RUDRA POV
As the women disappeared into the house, leaving me to my own devices, I took the opportunity to survey the area. The clearing was wider than I expected, probably a hundred and fifty meters across, and filled with a collection of wooden houses and some more modern, cement-and-steel structures. I found a tree that had been flattened into a bench and settled in, assuming it was near the fighting area. The atmosphere was peaceful, and I estimated the place could easily accommodate fifty or sixty people.
After about half an hour, my grandmother emerged alone, her footsteps quiet as she approached and sat beside me on the bench. The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken thoughts, until I finally broke it. "So, she's my great-grandmother? How is that even possible?"
The question was a jumble of bewilderment and wonder though the words came out a little too bluntly, my mind still trying to wrap itself around the fact that I had just met a woman who, by all accounts, should be dead.
"What do you mean, 'how'?" Grandma Shanti said with mock indignation, though I could sense she wasn't truly angry. "She gave birth to me, your grandmother!"
A small smile played on my lips. At least her depressed mood is uplifted, I thought. I decided to play along. "I didn't mean it that way. I thought you said she died in the battle?"
"No, child, I said your great-grandfather passed away. I never said she died." Grandma clarified, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
A long, drawn-out groan escaped my mouth. I mentally replayed our earlier conversation and realized she was right. I had assumed they both died, which, in my defense, seemed like a reasonable conclusion given the gravity of the battle Grandmother described and not knowing her remarkable fighting skills. But a small part of me also suspected Grandma might have intentionally led me to that conclusion just for a good laugh.
"Enough, Shanti. Stop teasing him." A new voice cut through the air, and I looked up to see my great-grandmother standing beside us. Her words confirmed my suspicion. So I was right. She was toying with me.
Before I could voice my complaint, Grandma Shanti defended herself. "Aww, Mother, you don't have to call me out. And don't you think his reactions and the faces he makes are funny?"
It's only funny to you! I screamed internally, biting my tongue to keep from shouting it aloud.
"It is amusing," the old lady conceded, "but you should have some dignity as an elder."
Oh, great. Now there are two of them. I thought, watching their expressions mirror each other. Don't agree with each other, because at this point it's just disguised encouragement!! Their identical tendencies proving they really are mother and daughter.
"Oh, come on, Mother! I inherited these habits from you. You should be the last one to give a lecture on dignity," Grandma Shanti retorted.
See? I knew it!
"Hmph. So what are you here for?" the old lady asked, changing the subject.
"I'm here to leave him with you," Grandma Shanti replied, her tone becoming serious. "For his Kalaripayattu training."
"I expected as much," Great-grandmother said, her eyebrow raising slightly. "But why?"
"Rudra is looking for his purpose in life," Grandma Shanti announced, as if she were revealing a great cosmic truth. I braced myself for more questions, but all I heard for an answer was, "I see."
"Huh? You understood all that from that?" I blurted out, utterly bewildered. That was hardly an explanation. Was there some kind of telepathic communication going on?
They continued their conversation as if I hadn't said a word, and it became painfully clear that my opinion in this matter was entirely irrelevant.
"Then I will leave him in your care. Just send him back when he's ready," Grandma Shanti said, standing up to leave. "And Rudra, come straight home the second you're done."
Great-grandma turned to me, a fierce look in her eyes. "So, boy, you will call me 'Maa' here in the camp, just like everyone else. If you have anything to say, say it now, and then go to sleep in that room. We start your training tomorrow." She pointed to a nearby shed before turning and walking away, leaving me no chance to object.
They're completely ignoring my feelings! I let out a defeated sigh, realizing I had no choice but to accept my fate resigning myself to the inevitable, or rather, to my great-grandmother's will.
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The next morning, I was up at sunrise, took a quick dip in the river, and had a community breakfast. While the other teens went off for their training, I was left alone with my great-grandmother. I couldn't help but ask the question that had been on my mind. "So, what's the difference between Kalaripayattu and other fighting styles like boxing?"
She looked at me, her expression unreadable. "Before I explain that, let's get one thing clear. The Kalaripayattu here is not a fighting style. It's not the traditional sword art you might have heard about. We don't train to fight; we train our bodies, our minds, and our senses. We learn how nature moves and how to move with nature, not against it. Fighting is a secondary skill."
"That doesn't mean we don't have battle or weapon arts," she continued, "but they are not the core of your training. Kalaripayattu will not make you a great warrior; it will just ingrain in you all the qualities needed to become one. I will teach you to builds stamina, control over the body, control over one's thoughts, and awareness of your environment. I will not teach you to fight; I will teach you how to survive and thrive."
I nodded, absorbing her words and it sounded impressive a pit of uneasiness formed in my stomach as a nagging question remained....
"So… how will I learn to fight?"I asked, a hint of unease in my voice.
"I won't teach you how to fight. Our battle arts are for the warrior priests, so you will have to learn those elsewhere," she said, seemingly determined to crush any hope I had. "I will make you into the mold of a great warrior, and you will fill the mold yourself."
"Ugh, whatever," I groaned in resignation.
"You're the master." I knew I wasn't going to win this argument, either verbally or physically. I'd learned long ago that in my family, the women always had the final say.
As they say, acceptance is the first step toward peace.
And so began my time in the forest—a trauma I'd rather not discuss in detail.