The morning air was crisp, and the river mist clung to Anand's damp hair as he tightened the straps of his waterproof backpack. Agastya, calm as ever, had suggested they move toward the ashram where he lived.
"The mountain behind you is but a beginning," Agastya said, his eyes scanning the horizon. "The forest is vast, and we will need shelter, sustenance, and company. My hermitage lies not far from the banks of the river. Peaceful, safe, and in accordance with dharma."
Anand raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You mean… you live in the forest, like… all day meditating and doing… nothing?"
Agastya chuckled softly. "We meditate, we work, we learn. Dharma is not idleness, Anand—it is balance. Discipline, compassion, truthfulness. Only those who strive for virtue can remain here."
Anand shook his head, smiling despite himself. "Right… so basically, no liars, cheats, or people who sneak chips into their backpack?" He tapped his own. "Guess I'm halfway there."
Agastya's lips curved in a faint smile. "Perhaps. But dharma is deeper than habits or snacks. It resides in thought, intention, and action. You will learn."
They moved along the forest path, the morning sun filtering through dense foliage. The distant roar of the Godavari River reminded Anand that the world extended far beyond the mountains he had known. Birds called in strange harmonies, and deer peeked shyly from between trees. Anand tried to focus on his footing, but his mind kept wandering.
"So… Agastya," Anand began, breaking the silence, "you really live out here… like, completely? Who else… besides you?"
Agastya nodded calmly. "My wife, Lopamudra, is here, as well as a few disciples devoted to learning and practicing dharma. We cultivate harmony through work, study, and reflection."
Anand tilted his head. "Your wife… really? She lives like this? No palace, no comforts?"
Agastya smiled faintly. "Lopamudra is wise, strong, and devoted. She balances my ascetic life with grace and understanding. Together, we guide those who come seeking knowledge and practice. Simplicity is not deprivation—it is clarity."
Hours passed, the path winding through thick forests, until they glimpsed the first rays of sunlight glimmering on the Godavari. There, in a serene clearing, stood Agastya's ashram. Simple wooden and stone structures were surrounded by lush greenery. Smoke from cooking fires drifted lazily into the sky. Deer wandered freely, unafraid, while birds chirped softly.
"Wow…" Anand whispered, awestruck. "This… isn't just a hut in the woods. It's… alive."
Agastya's calm gaze followed Anand. "All life is alive, Anand. Here, humans and animals coexist in balance. Those who dwell here devote themselves to dharma—truth, discipline, and compassion. Harmony emerges naturally."
As they approached, a few disciples bowed respectfully. A young woman carried a basket of fruits; a man arranged small bundles of firewood. Anand noticed the quiet coordination and peaceful demeanor of everyone.
"Rishi Agastya," called one of the disciples. "Who is your companion?"
"This is Anand," Agastya replied. "He has journeyed far and found the river. Let him rest, learn, and observe."
Anand glanced around, feeling both awkward and intrigued. The deer stared curiously from the edge of the courtyard, unafraid of him. "So… everyone here is… perfect? Totally righteous?"
Agastya's smile deepened. "Perfection is not the goal. Devotion, effort, and intention are. Even the most devoted make mistakes; they strive to correct themselves. That is the essence of dharma."
Anand lay back on the mat he had carried, still damp but surprisingly dry. "Effort and intention… hmm. Guess that's… something I need to figure out. Especially after… you know… everything." He didn't elaborate, but Agastya's gaze softened, silently understanding the weight behind his words.
Just then, Lopamudra emerged from one of the huts. She was graceful and calm, her presence immediately filling the courtyard with warmth. Her eyes studied Anand gently but firmly.
"Welcome," she said softly. "You are far from your home, yet safe now. Rest, eat, and learn. Dharma is not just discipline—it is understanding oneself and one's actions."
Anand nodded, feeling a mix of awe and embarrassment. "Uh… thanks. I'll… try."
Agastya gestured to the courtyard. "Come. Observe the practices. Meet those who dwell here. You will see that living in alignment with dharma requires patience, discipline, and compassion—but also courage. Courage is needed not only to act, but to face oneself."
Anand glanced at his first aid kit, pens, and flashlight. "Facing myself… sounds exhausting. But okay. Lead the way, Agastya."
As they walked, the sun glimmered on the Godavari's waters, casting golden patterns through the trees. Anand's heart felt strangely light, even amid lingering guilt and confusion. He didn't yet know how the ashram—or Agastya and Lopamudra—would change him, but he sensed that this journey was the start of something important: a path toward understanding himself and his actions.
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