Morning in Champapuri – Adhirath's Departure
The village stirred at dawn. Adhirath, Karna and Aryan's foster father, tightened the reins of his chariot, preparing for the day's work at Hastinapur's royal mehal. His hands, rough from years of handling horses and wooden wheels, paused as he glanced back at his home.
Radha stood at the doorway, holding a clay pot of freshly churned butter.
"Will you return before sunset?" she asked, worry soft in her voice.
Adhirath nodded, his voice a low rumble. "The royal stables need repairs. Drona's son Ashwatthama has been testing new horses." He hesitated, then added, "Keep the boys close. There's talk of bandits near the river."
Karna, already awake, stood straight. "I'll protect them, Pitashri."
Adhirath's eyes softened. He ruffled Karna's hair—a rare gesture of affection—before flicking the reins. The chariot rolled away, dust rising in its wake.
Radha watched until he vanished, then turned to her sons.
---
Radha's Question – Karna's Resolve
Karna, now seven, stood in the courtyard, his self-made bow in hand. His muscles trembled from hours of practice, yet his focus never wavered.
Radha approached, offering him water. "Why do you push yourself so hard, beta? You're still a child."
Karna drank deeply, then answered, "Because I am a charioteer's son. The world sees my birth, not my worth." His grip tightened on the bow. "I will make them see me."
Radha cupped his face. "Strength is noble, my son. But never let pride blind you. Fight not to prove others wrong, but to prove your soul right."
Nearby, Aryan (age 4) sat cross-legged, stroking Simha's snow-white mane. His eyes—far too knowing for a child—flickered between them.
---
Aryan's Training – Modern Meets Divine
While Karna trained with raw determination, Aryan's regimen was systematic, precise—a blend of:
Kalaripayattu stances (from Kalyug's martial memory)
Yogic breath control (slowing his heartbeat to conserve energy)
Animal mimicry (Simha's movements sharpened his reflexes)
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
> Divine Multiplier (×1000) Active
10 pushups = 10,000x muscle memory
1 hour meditation = 41 days' spiritual progress
Simha's combat mimicry → 72% synchronization
Simha pounced playfully, and Aryan rolled with him, laughing—a rare, childlike moment amid a soul that had already lived lifetimes.
---
The Forest Encounter – Royal Children Arrive
The rustling of leaves announced visitors. From the trees emerged:
1. Duryodhan (8) – Proud, assessing, a future king in the making.
2. Dushasan (6) – Quiet, watching, his fingers stained from testing herbs (and poisons).
3. Duhsala (4) – Bright-eyed, her silver-belled braids chiming as she ran.
Duryodhan eyed Karna's bow. "You shoot well for a charioteer's son."
Karna's jaw tightened, but he bowed. "I aim to be more."
Duryodhan raised an eyebrow. "You speak with a warrior's confidence. I like that."
Duhsala had already bounded toward Aryan. "Your lion is beautiful! Can I touch him?"
Aryan blinked, then nodded. "Simha won't harm anyone who plays with love."
She grinned. "Then I'll be family too! Come play luka-chuppi with me!"
Before Aryan could reply, she grabbed his hand and pulled him into a game of luka-chuppi (hide and seek). Simha followed, tail wagging.
Soon, the sounds of laughter echoed through the jungle.
Duhsala laughed as Aryan tiptoed behind a banyan tree and scared her. "You play like a jungle prince!"
Dushasan joined reluctantly, letting himself be caught. "I never play, but this... this is fun."
Karna and Duryodhan stood back for a moment, then locked eyes.
"You won't join them?" Duryodhan asked.
"Not unless you do," Karna replied, holding back a smile.
The prince chuckled. "Then let's go, warrior."
The two boys dashed forward, laughter chasing them. Karna helped Duryodhan hide in the bushes while Aryan tried to find them. Simha pounced around excitedly, not understanding the game but enjoying the energy.
They played for over an hour—royals and commoners, prince and pauper—all titles forgotten in joy.
---
Gandhari's Arrival – A Mother's Instinct
The air shifted. A soft hush settled as Queen Gandhari stepped from her palanquin, her blindfolded gaze steady.
She moved with the grace of a mother who had borne grief. Her attendants stayed back as she slowly made her way toward the laughter.
Aryan froze mid-laugh when he sensed her. Simha stilled, then stepped aside respectfully.
"You... remind me of someone I once knew," Gandhari whispered, kneeling before Aryan. Her fingers brushed his cheek with maternal reverence.
"Who?" Aryan asked, tilting his head.
"A queen who loved her son more than her throne. She looked like you... and your eyes—like hers."
[SYSTEM ALERT]
> Gandhari's Recognition: 80% match to imprisoned Queen Vasumati (Aryan's birth mother). Threat Assessment: Political motives detected.
She stood and turned to Radha. "Your sons are rare gems. Bring them to the palace. Let them see the world they're destined to impact."
Radha bowed cautiously. "We are humble folk, Maharani."
"So was Krishna," Gandhari replied with a smile.
Before she could return to her palanquin, Duhsala tugged her hand insistently.
"Mata! Come play! You never play with us. Please! Hide with me? Just once?"
Gandhari hesitated, lips parting with surprise.
**"Duhsala, your Mata is a queen—"
"But right now, you're just my Maa!" Duhsala interrupted, pouting.
The jungle fell silent, eyes watching curiously.
Then Gandhari laughed softly, the sound like rain after drought. "Alright, my dear. One game. But you must protect me from the lion prince!"
The children cheered. Aryan grinned. "Simha only finds those who wish to be found!"
And so, Queen Gandhari played hide and seek in the jungle, hiding behind thick banyan roots, her royal silks brushing against the forest floor, her soul briefly freed from the burdens of the crown.
For those fleeting moments, she was simply a mother among children, and laughter reigned.
---
Adhirath's Return – A Father's Pride
As dusk painted the sky, Adhirath's chariot returned. His hands were stained with grease, his shoulders weary—but his eyes brightened seeing his sons.
Karna ran to help him unharness the horses. "Did you see the royal warriors, Pitashri?"
Adhirath chuckled. "I saw Ashwatthama train. One day, you'll surpass even him."
Aryan, holding Simha's paw, looked up. "Did you bring anything today?"
From his waistcloth, Adhirath produced two wooden swords—crudely carved but sturdy.
"For my little warriors."
Karna beamed. Aryan's fingers traced the carvings—a lion and a sun.
As night descended, Radha sang lullabies, Simha curled at Aryan's feet, and for one perfect moment—peace reigned.