Enter Beauty

Chapter 4 – Entering Beauty

One year later…

Time had passed silently, like a soft whisper.

It had been over a year since Bajrang arrived at that hut. The wounds on his body had long healed, but the restlessness within his heart still pricked like a thorn.

Every morning, he was the first to wake. The soft light filtering through the roof, the faint chirping of birds, the scent of burning wood outside — none of this felt new anymore.

But one thing that changed him a little each day… was Aarav.

Aarav — the old man's grandson, or perhaps his disciple. A calm, disciplined boy, skilled in every task. He never spoke much, never showed laziness. He would wake before sunrise, gather firewood, fetch water from the hills, collect medicinal herbs from deep ravines — and then, in the evening, he would quietly train alone.

Bajrang would watch him. Silently.

At first, he was merely an observer — wondering how this boy was so precise, so calm.

But slowly… without being told… Bajrang started walking the same path.

One morning, Aarav went out to gather firewood, and Bajrang followed him.

Sometimes hesitant, sometimes determined.

When Aarav filled water at the stream, Bajrang would carry a small pot too.

When Aarav carefully peeled bark from a tree, Bajrang memorized the movement of his fingers.

He wanted to know — how does this happen?

This discipline, this focus, this peace — where does it come from?

Gradually, he became a shadow following Aarav.

The old man noticed the change — but said nothing. Perhaps he already knew. Perhaps he was waiting for it.

Now Bajrang accompanied Aarav into the forest.

When he made mistakes, Aarav said nothing — he simply demonstrated it again.

And Bajrang — without giving up — kept trying.

Maybe this was his first real training…

Training to live, to learn, to change.

Time is like a mountain — still on the outside, yet constantly transforming within.

After six months, Bajrang began to feel changes inside himself that he'd never imagined.

The waterfall that once scared him — where his hands used to tremble while filling water — he now stood there confidently beside Aarav. Carrying three full pots at once was no longer difficult.

The trees whose bark he once feared to peel, that used to scrape his hands — now, he could strip them cleanly with just two fingers. His fingers no longer soft — they had gained a sharp precision.

Many small tasks that once felt like burdens — he had begun to enjoy them.

Identifying herbs, testing the quality of wood, kindling fire — these were no longer chores, but arts to him.

And the greatest transformation — Aarav was no longer just a companion, but an inspiration.

By the end of that year, Bajrang's expressions, his walk, even his way of thinking had changed.

He was no longer impulsive — a new calmness, a patience had taken root within him. And maybe… a new question:

"Am I changing too fast…?"

Sometimes, standing atop the mountain and looking down into the valley — his past life seemed like a faded shadow.

And behind that shadow, a face still lingered — Kira…

Now that Bajrang had become just as skilled as Aarav, a silent competition had formed between them —

Who would wake earlier?

Who could fill more pots?

Who would pick the most accurate herb?

But this competition had no ego or pride — it was like a sacred fire that refines steel.

---

A Journey into the Village

One morning, the old man said to Bajrang and Aarav:

> "Today, both of you will go to the village. Bring some herbs and a little grain."

Bajrang paused for a moment…

> "Village?"

The word felt as foreign to him as a sudden flash of light in deep darkness.

He asked softly —

> "What is a village?"

The old man smiled and said only —

> "You'll know when you go there."

Bajrang didn't ask any more questions.

The next moment, he and Aarav set out on the mountain trail.

Narrow, winding, rocky paths led them forward…

And when a small house appeared beyond the bushes —

It felt as though a doorway to another world had opened before him.

Crowds… colors… and a forgotten warmth.

The first glimpse of the village took Bajrang's breath away.

So many people.

Children laughing, the bustle of the marketplace, colorful clothes, fragrances floating in the air —

To him, it felt no less than a dreamland.

He darted from one stall to another like a bird flying for the first time in open sky.

Touching toys, stopping at fruit sellers' calls…

Aarav had to keep pulling him back.

> "Bhaiya! Come this way, not there!"

But Bajrang —

He seemed to want to absorb everything into his being.

At one point, when he paused for a moment,

His eyes fell on a mother —

Holding her small child in her arms, gently patting his forehead,

and singing a lullaby in a soft voice.

Bajrang froze.

His eyes were locked on that scene.

He didn't know what it felt like —

To have someone stroke his forehead with love.

The word "mother" existed in his memory —

But it had no image… no emotion.

He asked himself —

"Did someone ever love me like this…?"

---

A Clay Ball… and the Memory of Kira

Just then, a small child came up to him —

Holding a clay ball.

> "Bhaiya, will you play?"

Bajrang didn't answer.

Tears welled up in his eyes.

He remembered Kira…

That little sister, who used to put flowers instead of tea leaves,

and serve him "tea" in tiny glasses made of mud.

Bajrang lowered his head,

Took the ball in his hands,

And for a few moments, played silently with the child.

---

A Rain of Colors… and an Unspoken Smile

In one corner of the market, people were smearing color on their bodies.

Bajrang asked Aarav —

> "What are they doing?"

Aarav laughed and said —

> "Bhaiya, they're celebrating a festival — Holi.

On this day, people apply colors to each other, eat sweets, and enjoy."

For Bajrang, it all seemed like magic.

Just then, some people laughingly ran up to them with color in their hands.

They tried to apply color to Aarav, but he folded his hands and said —

> "Brothers, just apply a tilak — I'm allergic to color."

Everyone laughed and applied a tilak on his forehead.

But Bajrang…

He couldn't say anything.

He didn't know how to react to all of it.

And suddenly —

A shower of colors rained on him.

Red, yellow, blue, pink…

Every color touched not just his body,

but every corner of his heart.

Aarav laughed and said —

> "Bhaiya, now you're drenched in colors!"

Bajrang didn't smile…

But his eyes sparkled.

---

Strange Sights… and Deeper Questions

As they wandered through the village, Bajrang saw many strange things —

A man moving massive boulders with ease,

And others fighting with real swords.

Bajrang whispered to Aarav —

> "These don't seem like normal humans… What are they doing?"

Aarav only smiled and said —

> "Let's go home. I'll explain there."

---

The Return… and an Inner Stirring

The sun had begun to set.

As they climbed the hill back home,

Bajrang looked over his shoulder toward the village.

The village — now wrapped in mist.

The colors… the mother's touch… the child's laughter…

Everything was imprinted in his eyes.

Something inside him had shifted.

An old wall had begun to crack.

He asked himself —

> "If the world is so beautiful…

Then why was I kept away from it?"

He didn't say a word aloud.

But within his silence, hundreds of questions floated.