiet warmth. He gestured for Vajra to sit.

For a while, neither spoke. The silence between them was profound, yet Vajra felt no discomfort. Instead, it felt as though the silence itself held lessons—lessons about patience, about humility, about the nature of wisdom. Finally, Rishi Agastya's voice, low and resonant, broke the stillness.

"You have many questions," the sage said, his eyes fixed on Vajra, as if reading the depths of his thoughts. "But answers are like the sunrise—they come slowly, revealing themselves in time. You must learn to sit in the darkness before you can truly see the light."

Vajra's brow furrowed slightly. "Gurudeva," he began softly, "I am here to learn, to seek wisdom. But there are things I do not yet understand. Why did you call me here, to this place, so far from Dwarka?"

Agastya's gaze deepened, a faint smile playing on his lips, though it was not an unkind smile. "You speak of home, yet what is home? Is it a place, a person, or a state of being?"

Vajra blinked, unsure how to respond. He had thought of Dwarka as his home, and now Indraprastha too, but in Rishi Agastya's words, there seemed to be something more—a deeper meaning.

"Home is where one's truth is revealed," Rishi Agastya continued, his voice steady, yet with layers of meaning that Vajra was only beginning to grasp. "For some, it is a palace. For others, a battlefield. And for a few, it is found in the search for knowledge. Tell me, Narasimha, where do you think your home truly lies?"

Vajra thought for a moment, his young mind racing to piece together the cryptic wisdom in his guru's words. "Perhaps... I do not know yet, Gurudeva," he said honestly. "But I feel a pull towards this place. As if there is something here I must learn, something that will shape who I am."

Agastya nodded slowly. "That is the first step—acknowledging that you do not know. Wisdom begins when we stop pretending we have all the answers."

The sage's words seemed simple, but they struck something deep within Vajra. He had always been the prince, always expected to have confidence and direction, but here, in front of Rishi Agastya, he felt like a student—a seeker of truths far beyond his grasp.

After a pause, Agastya's eyes twinkled with a knowing light. "You are the prince of Indraprastha," he said, though his tone was soft, as if this was a mere detail in the grand scheme of things. "But titles are nothing here. What you will become is not determined by the crown you may one day wear, but by the knowledge you gather, the clarity you seek. Here, you are not Vajra the prince. Here, you are simply Narasimha, the seeker."

Vajra's heart raced at the mention of his true identity. He had expected to keep it hidden, as instructed, yet Rishi Agastya saw through the veil as if it were nothing.

"How did you know?" Vajra asked, the surprise clear in his voice.

Agastya chuckled softly, a sound that carried with it centuries of wisdom. "A river cannot hide its source, nor can a tree its roots. I have seen many princes, many warriors, and many seekers in my time. The way you carry yourself, the weight you feel in your heart—it speaks of your lineage. But as I said, your title does not matter here. What matters is whether you are willing to let go of what you think you know, to embrace the unknown, and to be shaped by this journey."

Vajra felt a sense of awe growing within him, a reverence not just for the sage but for the process that was unfolding before him. This was no ordinary teaching. This was a path that would strip him of the certainties he had clung to and force him to discover the depths of his own self.

Rishi Agastya's voice softened, yet its power remained. "You must remember, Narasimha, that the greatest battles are not fought with swords, but with the mind. The greatest enemies are not those you see before you, but the fears, doubts, and attachments you carry within. This journey will test you, not just in your strength, but in your ability to see clearly—through illusion, through deception, and even through the self."

Vajra remained silent, absorbing the magnitude of the words. He realized then that this was not just about becoming a warrior, or a king, or a leader. This was about becoming something far greater—a master of the self.

After a long pause, Rishi Agastya leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "Narasimha, do you have the strength to walk this path? To walk it not as a prince, but as a student, stripped of everything you think you are?"

Vajra felt the weight of the question settle in his heart. He did not hesitate, for in that moment, he knew the answer. "Yes, Gurudeva," he said, his voice steady. "I am ready."

Agastya's eyes softened, and for the first time, Vajra felt as though the sage was looking not at him, but into him—into the depths of his soul, reading the layers of potential and challenge that lay ahead.

"The sun rises," Rishi Agastya said, glancing at the horizon. "And with it, so must you. Go now, and prepare yourself. This is only the beginning."

As Vajra stood to leave, he bowed low once more, feeling a profound sense of gratitude and respect for the man who now stood as both his guide and his challenge. The path ahead was unknown, but with Rishi Agastya as his guru, Vajra knew he was exactly where he needed to be.

For the first time in his young life, he felt not the weight of his princely duties, but the clarity of a seeker who had just stepped onto a path of true wisdom.

The days at the ashrama began to take on a rhythm, one that both Vajra and Agastya quickly adapted to, yet it was unlike anything they had experienced before. Each day started before the first light of dawn, with the sound of a conch that echoed through the dense forest. As they woke, surrounded by other boys who, like them, had come from distant lands seeking wisdom, a sense of camaraderie began to grow among the students. Despite the unfamiliarity of their surroundings, the shared purpose bound them together.

