The Night in The Devashram

As Arunika stepped out of the apartment complex, her eyes darted across the street, scanning the surroundings for any sign of Akshay. The cool night air stung her face, mirroring the frustration and anger bubbling inside her. But he was gone—vanished into the shadows as if he'd never been there.

Her fists clenched at her sides, a storm of humiliation and fury brewing within her. How dare he twist her emotions like that? How dare he make her feel this powerless?

"Arunika."

The voice cut through her spiraling thoughts, sharp yet calm. She spun around, her expression a mix of frustration and worry.

There stood Suraj, his presence steady and familiar, but he wasn't alone. Beside him was a man in his thirties, dressed impeccably in a tailored black suit. His composed demeanor and piercing gaze exuded an air of quiet authority.

As he approached, the man joined his hands and bowed slightly. "Pranam," he said, his voice smooth, measured. "I am Satya. I was instructed to escort you back to the Ashram." His words were polite, but his tone betrayed no emotion—only a cold, enigmatic professionalism.

Arunika took a deep breath, steadying herself. She returned Satya's bow with joined hands, her voice softer. "Pranam."

Satya gestured toward a sleek black SUV parked nearby, its dark windows reflecting the dim streetlights. Without another word, he slipped into the driver's seat. Arunika and Suraj climbed into the back, the door closing with a soft click that seemed louder in the tense silence.

As the car pulled away, Arunika stared out the window, the city lights blurring into streaks of gold and white. Her mind churned, replaying Akshay's mocking grin, his taunting words. How had he gotten under her skin so easily? Her anger felt like a weight, pressing down on her chest.

Beside her, Suraj sat silently, his gaze flickering toward her but never lingering. He could feel her anger, but he knew better than to test her patience when she was like this—when her fury was barely contained, ready to spill over at the slightest provocation.

The hum of the engine filled the car, a low, steady sound that did nothing to soothe the storm within Arunika. And though they were moving forward, leaving the apartment complex behind, her thoughts remained tethered to Akshay's infuriating presence—his smirk, his defiance, and the lingering sense of humiliation that she couldn't seem to shake.

The drive led them to a Shiv Temple, majestic in its simplicity. Under the starry canopy of the night, the temple stood like a guardian of the sacred, its towering spire illuminated by modern spotlights that cast long, reverent shadows across the ground. Two gates framed the path ahead—one welcoming devotees into the heart of the temple, and the other, quieter and more enigmatic, leading to the Ashram.

To the world, the Ashram was merely an Anath-Ashram—an orphanage under the temple's care. But whispers spoke of secrets cloaked in devotion, of ancient duties carried out behind its stone walls.

The Ashram itself was a breathtaking fusion of antiquity and modernity. The ancient stone walls, weathered by time, were adorned with soft LED lights that lined the pathways and illuminated its exteriors in a warm, golden glow. Alongside them, rows of flickering diyas cast dancing shadows, their flames a reminder of eternal spirituality amidst the practical brilliance of modernity.

Its layout was meticulously designed, each structure purposeful in its placement. The largest building, grand yet understated, housed guest rooms, a communal dining hall, and a spacious kitchen that served as the beating heart of the Ashram. Here, the Gurus who guided its operations lived and taught. Flanking this were two smaller buildings, one reserved for the male residents and the other for the females, each thoughtfully secluded for privacy and balance. Even the male and female servants had their own designated quarters, a testament to the harmonious precision that governed life in the Ashram.

The car passed through the Ashram gates, the serenity of the compound unfolding before them. The courtyard, paved with smooth, glistening stones, seemed to glow softly under the mingling light of overhead lamps and the diyas that lined its edges. Potted plants and flowering shrubs bordered the pathways, their leaves swaying gently in the cool night breeze, glimmering like emeralds under the starlight.

When the car came to a stop, the distant hum of temple bells and the soft rustling of leaves filled the air. The tranquility was almost tangible, a delicate yet powerful reminder of the sanctity of the space.

Satya stepped out first, his movements precise and composed, as if he were a part of the Ashram's timeless rhythm. He turned, opening the car doors for Arunika and Suraj, who stepped out into the serene ambiance.

Satya joined his hands, his expression unwavering in its calm respect. "With your permission, I'll take my leave now," he said, his voice low and unhurried, as though the very air demanded reverence. "Tomorrow, I will return. Someone has been waiting to meet you."

