shan scratched his head in a show of humility, letting the gesture soften the edges of his defeat. "I still have much to learn from you."
Shikshak Yaren stored the Chaturanga set back in his ring with a flick of his wrist, the board dissolving into light, the pieces vanishing into whatever space existed between one moment and the next. "How many kiriyas and mantras have you learned thus far?"
After a moment's thought, Ashan answered calmly, "Three mantras and two kiriyas."
Shikshak Yaren nodded slowly, his pale yellow eyes fixed on some point in the middle distance. "Hmm. You would do well to learn one or two more. But before that..." He paused, and his gaze sharpened, focused. "You asked about 'Bodh,' did you not?"
"Yes, Shikshak."
Yaren took a long breath, measuring his words, letting them form in the space between them before he gave them voice. "If Sadhana is the vessel, then Bodh is the realization that fills it."
The words struck Ashan with unexpected force, settling into the space behind his eyes, expanding, filling the empty places he had not known were there.
Realization that fills the vessel.
Yaren continued, his voice taking on the cadence of a man who had walked this path before, who knew its contours, its pitfalls, its hidden doors. "Bodh is not power—it is realization. It is an epiphany of truth, a profound insight into the nature of Prakirti itself. It is the moment a Sadhaka stops merely doing and starts truly understanding—when they resonate with a hidden rhythm of reality."
Ashan listened, his expression utterly serious, his mind turning over each word, each concept, fitting them into the framework he was building. "So it cannot be taught, only experienced." He let the question form, rise to the surface. "How does one achieve it?"
"Good." A flicker of something that might have been approval crossed Yaren's face. "You grasp the core of it." He leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees, his posture that of a man who had found his ground and was not about to leave it. "As for the 'how'..." He posed his own question. "What is your understanding of how kiriyas and mantras are classified?"
Ashan considered it, turning the knowledge over in his mind. "The higher a Sadhaka's rank, the more powerful the kiriyas and mantras they can learn."
"Close." Yaren's voice was flat, dismissive. "But not the full truth." He paused, and when he spoke again, his words were weighted, deliberate. "Bodh is the spiritual lens through which all powers—mantra, kiriya, or even siddhi—are refined."
Ashan's expression shifted subtly as the pieces clicked into place, the gears of understanding turning. "You mean that through Bodh, even low-ranked mantras can be refined to compete with higher-ranked ones."
That must also be why I still need external materials for [Scrying]. He let the realization settle, heavy and cold. My understanding is incomplete.
"In theory, yes." Yaren's voice was dry, the voice of a man who had seen too many students grasp the concept and then fail to apply it. "Though it is a chore to achieve Bodh for lower-tier techniques. Kiriyas and mantras are indeed classified by rank, but it is Bodh that reveals their true potential." He paused, letting the concept settle, letting it take root. "If Sadhana determines your power rank, then Bodh determines your conceptual rank. It not only grants insight into your techniques but also aids in breaking through to new levels of power."
He straightened, and his voice took on the weight of finality. "To achieve Bodh, you must enter a deep state of Sadhana and practice the chosen kiriya, mantra, or siddhi relentlessly. As I said, it cannot be taught. It can come in a flash during extreme scenarios—a near-death experience, an emotional breakdown, or simply through relentless dedication."
Ah. Ashan let the words settle, turn over, reveal their edges. So it is an endless grind.
"So, I must practice one technique until I have an epiphany about its fundamental nature. That is achieving Bodh."
"Hmm." Yaren nodded slowly. "That is the essence of it. Bodh itself has ranks. It is what allows a lower-ranked Sadhaka to challenge a higher-ranked one."
"Is it possible to achieve Bodh for all the kiriyas and mantras one learns?" Ashan's tone was expectant, his mind already moving ahead to the implications.
Shikshak Yaren stared at him for a long moment, his pale yellow eyes unreadable. "Any particular reason for that question?"
"To be honest..." Ashan let a note of humility enter his voice, the humility of a student who had learned that the path was longer than he had thought. "Achieving Bodh for each individual technique sounds... laborious. I thought there might be a more holistic path."
