After six months had passed since Rudra's joining of Nyay rakshak, he returned to Magadh. Then Rudra immersed himself in princely duties—attending the sabha with his father, Bahubali, learning governance, reviewing Nyay Rakshak reports, and sparring with soldiers to hone his skills.
Dushala, his mother, watched with pride as he balanced wisdom from Shukracharya with the compassion instilled by his family.
One afternoon, as Bahubali and Dushala sat in their private chambers, a messenger arrived with a scroll from Hastinapur, sealed with Gandhari's emblem. Bahubali opened it, reading aloud. " Dushala, it's been too long since I held my grandson. Send Rudra to Hastinapur—he must visit his family, learn our ways, and bring joy to this palace. We await him eagerly."
Dushala's eyes softened, her voice tinged with longing. "Mata misses him so much. It's been six years since he left for training, Bahu. Should we send him?"
Bahubali nodded, his tone thoughtful. "Agreed, Priye. Rudra's ready to see the internal politics of different kingdoms. I'll write to Maharaj Dhritarashtra, asking him to host Rudra and teach him Hastinapur's policies. He'll learn how other kings rule, broadening his vision for Magadha's future."
Dushala smiled, though her eyes glistened. "You're right, my love. He'll return wiser, but I'll miss our little philosopher."
They called Rudra, who entered, his blue kurta slightly dusty from archery practice. "Pitashree, Maa, you summoned me?"
Bahubali explained the letter, adding, "You'll stay in Hastinapur for a while, putra. Learn their governance, observe Dhritarashtra's court, and absorb their ways. Return only when called back. It's part of your education, Rudra—to see how other kingdoms govern."
Rudra's face fell slightly, but he nodded resolutely. "I understand, Pitashree. I'll honor your wish and learn from Hastinapur. When do I leave?"
Dushala hugged him. "In a week, Putra. Spend these days with us—your grandparents await your farewell too."
Rudra prepared, packing essentials. The next day, he visited Abhiram and Sumitra, who wept at the sight of their grown grandson. "Rudra, our little one, off again?" Sumitra said, hugging him tightly.
"You left a boy, returned a man—now to Hastinapur? Stay safe, beta." Abhiram clasped his hand.
"Learn well, putra. Kingship is duty and heart. We'll pray to Mahadev for you." Rudra touched their feet, his voice steady. "I'll miss you, Dada, Dadi. I'll return soon, with stories of Hastinapur." They shared kheer, Sumitra's specialty, before he departed, their blessings warming his heart.
A week later, Rudra set out alone for Hastinapur, his stallion carrying him swiftly across Aryavrat's plains. It took him a week to arrive, the journey a blend of reflection and adventure.
At the palace gates, the Kuru family awaited—Gandhari, Duryodhana, Bhanumati, Shakuni, Dushasana, and a few other brothers—their faces alight with joy. Rudra dismounted, touching Gandhari's feet first. "Pranipat, Dadi. I've missed you."
Gandhari hugged him tightly, her veiled eyes misty. "Pranipat, my Rudra! You've grown into a fine young man. How are you, beta?"
Rudra smiled. "I'm well, Dadi, stronger from Gurudev's teachings. Astras, shastras, maya, healing—I learned it all, to serve Magadha and dharma."
Duryodhana clasped his shoulder, grinning. "Bhanje, you're a warrior now! How are you? Hastinapur missed your pranks—Lakshman asks for you daily."
Bhanumati smiled, hugging him. "Rudra, look at you—all grown! How are you? Your mother's letters say you're a scholar and fighter."
Rudra laughed. "I'm fine, Mamishree. Training was tough, but Mahadev guided me."
Shakuni, his eyes sly, bowed. "How are you doing, my grandson?"
Dushasana added, "Bhanje, you're taller than me! How are you? Ready for some mace practice?"
Rudra grinned, touching their feet. "Pranipat, Tatshree Shakuni, Mamashree Dushasana. I'm well, eager to learn Hastinapur's ways, as Pitashree instructed."
Duryodhana laughed. "Good! We'll show you everything. Come inside—the palace awaits its favorite prince!"
