Samara

From his guru, Onish heard a captivating story about King Janak, the renowned ruler of Mithila (present-day Nepal). Known as a philomath king, Janak's love for wisdom was legendary, encapsulated in the profound sukti inscribed at the entrance gate of his capital: "विद्वत्वं च नृपत्वं च न एव तुल्ये कदाचन्। स्वदेशे पूज्यते राजा विद्वान् सर्वत्र पूज्यते।"

Meaning: Intelligence and kingship can never be equated. A king is respected in his own land, but a wise man is revered everywhere.

This wisdom shone through in a tale where Janak allowed a vidushi—a bluestocking—to possess his body, challenging wise men in debates. Vidhushi, through Janak, defeated many scholars of Vedanta until a perceptive Brahmin—a seeker of knowledge and liberation—noticed something amiss. With his spiritual insight, he forced the learned woman out of Janak's body.

This story enthralled the young Onish. He dreamed of experiencing such an adventure himself, though his guru warned him sternly. "Possessing a lifeless body is one thing," the guru had said, "but possessing a living being can be catastrophic." His guru, gifted with para chitta adi abhigynata—the power to know others' minds—told him another tale. This one was about Machhendranath, the great tantric and guru of Gorakhnath, who once possessed a he-goat—only to be trapped by a tantric woman. It took two years for Gorakhnath to track down and rescue his master, whose soul was tethered to the goat's body in a faraway village.

Despite the warnings, Onish's fascination persisted. Perhaps it was this curiosity that held him back while his seniors, after enlightenment, transcended to Brahmloka.

But fate left Onish little choice. When the moment came, he broke his guru's promise. Entering the boy's body, he marveled at the sturdy nadis—channels of life energy. His pranic energy surged like water through a breached dam. Yet, something felt off. There was no resistance. Onish ascended through the chakras, marking them with his consciousness, until he reached the heart chakra—where the soul resided.

He found the boy's soul absent, replaced by a swarm of glowing specks. Like crazed bees, they rushed at him. Ethereal chains shackled him, immobilizing his subtle body. Memories not his own flooded his consciousness: a crying woman, a blue-skinned baby. Her voice rang clear: "Remember, your home is Samara..."

A light brighter than the sun engulfed him, and Onish's awareness faded.

When he awoke, a woman's tearful, joyous face greeted him. "Oman, Oman! Come quickly! Our son has woken up!" she cried.

As the room filled with people—a man with graying temples and a girl with a fluttering dove above her shoulder—Onish felt their love, though he couldn't place them. To protect himself, he resolved to play the role of their son. Smiling brightly, he began his new journey as the young Lord of Minaak.

Once alone, Onish assessed his situation. Sitting in padmasana on a woolen scarf, he turned his awareness inward. His soul bore faint cracks, remnants of the ethereal shackles. The chakras, though intact, were dormant. He was no longer a yogi but a mortal entangled in karma.

Later, a gentle kiss roused him. His "mother" beamed down at him. "Haven't you slept enough in three years? Everyone's waiting for you in the dining hall."

He followed her, touched by her warmth. Respecting her as the origin of this body, he touched her feet—a ritual for awakening kundalini. She laughed, puzzled but pleased.

The dining hall buzzed with activity. Oman, his "father," addressed the assembly: "By the Spirit's grace, my son Ishit has defeated his strange illness. But we must prepare for potential war. Rumors of Gandhar's aggression cannot be ignored."

The announcement stirred the crowd. Oman's steadfastness reassured them, though dissent lingered. Onish, meanwhile, grappled with his place in this world. His feigned enthusiasm for vegan dishes earned Oman's teasing approval. Yet, Onish couldn't escape the web of karma that bound him to these people.

As the feast ended, a cousin congratulated him. "Brave cousin, you've returned to us," the boy said warmly. Onish smiled, hiding the storm within.

With each passing moment, the fallen yogi's resolve grew: to mend his soul, awaken his chakras, and find his path back to liberation. But for now, he was Ishit, the young Lord of Minaak, navigating a life he never chose but could no longer escape.