Pitamaha suddenly slapped his forehead, "hey prabhu, I haven't given my precious grandson a name yet! How about we call him Amar? It means he will attain immortality and conquer the cycle of birth and death!"
In his arms, the infant Arjun felt a wave of speechless exasperation. 'Amar? Eternal?'
While the name 'Amar' was certainly decent, his soul, carrying the memory of another life, clung to the name he had known. He wished to keep his own identity.
One of the clan elders, shook his head vehemently. "Hai Ram! That won't do. Every other child in the three worlds is named Amar these days! It's become as common as mud on the ghats. Such a cliché name cannot befit our clan's divine gift, our Kiran, our ray of celestial light!"
The others murmured in agreement. In this age, even the dogs on the street answered to 'Amar' or 'Chiranjeevi'. It was a name too pedestrian for a child who had summoned ten thousand sages.
Just then, a soft, weary voice, drifted from the ornate bed. "Why not... call him Anand?"
All heads turned. Lying amidst silken cushions, her face pale but radiant with a mother's gentle light, was a beautiful woman. This was Arjun's biological mother, Devi Janani, name Angavai Nalini
She continued, "MIt is easier to become a celestial being than to live a life of true happiness. I do not ask for my son to be a Chakravarti or a God. I only pray that he is... Anand. That he knows joy. That his life is filled with bliss."
Her suggestion could not be dismissed lightly. For she was no ordinary woman. She was a Kumari of the powerful clan , another ancient lineage. To ignore her wish would be an insult to a powerful ally.
Pitamaha stern face softened. He looked at his daughter-in-law, then at the child in his arms. A name was a powerful thing. It was a mantra, a destiny.
"Anand... Bliss," he murmured, testing the word. It felt... right. It was a wish, a blessing, a prayer. He nodded, a gentle smile replacing his earlier glee. "Anand it is. My grandson shall be... Anand."
The infant Anand, his new name now formally given, noticed the shift. He looked around the room, at the gathered elders, at his mother's pale face. A realisation struck him.
His father was absent.
An elder, spoke up, his voice low and serious. "The news that Anand is a Poornata Prapt Divya Deha... when it spreads, it will shake the very foundations of loka. You all know there are many forces, many asuras in disguise, who wish to see our clan fall. They will not hesitate to target the child."
pitamaha expression hardened. "You suggest we use a maya to conceal his true nature? To hide the fluctuations of his divine body?"
The elder nodded gravely. It was a prudent move.
A silent understanding was done among them to conceal the nature of the newborn.
Then
The Pitamaha puffed out his chest, his eyes gleaming with a fierce, almost reckless pride. "I intend to help this child with the qualification of the... Shunya Kram."
A stunned silence descended upon the Brahmapuri, so profound that one could hear the celestial Ganga flowing overhead.
"What?" The assembled clan members gasped as one, their faceswere of shock and disbelief.
The concept of 'Kram' was the very bedrock of the clan's hierarchy. To hold a Kram number was to be a recognized heir, one qualified to fight for the exalted position of Kulpati, the clan Patriarch.
Among the tens of thousands of young scions in the vast Chandravanshi clan, only ten individuals, at any given time, held the status of a Kramadhikari. They were the Dash Kram.
These ten were not merely talented; they were the embodiments of a yuga's potential. Each one was a prodigy capable of astounding an era, the top ten arrogants of the clan, warriors and mystics who had proven their worth through trials by fire and spirit.
And above these ten, there was a legend. The Shunya Kram.
Shunya.It meant nothing, and yet, it meant infinite possibilities. It was a number that represented the unmanifested, the potential from which all things arise. Its status was not merely above the first sequence; it transcended the very concept of ranking. It was a place reserved for one who was not just a contender, but a destined sovereign.
An elder woman, the same wise matriarch who had spoken before, stepped forward, her voice tentative but laced with concern. "Pitamaha, this... this is highly irregular. It will cause great dissatisfaction among the other Kramadharis. And you know the elders of the council, the ancestors who watch from the celestial planes... they will be furious. This is not the way things are done."
She was right. Every single one of the kram had bled, struggled, and overcome countless obstacles to earn their place. They had meditated in frozen caves, battled ashuras and rakshas in patal loka, and proven their worth over decades. To simply hand the Shunya Kram, a rank that even they could not aspire to, to a newborn, would be seen as an unforgivable insult.
Pitamaha flicked his sleeve. His voice was calm, but carried the weight of an unshakeable conviction. "Let them be dissatisfied. Let them fume. Let them all come. In the future, when the time is right, they can fight him for it. Let them test their strength against my grandson. And when they have fought, and when they have lost, then the child shall rise and claim the Shunya Kram as his own, by right of conquest."
His tone was not one of a boastful old man, but of a seer who had glimpsed the future. His confidence in Anand was absolute.
In the cradle of his grandfather's arms, the infant Anand heard these words and let out a silent, internal sigh.
'Grandfather's hopes for me are... a bit too high bruh,' he thought wryly. 'It seems the dream of a quiet life is well and truly dead.'
He looked inward, at the golden blood flowing through his veins, at the Prerna system humming softly in the background of his consciousness. He thought of his divine lineage, of the mother who prayed only for his bliss and a damn deadbeat father who wasnt even here.
"It seems. I really need to work hard and cant just be lazy second generation rich guy"