God's Outcast Child

For a few seconds, Aryan seemed transfixed, as was Munra. The old hermit looked like he was observing every inch of Aryan's body, from head to toe.

"Hmm, interesting," said the old hermit, still without moving his mouth at all. He then moved away from little Aryan and floated like before. "You are a unique Candala, O son of the Sudra people. It's completely different from any other Candala I've ever met."

Munra did not understand at all what the old hermit had said, all the more so for Aryan himself. If it is only a matter of differences in skin color, of course, the other Candala also have the same characteristics, the result of the marriage between two different races that give birth to offspring that have different physical characteristics.

Or perhaps about hair, but little Aryan hair is jet black just like most children of Prayanagara descent.

Or maybe the difference in the color of their irises, yes, Aryan's iris is not only different from the other Sudra children—even different from everyone in the eight new countries—but also between the right and the left was different.

Can it be categorized as something unique? Even the old hermit himself said it, Munra thought.

So, where is the real uniqueness of the boy exactly?

This is where the term Candala comes from which aims to make fun of the mixed offspring. In other words, Candala was even lower than Sudra itself.

Although the questions filled Mundra's head, he did not dare to ask the old hermit directly. There are limits that the grass-seeker cannot violate in the social order of their lives as part of the Sudra caste which is the lowest caste.

The old hermit was someone who came from the highest caste, Brahmana. Only those of that group could have such magic—other than the knights and warriors of the Ksatrya caste. Moreover, he was an ascetic whom only Brahmanas did—in this case, the Rsi.

That's why when he first saw the floating figure, Munra immediately knew that the figure was a Rsi.

"Tell me, Munra, have there ever been people from the highest castes who asked your son to be a Paria for them?"

Munra gasped at the question from the old hermit. Although he knew for sure, he wouldn't be able to resist if it happened to Aryan. It's just that Munra and his wife love Aryan as much as their biological children. They had been babysitting Aryan from infancy and did not want to separate let alone lose Aryan for good.

Paria or Pariah were the lower classes of the Sudra caste, just like Candala. They were the ones chosen by the Brahmanas and the Ksatryas as servants to them. And when that had happened, the Parias would forever serve their master until they died. During that time they are not allowed to marry.

Munra shook his head weakly. "There has never been anyone, Great Rsi."

The old hermit knew for sure that Munra would be very sad if his adopted son was taken by someone to become a Pariah. There was a slight smile in the corner of the old hermit's lips, unfortunately, Munra and Aryan did not get to see it because they always lowered their heads.

"When you found this Candala when he was a baby, did you get a revelation beforehand? Maybe through dreams, or other signs?"

Why did the old hermit ask me that? Munra thought. What exactly is it about Aryan that this one Rsi asks to that extent? Does this mean we're going to lose Aryan?

Dear Gods in Swargaloka, don't let this happen to us. Munra prayed in silence.

In the end, Munra could only shake his head because he didn't feel like he was experiencing anything strange before finding Aryan seven years ago in a pandan leaf basket. Not at all. It was the same day as in the previous days, nothing special happened to his life, except when he found little Aryan in the clear stream.

The old hermit folded both hands to his chest, one of his white-eyes narrowings as he looked at Aryan.

"Hemm... I don't know what the Gods are planning," said the old hermit without opening his mouth, "I really can't read the fate that has been given to you, O Candala."

Munra glanced at his foster child and Aryan also glanced at his foster father. Both of them were equally confused by the old hermit's words.

Because he could no longer bear not to ask, Munra finally asked the old hermit.

"Forgive my stupidity, Great Rsi, what is the meaning of all the words of the Great Rsi just now? I'm truly sorry for my stupidity."

At least, Aryan has understood enough about the laws that apply in the social order of their lives as the lowest caste from Munra and his wife during this time. So, the boy immediately flopped down, sticking his forehead to the ground in front of the old hermit.

"Please, Great Rsi, don't punish my father for asking. Please forgive my father."

The old hermit smiled again looking at little Aryan, and again Aryan and Mundra didn't see this.

"You're a good child, Candala. You have courage and kindness in you, as well as a lot of curiosity... I can feel all that from inside of yours, O Candala."

"Thank you, Great Rsi," Aryan said in his prostration position. At least, Aryan felt the old hermit granted his request to forgive his adoptive father.

"Maybe it's your fate, Candala. And you, Munra..."

"I'm listening to you, Great Rsi," Mundra replied.

"Listen carefully, O Sudra," said the old hermit. "I only said this once and let's remember this if you don't want to lose your son in the future. Consider this a blessing from the Gods and Goddesses in Swargaloka."

"Please, Great Rsi. Guide me the stupid one."

"First, don't let anyone know the truth about your son, for he is no ordinary Candala. Second, teach your child to read and write—no matter how hard it takes, you must be able to fulfill this one."

Getting there, Munra has absolutely nothing to be able to find Aryan a teacher. Their caste was too despicable, and it would be impossible that he would be able to fulfill the old hermit's words because no one would be willing to teach his son, he knew this for sure.

TO BE CONTINUED ...