Arunika's gaze flickered briefly, her frustration still smouldering beneath her calm exterior. She and Suraj nodded, returning Satya's gesture with quiet respect.

As Satya climbed back into the car, the vehicle hummed softly to life and disappeared down the path, its taillights a fleeting trace in the night. Arunika stood in the courtyard, the Ashram's tranquility wrapping around her like a soothing balm, though her mind churned with the memory of Akshay's mocking grin and the unresolved fury it left behind.

For a moment, she simply stood there, letting the night settle around her, the faint whispers of the wind reminding her that even amidst chaos, peace was never too far away.

Just then, a deep voice resonated across the courtyard. "Arunika… Suraj…"

They turned to see a tall, powerfully built man approaching, his presence commanding attention. His hair, flecked with white, and his neatly groomed beard and moustache framed a face marked by wisdom and quiet strength. Clad in a simple white kurta and dhoti with a saffron cloth draped over one shoulder, he seemed the embodiment of both simplicity and authority. The modern lights cast a soft glow over him, but it felt as if the darkness instinctively withdrew from his path. The sound of his wooden sandals, Khadau, echoed softly against the stone courtyard.

"Guru-dev," they said in unison, moving forward to touch his feet in a gesture of reverence and gratitude. This was Acharya Lakshmana, their Guru, the cornerstone of the Ashram's wisdom and discipline.

He placed a hand on their heads one at a time, offering his blessing. Yet, his expression carried a faint trace of displeasure. As they straightened, his stern gaze lingered on them, his presence alone enough to make them feel the weight of their actions.

"Why are you both late?" he asked, his voice calm but heavy with disappointment. "The others have been waiting for you. You know the servants do not begin their meal until they have served the Devangsh. Do not take their devotion for granted."

Arunika and Suraj joined their hands again, bowing their heads in contrition. "Please forgive us, Guru-dev," they murmured in unison. "We lost track of time. But we give you our word, we will not let this mistake be repeated."

Acharya Lakshmana's gaze remained unwavering for a moment before he nodded slightly, though the disapproval in his eyes lingered. "Go and bathe. The others are waiting for you." Without another word, he turned and walked away, his khadau striking a measured rhythm against the stone path as he returned to his quarters.

Arunika and Suraj exchanged a glance, each feeling the weight of their Guru's words. Without further delay, they went their separate ways to prepare themselves. After bathing, they changed into fresh clothes—Arunika opting for a comfortable kurta with leggings and Suraj donning a simple kurta paired with white pajama pants.

Clean and refreshed, they made their way to the dining hall. The warm glow of light bulbs bathed the space in a gentle light, casting soft shadows across the neatly arranged seating. Manash, Bikram, and Vani were already seated, their eyes lifting toward the door as Arunika and Suraj entered.

Without a word, Arunika and Suraj took their places, the quiet tension of the evening still lingering in the air.

The others—Manash, Bikram, and Vani—were already seated on the floor over dining mats, their legs crossed and backs straight. Their expressions were calm, their smiles warm as they spoke to an older servant. Dressed in a simple, dull kurta and white dhoti, he appeared to be in his late forties. The three had been patiently waiting for Arunika and Suraj.

Arunika hurriedly settled beside Vani, while Suraj joined Manash and Bikram. Both cast apologetic looks at the servant. "Please forgive us, Kaka," they said in unison, their tones sincere.

The servant's face softened into a kind smile. "It's okay. I'm just glad you've returned safely."

Arunika and the others returned his smile, nodding gratefully. With a quiet efficiency, Kaka began placing small, low wooden tables—known as chauki—in front of each of them, one by one.

Another servant emerged from the kitchen, her attire a modest, slightly faded saree. She carried large thalis and carefully set one on each chauki. Disappearing momentarily, she returned with a steaming basket of freshly made chapatis and a bowl of aloo bhaji. She distributed the warm food, its aroma filling the air, her movements deliberate and filled with care.

The final trip brought bowls of steaming dal, which she placed before each of them. The food, still hot and fragrant, reflected the love and dedication with which it had been prepared.

All five of them smiled warmly at the servants, their hands coming together in a respectful pranam. Bowing their heads slightly, they said in unison, "Thank you for the meal."

Remaining with their hands joined, they closed their eyes and began a gentle chant of gratitude for the meal. The servants, too, joined their hands, closing their eyes, and immersed themselves in the sacred atmosphere.

