Although Vir was just around three years old, his physicality was that of a five-year-old or better. Compared to most commoner kids of the same age, the kind of nutrition Vir was getting was multiple times higher.
The stories of great warriors coming out of noble or warrior families were not their luck but just due to an abundance of proper nutrition and training. If your body is better developed and you trained better, then of course you will mow down a bunch of commoners single-handedly.
Vir became aware of this when he went out to the markets around Murshidabad escorted by the guards. He was bored out of his mind staying at home and just reading or writing books, so he had come out to take a walk.
It took some convincing to make Madhab and Swarup let him out of the house though. For them, Vir was a kind of priceless treasure that needed to be kept safe. With the occasional cases of looting and murder still not dying down, they didn't want to risk Vir getting hurt.
But finally, Vir got permission to get out of the house for the first time in a while. Walking around he was fascinated by everything from people's clothing to the architecture of the houses.
While the rich merchants seemed to be dressed similarly to himself in Mughal-style clothing with only a difference in material, most peasant clothing seemed to be more about covering the essentials.
Men wore dhotis with a lot of them choosing to wear nothing for the upper body and women wore sarees made of the cheapest textiles. They were also either barefooted or wearing sandals made out of straws or some other plant fiber.
Vir had never given it much thought but the footwear in this era was still not very developed. He could see merchants walking around in wooden sandals or cloth shoes with wooden soles. Quite a few of them were wearing plant fiber and straw sandals too.
As for Vir himself, he was wearing cloth shoes that were quite uncomfortable. They didn't make shoes to fit the form of your feet so there were no left or right shoes at the time. Your feet had to adjust to the shoes instead, making them uncomfortable to wear.
The housing situation was also varied like thatched huts, houses made of mud and reed, and houses made of bricks and wood. Based on your status and wealth, the kind of house you owned would also differ. The truly rich ones live in mansions made of stone and marble.
The markets around the port area were very crowded with people buying and selling things. Merchants were selling goods out of stores, street stalls, and even carrying their wares around. Everyone was trying to make a living in some way or the other.
'Bengal is the richest province for a reason. Trade is almost a part of their culture at this point.'
Textiles seemed to be the most common product in the markets followed by grains. The higher-end stores traded in silk, jewelry, and pearls while smaller street merchants traded in relatively less expensive products.
Spices and metals were a huge market as well. Cattle and horses could be seen being tugged around in droves and the carriages kept coming and going filled to the brim. There was a sense of haste as if trying to make up for business that had been lost during the long Maratha invasion.
While the markets dealing with trade with the Europeans and people from other regions were rich, colorful, and prosperous, the local markets were almost the opposite.
When the Marathas were pillaging and looting, the rich merchants hid behind the safety of the army and their guards but the smaller businesses did not have such luxury. A lot of local small businessmen had thus either lost everything or worse, been murdered.
There was barely anything to sell when the people were struggling to find whatever remained after the invaders stole and burned their crops and belongings. It was a miserable sight.
One thing that caught Vir's attention was the number of young kids he had seen throughout the day begging for food, trying to find any work, and just loitering around the markets.
Vir was lost in thought when someone bumped into him and tried to walk away quickly. It was unusual because people had been avoiding him and getting out of his way on their own even in crowded areas.
One of his guards had told him earlier, "Sir, your clothes and appearance make you stand out even if the guards try to act discreetly. Anyone can tell that you are someone of high status so they are trying their best not to offend or anger you."
When Vir turned to look at the person who bumped into him when everyone else avoided him, he saw a kid being held down by one of his guards. The kid, seemingly 8-10 years of age looked dirty with only a tattered dhoti as his clothing. He was struggling against the guard twice his size.
"Let go! Why are you holding me? I have done nothing wrong." The kid started shouting with tears in his eyes.
"What happened?" Vir asked the guards.
'It isn't like those old-timey dramas where the commoners get their hand chopped off for even touching someone of high status right?'
The guard broke Vir's imaginary theory with a much simpler explanation, "This kid is a pickpocket. He took your coin purse while bumping into you."
'There are pickpockets in this era too?'
Dumbfounded by the situation, Vir made a joke, "At least we know that you guys are discreet enough to fool a kid."
"I didn't steal anything. It fell off when I bumped into him." The kid tried to lie.
