Chapter 7: King Bhoja (Grandfather)

King Sindhuraja, also known as Bhojaraja, was a formidable ruler of the Paramara dynasty during medieval Bharat. His reign was centered in Dhar, situated in present-day Madhya Pradesh. Sindhuraja was celebrated for his prowess, wisdom, and astute leadership.

Upon ascending to the throne, Sindhuraja effectively consolidated his kingdom, expanding its influence and fostering prosperity. He was renowned for his patronage of arts, literature, and culture, cultivating a vibrant intellectual and artistic milieu.

Sindhuraja was blessed with nine children:

• KalaBhoja

• GundharBhoja

• DevaBhoja

• VasuBhoja

• SuraBhoja

• UdaBhoja

• DantaBhoja

• VidarBhoja

• VallaBhoja (his daughter)

Each of his children played a significant role in the kingdom's governance and cultural enrichment under his enlightened rule.

Kaal, the youngest among his siblings, was renowned for his immense contributions to arts and literature. A polymath, he authored several significant works across various fields:

• Samarangana Sutradhara: A treatise on architecture.

• Rajamartanda: A commentary on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali.

• Siddhanta Sangraha: A work on astronomy.

• Shringara Prakasha: A treatise on poetics and rhetoric.

Kaal's father felt blessed to have him. None of his other children were capable of achieving such knowledge and skills at his age. Kaal was also the favorite of everyone in his family.

One evening, Kaal approached his grandfather and said, "Grandfather, could you please tell me a story?"

"Not today, Kaal. I will tell you one tomorrow." His grandfather replied looking at him, his voice gentle.

Persisting, Kaal, "It's been five days, Grandfather. Yesterday you gave me the same excuse. Today, you must tell me at least one story. Please, Grandfather, pleaseeee!"

Seeing Kaal's eagerness, his grandfather relented, "Alright, Kaal, I will tell you a story, but on one condition."

"What condition?"

His grandfather smile, "You have to give me a back massage first."

"Of course, Grandfather. Let's start alreadyyyy."

As they walked through the garden, they made their way to the backyard and sat on a bench. His grandfather began, but first, he asked kaal, "Before I start, answer me this: What do you want to be when you grow up? And you are now six years old, correct?"

Kaal sighed, "Yes, Grandfather, I am six now. You asked me the same question a week ago. You're really getting old, Grandfather." annoyed face and replied.

His grandfather chuckled, "What else can you expect from me? It's the one thing I can do better than anything else. Sigh, This generation kids... By the way, you haven't answered my question."

"Oh yes, I want to be a king like you and Father. I'll help our people and become the greatest king."

"Ah, I see," his grandfather nodded approvingly.

"Grandfather, can you please stop with the questions and start the story already?" Kaal pleaded.

"Okay, okay, fine. Do you know the demon king Ravana?"

Kaal nodded, "Yes, he was a cruel king. I don't know much about him, but I know of him."

"Alright, then I'll tell you a story about him. In 7000 BC..."

After that, his grandfather narrated the entire story of Ravana and the seven hidden doors.

An hour later, he concluded,

"That's it. And no one knows where the keys are."

"So no one has tried to find the keys and open the doors?" Kaal asked curiously.

"I don't know, and I don't think anyone can open them because we have one of those keys,"

"Whoaa!, really? I want to see it!"

"Yes, it's in my room. I'll show you later,"

"Grandfather, does that place still exist?"

"Yes, the place and the temple still exist,"

"Can we go there? I want to see it, please, grandfather!"

His grandfather responded gently, "No, my child, we can't go there."

"Why not? I really want to see it,"

"No, we can't go there." His grandfather remained firm

"But why not? What's the reason?" Kaal persisted.

Kaal's father interjected, "Because if we go there, Ravana will kill us. Rooooaaaarrr!"

"Father, stop behaving like a child and trying to scare me. I'm not a kid anymore," Kaal retorted.

