The silence left by the mysterious man's departure was absolute, broken only by the gentle lapping of waves against the unseen shore of Elephanta Island. Kunal stood frozen for a long moment, the man's final warning echoing in his ears: Seek your truth before the choice is made for you. He was alone, vulnerable, stranded on a dark island steeped in the energy of Shiva, the Destroyer. Panic threatened to surface, cold and sharp. He took a deep breath, forcing it down, murmuring the rakṣā mantra Ananya had given him. He had survived the encounter; now he had to survive the aftermath.
His first thought was the boatman Abhishek had hired – was he even coming back? The hour he'd promised felt like an eternity away, and staying here, exposed, felt deeply unwise. Following the man's cryptic guidance felt like his only option, but how to even begin? He cautiously made his way back towards the small, hidden jetty where the kashti had dropped him off, his flashlight beam dancing nervously over the ancient stones and gnarled roots.
As he neared the water's edge, his beam caught something unexpected bobbing near the rocks – a small, simple dinghy with a low-power outboard motor, barely large enough for one person. It hadn't been there before. Tied loosely to a protruding rock was a plain rope. A parting gift? Or perhaps a test from the pale-eyed man? Either way, it was a way off this island now. Checking it quickly for anything obviously suspicious and finding nothing, Kunal didn't hesitate. He untied the rope, pushed the dinghy into the water, and coaxed the small motor to life. It started with a surprisingly quiet hum.
The journey back across the harbour was less terrifying than the trip out, fueled now by adrenaline and a whirlwind of unanswered questions rather than pure dread. He kept the distant lights of Mumbai as his guide, the burner phone still showing no signal. As the familiar skyline grew larger, solidifying out of the pre-dawn haze, the oppressive weight of the island's isolation began to lift, replaced by an urgent need to reconnect.
He steered the dinghy towards a quiet, less-used section of the Colaba waterfront, beaching it clumsily on the sand and scrambling out. He glanced back – the dinghy bobbed innocently, looking like any other small boat left carelessly ashore. He walked quickly towards the nearest road, pulling out the burner phone. A single bar flickered, then two. Signal.
His fingers flew, dialling Abhishek first.
"Bhai! Kunal? You okay? What happened? We lost your tracker signal near the island an hour after you landed!" Abhishek's voice was a torrent of relief and anxiety.
"I'm okay, Abhi. Off the island. Back on the mainland. Colaba side."
"Shukar hai. (Thank God.) Ananya's been going crazy. Stay put, I'm coming to get you. Send me your location."
He messaged Ananya next, a simple "Safe. Back. Talk soon." Her reply was instantaneous: three relieved emojis followed by "!!! Don't move, wait for Abhi!"
Back within the relative safety of Abhishek's Versova apartment, the three friends huddled together, mugs of rapidly cooling chai forgotten. The sun was beginning to paint the Mumbai sky in hues of orange and grey outside the drawn curtains. Kunal, exhausted but running on nervous energy, recounted the entire encounter at Elephanta.
He described the impeccably dressed man, the pale eyes, the unnerving calm. He repeated the confirmation of the watchers, the Guptacharas, the jamming of signals, the man's knowledge of his potential and even his quantum ideas. He explained the cryptic guidance – the need to understand himself by visiting places linked to his past life, his dharma. He described finding the boat left for him.
Abhishek listened intently, his usual pragmatism battling with the sheer impossibility of it all. "So, this guy… jams military-grade frequencies, knows about our button-bug, leaves a boat like some kind of phantom valet service, and gives you homework?" He shook his head. "He says he won't harm you, but someone with that kind of knowledge and tech… bharosa nahin kar sakte. (Can't trust him.)"
Ananya, however, focused on the guidance. "Pataliputra, Taxila, the caves… these are all major centres of Mauryan power and Buddhist learning. Places Kunala would have known intimately. And the man mentioned dharma… It aligns with Ashoka's own transformation. This journey… maybe it is necessary, Kunal. Not just for answers about the past, but about your purpose now." She pulled up a map on her tablet. "But where do you start?"
