Deep forest camp → back to Satjelia village
Day 11, sunrise
The boats were loaded before the mist burned off.
Dakshraj stood on the jetty one last time, the rising sun turning the water into molten gold behind him.
"Listen carefully, children.
We are returning to Satjelia village for the final round.
Ten days.
One goal: take everything you have learned (village needs, forest limits, your own mistakes) and turn it into something the world will actually buy and use.
This is no longer about prototypes.
This is about commercialisation.
The winner gets full funding, full control, and my company's entire machine behind them to take their idea from riverbank to global market.
The runners-up are not forgotten."
Professor Jagadish stepped forward, smiling like a kind grandfather.
"Second place receives one year of personal mentorship from Dr Saha and myself.
Unlimited lab access, patents filed in your name, and two very stubborn old people who will not let you fail."
Dr Anahita's turn.
Her voice was soft silk over steel.
"Third place receives one lakh rupees seed money.
Spend it however you wish (though I hope you spend it wisely).
And to every single one of you, whether you place or not: my institute's doors are open.
Come find me.
I am always looking for talent that can survive the Sunderbans."
She let that hang in the air like perfume.
Mr Bonbehari Ray was last.
He didn't step forward.
He simply looked at each contestant in turn, slow and heavy.
"Don't forget to eat," he rumbled.
"Ten days of work, then ten days of only eating, drinking, dancing, and listening to Baul songs.
We will send all five of you home with full bellies and tiger stories that will last three lifetimes."
A ripple of nervous laughter.
Then Daksh clapped once.
"Emails with your detailed forest-round reports have been sent.
Read them on the boat.
Some of you will cry.
Some of you will cheer.
All of you will work harder than you ever have.
Boats leave in five minutes.
Move."
The scramble was immediate.
Madhu opened his inbox with shaking fingers.
Subject: Final Private Evaluation – Madhusūdana
From: Judges Panel
Overall rank this round: 2nd
Combined score (village + forest): currently 2nd behind Manu–Vishwa
Key comments:
Mr Ray:
"The river forgave him. That is rare. Do not waste the forgiveness."
Prof. Jagadish:
"From destructive to delicate in ten days. I have not seen growth this fast since 1974."
Dr Anahita Saha:
"Raw talent finally shaped by humility.
A dual-function device (survey + purification) at commercial scale would be revolutionary.
I will clear my calendar for whoever builds it first."
Madhu stared at the screen until the words blurred.
Shabonti peeked over his shoulder and squealed loud enough to startle an egret.
"Bhaiya, you're second! SECOND! And Anahita aunty basically proposed marriage to your brain!"
Madhu's face went scarlet.
Across the boat, Medini read her own report in silence, lips pressed thin.
Manu and Vishwa were literally dancing on the deck.
AJ, now officially a "guest", was already filming the chaos for his vlog titled "I Lost But I'm Still Eating Their Food".
Ten days to turn survival into business.
Ten days to decide the future.
The boats pushed off.
The mangroves closed behind them like green curtains.
And on the lead boat, Dr Anahita Saha stood at the bow, cotton saree fluttering, watching Madhu with unblinking eyes.
Satjelia village – Day 1 of the final sprint
The village had transformed overnight.
A giant bamboo-and-canvas "Innovation Shed" stood where the school playground used to be.
Inside: workbenches, solar soldering stations, 3D printers donated by Dakshraj Foundation, and an army of local carpenters ready to help.
Outside: cameras, drones, and half of India watching.
Madhu claimed the corner bench closest to the river, spread out his transparent discs, and declared war on wires.
Goal:
Zero visible cables
70 % smaller footprint
Still purify water + survey wildlife
Price under ₹8,000 per unit
He hadn't slept properly in three days and was running on glucon-D and sheer spite.
Manu & Vishwakarma turned their section into a miniature factory.
They were so confident they spent the first morning teaching village kids how to assemble sub-units while singing Baul songs off-key.
Their plan: scale production, add a subscription app, and basically become the "Amazon of jungle survival".
Medini sat under the banyan tree with the village headman and five honey-collectors, sketching on butcher paper.
She had done the math.
1st prize = Dakshraj Foundation charity wing → zero profit, zero control, zero ability to pay her team real salaries.