"There is." Yaren's voice was softer now, almost gentle. "For kiriyas and mantras. A broader understanding can illuminate them in groups."
"And for siddhis?" Ashan's eyes flickered with keen interest, his voice sharpening.
Yaren's expression did not change. "Nope." The word was flat, final, the closing of a door. "Not as far as I know."
Ashan's expression dimmed slightly, the disappointment settling in his chest like a stone dropped into still water.
"That is all for today's lecture." Yaren rose, the movement fluid, unhurried. "You will find more detailed texts in the library. The next time we meet, you should have achieved the Bodh in at least one kiriya or mantra."
"Praise the Lord of Greed!"
"Praise the Lord of Greed!"
Ashan took his leave, exiting the building into the fading light of the afternoon.
Achieving Bodh. He let the thought turn over in his mind, examined it from every angle. He makes it sound like buying vegetables.
He headed straight for the library. The building loomed before him, its windows dark, its door open, its shelves waiting. He stepped inside, and the familiar smell of old paper and incense washed over him.
The one and only Gonner Gezzer was still glued to a book, his face inches from the page, his lips moving silently.
Wait. Ashan's eyes narrowed. The book is different.
His eyes swirled with faint grayish-white hues, pulling the information from the text, letting it flow into his mind.
Oh. He felt his lips twitch. It's the second edition. And the pictures are... quite descriptive.
He moved past the desk to the shelves dedicated to Bodh, passing scrolls for various low-ranked kiriyas and mantras, his fingers trailing along the spines, feeling the worn leather, the cracked bindings.
I should achieve Bodh in one technique first, before learning another. He let the decision settle, felt its weight. Depth over breadth.
He found it: a thick, brownish volume titled "Bodh: The Conceptual Guide." The pages were yellowish with age, the edges soft, the binding cracked in three places. He opened it, let the smell of old knowledge rise up to meet him.
How old is this book? He turned a page, felt it crinkle beneath his fingers. And for that matter, how old are the elders, the instructors... Shikshak Yaren? Sadhana slows aging; the end goal is immortality itself.
His gaze drifted back to Gonner Gezzer, whose cheeks were flushed tomato-red, his left hand moving under the desk in a rhythmic motion that Ashan's eyes refused to focus on. He did not react, did not let his expression change. He merely let his siddhi reach out, touch the surface of the man's life, and glean a single piece of information.
[Age: 87 years old]
Eighty-seven!
He looked at the man again, at the flushed cheeks, the bright eyes, the hand that moved beneath the desk. The geezer didn't look a day past sixty, and he was only Bodnir-ranked.
Ashan brought the book to the desk, its weight heavy in his hands. He leaned forward, his voice low, conspiratorial. "Is it... fun?"
The old man's head snapped up. For a moment, his eyes were wild, unfocused, lost in whatever world he had been inhabiting. Then they sharpened, focused, and a flush spread across his cheeks that had nothing to do with embarrassment.
"Oh! Yeah! Very—" He snapped the book shut, coughing loudly. "What did you say?"
Ashan showed his identification badge, his expression innocent, guileless.
"Three bronze coins!" The old man snatched the badge, scribbled on it with a quill that moved so fast it was almost invisible, and thrust it back at him. He returned to his reading, grumbling under his breath, his cheeks still flushed, his eyes already moving down the page.
Ashan paid and left.
The sun was dying, taking its leave from the sky in a final blaze of orange and red. The clouds caught the light, held it, let it bleed across the horizon like something wounded and beautiful.
He walked down the road to his lonely, humble hut, the book tucked under his arm, the pendant cool against his chest. The weight of the day's lessons pressed against his thoughts, and somewhere in the darkness at the back of his mind, the gray-white whirlpools stirred, waiting for the moment when he would close his eyes and sink into the state of sadhana, and let the knowledge settle into the spaces he had made for it.
The path stretched before him, long and dark and full of things he could not yet see. But he was on it. That was what mattered.