The first rays of dawn, painting the sky in hues of soft pink and pale gold, roused Varun from his slumber.
The air was alive with the gentle chirping of birds—the melodic calls of the maina and the clear, resonant notes of the koyal—a sweet symphony that chased away the lingering shadows of night.
Intermingled with the birdsong was the soft, rhythmic clang of the temple bell, its toll echoing gently, calling the faithful to prayer.
A low, soothing murmur filled the air—the voice of the pandit ji—his ancient mantras weaving through the stillness of the morning.
Varun breathed deeply, savoring the crisp air laced with the fragrant smoke of incense. This place—this harmonious blend of nature and sanctity—radiated a tranquil beauty.
He mused that even the most despairing souls of his own time, burdened by the relentless grind of modernity, would find solace here. A single day in this serene atmosphere—amidst the sacred chants, the temple's timeless rhythm, and the gentle whispers of nature—could mend even the most fractured spirit.
Varun rose, sleep quickly shaken from his limbs by the cool morning air. He walked toward a nearby lake, its still surface reflecting the brightening sky, and washed himself, the cold water invigorating his senses.
He dressed in a simple dhoti and kurta, blending into the local attire with ease.
Returning to the temple, he found the pandit ji concluding his morning chants, the final syllables of sacred verse fading into silence.
The pandit ji offered him a small, welcoming nod. "You slept soundly," he said, a gentle smile touching his lips."I had intended to wake you, but you looked so peaceful, I chose not to."
"Usually," he added with a chuckle, "the first thing I do is pray to Lord Shiva and clean the temple—it's my way of preparing a pure ambiance for devotees."
Varun chuckled softly. "Then allow me to atone for my slumber," he said lightly."Think of it as penance—and a humble offering to Lord Shiva."
He picked up a broom leaning against the wall and began to sweep the temple floor, the rhythmic swish of the bristles accompanying the fading chants. Carefully, he cleared the fallen leaves and dust, then sprinkled water across the stone floor and wiped it clean, leaving it gleaming under the morning light.
Just as Varun finished purifying the temple, a man of stern bearing, dressed in a simple kurta, entered with steady purpose.
He rang the temple bell with a resounding clang, his voice booming, "Jai Jai Mahakal!"
He strode to the statue of Lord Shiva, his posture rigid with reverence, and stood silently in prayer. A few moments passed before he opened his eyes, his gaze steady and focused.
The pandit ji, his smile broadening, greeted him warmly. "As usual, Narayan ji, so early in the morning."
"Everything begins with Shiva," Narayan Savarkar replied, his voice deep and unwavering. "And everything shall also end with him."
The pandit ji chuckled. "Then why didn't you come yesterday evening to end your day?"
Narayan's expression darkened slightly. "Yesterday did end," he said, his gaze still fixed on the statue."But I was away—engaged in a mission for our people, one that kept me from his presence. For that, I begged his forgiveness."
The pandit ji, sensing a shift, gestured toward Varun.
"Narayan ji," he said gently, "this young man has been waiting to speak with you since last evening."
Narayan Savarkar turned, his sharp, inquisitive gaze settling on Varun."You wished to speak with me?" he asked, his tone direct. "How may I be of assistance?"
Varun met Narayan's penetrating gaze, his own eyes calm and steady.
"Indeed, I do need your help, Narayan ji," he said, his voice measured and sincere."Help that, I believe, only you and your brother can provide."
A seasoned man of movement, Narayan understood immediately that the stranger before him was here on a matter that aligned with their shared activism—direct and vital.
The pandit ji, wise in both devotion and discretion, quietly stepped back. His presence, rooted in spiritual guidance, had served its purpose.
With a serene nod, he left the sanctum to the younger men—entrusting them with the present, and with dharma itself.