The rain had stopped, but the earth still smelled of dust and thunder.Arjanveer Singh sat alone on the rooftop of his family's house, staring at the distant fields where the horizon melted into darkness. Life had become loud—too loud. College pressure, family expectations, endless noise. Everyone told him what to do, but no one asked him what he wanted.
Only one thing still called to him.
A memory.
A sound.
A moment from childhood—when he was ten, standing at Anandpur Sahib during Hola Mohalla. He remembered the thunder of hooves, the swing of blue robes, the stunning presence of the Nihang Singhs riding like warriors from another age. Their dumallas spiraled high, decorated with steel. Their faces calm, fearless.
That day, something inside him had awakened. A spark. A question.
"What makes them so fearless?"
Now, eight years later, the world seemed emptier, yet that memory burned brighter.Arjanveer clasped the kara on his wrist and breathed deeply.
He felt the call again.
Not from the world.
From inside.
The next morning, he walked alone to the village gurdwara. The sun had barely risen, and birds were just beginning to claim the sky. The hukamnama echoed softly inside the hall, every word striking him deeper than it ever had.
When the granthi finished, Arjanveer approached an elderly Singh sitting near the steps, tying a blue dastaar. His presence radiated calm power.
"You look troubled, puttar," the Singh said without even looking up.
Arjanveer hesitated. "I… I don't know what my path is anymore."
The Singh smiled faintly. "Then you already know the answer. The one who seeks the path is already on it."
Arjanveer sat beside him."What makes a warrior fearless?" he asked quietly.
The old Nihang finally looked up—his eyes sharp as steel.
"Fearless is not someone without fear," he replied."Fearless is the one who knows their purpose so clearly that fear has no place left to sit."
Arjanveer felt something shift inside him.
"Come to Anandpur Sahib," the Nihang said."Meet the Dal. See the blue for yourself. If there is a spark in you, the Guru will turn it into fire."
As the Singh walked away, his steps steady and strong, Arjanveer stared at the rising sun.
The call of the blue was louder now.
He couldn't ignore it anymore.
That evening, he packed a small bag, placed his forehead on the Guru Granth Sahib, and whispered:
"Show me who I am meant to be."
Without telling anyone, he stepped out of his house and onto the quiet road leading out of the village.The sky was turning dark, but his path had never felt clearer.
The journey to become fearless had begun.