Kunal looked at the map, images flashing in his mind – Ashoka's pillars, grand universities, ancient trade routes. "Taxila," he said, surprising himself with the certainty in his voice. "Everything points there. It was a seat of learning, of power, long before Pataliputra became the heart of the empire under Ashoka. Chandragupta, my grandfather… his journey arguably began there. Chanakya taught there. It feels like… like the beej (seed). The place where the Mauryan samrajya truly took root." He felt a strange resonance with the name, a pull he couldn't explain but couldn't ignore.
"Taxila?" Abhishek frowned. "That's all the way up north… near Pakistan border, right? Risky area historically and even now."
"All the more reason," Kunal countered. "If these Guptacharas have persisted, they might guard places of significance. But this man said to follow my instincts. Taxila calls to me." He looked at his friends. "And I need to do this alone."
"Nahin! (No!)" Ananya and Abhishek protested almost in unison.
"Kunal, pagal mat ban! (Don't be crazy!)" Abhishek argued. "You just confirmed you're being watched by people who likely assassinated you once! You need backup!"
"We can come with you," Ananya insisted. "I can research archives there, Abhi can handle security…"
Kunal held up a hand, appreciating their fierce loyalty but resolute. "No. The man knew about you, about the tracker attempts. Traveling together might draw more attention, put you in danger. And… he said I need to integrate this myself. That this journey is about me reclaiming something." He looked them both in the eye. "This is my path. My Niyati. But that doesn't mean you can't help."
He paused, shifting gears. "While I'm gone… I need you two to start laying the buniyad (foundation). For the future. For what comes after I figure this out." He saw their confusion and pushed on, connecting back to the dream that felt lifetimes away now. "My original idea… the quantum system, the new language… it's not just a startup concept anymore. I think… I think it's connected to why I remembered. To the potential the man mentioned."
He leaned forward. "We need minds. Young, sharp, unconventional minds who aren't constrained by current paradigms. People who can grasp the connection between ancient logic and future tech. I need you two to start looking for them. Discreetly. Small colleges, overlooked towns, online forums – find young engineers, linguists, mathematicians, philosophers who have that spark, that enthusiasm. Vet them carefully. We need to build a team for whatever comes next." He offered a small, tired smile. "Mujhe bharosa hai tum dono par. (I trust you both.) More than anyone."
Ananya and Abhishek exchanged glances. They clearly hated the idea of Kunal going alone, but they saw his determination, and the request connected back to the ambitious dream they knew he'd harboured before all the madness began. It gave them a purpose, a way to contribute while he faced the ghosts of his past.
"Okay, bhai," Abhishek finally conceded, sighing. "We'll start the groundwork. Find your future tech army. But you promise you'll use the panic button if anything feels wrong. And check in whenever you can, signal permitting."
Ananya nodded, her eyes still full of worry but also resolve. "I'll focus the research too. See if Taxila holds specific clues about the Guptacharas or this Crimson Star prophecy."
Preparations were swift and tense. Kunal packed light – essentials only, plus the burner phone, the tracker Abhishek insisted on reactivating ("Just in case, yaar!"), the panic button, and Ananya's protective stone. Abhishek transferred a chunk of his own savings to Kunal's account – "For emergencies. Don't argue." Ananya gave him a list of potential contacts in the regions near Taxila – old professors, distant archaeological acquaintances.
The farewell at the train station was brief, heavy with unspoken fears.
"Dhyaan rakhna. (Take care.)" Ananya's voice was thick with emotion.
"Call karna. (Call us.)" Abhishek clapped him on the shoulder again, hard.
Kunal nodded, unable to say much. He boarded the train heading north, finding a seat by the window. As the train pulled away from the familiar chaos of Mumbai, carrying him towards the ancient ruins and forgotten echoes of Taxila, he felt utterly alone, yet strangely purposeful. He was Kunala, the Lotus-Eyed Prince, assassinated and reborn. He was Kunal Shukla, the former analyst, now hunting the ghosts of his own past. And he was, perhaps, The Last Chakravarti, embarking on a journey to understand a destiny whispered across millennia. The weight of choices had become the weight of worlds.
To be continued...