Chandanpur greeted me with the weariness of a traveler's soul, yet the anticipation of seeking answers fueled my resolve. Standing before Baba Pratap Singh Bhati, I felt a mix of trepidation and hope. His reputation preceded him, a revered figure in these lands, his wisdom sought by many.
Handing him the letter from Arjun Mehta, I expected a moment of respite, a chance to rest my weary bones. But Baba Pratap Singh had other plans. Without even glancing at the missive, he motioned for me to remain standing, his gaze piercing through the layers of fatigue that clung to me.
With a sword at his side, he approached me, his presence commanding respect and attention. His inquiry into my identity was met with a simple response - Rajpot. Yet, his scrutiny did not waver, his eyes boring into mine as if searching for truths hidden beneath the surface.