As I stood there for a moment, watching his fading silhouette disappear into the dim-lit path, a strange warmth lingered in my chest. The Sanyasi’s laughter wasn’t just a passing gesture; it had reached somewhere deeper, somewhere beyond words. I felt as if something within me had been stirred—a forgotten memory, an ancient knowing.
That night, as I lay on my simple cot in the kutir, his face kept flashing in my mind. The way his eyes gleamed, the certainty in his laughter—what was it that he saw in me? Who was he? Was he just a passing monk, or was there more to this meeting?
Sleep took me like a gentle wave, and in the depths of my slumber, I found myself walking again on the same path. But this time, the air was different—thicker, heavier, as if the very fabric of time had shifted. The trees whispered with unseen voices, and the earth under my feet felt softer, almost alive.
I saw him again. The Sanyasi.
He stood at a distance, under the banyan tree, his saffron robe blending with the golden glow of dawn. But there was something unusual—his feet weren’t touching the ground. He hovered, just slightly, as if he belonged to another plane. And then he spoke.
“You have come,” his voice echoed, though his lips did not move.
I tried to respond, but my voice was lost in the vast silence between us.
“You still seek the answer,” he continued, his gaze penetrating yet kind. “You wonder what I saw in you. But have you ever asked yourself—who is the one asking?”
The question sent a ripple through my being. My heart pounded. A strange energy surged through me, as if the very question had unraveled something I had held on to for lifetimes.
The Sanyasi smiled, the same smile as before, filled with infinite wisdom. Then, like mist dissolving in the morning light, he faded.
I woke up with a gasp. The room was still dark, the first rays of the sun yet to touch the ashram. But my body trembled with an unshakable feeling—something had changed. Something had shifted within me.
I got up and stepped outside, the cold air biting yet refreshing. The path from Shakti Kutir to the amphitheater stretched ahead, just as it had before. But now, it felt different. As if every stone, every leaf, every breeze carried a secret, a whisper from another realm.
Had I truly met him? Or was he always a part of me, waiting to be remembered?
And as I took my first step forward, I knew—this was just the beginning.