ancient books

The next morning, Gowthami decided to accompany Rajeev to his hospital. She felt a sense of restlessness and boredom staying alone in the mansion, and Rajeev saw no reason to restrict her.

The hospital, named after Rajeev's mother, stood as a beacon of hope and healing in Dharmagiri. The building itself was a blend of modern architecture and traditional design, reflecting Rajeev's unique approach to medicine. As they entered, Gowthami marveled at the spacious, well-lit corridors and the air of quiet efficiency that permeated the place.

Rajeev's office was particularly striking. The room was large and elegantly appointed, with a wide desk set against one wall, neatly organized with medical files and a sleek laptop. Comfortable chairs were arranged in a semi-circle for consultations, and the walls were adorned with framed certificates and photographs, showcasing Rajeev's achievements and his dedication to his craft.

In one corner of the office stood a library, a carefully curated collection of books that drew Gowthami's immediate attention. The shelves were filled with volumes on advanced medical science, their spines gleaming with titles that spoke of cutting-edge research and innovative treatments. Interspersed among these were older, leather-bound tomes that had a different kind of gravitas. These were the books written by Jaishankar, Rajeev's grandfather, a revered herbalist whose knowledge of traditional medicine was legendary.

Gowthami ran her fingers along the spines of these ancient books, some feeling a connection to the past. The titles were in various languages, some in the local script and others in Sanskrit, hinting at the depth and breadth of Jaishankar's expertise. Each book seemed to hold a promise of wisdom, a link to the time-honored practices that had healed countless people over the generations.

Rajeev noticed her interest and walked over, a gentle smile on his face. "My grandfather was a remarkable man," he said, pulling out one of the books and opening it to a page filled with intricate illustrations of herbs. "He believed that nature holds the key to many of our ailments. These books contain his life's work, his observations, and his discoveries."

Gowthami looked at the delicate drawings and the meticulous notes written in the margins. "It's amazing," she murmured. "He must have been very wise."

"He was," Rajeev agreed. "And I've tried to honor his legacy by integrating his herbal knowledge with modern medical practices. It's a balance of tradition and innovation."

Gowthami nodded, feeling a sense of respect for Rajeev's dedication. "It's like you're bridging two worlds," she said softly.

Rajeev smiled, appreciating her insight. "Exactly. And having you here, interested in this work, makes it even more meaningful."

They spent the morning immersed in the books, Rajeev explaining various treatments and sharing stories about his grandfather's remarkable skills. Gowthami found herself captivated by the richness of the herbal knowledge, feeling as though she was beginning to understand a part of her own journey through Rajeev's eyes.

The hours passed quickly, the hospital's hustle and bustle a comforting backdrop to their quiet exploration. As they worked, an unspoken bond continued to grow between them, strengthened by their shared quest for knowledge and healing. Gowthami felt a sense of purpose and belonging she hadn't known since her arrival in Dharmagiri.

As the afternoon sun cast its golden light through the large windows of Rajeev's office, Gowthami continued to explore the bookshelves. Her eyes were drawn to a particularly old and intriguing book perched on the top shelf. The faded title suggested it might hold rare herbal knowledge, and she felt a strong urge to examine it.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Rajeev was deeply engrossed with his patients, his attention fully occupied. Not wanting to disturb him, Gowthami decided to retrieve the book on her own. She spotted a small wooden chair nearby and thought it would serve well enough as a makeshift step stool.

Carefully, she positioned the chair beneath the high shelf and stepped up. Stretching on her tiptoes, she reached for the book, her fingers just brushing the cover. Determined, she stretched a little further, but the chair wobbled precariously beneath her. Before she could regain her balance, it tipped, and she felt herself falling.

"Ahh!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the office.