: The Pain of Farewell and the Secret of the Missing Neer
One month had passed.
The first rays of morning filtered through the lattice windows of the gurukul courtyard, like threads of spun gold. But today, those threads carried a strange heaviness. Guru Vishrayan stood before his hut, his face not holding its usual peace, but a deep, sorrowful gravity, as if he was about to perform an unpleasant duty.
He rang the bell. The slow, resonating sound woke the sleeping gurukul.
All the disciples gathered. Their faces held a strange anticipation—the kind that exists between the end of a long journey and the start of a new one.
"My children," Guru Vishrayan's voice sounded especially soft and heavy today. "Today... your education here is complete. What you have learned is not merely knowledge of the elements, but lessons of restraint, patience, and compassion. Tomorrow morning, your parents will take you all home."
The words hung in the air. For a moment, there was silence, then a slow wave of emotion began to rise.
Akshansh's eyes filled with tears instantly. He looked at Anvay, who stood as calm and still as a stone statue. He went to him and, without a word, hugged him tightly. This was no formal embrace. It was so tight their bones seemed to creak.
"Without you..." Akshansh's voice was muffled, his face buried in Anvay's shoulder. "Without you, even the air of Aakashgarh will feel empty."
Anvay rested his head on Akshansh's shoulder. "The memory of you... will be like the air. Unseen, but felt every moment."
Vedika ran to Shital. They looked at each other—and burst into tears. This was not the crying that comes from sorrow, but the crying that comes from love breaking apart, when two souls are about to separate.
"You have to promise me," Shital said between hiccups, "that you will come to my wedding. No matter how far."
"I promise," Vedika said, her voice little more than a whisper. "And you... you must come to inaugurate my healing center."
Kalpit looked at Aksh. His lips held the same sharp smile, but today it held a bitterness. "Listen, Aksh. Everyone is leaving tomorrow. Without you... I won't have anyone to tease."
Aksh nodded seriously. "And I won't have anyone to annoy me. Maybe... maybe I'll miss your mischief."
"Maybe?" Kalpit said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "No, you definitely will miss it."
Prakash watched everyone, then turned to Shital. He said nothing. He simply raised his hand, and in the air created a small, glowing flower of light. The flower floated through the air and landed in Shital's palm, then slowly wilted and vanished.
"We are together," Prakash said, his voice holding an unshakeable faith. "The distance will only be of the body, not the soul."
All said in one voice, "We are together!"
But one voice was missing from this chorus. All eyes searched. Nirgh was nowhere to be seen.
---
Agni stood in Guru Vishrayan's chamber. The past month had changed him. Stubble covered his jaw, dark circles lay under his eyes, and the fire in his eyes had turned to smoke.
"Gurudev," Agni's voice held a tired desperation. "Today... it has been exactly one month since Neer left. You know... how much his spiritual energy had eroded. If... if someone attacked him, he would..."
He could not finish. The words caught in his throat.
Guru Vishrayan looked at him. His eyes held compassion, but also an unyielding firmness. "Neer is safe, Agni. Do not worry. He will return."
"Return?" Agni's voice turned sharp. "Gurudev, I have been searching for him for a month. I have scoured every place he could have gone. Checked every cave we played in as children. He is nowhere. And you... you know. I can see that you know."
The Guru closed his eyes. "Some paths... Agni, some paths must be walked alone."
"So you will not help me?" Agni's voice broke. "Fine. I will find him myself. Keep your divine sight to yourself. I have a sight too my heart. And it is telling me Neer is in danger. My respects."
He turned and left, his steps heavy, but with a stubborn determination.
Outside the hut, in the shadows, Nirgh stood listening to all of this. His face was as impassive as stone. He slowly backed away and went to the deserted field behind the gurukul, from where the expanse of the forest was visible the same place he came to in his worst moments.
He drew Sheetapsi. The morning light glinted off the blade. He stared at it stared at the part of it that was Agni's.
Then came the rustle of leaves. Anvay stood there.
"You are here," Anvay said, his voice as calm as ever.
Nirgh did not even look at him. "So what? Did you think I would join in those fake farewell hugs?"
"That is not what I meant, Nirgh."
"I know what you meant!" Nirgh suddenly turned to look at him. His eyes held anger and a deep hurt. "Look! Everyone is leaving. You will leave too. First Father left, now you will leave. And I... I will remain here. As always. Alone."
Anvay stepped forward and grasped his shoulder. "I am not leaving, Nirgh. I will not leave until your Father returns. And even then... I will be your friend. From a distance, if need be."
Nirgh shook off his hand. "Lies! Everyone lies! They make promises and break them!"
"My promises do not break," Anvay said firmly. His eyes held the steadfastness of mountains. "Your Father will return. And until he does, I am with you. I will go now. You... take care of yourself."
Anvay left. Nirgh stood alone. Then, slowly, his hands went limp. Sheetapsi clattered to the ground. He sank to his knees and closed his eyes. No tears came. There was only a numb, empty pain, as if the fire within him had finally gone out.
"Everyone leaves," he whispered, his voice so soft only the ground could hear. "As always."
---
The next morning, the gurukul courtyard filled with a strange liveliness. Chariots arrived, horses neighed, colourful robes shone. Parents had come to take their children.
Vedika's parents the King and Queen of Anandpur hugged her. The Queen stroked her daughter's hair, her eyes moist.
Akshansh was embraced tightly by the King of Aakashgarh his father. "Son, you have grown up," the King said, pride in his voice.
