The chhauni was unusually quiet that night.
No clashing of shastars.No training shouts.Only the soft murmur of prayers drifting through the camp like a warm breeze.
Arjanveer sat alone beside a small lamp outside his temporary tent.Tomorrow would be his first step toward Amritpaan — not the ceremony itself, but the inner preparation every seeker had to face.
His hands trembled slightly.
Not from fear.But from the weight of what was coming.
He wasn't just choosing discipline.He was choosing an identity.A life.A purpose that demanded everything.
Gurbaaz Singh walked over and sat next to him, placing two steel bowls of warm dal on the ground.
"You haven't eaten," Gurbaaz said."Khalsa bana is not made by starving."
Arjanveer smiled weakly and picked up the bowl.
After a few moments of silence, Arjanveer asked, "What was it like for you? Before Amritpaan?"
Gurbaaz leaned back, looking up at the stars.
"I was angry," he said simply."At life. At my family. At myself. I didn't know where to put that fire."
"Then?" Arjanveer asked.
"Then the Panj Piare gave me a direction. A place to burn. A way to shine."
He glanced at Arjanveer.
"That's what you're looking for too, isn't it?"
Arjanveer lowered his gaze."…Yes."
Gurbaaz smirked. "Then you're in the right place."
Later that night, as most of the camp slept, Arjanveer wandered toward the stables. The moonlight glowed on the horses—tall, powerful, their manes braided in blue cloth.
He reached out to stroke one, and suddenly—
"Careful."
A voice came from the shadows.
It was Jathedar Jasraj Singh.
He stepped forward slowly, the moon highlighting the steel on his dumalla. Even in silence, his presence felt like thunder held in a human body.
"This horse is Bajrang," the jathedar said."Strong. Loyal. But he respects only those with steady hearts."
Arjanveer stepped back, embarrassed. "Sorry, Baba ji. I didn't mean—"
Jasraj Singh raised a hand."No need for apologies. Curiosity is good."
He looked at Arjanveer for a long moment, studying him.
"You are restless," he said."You think too much. Worry too much. Feel too much. The mind before Amrit is like water disturbed by stones."
Arjanveer swallowed. "How do I quiet that?"
"You do not quiet it," the jathedar said."You offer it."
"Offer it… to what?"
"To the Guru. To the path. To the hukam."
He stepped closer, placing a heavy hand on Arjanveer's shoulder.
"Tomorrow, before sunrise, you will face your Niyam Pariksha—the Test of Intention."
Arjanveer's heart skipped.
"What is that?"
"A question," the jathedar replied, his voice deep and solemn."One question only. If you answer with your mind, you will fail. If you answer with your heart… the path will open."
Arjanveer felt his stomach twist."What question?"
The jathedar turned away.
"Sleep," he said. "You will know it when the time comes."
The elder warrior walked into the night, blue cloth trailing behind him like a living shadow.
Arjanveer stood there, breath shallow, heart racing.
Tomorrow was not the final step.
But it was the most important one.
The step that would reveal whether he was meant to walk the Khalsa path…or whether the path would reject him.
He lay awake for hours, listening to the night sounds of the chhauni—
Horses breathing.Wind brushing steel.And far away, the soft hum of simran.
Eventually, exhaustion pulled him into sleep.
His last thought:
"Guru ji… let me be worthy."