The Hands That Shape Aryavarta

The city of Patliputra, Capital city rose like a stone lotus at the heart of Aryavarta, a marvel sculpted from a thousand years of unity. Along its broad ceremonial avenues, flanked by banyan trees and veined with sacred rivers, stood the grandest building in the nation—Parliament, the citadel of power where Aryavarta's fate was debated and decided.

It was a structure unlike any other—neither palace nor temple but a solemn fusion of both. Colossal marble columns ringed its outer frame, each etched with the laws of the Four Kingdoms in Brahmi script. Its central dome gleamed with golden inlay, shimmering like a sun above the city. At the entrance archway stood the symbol seen once before at the gates of Gaya—four lions, sculpted back to back, each facing a cardinal direction. They represented Ayodhya, Gwalior, Mathura, and ancient Magadh—the original four pillars of Aryavarta, now spiritually united i.e Insignia of Aryavarta. Beneath their paws coiled a wheel—the eternal Dharma Chakra, representing the cycle of fate and duty.

Inside the Parliament's sacred Hall of Confluence, light from colored glass windows poured down in hues of saffron, indigo, and emerald, illuminating every intricate carving on the stone walls. The polished floors reflected the crest of Aryavarta—an enormous inlaid circle of the Four Kingdoms' sigils, joined by interwoven lotus vines.

At the center, beneath a circular canopy carved from sandalwood and copper, sat the Council of Pandits—the four voices of the nation's soul. They are the highest authority of Aryavarta.

Pandit Vedanta Suryavanshi, Councilor of Dharma, sat where the eastern light fell strongest. Draped in unstitched white, his bearing was tranquil—like a monk who had walked both warfields and forests in equal measure. His eyes were soft, yet when they settled on someone, they weighed truth.

To his right, ever alert and rigid, sat Pandit Karunesh Kavachendra, Councilor of Shastra, clothed in grey and crimson, with the insignia of Gwalior stitched into his shoulder sash. His aura was like an unsheathed blade—wary, exacting, and unbending.

Opposite him sat Pandit Ugrasen Malhariksha, Councilor of Jnana, wrapped in faded indigo and draped in a translucent shawl, more spirit than man. He barely blinked, his presence felt like a still pond—deep and ancient. Whispers in the capital claimed he had once meditated for a hundred days without food or sound, speaking only once: to end a war.

Presiding above them, with an eagle's gaze and a statesman's silence, was Pandit Vishvanemya Maurya, Councilor of Rajya, clad in royal blue. His seat stood at the apex of the dais and symbolized Magadh's legacy as the heart of rule. He rarely interrupted. But when he did, no one dared to speak after.

Their attention turned to the chamber floor, where a shaken mayor of Gaya stood bowed in deference. Behind him, stone braziers burned with fragrant ghee and sandalwood, casting long shadows.

"I humbly present grave tidings," the mayor began. "An attack has occurred… at the Gaya monastery."

No one spoke, but something shifted in the air.

"Black-robed assailants. Marked with 'Nine concentric circles'. The symbols of the Navdivyas."

A murmur rose among the inner scribes and guards, but the Pandits did not flinch—save Karunesh, who leaned forward, his knuckles taut.

"The Navdivyas…" he muttered, "So they finally step into sunlight."

"They killed many," the mayor went on, voice trembling. "Only thanks to a wandering yogi from Nalanda, Satya Suryavanshi, were lives saved. He held them off until reinforcements arrived. But I was asked to bring someone else—Dalai Pax, the Elder of the Gaya monastery. He insisted on speaking directly to the Council."

Pandit Vishvanemya Maurya: "Let him in."

Dalai Pax entered with the calm of someone who had already walked through fire.

A silence settled as the Elder stepped beneath the Parliament's dome, his ochre robes stained with blood and ash, the fabric torn where his shoulder had been burned. His long white beard swayed with each step, and though his back was slightly bent, his eyes carried the clarity of one who had seen far beyond this realm.

Two temple guards helped him forward. The mayor bowed and stepped aside, his presence reduced to shadow beside the Elder's glow.

Dalai Pax raised his palms together.