Gandhari led him in, a maid bringing a tray of kheer. Seated in her chambers, Gandhari fed him a spoonful, her voice warm. "Rudra, this kheer is for you—tell me, how are you truly? Where were you these years? Who was your teacher? Your letters were sparse, and we worried so!"
Rudra savored the sweet, his voice earnest. "Dadi, I'm fine, stronger and wiser. I trained under Asurguru Shukracharya in Patala Lok. He taught me astras, shastras, maya, magic, healing—everything to be a just king like Pitashree. It was hard, but Mahadev's grace guided me. I couldn't send letters because Gurudev forbade distractions, but I thought of you every day, Dadi."
Gandhari's face softened, her hand on his head. "Asurguru Shukracharya? A bold choice, beta, but fitting for Bahubali's son. We missed you terribly—Hastinapur felt empty without your laughter. Tell us more: what was Patala like? Did you face dangers? Your teacher—did he treat you well?"
Duryodhana, seated nearby, chimed in, his voice playful. "Yes, bhanje! How are you now? Patala sounds like a legend—did you battle demons? And your teacher, that one-eyed sage, what secrets did he share? Hastinapur's waiting for your tales!"
Bhanumati, beside him, smiled warmly. "Rudra, you've grown so handsome! How are you feeling after such a long journey? Your mother's letters said you mastered everything—archery, wrestling, even magic! Tell us about your adventures. We're all ears!"
Shakuni, his eyes twinkling, added slyly. "Rajkumar. How are you holding up after being away for six years? Shukracharya, guru of asuras—bold indeed! Did he teach you maya to outwit foes? Hastinapur could use such wisdom. Share your stories, beta—we're family."
Rudra laughed, savoring another spoonful. "Dadi, Mamashree, Tatshree, Mamishree, I'm well, though tired from the road. Patala was wondrous—glowing crystals, vast caves, and lessons that tested my soul. Gurudev Shukracharya was stern but kind, like Mahadev Himself. He taught me everything he knows. And I missed you all—your kheer, Dadi, is better than any in Patala!"
Gandhari smiled, feeding him more. "My Rudra, you've faced worlds we only dream of. Mahadev blessed you, beta."
Duryodhana grinned. "Sounds thrilling, bhanje! I'll challenge you to a mace duel—show me what Shukracharya taught!"
Shakuni chuckled, "Rudra—Shukracharya's knowledge rivals the devas'. Use it well."
Rudra finished the kheer, his belly full, his heart warmed. "Thank you, Dadi—this kheer is home itself. I've shared what I can—now, where's Lakshman? I've stories for him too!"
Gandhari smiled. "He's training, beta. Suyodhana will take you. Rest first—you've traveled far."
Rudra nodded, hugging her. "I love you, Dadi. Your blessings are my strength."
Rudra asked Duryodhana to lead him to the training hall. Duryodhana laughed. "Bhanje, it's been too long! But remember last time—you and Lakshman mixed salt in the kheer? The palace cooks still whisper about it!"
Rudra acted innocent, his eyes wide. "Mamashree, what are you talking about? I don't recall any such thing."
Duryodhana ruffled his hair. "You're not a kid anymore, Rudra—you can't pull that innocent face and escape everything!"
Rudra grinned mischievously, and they set off, Duryodhana's arm around his nephew's shoulder.
In the training hall, Lakshman, Duryodhana's son, practiced with a wooden mace, swinging with determination. Spotting Rudra, Lakshman dropped it, running over. "Bhrata Rudra! You're back!"
Rudra hugged him. "Lakshman, you've grown! How are you? Still practicing mace like Mamashree?"
Lakshman nodded excitedly. "Yes, Bhrata! I'm stronger now—want to spar?"
Rudra laughed. "Soon, but first, tell me about your adventures. Any pranks without me?"
Lakshman grinned. "I tried mixing honey in the guards' boots, but got caught!"
Rudra chuckled. "That's my brother! Let's plan better ones—without getting caught this time." They spent the afternoon sparring and sharing stories, their bond unbroken after six years, the hall echoing with their laughter.