Chapter 2 – Aarambh: The Village of Beginnings
The first rays of the sun touched the green fields of Aarambh, turning the morning mist into a golden veil.
The soft echo of the temple bell mixed with the gentle hum of cows and the chirping of sparrows.
For Yash, this wasn't just the sound of dawn — it was the heartbeat of his home.
Aarambh was a place where faith wasn't spoken, it was lived.
Old men sat beneath the banyan tree reciting stories from the Mahabharata,
while young boys ran barefoot through the dusty lanes, chasing kites made of old newspapers.
Every wall had traces of old paintings, every breeze carried the fragrance of incense, and every evening ended with the chanting of "Har Har Mahadev."
Inside a small clay house near the edge of the village, Yash's mother was packing food for his journey.
Tears glistened in her eyes as she said softly,
"Beta, duniya bahut badi hai, par sach aur sanskaar kabhi mat chhodna. Aarambh chhod raha hai, par Aarambh tujhme rahe."
His father, a quiet man of wisdom, placed a hand on his shoulder.
"The city will test you, Yash. But remember — a man who walks the path of dharma never walks alone."
Before leaving, his grandmother called him near.
Her wrinkled hands held a small copper box. Inside lay a Rudraksha bead, a pinch of soil from the village temple, and an ancient Sanskrit verse written on palm leaf.
> "सत्यं वद, धर्मं चर।"
Speak the truth. Walk the path of Dharma.
Yash bowed down and touched her feet. The soil, the smell, the sound — he tried to memorize it all.
Just then, a shout echoed from the street.
"Arey ruk ja, bewakoof!"
It was Aarav, his best friend, running barefoot with something wrapped in banana leaves.
Panting, he said, "Mujhe bina bataye ja raha tha kya?"
Yash smiled, "Tu toh roz drama karta hai, ab ro bhi lega kya?"
Aarav grinned, opened the leaves, and showed steaming parathas drenched in ghee.
"Maa ne kaha sheher ja raha hai, bhooka na reh jaaye. Aur haan — yaad rakh, hum bhai hain, dost nahi."
The two hugged tightly, silence speaking louder than words.
A bus horn echoed across the fields.
The village priest rang the temple bell once more — a blessing, a goodbye, a promise.
As Yash stepped onto the bus, he looked back one last time.
His mother waved through her tears, his father stood still with pride, Aarav raised both arms high, and the whole of Aarambh seemed to be watching him leave.
He whispered,
"I'll carry you within me, Aarambh… always."
---
The Journey to the Iron City
Hours later, the green fields faded into grey roads.
The fragrance of cow dung and wet soil was replaced by petrol fumes and concrete.
Delhi — vast, noisy, dazzling.
At the bus stand, his uncle welcomed him with a warm hug.
"Welcome to Delhi, beta! This city runs on dreams. But don't lose your roots chasing them."
Days passed.
Yash joined college — a place filled with energy, ambition, and endless chatter.
But every night, when he closed his eyes, he heard the faint sound of temple bells from Aarambh echoing in his dreams.
He found a friend in Gurdeep, a tall Sikh boy with a booming laugh and a heart of gold.
Together, they explored the city — temples, libraries, old ruins.
But what fascinated Yash most were the ancient scriptures and forgotten symbols carved on old walls and artifacts.
One evening, after his classes, Yash sat by the window in his hostel room.
The orange sunset reminded him of Aarambh.
He opened the copper box — the Rudraksha gleamed faintly in the dying light.
Just then, his uncle gifted him a smartphone.
"Now you can talk to everyone back home," he said proudly.
Curious, Yash started browsing through historical and spiritual articles.
Hours passed until one title caught his attention:
"The Forgotten Seal of Kaaliya Naag – A Mystery from the Age of Krishna."
He opened it.
On the screen appeared an ancient carving — a serpent coiled around a trident, glowing faintly even in the digital image.
The article spoke of an ancient seal placed by Lord Krishna to bind a serpent spirit whose venom once poisoned the Yamuna.
According to legend, when human greed and ignorance reached their peak, the seal would weaken again…
Suddenly, Yash's screen flickered.
The lights went out.
A chilling wind brushed across his face.
The copper box on his desk trembled.
And from somewhere — not outside, not inside — came a voice, deep and echoing:
"यश… समय आ गया है… जागो…"
(Yash… the time has come… awaken.)
The Rudraksha around his neck began to glow, softly at first, then brighter — pulsing with his heartbeat.
The soil from Aarambh shimmered as if alive.
A strange mantra echoed in the air, one he had never heard yet somehow understood.
He stood frozen, breath trembling.
For the first time, he felt something ancient stirring within him — something that had slept for ages.
Yash wasn't just a boy from Aarambh anymore.
He was the beginning of something greater.
The journey of Dharma had begun.