Dalai Pax: "Namaskar, Panditgans. My gratitude for your time."

Pandit Vishvanemya inclined his head slightly. "Speak, Elder."

Dalai Pax: "The monastery is no longer a sanctuary. It was attacked by three black-robed figures—carrying twisted energies and the mark of the Navdivyas."

A sharp silence followed. Only the crackle of ghee flames filled the chamber.

Pandit Karunesh Kavachendra leaned forward, jaw clenched.

Pandit Karunesh Kavachendra: "You're certain?"

Dalai Pax: "I stood before one of them. He was no mere follower. One of the Nine."

Pandit Vedanta Suryavanshi: "So… the legends stir. After all this time."

Pandit Ugrasen Malhariksha closed his eyes, his voice like still water.

Pandit Ugrasen Malhariksha: "What did they seek, Elder?"

Dalai Pax: "They were searching for the Buddh Stone."

A collective breath seemed to be held across the hall. Even the scribes stopped writing.

Pandit Karunesh Kavachendra: "And?"

Dalai Pax: "The Buddh Stone is safe. As long as I am alive, they shall never possess it."

Pandit Vishvanemya Maurya: "And yet they dared to strike at Gaya itself. That is a message."

Dalai Pax: "Which is why I come not only with tidings, but a request."

He turned to face Pandit Karunesh Kavachendra, meeting his piercing gaze without hesitation.

Dalai Pax: "I ask for a contingent of the Yogic Vanguard Force to be stationed at Gaya Monastery. It no longer stands at the edge of danger—it has become its center."

Pandit Karunesh Kavachendra did not reply immediately. His fingers traced the sigil of Gwalior on his shoulder sash, as if weighing responsibility with strategy.

Pandit Karunesh Kavachendra: "You shall have them. Fifty vanguards. Elite-trained. They ride at first light."

Dalai Pax bowed deeply.

Dalai Pax: "May the Dharma shield their path… and all of Aryavarta with it."

Dalai Pax: "The monastery is no longer a sanctuary. It was attacked by three black-robed figures—carrying twisted energies and the mark of the Navdivyas."

A sharp silence followed. Only the crackle of ghee flames filled the chamber.

Pandit Karunesh Kavachendra leaned forward, jaw clenched.

Pandit Karunesh Kavachendra: "You're certain?"

Dalai Pax: "I stood before one of them. He was no mere follower. One of the Nine."

Pandit Vedanta Suryavanshi: "So… the legends stir. After all this time."

Pandit Ugrasen Malhariksha closed his eyes, his voice like still water.

Pandit Ugrasen Malhariksha: "What did they seek, Elder?"

Dalai Pax: "They were searching for the Buddh Stone."

A collective breath seemed to be held across the hall. Even the scribes stopped writing.

Pandit Karunesh Kavachendra: "And?"

Dalai Pax: "The Buddh Stone is safe. As long as he is alive, they shall never possess it."

Pandit Vishvanemya Maurya: "And yet they dared to strike at Gaya itself. That is a message."

Dalai Pax: "Which is why I come not only with tidings, but a request."

He turned to face Pandit Karunesh Kavachendra, meeting his piercing gaze without hesitation.

Dalai Pax: "I ask for a contingent of the Yogic Vanguard Force to be stationed at Gaya Monastery. It no longer stands at the edge of danger—it has become its center."

Pandit Karunesh Kavachendra did not reply immediately. His fingers traced the sigil of Gwalior on his shoulder sash, as if weighing responsibility with strategy.

Pandit Karunesh Kavachendra: "You shall have them. Fifty vanguards. Elite-trained. They ride at first light."

Dalai Pax bowed deeply.

Dalai Pax: "May the Dharma shield their path… and all of Aryavarta with it."

Pandit Vishvanemya Maurya: "Is there anything else you wish to report, Elder?"

Dalai Pax hesitated, then nodded.

Dalai Pax: "Yes. One more matter… urgent, though uncertain."

The Elder's voice shifted—quieter now, yet every syllable hung heavy in the sacred hall.

Dalai Pax: "A young man was present during the attack. A survivor. Not a monk… but something more. He carries with him a ring—one I have only read of in ancient texts His name was Pralay."