2nd prize = mentorship from Jagadish + Anahita → actual labs, actual funding, actual scale but no freedom.
For the first time in life Medini was aiming for the bronze.
Sindhu stared at her yellow buoys, now painted with tiger stripes, and sighed.
"They work perfectly.
They cost ₹400 each.
Villagers already make them themselves.
How do I 'commercialise' something that's already free?"
She spent the afternoon drinking tea with fishermen, trying to figure out if "better" was even the right question.
AJ?
AJ had accepted his fate as permanent guest/videographer.
He was currently flying his one surviving drone in lazy circles, narrating in his signature whisper:
"Day one of the final showdown, fam.
Madhu hasn't blinked in 37 hours, Manu–Vishwa are building an empire, and I… am eating mishti doi.
Absolute unit behaviour."
Evening – under the banyan
The five contestants (plus one ex-contestant) gathered for dinner: hilsa curry, rice, and silence thick with strategy.
Medini broke the tired silence.
"I'm not trying to win," she said calmly.
"Actually… I'm aiming for bronze."
Four heads snapped toward her.
She shrugged, poking at her rice with a plastic spoon.
"First prize = Dakshraj Foundation charity wing.
Beautiful on paper, zero profit, zero freedom, and I become a permanent poster child.
Second prize = mentorship from Jagadish sir and Dr Saha.
Great for inventors who need labs.
I don't. I need boots on the ground, not beakers.
Third prize = ten lakh rupees, no strings, cash in hand.
That buys buses, salaries for local teachers, seed bombs, emergency kits, and three years of real work in real villages without anyone telling me how to smile for the camera."
She looked around the circle, eyes steady.
"So yeah.
I'm deliberately shooting for third.
I'll do my honest best—just not my winning best."
Manu let out a low whistle.
Vishwa grinned wide. "Respect."
Madhu blinked, processing.
"So… you're throwing the match on purpose?"
"Throwing it exactly far enough to land on the bronze step," Medini corrected, smiling for the first time all day.
"Watch and learn."
Sindhu raised her coconut water in salute.
"Suddenly third place sounds like freedom."
AJ zoomed his phone camera in on Medini's face.
"This plot twist just broke the internet, queen."
Above them on the balcony, Dr Anahita Saha's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on the railing.
Satjelia village – Day 2 of the final 10
Morning mist still clung to the river when Madhu sat cross-legged on the Innovation Shed floor, surrounded by spreadsheets, broken wires, and the hollow-eyed stare of a boy who had discovered reality.
Current cost of one wireless, compact, dual-function (survey + purify) disc:
₹8,712 (including bulk discount on infrared chips).
Target price: ₹8,000 max.
Difference: ₹712
That ₹712 was a death sentence.
An extra ₹712 meant a village school couldn't buy one unit.
An extra ₹712 meant his dream died in a spreadsheet cell.
He rubbed his face hard enough to leave red marks.
Other problems kept piling up like storm clouds:
The new infrared wireless system worked flawlessly in still water (ponds, village tanks, lakes).
In flowing river currents the signal scattered. Name change required: no longer "River Healer".
Trash collection was still manual. The disc filtered perfectly, but someone had to physically empty the debris tray every 4–5 days or the whole system clogged.
No automation possible without adding motors (cost +₹1,200) or dumping trash back into the water (ecological suicide).
Madhu stared at the prototype until the numbers blurred.
₹712.
A lifetime of work balanced on seven hundred and twelve rupees.
Across the shed
Manu & Vishwakarma had turned their corner into a pop-up showroom.
A hand-painted banner screamed in bright red:
"ONE MODULE PER VILLAGE = 50 % FEWER PROBLEMS!"
They were running live demos non-stop: water filter → instant shelter → motion-sensor tiger camera → solar charging.
Village kids were already calling it "Jadui Dabba".
Viewers were spamming the live chat with fire emojis and UPI donation links.
Sindhu sat alone on the riverbank, legs dangling over the water, staring at her tiger-striped buoys bobbing happily.
Cheap. Simple. Works.
And completely impossible to "commercialise" without turning into the very plastic-polluting corporation she hated.
She flicked a pebble into the current and watched the ripples die.
