The sun hung low over the lush jungle near Dwarka, its rays filtering through ancient banyan trees, as Bahubali, Dushala, and Rudra journeyed from Magadha for their family retreat.
Determined to teach Rudra humility, far from the palace's luxuries, they chose to visit the ashram of Saint Sandipani, the revered guru residing in these serene woods. To blend with the common folk, they shed their royal silks—Bahubali donning a simple white dhoti, Dushala a plain cotton sari, and Rudra an orange dhoti, his rudraksha necklace gleaming against his chest. Their royal chariot was left behind, and they traveled on foot, Rudra skipping between them, clutching a small wooden toy.
As they approached the ashram, a serene compound of thatched huts encircled by flowering vines, a disciple in saffron robes greeted them warmly. "Pranipat, travelers. Welcome to Acharya Sandipani's abode. Come, he awaits you."
The family followed, Rudra's eyes wide at the sight of students chanting shlokas under a peepal tree. They reached the saint, seated on a woven mat, his white beard flowing, his eyes twinkling with wisdom.
Bahubali bowed deeply, Dushala and Rudra following. "Pranipat, honorable Saint Sandipani," Bahubali said, his voice respectful. "We seek your blessings."
Sandipani's gaze softened, recognizing them despite their attire. "Pranipat, Magadha Naresh, Maharani, and young Rajkumar. Your presence honors this humble ashram."
Rudra, his curiosity bubbling, piped up, "Acharya ji, how did you know us? "
Dushala flushed, gently nudging him. "Rudra, stay quiet, putra."
Sandipani chuckled, his voice warm as a hearth. "It's alright, Maharani. Children's curiosity is a divine spark—we mustn't dim it. Putra, your parents are famed across Aryavrat for their dharma and valor. A sage sees beyond cloth to the heart. And you, young Rudra, have a spirit that shines like the morning sun."
Rudra grinned, his small face lighting up. "I like you, Acharya ji! You're like Dadi Gandhari—wise and kind!" Sandipani laughed heartily, the sound echoing through the ashram. "Maharani Gandhari is indeed a beacon of knowledge in Aryavrat, putra!" Bahubali and Dushala exchanged smiles, warmed by Rudra's charm and the sage's warmth.
Bahubali stepped forward, his tone earnest. "Honorable Saint, my family wishes to stay here and serve your ashram. We seek to teach Rudra humility, to show him that kings and dasas are equal in dharma's eyes. It would be our honor if you permit us."
Sandipani nodded, his eyes approving. "Your intentions are pure, Magadha Naresh. You and your family may serve here. This ashram welcomes all who seek truth. May the Tridevs bless your path."
Bahubali and Dushala bowed, their voices united. "We are grateful, Acharya."
For ten days, the royal family embraced the ashram's simple life. Bahubali swept courtyards, his strong hands wielding a broom with the same grace as his mace. Dushala cooked dal and rotis in the communal kitchen, her laughter mingling with the disciples' as she learned their recipes.
Rudra, ever the whirlwind, ran through the ashram, helping carry water pots or chasing butterflies, his pranks—hiding a disciple's sandal or tying flowers to a cow's tail—drawing fond chuckles. "Rajkumar, you're naughtier than a forest sprite!" a young student teased, as Rudra offered a guava in apology.
When Sandipani wasn't meditating, Rudra shadowed him, bombarding him with questions: "Acharya ji, why do we do penance? How does Mahadev dance in the stars?" The sage, far from annoyed, delighted in the nearly three-year-old's curiosity, answering with patience: "Penance purifies the soul, putra, like rain cleans the earth. Mahadev's dance holds the universe's rhythm."
Rudra listened, wide-eyed, never interrupting the ashram's poojas, his small hands folded respectfully during chants. The disciples adored him, calling him "Chhota Yogi" for his earnest questions and infectious laughter.
As the tenth day dawned, the family prepared to depart. They stood before Sandipani, their simple clothes dusty but their hearts full. Bahubali spoke, his voice grateful. "Honored Saint, these days have been a blessing. Your wisdom has enriched us, and Rudra has learned much. We must now journey to Dwarka for Lord Krishna's celebration of Prince Pradyumna's birth."
Dushala added, her eyes warm, "The pleasure was ours, Acharya. Your ashram is a haven of dharma."
Rudra, clutching Sandipani's hand, pouted, "I'll miss you, Acharya ji! Will you come to Magadha?"
Sandipani knelt, smiling at Rudra. "I'll miss you too, Putra. Partings are but steps on life's journey. I bless you with intelligence surpassing any human, dev, or asur—matched only by the Tridevs. But always use it for righteousness, Rudra. Promise me that."
Rudra nodded solemnly, his voice small but firm. "I promise, Acharya ji."
Bahubali and Dushala beamed, their hearts swelling at the sage's blessing. They thanked him, took his blessings, and left the ashram, changing into royal silks—Bahubali in gold, Dushala in sapphire, Rudra in a green kurta. Their chariot, summoned from Magadha, awaited, its white horses gleaming as they set off for Dwarka.
By the next morning, they reached Dwarka's golden gates, the city sparkling by the sea, its banners fluttering with peacock motifs. Lord Krishna, in a radiant yellow dhoti, and Devi Rukmini, resplendent in a red sari, welcomed them at the palace steps. Bahubali stepped down, Rudra in his arms, Dushala beside him.
"Pranipat, Prabhu Sri Krishna, Devi Rukmini," Bahubali said, bowing. Rukmini smiled, "Pranipat, Magadha Naresh, Maharani Dushala, young Rajkumar."
Krishna's eyes twinkled, his voice warm. "Jyeshta, no 'Prabhu'—we're family now, bound by Dushala's marriage. You're my elder brother! And this must be Rudra, Magadha's pride."
Rudra, squirming, pointed at Krishna. "Baba, who's this?" Bahubali set him down, chuckling. "Putra, this is your Chacha Krishna."
Rudra ran forward, touching Krishna's feet with tiny hands. "Pranipat, Chacha ji! I'm Rudra, son of Magadha Naresh Bahubali and Maharani Dushala!"
Krishna laughed, lifting Rudra. "Aayushman bhava, putra! You're Bahubali's son, but that mischievous grin—it's mine! I see a partner in pranks!" Rudra's face lit up, mirroring Krishna's grin, and Bahubali sighed, feigning exasperation. "Mahadev help me—two pranksters in one palace!"
Dushala laughed, nudging Bahubali. "Bahu, they're already plotting! Dwarka won't know what hit it."
Rukmini, smiling, led them inside. "Come, rest after your journey. Our home is yours."
Krishna carried Rudra, whispering, "Let's plan a prank for your Baba, eh?" Rudra giggled, nodding eagerly.
The palace, adorned with seashell carvings and lotus motifs, welcomed them to opulent chambers. As they settled, the family anticipated Pradyumna's celebration, their hearts light with the promise of joy, bonds, and perhaps a few harmless pranks in Dwarka's divine embrace.