"So." He looked at me. "Should we begin your training?"
I nodded. "Yup."
He studied me for a moment. His eyes moved across my face, my shoulders, my hands. Like he was seeing something I couldn't.
"You read the book," he said. "What did you understand?"
I thought about it. Tried to find the words.
"Prana is life. It flows through us. The chakras are... reservoirs. They hold it. If they're closed, the Prana builds up. And if you force them open..."
"You become a flood instead of a river." He finished my sentence. Nodded. "Good. You understood the important part."
He pointed to the grass in front of the bench.
"Sit."
I sat. Cross-legged. Spine straight. Just like the diagram in the book.
He sat across from me. Same position.
"Close your eyes."
I closed them.
"Breathe."
I breathed.
"Now." His voice was calm. Even. "Forget about fire. Forget about Purv. Forget about the tournament. Forget about your father. Your brother. All of it. Right now, there is only breath. Only Prana. Only you."
I tried. I really tried. But my mind wouldn't stop. Purv's face. The water bubble. Kshitij's speed. Mukund falling. My fire burning too bright, then fading to nothing.
Forget, I told myself. Just forget.
"You're thinking," Trayaksh said.
"I'm trying not to."
"Trying is thinking. Stop trying. Just breathe."
I took a breath. Let it out.
Another. Another.
In. Out. In. Out.
The thoughts didn't stop. But they got quieter. Like they were moving farther away.
"Feel the air," Trayaksh said. "Where does it go?"
"Into my lungs."
"Before that."
I frowned. "Before that?"
"The air touches your lips. Your nose. Your throat. Feel it. Trace it."
I focused on my breath. The cool air against my lips. The way it filled my nostrils. The path down my throat, into my chest, expanding my lungs.
Down, I thought. It goes down.
"Now," Trayaksh said, "feel the Prana."
I opened my mouth. "I don't—"
"Don't talk. Feel."
I closed my mouth. Closed my eyes.
Prana. Life. The river.
I breathed in. Imagined light entering the top of my head. Sahasrara. The crown chakra.
Nothing.
I breathed again. Imagined the light flowing down to Ajna. Behind my eyes.
Nothing.
Again. Vishuddhi. My throat.
Nothing.
I kept breathing. Kept imagining. Kept failing.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours. I couldn't tell.
The sun was rising behind my closed eyelids. Warm light turning orange, then red, then gold.
I still couldn't feel anything.
I opened my eyes. Looked at Trayaksh.
He was watching me. Calm. Patient.
"I can't feel it," I said.
He nodded. Like he'd expected that.
"Good."
"Good?"
"You didn't lie. You didn't pretend. You told me the truth." He stood up. "And most importantly, that's the first step. Not everyone masters the chakras in one day."
I stared at him.
He offered me his hand. I took it. He pulled me up.
"Feeling Prana isn't like turning on a switch. It's like learning to hear a sound that's always been there, but you've been ignoring your whole life." He started walking toward the lake. I followed.
"How long does it take?"
"Days. Weeks. Months. It's different for everyone."
I stopped walking. "The tournament is in three weeks."
He turned. Looked at me.
"Then you'd better start listening."
He walked to the edge of the lake. The water was still, reflecting the morning sky.
He stood there for a moment, looking at the water like he was analyzing something. Studying it. Measuring it.
I pulled out my water bottle. Took a long drink. My throat was dry from all the breathing exercises.
He sighed.
"Uhhh... how many days do you think it would take for you to walk on water?"
The water went down the wrong pipe.
"COUGH... COUGH... WALK ON WATER?! ARE YOU INSANE?!"
He didn't laugh. Didn't smile.
"I'm not kidding. See..." He pointed at the lake. "In order to know that you've successfully controlled your abilities, you should be able to walk on water."
I stared at him. My face must have been blank, because he sighed again and rubbed his head.
"See..." He crouched down, touched the water's surface with his fingertip. "When you focus your Prana on your feet and cover them with fire, the water surface will form a layer of vapor beneath your foot. Steam. A cushion of heat that holds you up."
He drew a shape in the air with his finger. A foot. A layer of steam beneath it.
