The morning sun filtered through the mango leaves, casting dappled light across the riverbank. The Ganga flowed gently, the birds sang, and the camp stirred to life.
Dhira was already training with the axe.
Bhairava was sharpening his sword with a mango seed.
The five senior followers were arguing about breakfast.
And Karna stood at the edge of the camp, staring at the forest.
The Wanderer's Intent
He hadn't planned to stay.
He had rested.
He had eaten.
Now he wanted to walk again.
To continue his search.
To find the teacher who would not ask for caste or blood.
But before he could leave, Dhira called out.
"Where are you headed, bow-man?"
Karna hesitated.
"I have a path."
"We all do," said Bhairava. "But it helps to know where it leads."
The group gathered around.
Curious.
Concerned.
The Story Unfolds
At first, Karna was silent.
He didn't like telling his story.
It felt like peeling open a wound.
But the group was persistent.
They offered mango riti.
They promised not to interrupt.
They swore on the goat.
So Karna spoke.
He told them about the gurukul.
About Dronacharya.
About the rejection.
"He asked my lineage," Karna said. "I told him I was the son of a charioteer."
"He said he only taught Kshatriyas and Brahmins."
"He turned me away."
Silence fell.
Then outrage.
The Storm Reacts
The five followers exploded.
"What kind of teacher rejects a student for caste?"
"That's not a guru—that's a gatekeeper!"
"We met Jarasandha! He's royal and he shared mangoes without asking!"
"He gave us a talisman!"
"He arm-wrestled Boss and laughed!"
Even Dhira's jaw was tight.
Bhairava's eyes narrowed.
"A teacher who closes doors is no teacher at all," Dhira said.
"They need teaching," Bhairava added.
"We'll help you find someone better," Dhira said.
Karna looked down.
"I'm already searching," he said. "Someone greater than Dronacharya."
The group nodded.
"Then we'll help."
The Burden
Karna hesitated.
"You don't have to. We just met yesterday."
The fifth follower grinned.
"Exactly."
"Yesterday was the ritual."
Karna blinked.
"What ritual?"
The second follower stepped forward.
"The food ritual."
"Once you eat with us, you're our brother."
"No exceptions."
Karna stared.
Then laughed.
Softly.
"You're strange."
"We're storms," Dhira said. "Strange is standard."
The Council of Chaos
They formed a circle.
Declared an emergency mango council.
Dhira was the commander.
Bhairava was the Upasenapati.
The five followers were the mango ministers and senapati of dhira force.
They debated strategies.
"We could ask Jarasandha for help."
"We could search the forest."
"We could challenge Dronacharya to a mango duel."
"We could build our own gurukul."
"We could train Karna ourselves."
They were so deep in discussion, they forgot one thing.
The Awakening
By noon, the hut door creaked open.
The rishi stepped out.
Eyes blinking.
Limbs stiff.
He looked down at himself.
Covered in mango pulp.
Leaves.
Resin.
Herbs.
He touched his beard.
Sticky.
He looked around.
No axe.
Then he saw it.
Held by a boy.
Swinging it at a log.
The rishi's eyes widened.
"What in the name of Vishnu…"
He stepped forward.