Shivansh and Lucky stood before the immortal yogi, their eyes filled with both anticipation and confusion. The air around them crackled with an unseen energy, as if something ancient was awakening. The yogi observed them for a moment before finally speaking.
"Shivansh, from today onwards, you will learn the art of Astra and Shastra. But remember, power without control is destruction. Your training will not just test your strength but also your spirit, " the yogi declared.
Lucky, who had been listening quietly, suddenly stepped forward. "Wait, so Shivansh gets to summon divine weapons, and I stand here watching?" he asked, folding his arms.
The yogi's lips curled into a faint smile.
"And what is it that you wish to learn?"
Lucky grinned. "Something cool! Something that makes me strong too. I mean if Shivansh is going to be a warrior, I can't just be his sidekick, right?"
The yogi chuckled softly. "Very well. If that is your wish, you shall learn the art of swordsmanship. A true warrior is not just one who wields power, but one who masters the blade with discipline and precision."
Lucky's eyes lit up. "Now we're talking.!"
The yogi turned to Shivansh and raised his hand. Instantly a bow appeared in this air, glowing with an ethereal energy before settling into his grasp. "Your journey begins with this," he said, handing the weapon to Shivansh. "You will train with a normal bow first. To wield the Dhanush of your ancestors, you must prove yourself worthy."
Shivansh frowned. "But I want to train with my ancestral bow now! How will I master it if I don't even use it?
The yogi's expression hardened.
"Foolishness. A child does not run before learning to walk. The divine bow is not merely a weapon– it is alive. When you are ready, it will come to you. Not before."
There was a moment of silence, thick with realization. Shivansh tightened his grip on the ordinary bow, determination settling in his heart. "Fine. Then I'll master this first," he said.
The Yogi nodded approvingly. With a wave of his hand, three arrows materialized in the air. Each one glowed with a different aura.
"These are no ordinary arrows. Each one possesses a unique power," the yogi explained, pointing at the first. "This is Agni Astra. When summoned, it carries the flame of destruction. Fire bends to its command."
The arrow hummed as Shivansh touched it, feeling an intense heat radiating from its core.
The yogi then gestured to the second. "This is Vayu Astra. It moves faster than the wind, striking with the force of a storm."
The last arrow pulsed with an eerie glow. "And this," the Yogi said in a hushed tone, "is Narach Astra. Unlike the others, once released, it does not stop until it finds its target. It will chase your enemy until it pierces through."
Shivansh did as he was told. He took a deep breath, shutting out all distractions. He imagined the fire, the storm, the unstoppable force. His heartbeat synchronized with the energy around him.
And then, it happened.
The air shimmered. Crackling with power. From the void, an arrow emerged, forming in his grasp. The moment was electric – his body tingled with raw energy.
"Now, release!" the Yogi commanded.
Shivansh pulled the bowstring and let go. The arrow ignited in flames as it soared through the air. The heat was overwhelming, the fire twisting like a living entity. It struck a target in the distance, exploding into a blaze that left Shivansh breathless.
Lucky whistled. "Okay, that was insane!"
The yogi watched, his face unreadable.
"You have potential, Shivansh. But potential alone is not enough. To truly wield the divine Dhanush, you must conquer yourself – your doubts, your fears, your weaknesses. Until then, this is only the beginning."
Shivansh exhaled sharply, realizing that his life was no longer the same. This was not just training. This was a test of destiny itself.
Shivansh and Lucky's training had begun, and both were practicing with unwavering dedication. But there was something different about Shivansh. He wasn't just learning like a student; he was absorbing every lesson as if it was a part of his very existence. Yogi watched him closely and every time he saw Shivansh wield a weapon or recite a mantra, he was reminded of someone — of shree Ram himself.
"He is not just a descendant of Shri Ram....
He carries his essence within him," Yogi thought to himself one evening as he observed Shivansh practicing relentlessly.
One quiet night, while everyone else was asleep, Shivansh sat alone on top of a cliff, staring at the vast, endless sky. The cool wind brushed against his face, but his mind was clouded with doubts. He had come far, learned so much, but a deep uncertainty still lingered within him.
Yogi approached him silently and stood beside him.
"What are you thinking, shiv?" he asked.
Shivansh exhaled heavily and, without looking at yogi, whispered,
"Guruji... Do you really think I can become like Shree Ram? Am I even worthy of wielding his bow? Am I truly capable of destiny?"
For the first time, Yogi saw hesitation in his eyes. A warrior's greatest enemy wasn't an opponent – it was self-doubt.
Yogi placed a firm hand on his shoulder and spoke with the wisdom of ages,
"Shivansh, worthiness is not something you are born with; it is something you prove through your actions. You are Shri Ram's descendant, but that alone does not make you great. It is your karma, your deeds, that will define your legacy. Never doubt yourself, for the moment you do, you allow weakness to take root in your heart."
Shivansh looked at yogi, still unsure. Sensing his unspoken thoughts, Yogi continued,
"As for Shree Ram's bow.... I have told you before – when the time is right, it will come to you. But tell me, why do you desire only his bow? Why not create a weapon that belongs to you alone? Do you think Shree Ram was given his bow by someone else? No, he earned it. He made it his own. You must do the same!"
Yogi's words struck Shivansh like a bolt of lightning. A realization dawned upon him – one that ignited a free deep within his soul.
"You are right, Guruji! I don't need to wait for something that isn't mine. I will forge my own bow – one that reflects my power, my spirit, and my destiny!"
With newfound determination, Shivansh ran down the cliff in excitement, his heart pounding with purpose.
The very next day, he began crafting his bow. Days turned into nights, and with Yogi's guidance, he poured his soul into the creation of a weapon that would be his own. The final result was magnificent–an extraordinary bow, unlike anything seen before.
It wasn't just a weapon; it was an extension of himself. Unlike an ordinary bow, it did not need to be carried. It remained hidden, bound to his soul, appearing only when he willed it. A mere thought could summon it into his hands, glowing with divine energy, and when released, it would vanish into thin air– waiting to be called upon again.
As Shivansh held his creation for the first time, he pulled an arrow, aimed at the sky, and let it fly. The arrow shot forward with blinding light, illuminating the darkness for miles. Yogi watched with a proud smile.
"Shivansh, you have not just created a weapon. You have manifested your true self."
Shivansh took a deep breath, his fingers gently tracing the intricate carvings on the bow. Then, he whispered,
"I shall name you...'VAJRANAND'– the one who strikes like thunder yet carries the joy of creation."
At that moment, the air around him crackled with power, as if the universe itself had acknowledged his choice. His journey was far from over, but now, he no longer doubted himself.
This was just the beginning.