"You'll be able to walk on water. But it's only possible when you have a good amount of control over your Prana. If you use too little power..." He mimed someone sinking. "You fall in. If you use too much power..." He mimed an explosion. "You boil the water. And yourself."
He stood up. Looked at me.
"Perfect balance. That's what you need to learn."
I stared at the lake. At the flat, calm surface. At my reflection staring back at me.
"OHHHHHH..." The word came out slow. Stunned.
I understood now. This wasn't about walking on water. This was about control. About finding the exact right amount of power. Not too little. Not too much. Just enough.
Like the book said. A river, not a flood.
Trayaksh clapped me on the shoulder.
"Don't worry. We'll get there." He started walking toward the park exit. "Now go eat. You have training with Akshat and the others later."
I didn't move. I was still staring at the water.
Walking on water. With fire.
That's impossible, a voice in my head said.
So was becoming a YODHA, another voice answered. And you're here anyway.
I looked at the lake. At the calm water. At my reflection staring back at me.
"What will I have to do to achieve this level of control?"
Trayaksh closed his eyes. Rubbed his chin with his hand. Like he was calculating something.
"You have to meditate everywhere. Six hours. Whenever you're free." He opened his eyes. "When you can ignore people, ignore your thoughts, ignore the noise—you'll become the best. You'll master the art of meditation. And after that?" He smiled. "Activating your chakras will be a piece of cake."
My mind wasn't believing it. Six hours. Every day. Ignoring everything.
But I nodded anyway.
"Okay, Trayaksh bhaiya."
"Good." His smile widened. "But don't forget—your physical training is also important. So let's go to the gym."
He said it excitedly. Like the gym was a reward. Like we hadn't just spent an hour meditating in a park at 5 AM.
I lay down on the grass.
"Oh, man. I'm exhausted."
He didn't listen.
He grabbed my hand—I was still lying on the ground—and started walking toward the gym. Dragging me. My back scraped across the grass. A jogger stared at us.
I didn't have the energy to care.
The sun was fully up now. The city was awake. Cars honking, people walking, shops opening. Normal life.
And here I was, being dragged across a park by a man who wanted me to walk on water.
I wondered how I was going to learn to do it.
I didn't know if I could. I didn't know if I had enough control. I didn't know if three weeks was enough time.
But I knew one thing.
I was going to try.
At the gym, Trayaksh didn't even let me sit down.
He marched me straight to the treadmill. Pointed.
"So. Now you also have to sprint for thirty minutes straight. To lose your fat."
I stared at the machine. Then at him.
"Thirty minutes... straight?"
Before I could say anything else, he pressed a button. The treadmill whirred to life. The belt started moving. Slow at first. Then faster. Then faster.
I ran.
Somehow, I survived.
I don't know how. My legs were screaming. My lungs were burning. Sweat poured down my face. But I stayed on the belt. I kept moving.
When the thirty minutes finally ended, I collapsed onto the floor. Lay there. Breathing.
"Na... na... na. Training's not done."
I looked up.
Trayaksh was standing over me. Arms crossed. Unimpressed.
Next was leg day.
One hour of weight lifting.
I don't remember most of it. My brain had shut down somewhere around the third set. But one moment stuck.
I was on the leg curl machine. Lying facedown, hooking my heels under the pads, trying to lift the weight.
The weight was too heavy.
Instead of my legs raising, my whole body raised. I lifted off the bench. Hung there for a second, suspended by my heels. Then I tipped forward and fell face-first onto the floor.
SLAM.
I lay there. Face on the rubber mat. Arms spread. Defeated.
Behind me, I heard Trayaksh sigh. Then the sound of his palm hitting his forehead.
SLAP.
I didn't move.
"Rag." His voice was tired. "The leg curl machine is for your legs. Not your whole body."
"I know," I said into the mat.
"Then why did your whole body lift?"
"Because my legs weren't strong enough to lift it alone."
Silence.
Then—laughter.
I turned my head. Trayaksh was laughing. Actually laughing. Bent over, hand on his knee, shoulders shaking.
I couldn't help it. I started laughing too. Lying on the gym floor, face red, legs shaking, laughing like an idiot.
