Vikram found himself in a situation he had never imagined. The young girl, his new teacher, had sent him on a task that seemed simple yet proved to be incredibly challenging. She wanted food, but the way she wanted it was through begging. Vikram, who had once been a powerful cultivator, now found himself reduced to begging for sustenance.
For seven long days, Vikram went from house to house, his pride slowly crumbling with each rejection. The villagers, simple and kind as they were, looked at him with a mix of pity and suspicion. No one gave him any food. He was humiliated at every turn, his pleas falling on deaf ears.
"Please, can you spare some food?" Vikram would ask, his voice barely above a whisper.
The villagers would shake their heads, their eyes filled with a mix of sympathy and wariness. "We have nothing to spare," they would say, their voices firm yet gentle.
Vikram's body grew tired and weak. He had not eaten anything for seven days. The hunger gnawed at him, a constant reminder of his fallen state. He remembered the days when he lived in exile, surviving without the need for food, his cultivation sustaining him. But now, he had lost his powers, and with them, his ability to ignore human needs. He felt the pangs of hunger, the weight of fatigue, and the sting of humiliation.
Memories of Charu, the daughter of the Chief Priest of Kalighat Temple, flooded his mind. She would bring him food, her kindness a beacon of hope in his darkest days. "Charu, if only you were here," he murmured to himself, his voice filled with longing.
On the seventh day, just as despair began to set in, a glimmer of hope appeared. A kind-hearted woman, seeing his plight, offered him a mango. "Here, take this," she said, her voice soft and compassionate.
Vikram looked at the mango, his eyes welling up with gratitude. "Thank you," he said, his voice choked with emotion. He rushed back to his teacher's abode, eager to present his offering.
But as he approached the house, he found it abandoned. The door was ajar, and there was no sign of the young girl. He called out her name, his voice echoing through the empty rooms. "Teacher? Are you here?" Panic began to rise within him. Where was she? Had she left him?
He walked forward towards her room, hoping to find some clue, but it was empty. The silence was deafening, and the emptiness felt like a physical weight on his chest. He looked at the mango in his hand, the fruit of his seven days of struggle. He thought of eating it, his stomach rumbling with hunger, but he couldn't. Not before offering it to his teacher.
"What do I do now?" he murmured to himself, his voice filled with confusion and despair. He decided to wait, his determination unwavering. He sat down on the floor, the mango clutched tightly in his hand, and waited for his teacher to return.
The hours passed slowly, each tick of the clock feeling like an eternity. Vikram's mind raced with questions and doubts, but he held onto his resolve. He would wait, no matter how long it took. He had come this far, and he wouldn't give up now.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the room, Vikram took a deep breath. "I will wait," he said to himself, his voice firm with determination. "I will find my teacher. I will regain my powers, and I will overcome this trial."
With renewed determination, he settled in, ready to face whatever came next. The night was long and cold, but Vikram's spirit remained unbroken. He would wait, and he would find his teacher. He would regain his powers, and he would overcome this trial. With renewed determination, he settled in, ready to face whatever came next.