When I opened my eyes, I saw everyone crying. Hundreds of bodies being burned. The kriya karm of the YODHAs who died in the battle.
I looked sideways. My mother and my big brother were crying too. I was unaware of the feeling and emotion, but still tears dropped from my eyes. I think at that age I didn't know the concept of death.
Suddenly everything became blurry and darkness covered my vision. I saw my big brother and my dad at a distance. I tried to reach them, but their pace was too fast. I couldn't catch them. I was all alone in the darkness. In loneliness.
Then---
I saw light.
In front of me. The feeling of an immense amount of Prana flowing through that light. It was coming from something divine.
When I opened my eyes, I saw flames.
Flames taking shape of Lord Ram.
Not a statue. Not a painting. Him. Made of living fire. His eyes glowed like embers. His hand rose slowly, palm facing me, making a gesture like he was giving me blessings.
BONK!
"HOW LONG ARE YOU GOING TO SLEEP? YOU'LL BE LATE FOR YOUR FIRST DAY AT GURUKUL!"
I woke up with a start, heart pounding. The dream was already fading, but the warmth remained.
"What was that?" I mumbled, confused. "What could be the meaning of that dream? Oh Prabhu... oh Lord Ram... people say you give signs through dreams. What message were you trying to give me?"
BONK! (Second time. Same spot.)
"YOUR FOOD IS GETTING COLD!"
I rubbed my head, stumbling toward the bathroom. Right. First day at Gurukul.
I sat down in the toilet, still half-asleep.
From the kitchen, her voice followed me like a heat-seeking missile. "How many times have I told you to fix your sleeping schedule? Wake up in Brahma muhurat! Your brother-"
I tuned her out.
After my bath, I rushed past the mirror in the hallway. A glimpse-messy bright red hair like flames, just like my father. Red eyes, still heavy with sleep. A face that looked too young. Still no beard. I'm fourteen... bhaiya had at least grown some puberty hair. And me?
I turned, lifted my shirt, and looked back at the mirror. On my back, patterns scattered across my skin like veins. Flames. My power.
"Oh Father," I whispered. "I wish you were here to tell me about these patterns."
"HOW LONG ARE YOU-"
"Yeah, yeah. Don't need to shout."
I did my puja quickly, her voice still drifting in: "Your brother always wakes up on time. And on the other hand, you..."
A few moments later, we stood side by side, hands pressed together. In front of us, a photograph smiled beneath a fresh flower garland. My father. Young. Proud. A YODHA's patterns visible on his arms-aggressive and bold flames, even in the old photo.
"Your first day at Gurukul," my mother said softly. The frying pan voice was gone. This was a different voice. Gentle. "Take his blessings. And become a great YODHA. Like him."
I closed my eyes. I didn't remember my father. Only flashes-a laugh, a hand on my head, warmth. But I prayed anyway.
"I'll try, Father. I'll try."
I left home with a fresh mind, thinking about my new journey. The dream. The Gurukul. The future.
But deep down, I felt like I was forgetting something.
OH SHIT. RIGHT.
I rushed to the central part of our society. When I reached there, I saw Ruchi and Mukund, arms crossed, dead serious faces, waiting for me.
"Do you know how long we've been waiting for you, Rag?" Mukund said, his voice heavy.
"Huh? Oh, for that-"
Ruchi punched me in the back. "Do something about your sleeping habit! We're always late because of you!"
"Enough of both of you talking." Mukund turned and started walking. "We'll get even later. Let's move."
As we walked toward the Gurukul, I noticed Mukund and Ruchi walking ahead of me, talking excitedly. They were really excited for the gurukul. I was lagging behind, lost in thought.
Mukund is always serious and practical. And skinny. Really skinny. I make fun of him for it, even though I'm not exactly fit myself-(average khata pita ghar ka ladka with a small beer belly.)
He has cyan hair and sharp blue eyes behind rectangular glasses. But the most striking thing is the pattern on his forehead: ice spikes arranged like a crown. It suits him. He walks like he's already a king.
His family is old money. Generational YODHAs. Like mine .
Ruchi has warm brown hair and warm brown eyes. She's sweet. Like, genuinely sweet. But cross her, and that sweetness turns dangerous fast. I've learned to stay on her good side.