Medini, meanwhile, was exactly where she belonged:
under the banyan tree, surrounded by thirty grandmothers, teaching them how to use a cheap smartphone app that connects directly to the forest department in emergencies.
No prototype. No cost worries. No sleepless nights.
Just people, stories, and solutions that already existed if someone cared enough to listen.
She looked happier than she had in weeks.
Afternoon – the shed
Madhu finally stood up, swaying slightly from exhaustion, and carried his half-finished disc to the one person he both feared and respected most.
Dr Anahita Saha was at the 3D-printing station, supervising a new batch of biodegradable casings.
He placed the prototype in front of her like an offering.
"Ma'am… I can't get below ₹8,700.
And it only works perfectly in still water.
And it still needs manual cleaning.
I think… I think I've failed."
Anahita didn't look up immediately.
She finished calibrating the printer, then turned the disc over in her hands, slow and thoughtful.
Finally she spoke, voice soft.
"Do you know why the forest liked your second design, Madhusūdana?"
He shook his head.
"Because you stopped trying to conquer the water
and started serving it."
She tapped the debris tray.
"This ₹712 you're crying over?
Make the tray a paid job.
Train one woman per village to empty and compost the trash.
Suddenly your weakness becomes someone's salary.
Suddenly your device creates jobs, not waste."
She handed it back.
"Still water first.
Master ponds and tanks across India (there are three crore of them).
Rivers can wait for version two."
Madhu stared at her.
Then, very slowly, the exhaustion on his face cracked into something dangerously close to hope.
Anahita's smile was small, sharp, and (for once) almost kind.
"Ten days, Mr Madhusūdana.
Stop thinking like a student.
Start thinking like the man who will feed a thousand villages with seven hundred rupees and a river that forgives."
Madhu clutched the disc to his chest and ran back to his bench.
Across the shed, Manu & Vishwa's victory banner flapped in the breeze.
On the riverbank, Sindhu finally smiled and started sketching a new idea.
Under the banyan, Medini looked up at the sky and mouthed a quiet thank you to whichever god was listening.
Satjelia village – Day 4 of the final 10
Madhu sat on his charpoy in the guesthouse courtyard, legs stretched out, phone balanced on his stomach, watching Episode 3 of "Reincarnated as a Sentient Water Filter in Another World".
The protagonist had just purified an entire demon-infested lake using only friendship and a harem of elf engineers.
Madhu snorted at the screen.
"Trash. Absolute garbage. Ten out of ten."
His new prototype (now officially named "Jal Rakshak – Pond Edition") lay complete on the table beside him:
wireless
₹8,690 final cost (₹22 under the red line he had drawn in blood)
manual trash tray that doubled as a paid village job
transparent casing grown from rice husk bioplastic
a 12-page flowchart titled "From Pond to Paycheck" that made Professor Jagadish tear up yesterday
He was done.
For the first time in months, Madhu felt… light.
Shabonti stormed past, Medini's official "junior assistant" lanyard swinging around her neck.
"Bhaiya, why are you still watching these childish cartoons? That's why you're single."
Madhu didn't even look away from the screen.
"I'm single because I'm ugly and broke.
The anime is just a bonus."
Shabonti rolled her eyes so hard the village dogs felt it.
"Whatever. I'm going to do adult things—like help Medini di save the planet."
She flounced off.
Madhu shrugged and turned the volume up.
Across the courtyard
Sindhu sat on the steps of the Innovation Shed, knees pulled to her chest.
Daksh and Anahita had just finished their gentle, devastating meeting with her.
"Your buoys are perfect," Daksh had said, smiling sadly.
"They belong to the people now.
Trying to sell them would only wrap them in plastic and patents.
Let the idea be free.
You've already won something bigger than this contest."
Sindhu had nodded, eyes wet, and quietly released the open-source blueprints online an hour later.
The file was downloaded 47,000 times in six hours.
Manu & Vishwakarma's corner looked like a luxury store.
They had finished the functional part days ago.
Now they were hand-painting every module with traditional Sunderbans motifs: tigers, Bonbibi, fish, and mangrove roots.
They had even convinced local Nakshi kantha artists to embroider carrying bags.