"ॐ ब्रह्मार्पणं ब्रह्म हविः

ब्रह्माग्नौ ब्रह्मणा हुतम् |" (Om Brahmarpanam Havir, Brahmagnau Brahmana Hutam…)

Their voices were soft but steady, each word imbued with reverence that seemed to fill the entire room with an aura of peace.

"ब्रह्मैव तेन गन्तव्यं

ब्रह्मकर्मसमाधिना ||" (Brahmaiva Tena Gantavyam, Brahmakarma Samadhina.)

Each line of the mantra flowed seamlessly, like a sacred thread weaving them into a connection with the divine.

"ॐ सह नाववतु |

सह नौ भुनक्तु |" (Om Saha Nau Avatu, Saha Nau Bhunaktu)

The chant resonated in the stillness, its vibrations rippling outward and drawing them closer together in purpose and unity.

"सह वीर्यं करवावहै |

तेजस्विनावधीतमस्तु |

मा विद्विषावहै ||" (Saha Viryam Karavavahai, Tejasvinavadhitamastu, Ma Vidvishavahai.."

Their voices harmonized, transcending the physical act of prayer, dissolving any sense of individuality, and strengthening their collective resolve.

"ॐ शान्तिः शान्तिः शान्तिः ||" (Om Shanti! Shanti! Shanti!!)

With these words, they asked for peace—peace for the body, the mind, and the spirit.

As the mantra concluded, the room settled into a profound silence. The aroma of the warm food lingered around them, a tangible reminder of the blessings they had received. Slowly, they opened their eyes, gazing at their meal with gratitude and reverence.

In that moment, the simple act of sharing a meal transformed into an offering—a ritual of connection, respect, and thankfulness for the nourishment that empowered them to carry out their duties each day.

As they began their meal, Suraj tore a piece of chapati, scooped up some bhaji, and savored each bite slowly. He took a sip of the warm dal, letting its flavors blend and soften the chapati in his mouth.

Manash, Arunika, and Vani also relished their food, each immersed in the comforting tastes. The quiet rhythm of their meal was soothing, but before anyone could finish even their first chapati, a familiar voice broke the silence.

"Aai!"

Bikram called out to the female servant, a big grin lighting up his face. "Aai, can I get some more?" His thali and bowl were already empty, yet his appetite clearly wasn't. The others exchanged amused glances, unsurprised by his speed. Bikram's ability to finish meals faster than anyone else was practically legendary.

The woman, seated nearby and always attentive, smiled warmly. Her voice carried the soft, soothing tone of a mother. "Of course," she replied, rising gracefully. She placed three more chapatis on his thali, added more bhaji, and refilled his bowl with steaming dal.

Everyone returned to their meal, but before long, Bikram's voice rang out again.

"Aai, can I get some more?"

This time, Suraj glanced over, eyebrows raised in disbelief. Bikram had just polished off his seconds, and here he was, ready for thirds.

The servant chuckled, indulging him once more as she added more chapati and bhaji to his plate and refilled his bowl. "Thank you, Aai," Bikram said, his gratitude as genuine as his hunger.

Suraj shook his head, smirking. "Bikram, just how big is your stomach? Forget a regular tiffin—yours is practically the size of a person! Honestly, I think you should just buy a truck to carry your meals around."

Manash, Vani, and Arunika couldn't hold back their laughter, chuckling at Suraj's remark.

"Oh, shut up, Suraj!" Bikram retorted, his voice carrying a hint of annoyance. "It's not my fault you're all tiny and have tiny stomachs."

The servant gently intervened, her tone firm but filled with affection. "Bikram, you shouldn't talk too much while eating."

"But, Aai, he's the one—" Bikram began, trying to defend himself.

"Less talking, more eating," she interrupted, cutting him off with a patient smile.

Suraj grinned. "Yes, Bikram, don't talk too much. You might get even more hungry!"

Bikram opened his mouth to reply but stopped himself. He respected Aai too much to argue further. With a resigned sigh and a playful glare at Suraj, he returned to his meal, deciding to let the teasing slide—for now.

Vani nudged Suraj. "Suraj, stop bothering him and eat your own food," she said, giving him a playful glare.

Suraj chuckled but decided it was best not to push his luck, and they all returned to their meal, the warm atmosphere filling the room.

After finishing their dinner, they decided to head to the guest area for some discussion, and will also wait for the servants until they finished their dinner.