Both shocked and impressed, his father replied, "Oh, I see. Let me show you who the real kid is! Did you call me a kid, huh? I'm a kid?"

"Haha hahaha, stop it, fatherrrr! Stop hahaha! I'm just kidding! Please stop tickling me, father! I'm sorry hahaha! Haha hahaha!" Kaal pleaded between fits of laughter.

"How long have you been here?" His grandfather looked at his son and asked.

"Father had been standing behind you from the very beginning, quietly listening to the entire story alongside me."

His grandfather nodded sagely, "Ah, I understand."

Suddenly, Kaal's father interjected, "Kaal, I bring something for you."

"Give it to me! Where is it?" Kaal eagerly responded.

"It's with your mother. Hurry, before your brothers take it," his father instructed.

"Ahhhhh! Father, you should have told me sooner," Kaal exclaimed and heading towards the house.

"Apologies, my mistake," his father admitted with a forced smile.

Kaal dashed towards his mother. His father cautioned, "Don't run too fast, you might fall!"

"I know, I'm not a kid anymore!" Kaal shouted back.

"Indeed, you're growing up." His father whispered softly,

"Kids grow up so quickly," Kaal's grandfather said with a genuine smile.

"Yeah, I can't believe a few years ago I was holding him in my arms," Sindhuraj replied with shocking smile and happiness. "By the way, Father, why can't we go to that temple? What is the reason?"

"I don't know either. I've been searching for the truth all this time, but I haven't uncovered a single piece of information," he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration and disappointment. His grip tightened around the handle of his walking stick, the knuckles of his hand whitening with the strain.

"I know one day we will find out the truth." Sindhuraj placed his hand on his father's shoulder in sympathy.

"Yeah, one day," Sindhuraj's father whispered, his eyes turning numb with emotion.

Sindhuraj stood up from the bench and looked up at thesky. "Even clouds can't hold the water forever; eventually, it has to fall." He turned to his father, his gaze steady. "This is not only true for clouds." His father was looking at him.

His father's eyes welled up, reflecting the weight of unspoken words and the shared burden of their quest for the truth.

His father looked at sky too and said, "think like this a person trying to keep a secret as a cloudy sky that never clears. This person acts like a weather magician who constantly conjures clouds to keep the sky hidden. They create distractions, like sudden gusts of wind or patches of fog, to ensure that the clear sky—the truth—remains concealed.

To maintain this illusion, the person might continuously add more layers of clouds, making the sky seem perpetually overcast. They might even create thunder and lightning, dramatic events that draw attention away from the possibility of the sky ever clearing up."

In essence, this person is committed to ensuring that the sky remains clouded, never allowing the sun to break through and reveal the truth. They put in significant effort to maintain this facade, hoping that others will never see beyond the clouds to the clear sky that lies beneath."

Sindhuraj smiled as he walked towards the house, the leaves rustling under his feet. "How long are you going to stay out there? It's going to rain soon!" he called out loudly to his father.

His father glanced up, a shadow crossing his face. "Sorry, son," he whispered softly, his eyes fixed on the ground. "But that person... is none other than me. It's not that I don't want to tell you the truth... I just can't. Because you're not worthy of it." His voice was tinged with disappointment and sadness.

Seven years had passed since Sindhuraja ascended the throne, guiding his kingdom through an era of unparalleled prosperity. In these years, the Bhoja family name had become synonymous with power and wisdom, whispered with reverence in every corner of the land. The kingdom's victories in countless wars had not only expanded their territory but had also earned them the respect and fear of neighboring realms. Few dared to challenge the might of Sindhuraja, and even fewer entertained the thought of war against the Bhoja dynasty.

The king's children, once innocent and carefree, had grown into formidable figures in their own right. The eldest had proven their mettle on the battlefield, emerging as legendary warriors. Others had immersed themselves in the healing arts, their knowledge rivaling that of the finest physicians across the lands. Among them, however, one child stood out—a prodigy who eclipsed even the most gifted minds of his generation.

