The festivities in Dwarka, filled with laughter, music, and the warmth of family, lingered in the hearts of the Magadha royals as they returned home.
The years flowed like the Ganga—days turning to weeks, weeks to months, and months to years. Seven years passed in Magadha, a kingdom thriving under Bahubali's just rule, its markets bustling, its Nyay Rakshak silently upholding dharma across Aryavrat.
Prince Rudra, now ten years old, had grown into a bright, inquisitive boy. His laughter still lit the palace, but his mind, sharpened by Saint Sandipani's blessing of exceptional memory, hungered for knowledge.
Rudra's early education began in Magadha's gurukul, where he studied alongside other childrens, astonishing teachers and peers alike.
Within six months, he mastered basic shlokas, arithmetic, and the Vedas' fundamentals, his peers initially stunned to see their prince learning humbly among them. "Rajkumar, you're one of us!" a potter's son exclaimed, to which Rudra grinned, "We all learn from the same guru, don't we?" His boon from Sandipani shone through, each lesson etched in his mind like carvings on stone.
At seven, Bahubali deemed Rudra ready for martial training, allowing him to spar with common soldiers in the palace grounds. The boy wielded toy swords, spears, and bows, absorbing the basics of weaponry with a soldier's discipline and a prince's flair.
His small frame darted through drills, earning cheers from guards. "He's got his father's fire!" they said, as Rudra parried a wooden blade, his eyes gleaming with focus.
But now, the time had come for deeper learning—beyond Magadha's borders, under a guru of unparalleled wisdom. Bahubali journeyed to Patala to seek Asurguru Shukracharya, the revered preceptor of the asuras and a devout follower of Mahadev. In the ethereal caves of Patala, aglow with luminescent crystals, Bahubali bowed before Shukracharya, whose single eye gleamed with divine insight.
"Pranipat, revered Guru," Bahubali said, his voice steady. "I am Bahubali, Naresh of Magadha. I seek your guidance for my son, Rudra, to complete his education under your wisdom."
Shukracharya's lips curved into a knowing smile, his voice resonant. "Pranipat, Magadha Naresh. I have given you a boon. I have already accepted him as my disciple. Send him to my ashram in the Kashi forest, which I shall create with my maya. There, I will test his heart and mind. If he proves worthy, I will teach him the secrets of astras, shastras, and dharma's deeper truths."
Bahubali's heart swelled with gratitude. "Your acceptance honors us, Guru. Rudra will arrive in Kashi within a month." With Shukracharya's blessings, he returned to Magadha, the weight of his decision balanced by hope for his son's future.
In the palace, Bahubali summoned Dushala to their private chambers. Sitting on a cushioned divan, he shared his meeting with Shukracharya. "Dushala, our Rudra is ready for greater learning. I've secured Asurguru Shukracharya as his guru. He will train with Asurguru Shukracharya. It's time he gains wisdom beyond our walls."
Dushala's eyes glistened, her voice soft with maternal worry. "Bahu, our little Rudra, leaving us? He's only ten. Can't you teach him astras and shastras here?" She clutched a silk shawl, her heart torn.
Bahubali took her hands, his voice gentle but firm. "Priye, Rudra's intelligence is a gift, but wisdom comes from experience. Shukracharya's teachings will forge him into a warrior of dharma, like Mahadev Himself. I trained under great gurus away from home—it's for his good. He'll be tested, but his heart is pure. He'll return stronger, ready to lead Magadha."
Dushala sighed, nodding slowly. "You're right, Bahu. I trust you and Mahadev. But my heart aches to see him go." Bahubali kissed her forehead. "He carries our love, Dushala. He'll be fine."
They called Rudra, who bounded in, his saffron kurta dusty from playing, his rudraksha necklace bouncing. "Pitashree, Maa, you called?" His bright eyes dimmed as Bahubali explained, "Rudra, you're to leave Magadha for further education. In Kashi's forest, your teacher awaits in his ashram. He may test you, but if you pass, he'll teach you astras, shastras, and wisdom. You've the mind for it, putra—now you need the heart of a sage."
Rudra's face fell, his voice small. "Pitashree, can't you teach me? I don't want to leave Maa and you!" Dushala's eyes welled, but Bahubali knelt, smiling. "Rudra, this teacher is more qualified than I am. You must see the world beyond Magadha to grow. Pass his test, and you'll return a true warrior."
Dushala added, her voice trembling, "Take soldiers for safety, putra."
Rudra shook his head, his jaw set. "No, Maa. This journey is part of the test. I'll go alone—Mahadev will protect me."
Bahubali nodded, proud. "Spoken like my son. Go with our blessings, Rudra."
Rudra touched their feet, seeking blessings. "Give me your blessing, Pitashree, Maa. I'll make you proud."
Dushala hugged him tightly, whispering, "Stay safe, my heart."
Bahubali ruffled his hair. "You'll shine, putra."
By afternoon, Rudra packed a simple cloth bag—his rudraksha, a spare kurta, and a small Shiv Ling for pooja. Before leaving, he visited his grandparents, Abhiram and Sumitra, in their cozy chambers. "Dada, Dadi, I'm going to Kashi for education," he announced, his voice steady but eyes misty.
Sumitra's heart sank, but she smiled, preparing kheer. "My Rudra, You'll be a scholar and warrior!"
Abhiram clapped his shoulder. "Go, putra, make Magadha proud. But eat your Dadi's kheer first!"
Rudra savored the sweet dish, then touched their feet. "I'll miss you, Dada, Dadi. I'll come back soon."
Sumitra kissed his forehead, tears falling. "Mahadev guide you, beta."
With their blessings, Rudra set out alone, his small figure on a horse disappearing down Rajgir's roads, a bow slung over his shoulder.
The palace felt quieter, but Bahubali and Dushala stood together, trusting Mahadev and Shukracharya to shape their son into a beacon of dharma, ready for the trials and wisdom awaiting in Kashi's forest.