He paused.

Dalai Pax: "It bears the mark of the Kalki Stone."

The stillness in the chamber deepened. Even the light filtering through the stained glass seemed to dim.

Dalai Pax: "I believe… it may very well be the Tenth Ansh."

For a long moment, the Council said nothing. The weight of those two words—Tenth Ansh—lingered like a drumbeat in every mind.

Pandit Vedanta Suryavanshi: "Does the boy know what he carries?"

Dalai Pax: "No. Not fully."

Pandit Vishvanemya Maurya gave a slow nod, then raised his hand in formal dismissal.

Pandit Vishvanemya Maurya: "Thank you, Elder. You have served Aryavarta well. May your breath remain steady."

Dalai Pax bowed deeply, then turned and was gently led out by the temple guards.

The moment he left, a different silence filled the Hall of Confluence—one that pulsed with quiet urgency.

Pandit Karunesh Kavachendra: "We have no certain proof. The boy could be anyone. The stone may not be one of the Ten."

Pandit Vedanta Suryavanshi: "Yet if it is… and they attacked Gaya in search of the Buddh Stone… perhaps this was not their only objective."

Pandit Ugrasen Malhariksha: "Then we watch. And we wait."

Pandit Vishvanemya Maurya turned toward one of the silent guards posted along the marble columns—marked by a lotus emblem at his chest.

Pandit Vishvanemya Maurya: "You. Vanguard of the Fifth Unit. You are to go to Nalanda. Enroll as a disciple. Watch over the monastery... and the boy. His name is Pralay."

The guard bowed without a word.

Pandit Vishvanemya Maurya: "Do not interfere. Not unless the shadows return."

Guard: "Sir', and then left.

Pandit Ugrasen Malhariksha: "And what of the Navdivyas?"

Pandit Karunesh Kavachendra: "We anticipated this. After the attack on the monastery, one of our agents was assigned to track them."

He raised a hand. A signal.

A side door opened, and a hooded figure stepped into the hall, silent and composed. Dust clung to his boots, and dried blood marked his sleeve.

Pandit Vishvanemya Maurya: "Speak."

Spy: "We tracked them as far as Mathura. One of our shadows was eliminated—ambushed near the northern ferry. But before contact was lost, we confirmed the group had boarded a private vessel from the port."

Pandit Vedanta Suryavanshi: "Destination?"

Spy: "The Madurai Empire. That is the last trace. No signals since."

A long silence followed.

Pandit Vishvanemya Maurya: "Return to your network. Remain vigilant. Learn more—discreetly. Do not engage."

The spy bowed and vanished through the same archway.

Pandit Vishvanemya Maurya rested back in his seat.

As the chamber quieted once more, the silence was broken by the low, measured voice of Pandit Vedanta Suryavanshi, his white robes catching the golden hue of the filtered light.

Pandit Vedanta Suryavanshi: "We are now certain the Navdivyas have returned from shadow. If they have sought passage to Madurai, should we not send word to Emperor Shantivarman? A formal letter, warning of this threat—if not as alliance, then at least as courtesy?"

The other three Pandits turned toward him. The idea hung in the air like a sacred bell's echo, full of consequence.

Pandit Karunesh Kavachendra narrowed his eyes, tapping the armrest of his seat with a single knuckle.

Pandit Karunesh Kavachendra: "No. We cannot. Not now. Sending such a letter implies two things—first, that the threat is greater than we can contain, and second, that our borders are porous enough for such enemies to escape unchallenged."

Pandit Ugrasen Malhariksha, eyes half-lidded, added in a whispery tone that carried no less weight.

Pandit Ugrasen Malhariksha: "Madurai is no ally. They trade silks with us, but their court harbors disdain. Their Dharma is theirs alone—drawn from a different river. We send them this report, and they will not see danger. They will see weakness."

Pandit Vishvanemya Maurya did not move, but when he spoke, it was final.

Pandit Vishvanemya Maurya: "Let it be clear—Aryavarta does not bleed in the eyes of others. Not for a monastery. Not for whispers in black robes."

His voice echoed across the Hall of Confluence.