As they stepped out of the dining room, Bikram wrapped an arm snugly around Suraj's neck, pulling him close and pinning him against his side with a mischievous grin. "Gotcha!" he laughed, putting just enough pressure to make Suraj squirm, but leaving room for him to wriggle free if he tried hard enough.

"Hey, I was just joking!" Suraj protested, struggling but clearly no match for Bikram's strength.

"Let me go, okay? I'm sorry!" Suraj pleaded, laughing, but Bikram only tightened his hold. "What's wrong, Suraj? Didn't that meal give you any strength?"

Manash chuckled and egged them on. "Bikram, drag him along with us, yeah?"

"I can walk just fine on my own, thank you." Suraj huffed, trapped in Bikram's grip. "Come on, bro, let me go!"

Grinning, Bikram started to march forward, hauling Suraj along. Vani looked on, amused. "Be careful, Bikram! We kind of need him, you know?"

"Don't worry," Bikram replied with a grin, loosening his grip just enough. "He's safe with me." And with that, Suraj slipped out, rubbing his neck with a mock glare.

"You're all terrible! But lucky for you, I still love you guys," Suraj said, brushing himself off.

"We know you do," Vani teased, nudging him with a playful smile. "Now, let's go. We have things to discuss."

Manash cleared his throat, starting the conversation. "Alright, let's begin with what Vani found out."

Vani nodded, her expression clouded with thought. "I spoke with Riya. She mentioned that Nira and Sristi had plans to meet a singer named Abhinash. But... she wasn't sure if they actually met him."

Manash's eyes widened, a flicker of unease passing across his face. "Are you certain that was the name she mentioned?" His voice trembled slightly, as though the name itself had stirred something deep within him.

"Yes," Vani replied softly, her tone barely audible. "I... I was hoping not to hear it either, but it was there—Abhinash."

Manash turned to Suraj, his gaze intense. "Suraj, you and Arunika visited Sristi's house. Did you notice anything else? Anything that stands out?"

Suraj's face hardened, a shadow crossing his features. "There's something off about her," he said slowly, his voice tight. "Every time we mentioned Nira's name, Sristi panicked. Her entire demeanor shifted. When I touched her... I saw fragments—visions. A dark room. Five shadowy figures. Young men... they all seemed ominous. Their laughter echoed in my mind, mixing with the sound of a girl's voice. She was screaming for help. The voice... it sounded so familiar, but I couldn't place it."

A thick silence filled the room, the weight of Suraj's words hanging heavily in the air. His expression darkened further. "Then, there was another figure—a man cloaked in black, his eyes glowing red. His presence... it was suffocating, dangerous. I couldn't see his face clearly, but his aura... it was dark, threatening."

Manash's face twisted with the effort of holding back something rising within him. The mention of the cloaked figure, Sristi's terror when she saw Akshay at school, the haunting vision of the five men—all of it began to click together in his mind. Could Akshay be the cloaked figure in Suraj's vision? If so, what did that mean? And what about the five men—were they connected to what had happened ten days ago? The name 'Abhinash' hung in the air like an unspoken threat. Had Nira and Sristi really met him? And if so, why hadn't they told anyone? Not even their parents?

Lost in his spiraling thoughts, Manash barely noticed the eyes of his friends upon him. It was Bikram's voice that broke the tension.

"Manash..." Bikram's voice was low, laced with concern. "What's going on? You still look troubled about something." His demeanor carried a hint of genuine worry. "It's been ten days since you and Vani went to see Inspector Saya. Since then, you've asked us to keep an eye on Nira, but nothing's come up. And now, Sristi's acting strange too."

Manash exhaled sharply, his chest tight. The weight of unspoken truths pressed down on him like a heavy stone. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice steady but thick with the burden of what he was about to reveal. "Alright," he said, his words deliberate. "I'll tell you what happened ten days ago."

He took a slow, measured breath, as though steeling himself for the weight of the truth. And then, with a quiet resolve, he began his recount.

~~~~~~~~

The meaning_

{The act of offering is Brahman, the oblation is Brahman,

It is offered by Brahman into the fire of Brahman.

One who sees Brahman in every action

Shall certainly reach Brahman.}

{Om, may He protect us all.

May He nourish us both.

May we both work together with great energy.

May our study be brilliant and effective.

May we never quarrel with each other.

Om, peace! peace! peace!}