Teacher and student
Chapter: teacher and student
The night air was unusually cold. Outside the hut, the firewood was burning gently, the embers slowly fading into red glow. Above, the stars shimmered in the sky like a divine assembly — silent, yet watchful.
The old man sat by the fire, wrapped in his worn-out shawl. His eyes searched the flames for something unseen. Beside him sat Aarav — as always, quiet but alert.
And tonight… Bajrang was sitting with them too.
For the first time.
Three people around the same fire — three ages, three stories… and one night.
The old man broke the silence, his voice calm and unwavering — the kind that only comes from experience.
> "So, how did you find the village, son?"
Bajrang looked at the fire for a few moments, then said,
> "It was different… noisy… but I liked it."
Aarav laughed,
> "You were like a little child there, Bhaiya! You looked at everything as if you were seeing the sun for the first time."
Bajrang tried to smile — faintly, awkwardly.
The old man stayed silent for a while. Then he took a sip from his clay cup and said—
> "Everyone deserves a chance to see the world.
But some people… are kept away from it since birth.
Not to protect them from the world — but from the fear of their own people."
Bajrang's face stiffened. He didn't say anything, but his fingers slowly curled into fists.
Aarav noticed it, then said,
> "Bhaiya, remember what you asked in the village… about those people who didn't seem human?"
Bajrang nodded.
> "Yes. Who were they? They were so powerful."
This time, the old man answered instead of Aarav.
> "They are practitioners of Ranakala.
They have risen beyond ordinary humans."
Bajrang looked at him, eyes full of questions.
The old man paused, weighing his words carefully.
> "Ranakala isn't just a fighting style, my son… it's a path.
A way of life where the body, mind, and spirit are all forged in fire.
Whoever truly walks this path… is no longer ordinary.
Their walk, their gaze, even their silence — everything transforms.
So much so… that sometimes they no longer seem human at all."
Bajrang asked quietly,
> "But Baba, why go through such pain?"
The old man's voice grew heavier.
> "Because they seek power."
He took a deep breath.
> "Bajrang, you might not realize it yet…
But in this world — power is everything."
His voice was soft, but the weight of the words was like a stone sinking into a deep well.
> "The one who has power — is heard.
The one who has power — is respected.
Everyone else… either obeys, or gets erased."
Silence.
But this time, the fire wasn't burning outside — it was blazing inside Bajrang.
A feeling that was once just unease… now began to take shape.
Moments passed. Then, Bajrang spoke — softly, but clearly:
> "Baba… can I also become a Ranakala practitioner?"
The old man remained quiet for a moment. Then a faint spark lit in his eyes.
> "You want to become one too?" he asked.
Bajrang didn't look away.
> "You said — 'you too'.
That means… someone came before me, didn't they?"
The old man said nothing.
His eyes slowly moved from Bajrang… to Aarav — calm, but full of hidden meaning.
Bajrang followed his gaze… and in that moment —
He understood everything.
He looked at Aarav,
who remained quiet — but his eyes were lowered, as if hiding something.
The old man stood up.
He looked toward the hut and said in a deep voice:
> "Go to sleep.
We'll talk in the morning."
He picked up his old wooden staff and walked away,
leaving behind two faces…
who now shared more than just brotherhood — they shared a hidden truth.
---
The Next Morning
A soft golden light slipped through the cracks of the hut. Dust on the wooden floor shimmered like gold in the morning sun.
Bajrang rose slowly. His body felt better now. The wounds were still there, but no longer bleeding. The bandage on his shoulder, the slight strain in his legs — had become familiar companions.
He looked out the window.
Outside, the peaceful landscape awaited — the morning mist had cleared with the sun. Aarav was out in the field, gathering firewood. Thin but swift.
A little further away, the old man sat cross-legged — his eyes closed in deep meditation. Next to him, a small clay bowl released a light herbal smoke.
This had become a routine.
Every day, Aarav would rise early — fetch wood, gather leaves for the animals, fill water from the mountain stream.
The old man would meditate, then spend his afternoon grinding herbs or reading ancient, torn books — so old their pages looked a hundred years old.
But today… the air felt different.
Once their morning chores were done, Bajrang and Aarav returned to the hut.
The old man was standing outside, his gaze fixed at the distant hills.
When they arrived, he looked at them and said softly:
> "Come with me."
Aarav was surprised, but didn't question. Bajrang simply nodded.
