[Note : Sorry everyone for delaying the chapter 12. I was busy today & didn't have much idea about this chapter. I wrote then cancelled, then wrote Again & cancelled again. After some thought i posted this chapter. But don't worry I'll keep improving my writing & show present you better chapters.
From author (°^°)]
Two days earlier, on Pāpi's fifth birthday almost five years since he had come to Malaka. As per Dhrubo's boon, Mahādeva appeared to him for the fifth time as a 10 year child.
Mahādeva only reminded him, calmly and clearly, that the time he had been given in Malaka was complete.
Dhrubo then remembered everything again what he said & asked to Mahādeva as a soul. Now the path ahead led to Karṇa. Mahādeva showed him the direction of Karṇa's house, not with words, but by fixing it firmly in his understanding.
Pāpi did not tell anyone that day.
He spent the next two days as he always had—helping Madhu, gathering herbs, speaking with the villagers, and listening more than he spoke. He wanted his last days to be ordinary, not heavy.
On the third morning, he went to Madhu.
"Guruji," Pāpi said, bowing, "my time here has ended."
Madhu looked at him for a long moment. He had seen this expression before—on students who had outgrown their shelter.
"So you want to go outside to venture?" Madhu asked with slight sadness.
"Yes." Neem said with unweaving determination.
Madhu did not raise his voice. He did not scold him. But his hands trembled slightly as he rested them on his staff.
"You are still a child."
"I know," Pāpi said. "That is why I must go now."
The three students—Avi, Nath, and Dhanu—gathered behind Madhu. Soon the villagers followed. No one tried to stop Pāpi at first, because everyone knew his nature. Once he decided something, he did not turn back.
Still, Madhu spoke again.
"The world outside Malaka is not kind. It does not care about boons or purity. It will test you without mercy."
Pāpi lowered his head. Pāpi listened quietly and then requested a chance to prove himself.
Madhu closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them, his voice was firm.
"If you wish to leave, you will face three tests. Not to prove yourself to me, but to ensure you will survive without me."
Pāpi bowed again.
"I accept."
The First Test: Strength
Madhu led him outside the village to a fallen sal tree. The trunk was massive and partly buried in the earth.
"Lift it," Madhu said.
The villagers whispered among themselves. No child of five could do such a thing.
Pāpi placed his hands on the rough bark. He focused his breath and gathered every bit of strength his body held. His arms shook, his muscles burned, and pain spread through his chest.
Slowly, the tree shifted.
It did not rise high, but it moved enough to break free from the mud.
Pāpi collapsed to his knees afterward, breathing hard, blood seeping from his palms.
Madhu nodded.
"You have strength beyond your years," he said. "Not enough to overpower the world, but enough to protect yourself."
The Second Test: Intelligence
That evening, Madhu placed several baskets of herbs before him.
"These herbs can heal, poison, or kill," Madhu said. "Separate them—not by name, but by purpose."
Pāpi worked through the night. He smelled, touched, and examined each leaf and root. He grouped them by effect and balance—what cured alone, what cured only when combined, and what harmed if misused.
When Madhu saw the final arrangement, he remained silent for a long time.
"You understand consequence," Madhu finally said. "That will save you more than knowledge."
The Third Test: Endurance
The final test was given before dawn.
"Walk to the river and return before sunrise," Madhu said. "Do not eat. Do not speak. Do not ask for help."
The path was long and lonely. The night air was cold, and fatigue weighed heavily on Pāpi's small body. His legs trembled, and hunger gnawed at him.
Several times, he wanted to turn back.
But he remembered Malaka.
He remembered Madhu.
He remembered the neem tree where his life began as neem.
When the first light of dawn appeared, Pāpi returned to the village. His face was pale, his body exhausted, but his steps were steady.
Madhu embraced him tightly, holding him as a grandparent would hold a departing child.
"You have passed," Madhu said.
The villagers gathered when they heard he was leaving. Some brought food for the road. Some touched his head and prayed. With tears of joy and sorrow, Pāpi thanked all of them.
Pāpi bowed to every elder and thanked each family who had fed him, healed him, and treated him as their own. Many cried openly. Some smiled through their tears.
Avi placed dried food into his bundle.
Nath tied a protective thread around his wrist.
Dhanu ruffled his hair and told him not to forget Malaka.
Madhu knelt before Pāpi and placed his hands on the boy's head.
"Walk with humility," he said. "Return only when your heart tells you to."
Pāpi touched Madhu's feet and held them for a moment longer than usual.
Madhu placed both hands on his head.
"Wherever you walk," he said, "remember who you are, and remember why you walk."
Pāpi nodded.
Then he turned and walked away from the village.
No one followed him.
They watched until he disappeared beyond the path.
Chapter End.