Chapter 25: I'm back.
The night passed with the joyful laughter of children and the gentle smiles of parents. The air was filled with warmth, as if even the stars above watched over the small village with quiet affection. It was a simple life—one without luxury, yet not without happiness.
The next day, from dawn to afternoon, everyone returned to their routines. The elders worked, the children followed, and learning came not from books, but from life itself. They learned from their parents, their neighbors, and from nature—through observation, repetition, and survival.
In that era, proper education was a privilege reserved only for the wealthy—those who possessed both money and high caste. For the poor and those of lower caste, knowledge was passed down only by word of mouth. Though this way of learning lacked depth and refinement, it still ensured that they did not remain completely ignorant. They learned enough to live, enough to endure.
That afternoon, near the open fields, under the shade of a large, ancient tree, sat a lone figure.
It was Papi—Dhrubo.
He sat cross-legged, his breathing slow and steady, his mind immersed in dhyana.
Since coming to this world, the only place he could truly call home was Madhu's house. It was where he had lived for five years. It was where he had learned medicine, herbs, and the ways of healing. But more than that, it was where he had come to understand something he had long forgotten.
That there were people in this world who cared for him.
People who would feel pain if he were hurt.
People who would cry for him if he were to die someday.
And… there were people who would also feel joy in his success.
That thought alone brought a faint, almost imperceptible softness to his otherwise calm expression.
Every night, before entering dhyana, he thought of them. Their faces, their voices, their presence—it grounded him. It reminded him that he was no longer alone.
Although practicing dhyana did not remove the need for sleep—except for great sages like maharishis—Dhrubo was not ordinary. His body had been created by Mahadeva himself, and with the boon of life-energy manipulation flowing within him, he could remain awake or live without consuming food or water for months without suffering any harm.
Dhyana was more than meditation.
It was the union of body and soul.
It allowed one to understand themselves at a deeper level, to refine control over body, to sharpen awareness. Under Madhu's guidance, Dhrubo had learned its foundation. But he had gone beyond.
He discovered things Madhu himself did not know.
That dhyana could accelerate the healing of wounds. That it could restore energy at an unnatural speed. That it could make the mind clearer, sharper—free from hesitation and doubt.
These realizations did not come easily. They were earned through endless hours of silence and focus.
As he remained in that deep trance, unmoving like a statue, a boy noticed him from afar.
The boy approached quietly, careful not to disturb him. There was curiosity in his eyes, but also something deeper—something restless.
He sat down a short distance away, mimicking Dhrubo's posture. Crossing his legs, straightening his back, he closed his eyes and tried to enter dhyana.
But the moment he did, his mind betrayed him.
Thoughts flooded in. Unwanted- Uncontrolled. They came one after another.
Those thoughts varied—He saw people dressed in fine clothes, looking down on him with contempt. Their voices echoed in his mind—cold, sharp, unforgiving.
" Calling him the son of a low caste… voices declaring that Shudras could not learn weapons, could not even touch them"
"Know your place."
Then came harsher words.
"Their duty is to serve—to pull chariots, to obey, nothing more."
His breathing became uneven.
The images shifted.
He saw himself laughing with friends, running through fields, free and unburdened. He saw his parents—their tired yet loving faces.
And then… a figure appeared.
Blurred. Unclear. Yet powerful.
A presence that stood tall before him.
Someone who would teach him. Guide him. A master.
His heart trembled.
But the moment he tried to hold onto that image, it shattered.
What replaced it was a crushing wave of emotion—anger, pain, helplessness.
His body tensed. His fists clenched.
He was drowning.
And then—
A hand rested gently on his shoulder.
The storm within him stilled.
"Mitra, Vasusen… when did you arrive?"
The boy—Vasusen—opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as if waking from a nightmare. He looked up at Dhrubo, a mix of embarrassment and relief crossing his face.
"I… I just arrived not long ago," he said hesitantly.
He remembered Dhrubo's words—only with an open and calm mind can one enter dhyana. Yet no matter how many times he tried, he failed. His thoughts only grew louder, heavier.
Feeling awkward, he quickly tried to change the subject.
"By the way, Mitra… did you know?" he said, forcing a small smile. "There's going to be a competition a month from now."
"I haven't heard of it," Dhrubo replied. "Tell me more about it."
Vasusen's face brightened instantly, his earlier discomfort fading.
"It's an archery competition," he said with growing excitement. "It's being organized by a merchant named Niranda Moda. They're trying to find the best archer in all of Anga Rajya."
He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing something important.
"But that's not all. The merchant also wants a teacher for his youngest son—Raghav Moda. So whoever wins… they'll be asked to teach him."
Dhrubo listened quietly. Then asked "And if they don't want to teach?" Vasusen continued, "they can just take the prize and leave."
He paused for a moment, then grinned.
"Oh! You don't know about the first prize, right?"
Dhrubo looked at him, waiting.
"The first prize is twenty small gold coins…and a gold-tipped arrow."
[ some knowledge that aren't historical.
10 sicals = 1 copper coin
10 copper coins = 1 silver soin
50 silver coins = 1 small gold coin
5 small gold coins = 1 big gold coin
A chariot only earns about 3 copper coins. They save 1 coin for safekeep & buys 14 sicals worth of food for month. About 25kilo rice cost 57% of food expense.
Question for readers : how much rice can be bought with 20 s gold conis? 😊]