Unlike the Garga, Pandita, and other groups from the same caste. A Rsi chooses to leave all worldly things for the sake of their asceticism, to get closer to life in Swargaloka.
That's why a Rsi will not lie. One might say, meeting a Rsi is a piece of luck, a blessing. But unfortunately, not everyone can meet a Rsi. Only fate will determine the meeting.
The middle-aged woman gulped, she watched Aryan's sleeping face carefully. Looking at the boy from head to toe. It was difficult for the woman to believe what her husband had said about the child she had fostered since the baby.
She rubbed Aryan's forehead, a small smile forming the corners of her lips.
"Who would have thought that the child who had been abused and cursed as Candala was a descendant of Gods?"
"Me neither."
"What else did the Rsi say?"
"He said, don't let anyone else know who this kid really is."
"But you told me, my dear! Does this not violate what the Rsi ordered?"
Munra shook his head. "I don't think so," but his long sigh said otherwise. There was doubt in Munra.
"I hope so because I am your wife."
"The Rsi asked me… us, to be able to teach Aryan to write and read."
"Oh, Gods and Goddes in Swargaloka," the middle-aged woman lowered her head, her eyes fixed on Aryan. Her breath sounded sad. "How do we do that, my dear? We are both illiterate. And… and no matter how hard we try, no one will ever want to teach Aryan. We are Sudras, moreover, the Panditas must-see Aryan as nothing more than a Candala. This can't be happening."
"That's what's in my head right now," Munra squeezed his gray hair. "It makes me feel even more helpless."
"Oh, my poor husband," the woman stroked her husband's head, kissing him affectionately.
"I just want the best for Aryan," Munra sighed briefly. "But the best doesn't seem to be enough..."
"Because we are Sudras," responded the wife.
Munra nodded weakly. "But I firmly believe that Rsi's words are the truth. One day, Aryan will be able to raise the dignity of our family."
The wife sighed deeply, her gaze shifting to Aryan's face.
"For that," said the wife, "we must do everything in our works and efforts so that someone wants to be a teacher for our kid. Turning the impossible and make it possible."
Yes, although it sounds easy to say, Munra and his wife know for sure the difficulties they have to go through to find a Pandita who is willing to teach Aryan.
Pandita is a group from the Brahmana caste who usually becomes an educator for the children of other groups. Of course, in this case, they are from the Waisya caste and above. Never before had Munra and his wife heard of a Pandita teaching children from the Sudra caste.
Even though the Panditas teach religious knowledge in every country in the seven kingdoms, according to Munra and his wife, it is more than enough if Arya gets the chance. Their goal, so that Aryan can read and write. That was what they wanted for now.
They both hoped that one or two Pandita's would be willing to teach Aryan. Although maybe Munra and his wife will sacrifice a lot more to achieve all that.
"The Great Rsi also said, when Aryan grew up, he asked Aryan to visit the Eighth Land."
"The Land of Purbha?" repeated the wife as if unsure of her hearing.
Munra nodded. "He asked Aryan to find Vidyatama."
"Vidyatama? What is that for the sake of the Gods?"
Munra could only shake his head in resignation. He is just like his wife, both do not know who Vidyatama is? Or, what kind of thing is it? They have no idea at all.
"Finding Aryan a teacher, it's one thing," said the middle-aged woman who was saddened by the fate that Aryan had to live. "And now, looking for something called Vidyatama in the Land of Purbha. Oh, Gods and Goddess in Swargaloka, what kind of burden is this?"
"You should have heard the Great Rsi's final request, my dear."
"Aren't there enough burden on this child, yet?"
Munra shook his head, taking a deep breath. His eyes were so blank staring at the dirt floor beneath his feet.
"If Aryan found Vidyatama—whatever it really was... And after that, the Great Rsi said Aryan should find the Nine Dragon Gates."
"Oh, Great Gods..."
The middle-aged woman bowed, then fell to her knees on the dirt floor. She trembled as if she holding back the cold air. But Munra knew for sure, his wife must be holding back her tears. Crying over the fate that was so heavy that Aryan, their adopted son, had to endure.
Everyone in Vashara knows for sure, the Nine Dragon Gates are just a legend passed down from generation to generation that always overshadows stories about the majesty of the Ancient Kingdom of Prayanagara. Even all the people in the seven kingdoms would think so.
Those nine gates don't really exist, the middle-aged woman thought, how could Aryan be able to find all of them?
No one can answer that question. Not Munra, nor his wife.
"Then," said the middle-aged woman after trying to hold her nervousness. "If it is true that Aryan is a descendant of Gods, which Gods is his real father? Which Goddess is the mother?"
"How would I know? The Rsi didn't give me more details."
"Oh, my poor son..."
"But I'm pretty sure," Munra looked at his wife's face, then turned to Aryan's. "Aryan's birth mother was probably a very important woman. You still have the batik cloth that wrapped Aryan when I first found him, right?"
The wife nodded. "Yes, I still have the cloth."
The woman then stand up, she grabbed a batik cloth folded under the other clothes, on a bamboo table.
"This kind of cloth is impossible for me to throw away, especially if I sell it… people must think I've stolen it from the nobles' homes. This batik cloth is very soft, may be made of silk fiber."
TO BE CONTINUED ...