Kaal, the youngest of Sindhuraja's offspring, had become a beacon of brilliance in the kingdom. At just thirteen, his intellect was unparalleled, outshining scholars and warriors alike. Whether mastering the sword, delving into the intricacies of governance, or unlocking the secrets of medicine, Kaal excelled with an ease that left others in awe. The kingdom watched in admiration as the boy grew, each achievement deepening their pride in the young prince who had come to embody the very essence of greatness.

His older siblings adored him, not with the envy often found in royal families, but with genuine admiration. They had taught him all they knew, guiding him through their own experiences, and Kaal, in turn, had absorbed every lesson, every piece of wisdom, surpassing their accomplishments with a grace that belied his age.

One serene morning, Sindhuraja's father sat in his balcony, a place where the view stretched far beyond the palace walls, where the sky met the earth in a soft embrace. The air was cool, the scent of jasmine mingling with the warmth of his tea as he sipped thoughtfully, savoring the ripe sweetness of a peach. His gaze was drawn to the clouds, drifting lazily across the horizon, their soft edges glowing in the morning light. A subtle smile touched his lips as he whispered to himself, "Now, it is time."

The afternoon (early evening) sun bathed the training yard in a warm glow, casting long shadows on the ground. Birds chirped from the nearby trees, their melodies mixing with the gentle breeze that rustled the leaves. In the middle of the yard, two figures faced each other, wooden swords in hand.

"Ready, little brother?" Vidar asked, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. At 25 years old, he was the pride of the family, his skill with the sword unmatched by most.

Across from him stood 13-year-old Kaal, his eyes sparkling with excitement. He bounced on the balls of his feet, eager to begin. "I've been waiting for this all day!" Kaal exclaimed, gripping his practice sword tightly. His energy was infectious, and it brought a smile to Vidar's face.

"Alright then, let's see what you've got!" Vidar said, lowering into a ready stance.

Kaal didn't need any more encouragement. With a wide grin, he charged forward, his sword slicing through the air in a quick, playful strike aimed at Vidar's side.

Vidar easily deflected the blow with a flick of his wrist, but he couldn't help but chuckle at the enthusiasm in his brother's attack. "Not bad! But you'll need to do better than that," he teased, his eyes gleaming with brotherly affection.

Kaal laughed, undeterred. "I'm just getting started!" He quickly adjusted his stance, stepping back before launching into a series of rapid strikes, each one more confident than the last.

Vidar parried each blow with ease, but he noticed something different this time. Kaal's movements were smoother, more controlled. Each swing was calculated, a sign that his training was paying off. Vidar's grin widened as he stepped up his own pace, meeting Kaal's strikes with more force.

"You're getting faster, Kaal," Vidar said, genuinely impressed as he blocked another well-aimed strike. "Who taught you that last move?"

Kaal beamed with pride, stepping back to catch his breath. "I've been practicing on my own! I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, consider me surprised!" Vidar replied with a chuckle. "But don't think I'm going easy on you just because you're my little brother."

"I wouldn't want it any other way!" Kaal said, his heart swelling with joy at the praise. Without missing a beat, he darted forward again, this time feinting to the left before swinging his sword toward Vidar's right side.

Vidar's eyes twinkled as he saw through the feint, sidestepping the blow and gently tapping Kaal on the shoulder with the flat of his blade. "Gotcha!"

Kaal stumbled slightly but quickly regained his balance, laughing all the while. "Not fair, Vidar! You're too quick!"

"You'll get there, Kaal. Just keep practicing," Vidar said, genuinely enjoying the playful sparring. "You've got the spirit, and that's half the battle."

They continued exchanging blows, each strike met with a smile or a laugh. Vidar noticed how Kaal's confidence grew with every clash of their swords, his movements becoming more fluid and natural. It was a far cry from the hesitant, unsure swings of their first training sessions.