"Father, here I learned not just power, but friendship," Akshansh said, his gaze lifting to Anvay, who stood at a distance.
Shital was wrapped in the shawl of the Queen of Chandrapur her mother just as she had been wrapped as a child. "My moonlight," her mother whispered.
Prakash's father, the Maharaja of Suryagarh, descended from a grand golden chariot. He placed a hand on Prakash's shoulder, and both their eyes held the same sharp brilliance.
And then came Vayansh and Dharaya Anvay's parents. Vayansh looked at Anvay, and a smile bloomed on his face, like a flower opening in the wind. Dharaya hugged her son, and her fingers on his shoulder trembled slightly.
"You have truly... become a warrior," Dharaya said, her voice choked.
"Mother, Father," Anvay said, "I... I cannot come now."
Both looked at him in surprise.
"Nirgh... his father is missing. He is alone. I cannot leave him alone."
Vayansh and Dharaya looked at each other. A silent conversation passed between them. Then Vayansh nodded. "Alright, son. We understand. Until Neer returns, you stay here. We are proud of you."
But all eyes were fixed in one direction. No one had come for Nirgh. No chariot, no horse, no parents.
Nirgh was watching all this from his hut window. He watched how Anvay's parents hugged him, how Akshansh shared a laugh with his father. His fists clenched. He turned away from the window.
Below, Anvay looked up. He saw Nirgh at the window. He raised his hand. A small gesture. I am here.
Nirgh did not look back.
---
Far away, in that same mountain cave, Neer sat. But he was not the Neer who had come here a month ago. His clothes, once the colour of the sky, had now darkened to a deep, shadowy blue, turning black at the edges, like paper burning from the sides.
Before him lay the same damru black stone, with the faces of a deva and a rakshasa. A subtle, black energy was seeping from the damru, waving through the air and going straight to Neer's heart, where it was absorbed. Each time this happened, Neer's body gave a slight shudder, his pupils dilated, and a wave of terrible pain crossed his face.
But his eyes were closed. And behind those closed eyes, a fierce resolve burned a resolve stronger than the pain.
---
Guru Vishrayan sat in his chamber. He suddenly opened his eyes. His breathing had quickened. He placed a hand over his heart.
"Neer..." he whispered, his voice holding a fear born of centuries of knowledge. "The path you have chosen... it will consume not only your soul, but the souls of countless futures. Do you truly know what you are doing? Do you know the true price of this Shadow Damru? It does not buy your memories. It buys your 'self'."
He closed his eyes, a single tear tracing its way down the lines of his face.
---
In Agni's chamber, it was dark. He had not lit a lamp. In his hand was a handkerchief a blue handkerchief, with a small flame embroidered in gold thread in one corner. It was the handkerchief he had given Neer on the anniversary of their first friendship.
He pressed the handkerchief to his face. It still carried Neer's scent of water lilies and fresh earth.
"Neer..." Agni's voice was broken, filled with loneliness. "You know... without you, even the air in this room has begun to burn? Without your coolness... I keep burning myself. Why did you leave? Why did you leave me alone? We promised... that we would be each other's balance. Without you... I am just a destructive fire."
Tears, hot and fast, streamed down his cheeks, soaking the handkerchief. "Was... was it all a lie? Our friendship... our love... Nirgh?"
---
Nirgh was looking out from his window. The chariots had left. The dust was settling. The gurukul seemed emptier, more desolate than before.
He picked up his sword. Sheetapsi. He looked at it, then suddenly slammed it against the wall with all his strength!
Clang!
The sound of metal rang out. The sword bounced off the wall and clattered to the floor.
"Why?" Nirgh screamed, his voice like an echoing shriek in a cave. "Why am I always the one left behind? First the ones who gave birth... then the ones who raised me... then friends? Is the punishment for being with me so terrible?"
He slid down the wall to sit, burying his head in his hands. His shoulders shook, but no sound came out. The sobs were trapped inside, like burning embers.
---
In the cave, Neer's eyes suddenly flew open.
They did not hold their calm blue. They held a strange glow a glow that was neither of water nor of fire. It was the glow of a third thing... the glow of shadow.
He picked up the damru. His hand was trembling, but firm.
He shook the damru.
Thum... thum... thum...
The sound echoed in the cave, but it was not the sound of an ordinary damru. It was a sound like bones breaking, like breaths stopping, like someone crying far away.
The cave began to tremble. The shadows lengthened and danced, coming alive.
"The time has come," Neer said. His voice now sounded dual one his own, soft and pained; and the other... a rasping, deep voice, as if from grinding stones. "What I must do... must be done. Agni... my Agni... forgive me. I am doing all this only to save you. And our son."
He shook the damru again. This time, harder.
---
Guru Vishrayan suddenly lifted his head in his hut. His eyes widened. He looked out the window to the north. The sky was clear, but he saw a black dot there... spreading.
"It has begun," he murmured, his voice holding a terrible acceptance. "Now, nothing can stop what is to happen. Neer... O Lord... what have you done?"
And far away, in Tapobhumi, Agni suddenly lifted his head. A sharp, icy pain shot through his heart, as if a sword had been plunged into it.
His breath caught. He placed a hand on his chest.
And then... he felt it. A touch. A memory. Neer's touch. Neer's memory. But this touch was not warm. It was cold as ice.
Tears streamed from his eyes. But this time, these tears were not warm.
These tears were cold. Freezing tears.