Chapter 6 - Mysterious Visitor
*Rama's Reflection*
The gentle morning sun bathed our forest campsite in a warm glow as I stirred from slumber, stretching my body and rubbing my eyes. The tranquility of the forest seemed to cocoon me, safeguarding my rest. As I sat up, I realized that Parshurama had already departed, but he had left a remarkable surprise behind.
Where he had sat the previous night, a cluster of guavas now rested, their sweet fragrance permeating the air. Each guava was a vivid shade of green, ripe and alluring. I marveled at the sight, their dew-kissed skins glistening in the morning light, and picked one up, inspecting it closely.
The guava was a marvel of nature's design—its skin, smooth and unblemished, hinted at the succulent treasure concealed within. As I brought it closer, the sweet aroma enveloped me, tantalizing my senses. I could no longer resist the temptation, so I bit into the ripe fruit. Its juice burst forth, a sweet and refreshing cascade that seemed to hold the very essence of the forest.
"It appears that Parshurama has thought of everything," I mused aloud to Chetak, who observed me with curious eyes. "Would you like some?" I asked, offering the half-eaten guava to my faithful companion. He devoured it with evident delight.
We proceeded to the nearby river, where the soothing sound of flowing water filled the air. Chetak followed as I shed my clothes and waded into the cool river. The water was refreshingly crisp, washing away the fatigue of the previous day's journey. Chetak joined me, frolicking playfully in the shallows.
After our invigorating bath, I returned to our campsite, where bundles of herbs awaited. Parshurama's thoughtfulness extended even to Chetak, whom I tended to before addressing my own wounds. Chetak nuzzled me affectionately, gratitude gleaming in his eyes.
With Chetak's care complete, we turned our attention back to the guavas. They were sweet and ripe, a burst of flavor in our mouths. We savored them together, enjoying a simple yet satisfying breakfast in the heart of the forest.
As a warrior, the need for a weapon gnawed at me, especially in this deep and unfamiliar forest. When Parshurama returned to the hut, I couldn't help but express my desire for a means of self-defense.
"Great Sage," I began, gratitude evident in my voice, "I appreciate all that you've done for me, but I can't help but wish for a weapon to protect myself."
I anxiously awaited Parshurama's response, and he didn't keep me waiting for long. He led me to a nearby cave, its entrance sealed by a massive boulder. With seemingly effortless strength, Parshurama rolled the boulder aside, revealing a dimly lit chamber within. The cave was a treasure trove of ancient Indian weapons—swords, bows, daggers, and spears, all carrying an aura of history and valor.
The cave, with its single chamber, bore the marks of countless battles, its walls etched with finger marks, as if shaped by a tool of immense heat. It was a place steeped in history, a testament to warriors who had come before us.
As I hesitated, surveying the array of weapons, my eyes were drawn to an extraordinary sight—a golden lotus. Unlike the rest of the artifacts, it appeared untouched by the ravages of time, radiating a soft, golden glow in the subdued light.
Intrigued, I reached out and carefully plucked the golden lotus by its stem. The moment my fingers made contact, the lotus pulsed briefly with a soft, golden light. A shiver ran down my spine, and I couldn't help but wonder at its significance.
Rama marveled at the sensation, feeling the lotus warm and vibrant in his hand, as if it possessed a life of its own. Parshurama, however, was unperturbed, having witnessed such events countless times before.
With a tone of caution, Parshurama explained, "Rama, this lotus requires intense focus from its user to maintain its form. Most humans would find it beyond their capabilities, but it can serve as a tool to train your mind."
Returning with the lotus to our hut, we were met with an unexpected sight—the hut had been torn apart, as if by some mighty force. There were peculiar markings around the hut, which Parshurama examined closely. He traced the footprints and studied the wreckage carefully before turning to me.
"Rama," he began, "it seems that a boar has visited our campsite."
A surge of anxiety and concern washed over me at Parshurama's words. I couldn't help but wonder about the size and nature of the boar he spoke of, as well as what kind of creature could wreak such havoc.