The old man began walking.
They followed — through a narrow, rocky path.
They reached the same waterfall where they came daily for water…
But this time, the old man didn't stop.
He turned toward the thick, untraveled woods — where no path was visible.
Bajrang and Aarav hesitated, then silently followed.
Behind the shrubs… a hidden trail opened, leading them to a massive stone structure — like a forgotten gate.
Bajrang gasped.
> "All this time we came here… and never saw this?"
Even Aarav looked shocked.
The old man, without turning, said quietly:
> "Some paths only open…
when the eye within is ready to see."
---
Inside the Cave
They entered the dark cave.
A gust of cold air hit their faces. A faint flame flickered within — like a trembling torch.
The walls were lined with ancient tools, metal idols, and meditating stone figures.
Everything seemed frozen in time.
At the far end of the cave, a single torch lit up an enormous stone wall — carved with strange symbols.
Silent… yet telling stories.
The old man stood before the wall, eyes shining in the dim light.
Without looking back, he spoke:
> "You want to become a Ranakala practitioner…
First, know where Ranakala began."
His voice echoed through the cave.
> "Not thousands… not millions… but billions of years ago…"
> "This land was home to humans — simple, limited… but alive.
Until one day… something appeared."
> "They looked like us — two eyes, two legs… a face…
But…"
"They had horns. Big, twisted, black horns.
As if nature had shaped them from another kind of clay."
> "Humans feared them. Called them demons."
> "And fear… gave birth to hatred.
Hatred… gave birth to war."
> "We attacked them first. Challenged their existence.
But we didn't know…
They possessed something we didn't."
The old man pointed at a wall engraving —
a horned figure standing with arms outstretched, the earth burning behind him.
> "They said —
'Only those who become like us will survive.
The ones who cling to humanity… will perish.'"
> "And thus began…
humanity's first and most dreadful war.
A war not of bodies — but of souls.
Blood was spilled… but trust was bled even more."
> "And during that time…"
The old man paused.
> "Some humans rose.
They brought forth Ranakala before the world.
And mankind… began to grow strong.
Soon… as strong as those horned beings."
> "Now remember this history.
And come with me."
As they followed, Bajrang's mind wasn't calm.
Every object in that cave disturbed him — the statues, the tools, the symbols.
He touched everything that looked strange or ancient.
Then suddenly…
A tremor echoed through the cave.
Bajrang froze.
He rushed back to Aarav.
The old man, about to exit, felt the tremor and turned immediately — his eyes widened.
> "Bajrang, Aarav — remove your upper garments! Now!"
His voice thundered like a command.
They were stunned. But the old man was before them in a blink — faster than air.
They hesitated, but obeyed.
The old man inspected them carefully, like he was searching for something.
Then, he turned to Aarav:
> "Return to the hut. I'll join you with Bajrang soon."
Aarav wanted to speak, but obeyed silently.
Outside, he muttered:
> "Guruji gave me initiation with such difficulty… I can't disobey him now."
Back in the cave, the old man stared at Bajrang.
His eyes glowed with a strange light — as if confirming some ancient secret.
> "Bajrang," he said slowly,
"From today… you are my disciple."
He placed his hand on Bajrang's back…
And at that moment — three glowing marks appeared:
— A black eye,
— A blue lion,
— And a shining sword.
As if they were burned into his skin by fire.
The old man began laughing like a madman.
> "HAHAHAHA!"
His laughter echoed in the cave.
Then he stopped.
> "If you wish to walk the path of Ranakala,
Accept me as your Guru.
And vow that in this life — no one else shall be your Guru."
Bajrang was silent for a moment.
Then he knelt down and said:
> "Guruji, I vow — I shall never accept another Guru.
You alone… shall be my teacher."
As soon as he spoke, a golden mark appeared on his forehead —
A radiant sun, with a glowing halo above it.
He didn't understand its meaning.
But the old man laughed again — as if he had just seen the future.
> "You deserve a gift," he said.
"Though I have nothing worthy of you now…"
He began scrambling like a child and returned with an ancient book.
He placed it in Bajrang's hands.
> "This is my gift to you.
But don't open it… until you truly become a Ranakala practitioner."
Bajrang tucked the book into his clothes.
> "Yes, Guruji."
The old man smiled.
Then paused again.
> "Ah… I almost forgot something."
He vanished from sight —
and reappeared holding…
a massive, heavy sword.