On both her palms, patterns of flowers bloom-delicate, detailed, like a garden pressed into her skin. Her family is famous for healing. Her father is the royal doctor.
I couldn't have been friends with these two if my father wasn't a-
"Hey, what the hell are you thinking so deeply?" Mukund's voice cut through my thoughts. "We've arrived."
I raised my eyes-and stopped breathing.
The Gurukul stood before us like a living thing. Three concentric circles of stone and light, connected by massive corridors that curved like the spokes of a wheel. I'd heard it was inspired by the Sudarshan Chakra of Vasudev himself. Now I believed it.
In the center, an enormous open ground buzzed with activity. Students both yodhas and normal humaneverywhere-some with patterns blazing on their arms, others with elementals floating beside them, a few just standing and staring like me. Different faces. Different powers. Some I recognized. Most I didn't.
Around us, the gardens were immaculate. Flowers I couldn't name bloomed in perfect rows. And near the entrance, a massive statue stood guard-generational YODHA leader andYODHAs who had fallen in the last great war against the Asuras. The war that happened just a few years ago.
I swallowed.
This is really happening.
As we entered our class, we saw students already sitting there. The teacher was late, so we quickly sat down. Under our desks was Gurukul special tablet which gives all notification of classes and events in the gurukul. Yup.... bhaiya told me about this. I didn't get time to look at everyone-as soon as I raised my eyes, the teacher arrived.
She looked young. Really young. Orange hair, rectangular frameless glasses, carrying a heavy book like it weighed nothing. She didn't have any patterns on her skin.
Maybe she's human?
As she entered, everyone stood up. "Guru Vandanam."
She placed the book on her desk and told everyone to sit.
"Good morning, everyone. I'm Kiara. From today, I'll be your class teacher, your mentor, and your astrology teacher. Does anyone have any doubts? Any kind of doubts?"
Silence.
"Okay. Good. The YODHA Leader wants to say a few words to the new class."
The class started chattering as a big screen lowered from above the blackboard. I'd only ever seen his face on TV. Now he was going to speak to us.
The screen turned on. A man-maybe thirty-with black eyes, black hair, a trimmed beard and mustache.
"Good morning, everyone. Our new little YODHAs. Welcome to the Gurukul. From now on, your journey to become a great YODHA begins. And let me tell you-this journey won't be easy. You'll have to make sacrifices. You'll face mental and physical training like nothing you've experienced before. A YODHA's entire purpose is to defend and protect others, without selfishness. If you have doubts or problems, your gurus will always be there to help and guide you. I bless all of you to become great and mighty YODHAs."
The screen turned off and lifted back up.
"So," Kiara said. "Does anyone have any doubts?"
Still silent.
"Okay. Before we begin the first chapter, I need to tell you something important. As u all have noticed there is a tablet under your desk which will give u all the notification, details and date and timing for your lectures, events in the gurukul and your group notification. It will also contains your detail and your group info. And oh yah.... another thing by the end of your first week, you must join a group in this Gurukul. If you don't, you'll be expelled."
Right. Bhaiya had mentioned something about this.
"There are many groups. Choose based on your preferences and nature. But be careful-once you join, leaving is hard. Your first choice should be Parakastha. They've produced many S and S+ rank YODHAs. The group is run by senior S and S+ students. But their test is hard. Really hard.
"Your last choice should be Rajasa. That's where the noble kids and businessmen's children end up. They don't know anything. They're just here because their parents paid for it.
"There's also a new group-Udayama. Started by an S+ fourth-year student. Their test is basic, so you can join if you want."
She paused.
"Just... do your best. Keep improving your rank."
I already knew the ranking system. They grade everything-academics, physical performance, combat-from S+ down to D-. Students who graduate with S+ to B- become real YODHAs. They fight Asuras. Students with C+ to D- become Rakshaks. They protect normal people, solve disputes, handle the small stuff.
"Just don't end up like the fifth years," Kiara added. "They only have one S-rank student. Look at the fourth years-three S+ ranks, and no one below A-."
"Ma'am, were you talking about us?"
A deep voice came from the classroom door.
I turned.
Too be continued.....