The sky was still dark when the chhauni woke.
No rooster called.No trumpet sounded.Yet every Nihang in the camp rose at the same moment, as if guided by the same unseen rhythm.
Today was not a normal day.
Today, Arjanveer Singh would step into the final stage before Amrit.
The Sacred Preparation
A cold mist drifted across the grass as Arjanveer walked toward the central tent, wearing only a simple white chola. His heart was steady now—calmer than ever before.
As he approached, he saw five Silhouette-like figures already seated in a circle. Their blue dumalle glowed faintly in the early dawn.
Gurbaaz Singh stood nearby, tying his dumalla.
He smiled."No fear today?"
Arjanveer breathed deeply."No fear. Only purpose."
Gurbaaz clapped him on the back."Good. You'll need that."
Inside the tent, Jathedar Jasraj Singh waited, sitting beside a large steel bowl of water. The scent of sandalwood filled the air.
"You are ready," he said without asking.
Arjanveer kneeled.
The jathedar dipped his hand into the water and sprinkled a few drops across Arjanveer's forehead.
"This is not Amrit," he said, voice low."This is clarity. A warrior must walk into Amrit with a clean spirit."
Arjanveer bowed.
"Today," the jathedar continued, "you will face yourself. Not the world. Not the enemy. Your own doubts."
Arjanveer nodded calmly.
"I am ready, Baba ji."
The Ritual of Purification
The jathedar motioned for him to stand.
Two young Nihangs entered with a large steel sarohi, a ritual blade used not for violence—but for oath and intention.
"Step forward," the jathedar said.
Arjanveer inhaled and gripped the cold steel hilt.
"Raise it," the jathedar commanded.
Arjanveer lifted the blade to the sky.
The tent went silent.
No wind.No breath.No heartbeat.
Only Arjanveer's voice as he recited:
"I will surrender my ego.""I will surrender my fear.""I will surrender everything that blocks the path of the Guru."
The blade shimmered.
And for the first time, Arjanveer felt its weight not as metal—but as responsibility.
The Unexpected Visitor
Suddenly, the tent flap rustled.
A tall Nihang entered—unknown, unfamiliar. His beard silver, his eyes fierce, his aura almost impossible to describe.
Every warrior inside straightened instinctively.
Jathedar Jasraj Singh's expression softened.
"So you came," he said.
The elder nodded."This boy's path touched the wind. I had to see him."
Arjanveer felt his throat tighten.
"Who… who are you?" he whispered.
The elder smiled faintly.
"Someone who once stood where you stand now."
He approached Arjanveer slowly, placing a rough, heavy hand on his shoulder.
"Your voice reached farther than you know," the elder said."The Guru listens when a heart speaks honestly. And the Panth listens too."
Arjanveer's eyes widened, breath short.
The elder leaned in.
"Fear tried to hide inside you," he whispered."But you chased it out."
He stepped back.
"Today, you do not prepare for Amrit.Today, Amrit prepares for you."
The Final Instruction
Jasraj Singh rose to his feet.
"Arjanveer Singh," he announced, "from this moment until sunrise tomorrow, you will not speak a single word."
Arjanveer nodded.
"You will train. You will meditate. You will listen.And by the next dawn… you will be ready to enter the circle of the Panj."
The elder added:
"Remember this—A warrior becomes fearless not when he stops feeling fear,but when he stops obeying it."
Arjanveer bowed deeply.
Today was not the ceremony.
Today was transformation.
Silent Training
All day, Arjanveer moved like a shadow through the chhauni:
—He meditated beside the sarovar, letting its stillness steady his breath.—He practiced gatka with silent intensity, each strike sharper than the last.—He fed the horses, brushed their manes, and whispered prayers into their ears.—He cleaned shastars in the armory until they gleamed like lightning.
Every warrior who saw him felt it:
He was changing.
Not becoming someone new—but becoming who he was always meant to be.
Nightfall
As the sun set, Arjanveer returned to his tent.
Gurbaaz approached with a grin.
"Tomorrow, brother," he said softly, "you rise."
Arjanveer simply smiled.
No words.
Just purpose.
He sat cross-legged in the darkness, the blue chola folded neatly beside him, the smell of steel and earth grounding him.
Outside, the chhauni buzzed with quiet excitement.
Inside, Arjanveer breathed in.
Breathed out.
And waited for dawn.
The dawn that would decide everything.