The sky above Gurukul blazed gold and crimson as the sun dipped behind the hills. A conch echoed in the distance, signaling the end of the Selection Day.
Inside the grand stone amphitheater, new students were welcomed into their respective houses with cheers and chants. Dev and Roshan stood among them — one beneath a carved arch of stone, the other beside a flowing fountain that spiraled into the sky.
Bhūmigriha — Earth House
Dev was led through the earthy halls of Bhūmigriha, where the walls were made of packed clay and ancient rock, etched with the stories of old warriors and farmers who once bent the land to their will.
His guide, a burly senior named Nivrit, patted Dev's shoulder.
"You feel it?" he asked. "The weight beneath your feet? That's strength. Discipline. Earth doesn't rage. It endures."
They passed the Stone Grounds, a training arena carved directly into bedrock, and the Hall of Echoes, where the chants of past masters could still be heard if you stood in silence.
"I could get used to this," Dev grinned, running his fingers along a smooth stone wall. "Feels like home."
Jalāgriha — Water House
Roshan's tour of Jalāgriha was guided by a serene girl named Anika, who walked barefoot, her steps barely making a sound on the polished blue-marble floors.
Water trickled along walls and ceilings, flowing in elegant patterns that seemed to change with one's mood.
"This place responds to stillness," Anika whispered. "It listens before it speaks."
Roshan was shown the Mirror Lake, where students meditated by walking across floating stones, and the Room of Ripples, where every answer was hidden in a question.
He smiled to himself, absorbing every detail.
"This," he whispered, "is exactly where I belong."
Maarun's Solitude
While his friends were embraced by their houses, Maarun was led silently to a plain dormitory near the garden quarters — no banners, no symbols, no guiding mentor. Just a small bed, a wooden shelf, and silence.
That night, as shadows crept through the stone arches, Dev and Roshan returned from their tours, buzzing with excitement.
"I saw a guy break a stone pillar with just one stomp," Dev said, eyes wide.
"I solved a riddle pool — the water rises when you answer wrong," Roshan added. "Took me three tries."
They laughed, trading stories like kids after their first day of school.
Maarun listened quietly, forcing a smile. But his gaze remained distant.
Eventually, when the laughter died down and the others drifted to sleep, Maarun stepped outside.
The Walk
The stone paths were cool under his feet. The Gurukul was asleep, save for the wind and the flicker of distant torches.
He walked with no destination.
But he wasn't alone.
At the edge of the moonlit courtyard, under the shadow of a great banyan tree, stood Aranya.
She didn't speak as he approached, merely turned her head and watched him.
"I don't belong here," Maarun said finally, his voice quiet.
"No," Aranya replied calmly. "You don't. Not yet."
Maarun frowned. "Then why am I here?"
She turned to face him fully. "Because you were brought. But staying? That must be your choice."
They stood in silence for a moment.
Then she added, "There is… another way. A harder one."
He looked up.
"Most are chosen by the Dice. But a few… earn their way. Through will. Through emotional truth. Through complete understanding of self."
"And how do I do that?"
"You don't. Not as you are," she said. "You're too clouded. Too bound."
She handed him a folded parchment.
"Go to Guruji Vayurāyaṇa. A former elder of this Gurukul. He lives beyond the city edge, deep in the forest ruins."
"Alone?"
"No." Her voice softened. "With everything you carry inside you."
She turned away, walking back into the darkness.
Maarun stood beneath the banyan tree, clutching the parchment, the moonlight pale on his skin.
Far in the distance, the forest waited.