After a minute, he pulled himself together. Wiped his eyes. Offered me his hand.
"Come on. We're done for today."
I took it. He pulled me up.
"You did good," he said.
I stared at him. "I fell off the machine."
"You fell off the machine. But you didn't quit." He patted my shoulder. "That's more than most people do."
I walked out of the gym on shaking legs.
The sun was high now. The day was starting. Students were heading to class, laughing, talking, living normal lives.
I had survived.
Six hours of meditation. Thirty minutes of sprinting. One hour of leg day. And a face-plant into a gym mat.
Three weeks of this. Every day.
I looked at my phone. 8:30 AM. Classes started in thirty minutes.
I started walking toward Gurukul.
My legs hurt. My lungs hurt. My pride hurt.
But somewhere, deep down, something felt different.
I had tried. I had failed. I had fallen.
And I was still standing.
I reached the classroom just before the bell. My legs were screaming. My lungs were still burning. Every step felt like running through mud.
I slid into my seat, dropped my bag, and collapsed onto the desk.
On my left, Mukund sat slumped over. He looked even skinnier than usual—which I didn't think was possible. His face was pale, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his arms were trembling slightly. Like someone had completely drained him.
On my right, Ruchi sat staring at nothing. Her face was white. Not pale—white. Like her soul had left her body and forgotten to come back.
I pulled out my water bottle. Drank.
Grrrrrrrowl.
My stomach screamed. Loud. The kind of growl that turns heads.
I hadn't eaten anything since yesterday. The meditation. The sprinting. The leg day. My body was running on empty.
The door opened.
Trayaksh bhaiya walked in.
Fresh. Clean. Smiling. Like he hadn't just run me into the ground for two hours. Like this was just another morning. Which, I realized, it probably was. For him.
He walked straight to my desk.
"Here." He placed something on my desk. A lunchbox. Dark green, neatly wrapped. "Take this. As a reward for your training."
I grabbed it like a starving man finding food in the desert.
"Thank you, Trayaksh bhaiya. You saved my life."
I flipped it open.
And froze.
Inside the box: sprouts. A handful of them. With some tomato slices. And cucumber.
My excitement vanished. I stared at the box. Then at him.
"You call this a reward?"
Trayaksh smiled. Awkwardly. Like he'd practiced this smile in the mirror and it still came out wrong.
"What's the problem with this?" He pointed at the sprouts. "Protein. Good for muscle recovery." He pointed at the tomatoes. "Vitamins. Good for your skin." He pointed at the cucumbers. "Hydration. Good for... everything."
I closed the box.
"I would starve to death before eating this."
His hand shot out. Grabbed my ear.
Not hard. But firm. The kind of grip that said I made this for you and you will eat it.
"I made this specially for you," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "And you are going to—"
"SORRY, BHAIYA! I'M EATING! I'M EATING!"
I grabbed a sprout. Shoved it in my mouth. Chewed.
It tasted like... sprouts. Nothing. Grass. The memory of food.
But I kept chewing.
Trayaksh released my ear. Smiled again. This time, it reached his eyes.
"Good. Eat it all. You need the energy for tonight."
He walked away.
I stared at the box. At the sad pile of sprouts. At the cucumber slices staring back at me like disappointed parents.
On my left, Mukund lifted his head. Looked at my lunchbox. Then at me.
"At least you got something," he muttered. "Akshat bhaiya just made me do punches practice for straight 3 hours."
I looked at him. At his pale face. His shaking hands.
On my right, Ruchi didn't move. Didn't blink.
"Didi....," she whispered, "made me hold a plank for an hour. And then she said 'that was just warm-up.'"
We sat there. Three corpses. Three survivors of the first day.
I looked at the sprout in my hand.
I chewed in silence.
It still tasted like nothing.
But somehow, it was better.
The bell rang.
Kiara ma'am walked in. She looked at us. At the three exhausted, broken, sprout-eating first-years in the front row.
She smiled.
"Good morning, class. I hope you're all ready for today's lesson."
No one answered.
I picked up another sprout. Ate it.
Two more weeks of this, I thought. Two more weeks until the tournament.
I picked up another sprout.
I can do this.
I ate it.
I have to.