Chapter 22: Gateway to Ayodhya
Shon's POV
"Ha... ha... ha..."
At last, I'm out of that forest.
I never imagined Naimisharanya would be that dangerous. And to think—I only passed through its outer edge! According to legends, Naimisharanya is one of the most sacred forests in all of Aryavrat. It's the place where rishis gathered to discuss the events of the Mahabharata after the war had ended. The very forest where Maharishi Ved Vyasa is said to have written the Mahabharata itself.
But none of the stories warned me it would be filled with beasts, blood, and near-death experiences.
If the outer edge nearly killed me... what monsters must roam the inner core? Just the thought gives me chills.
Honestly, I only survived my tiger encounter because the beast was young and already badly wounded. I'd like to credit my daily training—my pushups, planks, and all that—but let's not fool ourselves. My survival was mostly... pure dumb luck.
That truth hit me hard.
I need to train harder. Much, much harder.
But there's a silver lining: I'll soon be under the guidance of Mahabali Hanuman—the very embodiment of strength, bhakti, and loyalty. I may have asked him to teach me devotion, humility, and the spirit of service, but hey, it's Hanuman! He won't be stingy with a few tips on physical training, right?
I chuckled to myself at the thought.
Besides, most of Hanuman Ji's strength comes from his unwavering devotion to Lord Ram. If I follow that same path—with discipline and faith—maybe I too can unlock something greater within me.
That thought gave me energy. Motivation returned like fire in my veins.
Still, my body was hurting all over. Wounded from head to toe, my pace slowed considerably. The forest had taken its toll.
After three more days of limping and resting, I finally reached a colossal gate—Ayodhya.
And oh, what a sight it was.
The gate stood like a timeless guardian—ancient, proud, carved with detailed scriptures of battles, gods, and divine symbols. It looked grand. No—it looked legendary. Just as I expected from the kingdom once ruled by Lord Ram himself, with none other than Hanuman Ji as its eternal protector.
There was a long line of travelers and locals queued up outside, waiting for entry.
I joined the line.
It took more than a month of travel, but I had finally arrived at Ayodhya.
When my turn came, a soldier at the gate barked,
"Show your identity scroll. Or pay five copper coins."
I didn't have any ID scrolls. But thankfully, Baba had given me ten gold coins before I left. I handed over the five coppers without a word.
And then, I stepped inside the legendary city.
The contrast hit me immediately—life buzzed everywhere.
The markets were alive with voices shouting prices, children giggling, merchants praising their wares, and smells of sweets and spices blending in the air. Carts rolled, bells rang, and laughter filled the streets.
It was far more vibrant than I expected for this so-called "ancient era."
I wandered for a while, asking around, listening to stories, soaking in the pulse of the city.
It didn't take long for me to understand the basics.
Ayodhya is ruled by a wise and noble king—Rajendra Dev. Even in his older years, his posture is regal, and his presence commands respect. Across Aryavrat, people speak of his strength, honor, and commitment to dharma.
His queen, Veenaprabha, is just as revered. Graceful, sharp, and deeply spiritual—she's the pillar behind the throne, known for her brilliant political mind hidden behind a soft smile. But I heard whispers—she's also fiercely protective of her daughter and doesn't trust strangers easily.
Ah yes, their daughter.
The one and only.
Princess Vaidehi.
She is the jewel of Ayodhya.
Everyone—from the palace guard to street vendors—talked about her with such affection, you'd think she was part of their own family. Wherever she went, people followed with their eyes and hearts.
The king doted on her like a precious gem. The queen molded her with grace and fire. People say she is trained in both scripture and swordplay—a perfect balance of strength and soul.
And today... is her seventh birthday.
Which explains the crowd.
Ayodhya was in celebration mode. I heard from the locals that food and sweets were being distributed near the grand Shiva temple—free for all citizens. It was part of the royal celebration.
And oh boy... the mention of food made me drool.
I hadn't eaten anything properly delicious in over a month. Most of my journey was sustained on dry grains, forest fruits, and whatever roots I could find. No spices. No oil. No sweets.
But today?
Kheer, laddoos, hot rotis, sabzi, and fresh fruits.
Heaven awaited.
Without wasting a second, I began walking towards the temple grounds, where the royal feast was being held.
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