After a particularly clever move from Kaal that forced Vidar to step back, the older brother couldn't help but burst out laughing. "You almost got me with that one! Seriously, Kaal, you're getting really good."

Kaal's face lit up with happiness, his earlier nervousness completely gone. "Really? Do you mean it?"

"Of course I do!" Vidar replied, reaching out to ruffle Kaal's hair affectionately. "At this rate, you'll be challenging me for real in no time."

Kaal puffed out his chest proudly, feeling like he was on top of the world. "I can't wait for that day! But until then… one more round?"

Vidar chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Alright, one more round. But don't expect me to go easy on you this time!"

"Bring it on!" Kaal shouted, a wide grin on his face as he raised his sword once more.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the training ground, the rhythmic clashing of swords rang out between the two brothers. Vidar, with his practiced skill, guided Kaal through the motions, his movements deliberate yet fluid. The younger boy's brow furrowed in concentration as he matched his brother's pace, the tension in his muscles reflecting his determination.

Suddenly, a soft footfall interrupted their focus. A servant approached, his head bowed slightly in deference. "Prince Kaal," he addressed with respectful formality, his tone measured and calm.

Both brothers turned towards the servant, their expressions curious yet cautious. "Yes?" Kaal responded, a hint of surprise in his voice as he lowered his practice sword.

"The Great King wishes to see you," the servant announced, his words carrying an air of solemnity.

Kaal's face fell slightly, disappointment flashing in his eyes. He glanced up at Vidar, his youthful eagerness momentarily overshadowed by the call of duty. "What could Grandfather want now? I was hoping we could train a bit longer," he confessed, his voice tinged with frustration.

Vidar, sensing his brother's reluctance, knelt down to meet him at eye level. Placing a reassuring hand on Kaal's shoulder, he smiled warmly. "Don't worry, little brother. We'll continue our training soon. But when Grandfather calls, it's usually for something important. You should go see him. And next time, I won't hold back, so be prepared," he added, his tone both teasing and encouraging.

A determined spark reignited in Kaal's eyes. "You'll see, next time I'll defeat you!" he declared, his youthful pride evident as he straightened his back, ready to face whatever awaited him.

Vidar watched him go, his gaze lingering on Kaal's retreating figure. A fond smile played on his lips, his heart swelling with pride for the boy who would one day share the burden of their legacy.

Kaal walked briskly through the grand corridors of the palace, the book he had been reading still clutched in his hand. The halls echoed with his footsteps, the cool marble beneath his feet a stark contrast to the warmth of the sun outside. As he approached the balcony where his grandfather often stood, a sense of anticipation mixed with unease settled in his chest.

The Great King, his grandfather, stood with his back to Kaal, gazing out at the sprawling landscape beyond the palace walls. The sky, painted with hues of orange and pink, reflected off the serene lake below, creating a picture of tranquil beauty. Yet, there was a tension in the air, a weight that pressed down on Kaal as he approached.

"Grandfather," Kaal called out, his voice breaking the silence. He placed his book on a nearby teapoy, his earlier curiosity now tinged with concern. The older man turned slowly, his face etched with lines of wisdom and experience. In his hand, he held a trident-shaped key, its metal gleaming ominously in the fading light.

Kaal's curiosity deepened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the key. "Why did you call me? What do you want to talk about?" he asked, trying to keep his tone casual, though his heart pounded in his chest.

The King stepped closer, his expression grave as he extended the key towards Kaal. His hand, steady and deliberate, rested on the boy's shoulder, his eyes locking onto Kaal's with an intensity that made him stand straighter.

"Today," the King began, his voice low and heavy with meaning, "I will tell you the truth behind this key, the Nageshwar Temple, and the Curse of the Bhoja Family."

Kaal's breath hitched at the mention of the curse, his mind racing with questions. The gravity of his grandfather's words hung in the air, a prelude to the dark secrets that were about to unfold.

"The Curse Of Bhoja Family?"