....3.5 years later…
The years had blurred into a brutal, transformative gauntlet. I had almost become a ghost, a shadow, a whisper on the wind. I learned to hold my breath until my lungs screamed for air, to run on jagged mountain peaks as if they were paved roads, to scale sheer rock faces with a spider's grace. I learned to hide, to become one with the earth, even when a lion's pride was a hair's breadth away. Every muscle, every joint, had been honed into a finely tuned instrument of survival, pushing past the limits of what I thought my body could endure. I could sprint across the most treacherous terrain and, on rare, gravity-defying occasions, even run three steps on water.
But now, it was over. My time had come. The departure was a strange blend of relief and something akin to a reluctant gratitude. For all the certainties I had felt about meeting my end in this unforgiving wilderness, the brutal training had done more than just forge a survivor. It had pulled me from the self-destructive spiral that had consumed me.
The struggles had tempered my mind, replacing the drowning despair with a quiet resilience.
I still lacked a clear direction in life, but the self-destructive tendencies were gone. In their place, a certain cheerfulness had bloomed—a strange coping mechanism, perhaps, to deal with the torture I had endured in the name of training. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the first real part of me to surface in years.
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Five days later, I was back in Rameshwaram, the familiar scent of salt and incense a welcome assault on my senses. After two days of rest, my grandmother took me to the ancient temple, leading me to a serene meditation quarter where a Guruji—a teacher, a saint—sat in quiet contemplation. She had insisted I speak with him, convinced he could guide me to a purpose I couldn't find on my own. With no other ideas, I had agreed.
He opened his eyes as we entered, his gaze sharp yet gentle. "What is it that you seek, my child?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.
The abruptness of the question caught me off guard, but I remembered my grandmother's instructions to be truthful. "I want to find my purpose in life," I said, the words feeling clumsy and inadequate.
He hummed, a low, knowing sound. "I sense there is more to it, but we shall start there. Our purpose is never truly lost; it is what we desire the most."
A cynical voice in my head scoffed. Right, and I'm here for a dating service. His words floated right over me. "I don't understand my purpose at all," I admitted, hoping he would drop the cryptic metaphors and speak my language.
He seemed to sense my frustration and softened his tone. "To understand our purpose, we must first understand ourselves and our origin. Tell me, what is your name, my child?"
"Ryan."
He stared at me, unblinking, the silence stretching.
"Rudra?" I tried again, offering the name I had been called more often now.
"Do you know the origin of that name?" he asked, his voice as steady as a rock.
"Rudra is an avatar of Lord Shiva." I felt a flicker of pride, as if I had answered a pop quiz correctly. How's that?
He simply held my gaze. "Do you understand now, child?"
"What? No, I don't." The words were out before I could stop them.
He smiled gently. "My silly child, you have been given a name that connects you to Shiva. Since Rudra originates from Shiva; to understand Rudra, you must first understand it's origin - Shiva."
"Okay, so how do I understand Shiva?" I asked, my tone edging toward desperation.
Please don't make this a puzzle. Just give me the name of a book, please.
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes holding a kind of ancient wisdom."He is Truth, my child. The very meeting ground of all contradictions, and yet, he is harmony. He is Mahakaal—the Great End—yet the giver of Mahamrityunjaya—the mantra that cheats it. He is the destroyer, but also the nurturer. The hermit, but also a family man. He is where all truths and contradictions meet. When you are truthful to yourself, you will understand him. And in understanding him, you will find yourself."
"Great. So, how do I start? Where's the first step? Give me an exercise."
"There are no exercises for this. You are not ready."
"You are not ready."
"Okay... so how do I get ready?"
"You don't understand, my child. You are either true to yourself, or you are not. There is no middle ground, no preparation. You can be ready now, in the next moment, or perhaps never. Go. And come back when you are ready."
"And how will I know I'm ready?" I pressed.
"Believe me, child, you will know. Now, off you go."
I couldn't just let it go. This whole conversation had been a beautifully packaged riddle that led nowhere.
"Whatever you talked about helped me with absolutely nothing. At least give me a hint, old man!"
"Fine. You are very persistent," he said, and I saw a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. He put his hands together in a prayer, chanted something under his breath, and then pinched his fingers together. Opening his eyes, he spoke. "Go north, beyond the borders of this land. You will find your path there."
"Hey, hey, hey! At least give me a name! Half the world is north of this country's borders! At least give me a name, a city, something!" I protested, gesturing wildly.
"You don't need my pointing" he said, "You already have a compass."
"Where? Why don't I know about it?"
He stared intently at my neck, and for a wild moment, I thought he was going to strangle me. I knew I was being annoying, but a man had to do what a man had to do. Then I realised his gaze settled, not on me, but on the simple silver chain resting against my skin—the one my mother had given me, the one I never took off. It had been there for years, a constant, weightless presence. I pulled the small, circular pendant out into the light. It wasn't just a stone; it had a hypnotic, pearlescent luster, like a cat's eye.
"This?" I asked, holding it up.
The old man simply closed his eyes, his meditation quarter once again a place of silent solitude. I tried to ask more, but he had shut down completely, becoming a non-responsive NPC after giving me my quest prompt and quest item. Seeing there was nothing more to be done, I had no choice but to leave.