Their pitch was simple:
"Beautiful enough for eco-resorts, tough enough for villages, made by the people who live here."
Orders were already trickling in from five-star hotels in Kolkata.
Evening – the judges' room
Daksh and Anahita sat across from each other, both staring at the same file on their laptops.
Title: "Satjelia & 47 Neighbouring Villages – Complete Needs Assessment"
Author: Medini (with help from 312 grandmothers, 89 fishermen, and 1 twelve-year-old tiger onesie expert)
It contained:
cyclone early-warning gaps
exact locations of malaria medicine shortages
which ponds turn poisonous every June
which schools have no boundary walls
every single problem the village had whispered to Medini under the banyan tree
Daksh exhaled slowly.
"This is worth more than every prototype combined."
Anahita's fingers drummed once on the table.
"I want it.
My institute can turn this data into targeted interventions within six months."
Daksh raised an eyebrow.
"Medini will never sell it.
She's aiming for third place and freedom."
Anahita smiled, slow and sharp.
"Then we don't buy the file.
We hire the girl who wrote it."
Outside, the sun set blood-red over the water.
Madhu finished his trash isekai, stretched, and for the first time in weeks, fell asleep without nightmares.
Six days left.
The inventions were ready.
The futures were written.
Satjelia village – Day 20, evening
The entire village had become a carnival.
Fairy lights strung between banyan and coconut trees.
Baul singers on a bamboo stage.
Children in new clothes running wild with paper tigers on sticks.
Every important person who had ever mattered to the Sunderbans seemed to be here tonight.
A minister, CEOs, forest officers, and one very confused Bollywood director who still wanted AJ's drone footage.
A wooden stage had been built facing the river, decorated with marigolds and mangrove leaves.
Dakshraj stood at the centre, kurta spotless despite twenty days of mud and mosquitoes.
"Twenty days ago, five young people stepped off boats carrying nothing but ideas and fear.
Tonight, one of them will leave with the power to change millions of lives.
But first," he smiled, "we celebrate all of them."
He introduced the chief guest:
Union Minister of Environment, Forest and Climate Change, Shri Ajit Bishwas, who gave a fiery twenty-minute speech about mangroves being India's lungs and youth being its heartbeat.
The villagers cheered louder for the free mishti at the end than for the speech, but they cheered all the same.
Then Mr Bonbehari Ray climbed the stage, slow and heavy, the way a tiger walks into a clearing.
The crowd quieted instantly.
"Before prizes," he rumbled, "there are debts to be paid."
He turned to the contestants lined up behind him.
Dr Anahita joined him, holding two small envelopes.
"People's Favourite Award (voted by 42 million viewers nationwide):
Medini."
The roar was deafening.
Medini laughed through sudden tears as Shabonti tackled her in a flying hug.
"People's Heart Award (chosen by Satjelia and twelve neighbouring villages):
Sindhu."
Sindhu, who had spent the morning releasing baby turtles into the river, stood stunned, was pulled onto stage by ten fishermen at once.
Then Mr Ray's voice dropped to a growl that carried to the back row.
"Third place
For teaching us that the greatest technology is a listening heart
Medini."
She bowed, palms together, eyes shining.
Ten lakh rupees. Freedom. Exactly what she had aimed for with sniper precision.
"Second place
For breaking his invention, breaking his pride, and rebuilding both into something the river forgave
Madhusūdana."
Madhu walked forward in a daze.
Shabonti was openly crying now.
His mother, watching live on TV in Mumbai, screamed loud enough to wake the neighbours.
Mr Ray placed a rough hand on his shoulder.
"The river remembers kindness, boy.
Don't forget."
Madhu could only nod, throat too tight for words.
"And first place
No surprise, but still earned every day
For building a machine so useful even the tigers want one
Manu and Vishwakarma."
The crowd erupted.
Manu and Vishwa lifted each other off the ground in a spinning hug while village kids swarmed them waving paper versions of the Jadui Dabba.
Daksh took the microphone again.
"To Manu and Vishwakarma: full commercialisation, global patents, and my entire company behind you.
To Madhu: second-place funding, personal mentorship from Professor Jagadish and Dr Saha, and a seat reserved at every lab you ever want.