Vajra and Agastya found themselves talking more with the others, learning about their backgrounds and the unique paths that had led them all to Rishi Agastya's ashrama. There was Tejas, a boy from the northern mountains, who spoke of the snow-capped peaks of his homeland with a quiet pride. His people, he explained, were warriors, but their battles were not only fought against enemies but also against nature itself—harsh winters, fierce winds, and treacherous slopes.

Then there was Amartya, a student from the eastern coast, whose ancestors were renowned navigators and scholars of the sea. Amartya had grown up with tales of vast oceans and had a fascination with the stars, speaking of how his people used them to guide their ships. Vajra and Agastya were both amazed to hear of such knowledge, having grown up mostly within the walls of Dwarka and Indraprastha, their lives centered on land though the port back in Dwarka was often their play place.

They also met Vidhant, a boy from the southern plains. His father was a sage in his own right, and he had come to Rishi Agastya's ashrama to continue a family tradition of learning. It was clear that Vidhan't words was not impulsive but rather a natural tendency toward observation, which often made his words carry a great deal of weight.

As they shared these stories, Vajra felt a sense of connection deepening between them. Though they came from different lands and backgrounds, the shared experience of the rigorous tests and the daunting presence of their guru brought them closer.

Rishi Agastya, for his part, was an enigma. During the lessons, he was stern and firm, his words sharp and his gaze sharper still. He did not indulge in explanations that were too easy, nor did he tolerate hesitation. Each lesson, whether it was about philosophy, astronomy, or warfare, was delivered with precision and without embellishment. He was not a guru who smiled often, nor did he offer praise lightly. When the students made mistakes, they were corrected swiftly, and when they succeeded, their success was acknowledged with nothing more than a brief nod.

Yet despite his strict demeanor, the students knew that Rishi Agastya was teaching them far more than just knowledge. He was shaping their minds, their bodies, and their spirits, preparing them for challenges that went beyond the walls of the ashrama. His methods were difficult, but the students gradually understood that this difficulty was the point. They were learning not just facts and skills but discipline, patience, and fortitude.

One afternoon, after a particularly grueling session where they had been made to practice archery while blindfolded—Vajra and Agastya found themselves sitting under the shade of a large tree, exhausted but satisfied.

"I never thought learning could be this hard," Agastya said with a sigh, his voice carrying both awe and frustration. "It's not just the body—it's the mind. Every lesson feels like it's testing how far we can stretch ourselves."

Vajra nodded in agreement, his body aching from the day's practice. "I thought I understood strength before coming here, but Gurudeva shows us that true strength is so much more than what we imagined. It's in the stillness, in the waiting, in knowing when to act."

Vidhant, who had joined them under the tree, spoke up in his usual soft voice. "He's preparing us for something beyond just being warriors or scholars. He's shaping us into something deeper—men who can lead, men who can think, and men who can stand firm even when the world around us falters."

The words struck Vajra deeply, and he found himself reflecting on them long after the conversation had ended. The discipline of the ashrama was unlike anything he had known in Dwarka or Indraprastha. There, he had been trained in the ways of a prince, but here, he was learning how to be more than just a prince. The realization dawned on him that his time here was not just about acquiring skills but about transformation—becoming the kind of person who could one day bear the weight of leadership with wisdom and clarity.

That night, as the boys prepared for bed, Vajra's thoughts kept returning to the stern figure of Rishi Agastya. 

Agastya, who lay nearby, broke the silence. "Do you ever wonder why Gurudeva is so hard on us?" he asked, his voice low but curious.

Vajra thought for a moment before answering. "I think he's pushing us to see who we truly are. Not who we think we are, or who others expect us to be, but the core of us—the part that will remain when all else is stripped away."

Agastya nodded thoughtfully. "And what do you think he sees in us?"

"I don't know yet," Vajra admitted. "But I trust that whatever it is, it's something we haven't discovered in ourselves yet."

As the conversation faded into the quiet of the night, Vajra closed his eyes, feeling the weight of his words settle within him. He was beginning to see that this journey at the ashrama was more than just training—it was a path to uncovering his true self, one that would not be defined by the mantle of duty he woud carry or the battles he might fight, but by the wisdom he would gain.

In the days to come, the lessons would grow harder, the challenges more intense, and yet Vajra felt himself growing stronger—not just in body, but in mind and spirit. His reverence for his guru deepened with each passing day, for the sage was teaching them not only how to navigate the world but also how to navigate the self.

And in that, Vajra began to understand the true meaning of strength.

To be continued...

I couldn't leave without giving you all a gift after all the love you showered on the book. 

A double update hence. Lol.

Next chapter , we head to a leap and what happens is a surprise. Will post it once the target is reached on chapter 28 and 29. 

Target - 80 votes 

Please do leave your votes and comments !