"So my coin purse just untied itself from my waist and jumped into your hands?" Vir smiled at the absurd story.
'He is probably an orphan from some village. Any kid who has been in the city for a while would have learned the people they shouldn't touch. On top of that, he didn't even notice the two large men following me in an obvious manner.'
"Are you just stupid? Or did you come to the town for the first time?" Vir asked the boy who was still trying to get out of the guard's grip.
"I'm not stupid!" he seemed to have been offended at being called stupid.
"Sure, sure. If you aren't stupid, how come you didn't notice those two following behind me? They were as discreet as a mango tree in a rice field." The guards smiled awkwardly when Vir pointed out their clumsy attempts at being discreet.
The boy, on the other hand, had his answers at the ready, "What kind of a kid walks around with guards? How would I know that you were some kind of a prince or something?"
"I'm not a prince though?" Vir answered.
'Well, technically I am probably in a better position than most princes in the world with the two richest men in the world grooming me as their successor.'
The guard who was holding the boy chimed in, "This kid is definitely from some rural village. He is rude to the master even after mistaking him for a prince."
"You can't expect too much from a child."
The guards turned to face each other at the same time. They could see the same thoughts passing through their minds. Isn't the master even younger than this boy? But they didn't vocalize their thoughts.
Vir who noticed the exchange rolled his eyes and asked the boy, "What is your name? Tell me about yourself and I might let you go for stealing from me."
The boy hesitated for a moment and answered, "I am Niraj. I am from Barwaan village. When the bargi came last year, they killed all the adults in our village and took everything. The adults hid me and the other children in a hay pile so we barely survived."
"You're lucky. I heard that the bargi like to burn down everything after pillaging. So, where are the others?"
"We got separated after running away from there. I carried my sister and followed a caravan to here. I tried working too at first but there was nothing for me to do here. We haven't eaten anything in two days and my sister is starting to get sick so I tried stealing." Niraj was trying to hold back his tears.
'It feels disgusting just knowing that this is a very common story around Bengal these days. The frequent territorial wars are eating up human lives and hindering development. There is not even a small consolation of technological development from these wars. Just pointless suffering.'
In his past life, Vir had read in some history books that the Maratha bargis were responsible for massacring over 400,000 innocent civilians during their invasions. The number of people mutilated and crippled was even higher.
He had only read about it in his past life but he had even seen people whose ears or noses were cut off by the Maratha soldiers in the streets today. Their cruelty was so terrifying that there were lullabies about them that mothers sang to their children.
"Where is your sister? Go get her and come to my house. I'll find something for you to do." Vir didn't even care for his complaints and sent Niraj with the guard to get his sister and went back home while thinking about various things.
'I can't possibly stop these wars right now. I might have to wage wars of my own in the future depending on how things go. But maybe we can help each other. I raise the orphans and they work for me with sincerity and loyalty. Something like that.'
There was no way for Vir to take in all the orphans in Bengal. Just a rough guess would put their numbers in the tens of thousands. Vir had neither the time nor the resources to take care of them all.
But, if he used his share of earnings from the pen sales and took donations from the wealthy, including his family, there might be a slight chance of being able to take care of a few hundred orphans.
They could also be put to work to complete minor chores and errands if necessary. Vir was also hesitant to send the children to work in the factories. Although no labor laws restricted him from employing children, he just couldn't bring himself to do that.
'We can always make more money by selling things from the future. I'm not above stealing the inventions and ideas that have not yet been made in this era. Is it even stealing if it doesn't exist yet? Let's see it as me advancing humanity further by bringing forward the inventions.'
If he took in a few hundred kids, he would also need an equivalent number of wardens to look after them. There was also a need for accommodation for such a large number of people. Just housing, feeding, and clothing that many people is a huge cost burden.
'No, let's look at this as an opportunity. I can use the orphanage as a pilot program for schools I plan to establish all over Bengal. The orphans will be the first batch of students and I'll hire the teachers as the warden. I can even train the teaching staff through this.'
The orphanage might even become the beginning of a university for higher learning. If just even a few dozen orphans continue their studies in different subjects, it will become a prototype for an institute to study and research advanced knowledge.
'Wow. I haven't even started and my dreams are already at the finish line. I need to take it easy.'