Pandit Vishvanemya Maurya (cont.): "We shall handle this within our own shastras. Quietly. Diplomatically. The public must not know of the attack—not yet. Fear spreads faster than fire, and fire consumes truth."

Pandit Vedanta Suryavanshi nodded, though not without a faint sigh.

"So we silence it. As we did during the Ashvamedha riots?"

Pandit Karunesh Kavachendra: "This is not suppression. It is containment. Dharma is not upheld by panic—but by order. The people will know when they must. Not before."

Pandit Ugrasen Malhariksha turned his gaze toward the high windows.

"If Emperor Shantivarman hears of this, it will not be through us."

A long pause passed.

Pandit Vishvanemya Maurya: "Then it is settled. We watch. We protect. And we do not falter."

The Scene shifted -

Satya Suryavanshi: "There it is. Nalanda."

The old yogi stood tall at the ship's edge, his eyes fixed on the skyline forming in the near distance. His ochre robes rippled with the wind, the sleeves frayed from age and journey.

Pralay moved beside him, squinting toward the horizon.

The first towers of Nalanda had begun to rise into view—stone spires emerging from the soft haze of morning mist. Their silhouettes were firm, disciplined, unlike the chaos of cities he had passed through.

Satya Suryavanshi: "What you see ahead, boy, is more than a city. Nalanda is a living being. It breathes through the minds of those who dwell inside it."

Pralay: "It looks… enormous."

Satya Suryavanshi: "It is. But not in the way most empires are. Nalanda does not conquer with armies. It sways with knowledge. That is its force."

The wind shifted. The scent of sandalwood, dry parchment, and a faint trace of incense floated across the deck.

Satya Suryavanshi: "The University lies at the center. Everything else—the homes, the markets, the guest quarters—they orbit it like moons around a planet. Remove the University, and Nalanda would collapse within a season."

He gestured toward a row of structures now becoming clearer—a perimeter of smaller buildings with thatched roofs and clay chimneys.

Satya Suryavanshi: "That is where the townspeople live. Traders, weavers, cooks, and scribes. They don't meditate. They don't learn sutras. But they keep Nalanda alive in other ways. They cook for the monks, trade scrolls, carve statues. Many have never set foot inside the University gates, yet they'd fight to defend it if needed."

Pralay glanced at the shore again. The main gates of the University were beginning to show—arched and flanked by sculpted lions, towering over the docks below. The outer wall of red stone was veined with carvings of ancient scripts and poses of yogic discipline.

Pralay: "How many students live there?"

Satya Suryavanshi: "Thousands. From every corner of Bhoolok-Antar. From Aryavarta itself… but also from Kandahar, Dwarka, Vijaynagar, even Naglok. Some come for dhyan. Others for martial learning. Some to argue logic, some to master poetry."

Pralay: "And they live together?"

Satya Suryavanshi: "They must. Nalanda demands it. Here, status means nothing. Only clarity of purpose matters."

A gull wheeled overhead. Somewhere below deck, sailors shouted as they prepared to dock.

Satya Suryavanshi: "No caste. No empire. No past. That is the code within the University walls. A fisherman's son may debate a prince in the amphitheatre. A mute boy may master mantras louder than thunder."

Pralay was silent.

The towers were fully visible now. Courtyards glinted between them—flashes of bronze bells, white marble floors, and banyan trees centuries old.

Satya Suryavanshi: "When I was a young disciple, I thought I came here to learn. But what I truly did was remember. Nalanda has that power."

Pralay: "What if someone isn't ready?"

Satya Suryavanshi turned to him, eyes calm.

Satya Suryavanshi: "Then Nalanda waits. She does not force. She observes."

The ship drew nearer. Monks in pale robes stood at the dock's edge, some in conversation, others in still meditation. The city behind them pulsed gently—books in hands, sparring circles in motion, chants drifting like thread through morning air.

Satya Suryavanshi: "You carry something ancient, Pralay. Something the world has forgotten how to name. Nalanda will not judge it. But it will reveal it."

The anchor dropped with a heavy splash.

The gangplank descended.

Satya Suryavanshi: "Welcome to Nalanda."