To Medini: ten lakh rupees and the freedom to keep doing exactly what you were born to do.
To Sindhu and AJ: open doors, open hearts, and open invitations whenever you need them."
He paused, looking out at the river lit gold by lanterns.
"But the real winner tonight is this forest.
Because five children listened to it,
and it listened back."
Mr Ray raised a clay cup of madhu-ca (fermented palm nectar).
"To the children who did not try to conquer the Sunderbans
only to live inside its heartbeat."
Every person on stage, in the crowd, and along the riverbank raised whatever they were holding (tea cups, coconut shells, drone controllers, tiger plushies.
The cheer that followed rolled across the water like thunder.
Later, when the music was loud and the dancing louder,
Madhu stood alone at the river's edge, second-place medal heavy around his neck.
Dr Anahita appeared beside him, quiet as moonlight.
"Still interested in that internship?" she asked softly.
Madhu looked at the river, then at the sky full of stars, then at the village lights behind him.
"I think," he said slowly, "I'm going to build my own lab.
Right here.
With the people who taught me what water actually wants."
Anahita's smile didn't falter, but something ancient flickered behind her eyes.
"Then I'll send you the equipment," she said.
"Free of charge.
Consider it… an investment."
She walked away.
Epilogue
Ten days later – Godkhali jetty
The village had cried when they left.
Old women pressed packets of dried fish and honey into every hand.
Children tied paper-tiger bracelets around every wrist.
Someone even tried to gift Manu & Vishwa a live chicken (they politely declined).
The boats pulled away at dawn, lanterns still glowing along the riverbank, villagers waving until they were only specks.
Only two men stayed behind on the empty jetty.
Dakshraj Mehra, kurta sleeves rolled up, hands in pockets.
Bonbehari Ray, lungi hitched, arms crossed, eyes the colour of storm clouds.
Ray spoke first, voice low enough that only the river heard.
"Five fragment-bearers.
All five contestants.
You planned it from the beginning, didn't you… old friend?"
Dakshraj's smile was small and sharp.
"I simply put the right children in the right forest.
The fragments chose the rest."
Ray grunted.
"They're good cubs.
Strong hearts.
But you invited the snake into the basket."
Dakshraj looked toward the horizon where the last boat had vanished.
"Anahita had to be here we needed to investigate her without hrr knowing and destroy the hidden labs"
Ray's eyes narrowed.
"And the boy? Madhusūdana?"
Dakshraj's smile widened, almost proud.
"The river forgave him.
That's rarer than any fragment."
Ray nodded once, slow.
"Then the war begins."
Dakshraj turned to leave.
"It began the day Gods left us with their fragments" he said over his shoulder.
"We're only catching up."
Somewhere far away – a barren salt-flat in Gujarat
Dr Anahita Saha's convoy sped across cracked earth, three black SUVs kicking up white dust.
The sky was clear.
Then it wasn't.
A single bolt of pure white lightning split the heavens with a sound like the world cracking open.
The middle SUV vanished in a sphere of plasma.
When the smoke cleared, a figure stood in the crater (tall, barefoot, hair wild with static, eyes glowing electric blue).
"I am Indra," the figure said, voice layered with thunder.
"Bearer of the Indra fragment.
Just as Indra slew Vṛtra once,
I will finish the job."
From the wreckage, Dr Anahita stepped out unscorched, brushing ash from her cotton saree.
She looked almost bored.
"I'm not much of a fighter," she said lightly.
"But this one is."
The sky tore open again.
A colossal serpent (black scales edged in green venom-light, thirteen heads writhing, wings of shadow) descended with a scream that shattered every window for ten kilometres.
A direct clone of Vṛtra.
Unstable.
One-twelfth strength.
Still enough to swallow cities.
Anahita patted one massive scaled cheek affectionately.
"Data update on Subject: Vishnu Fragment is overdue," she said to the empty air.
"Have fun, darling."
She stepped into a portal of green fire and vanished.
The serpent and the thunder god locked eyes.
Lightning met venom.
And somewhere very far away, in a small Mumbai flat,
Madhu woke from a dream of rain and tiger stripes,
heart racing for reasons he couldn't name.
.....Sunderbans Arc Finished.......