The festival ended, the bonfire reduced to smoldering embers, and the villagers dispersed, their laughter and chatter fading into the night. Bhairav returned to the hut, his mind buzzing with the hushed conversation he had overheard. Imbalance… Darkening… Restless Gu… These were not the ramblings of superstitious peasants; they were the signs of a genuine disruption in the delicate equilibrium of Gu Sadhana, even if the villagers themselves didn't fully grasp the nature of the threat.He decided to focus his efforts on Baje. The old man was his most immediate source of information, a living link to the local Gu practices and folklore. Bhairav needed to gain Baje's trust, to subtly probe his knowledge without arousing suspicion about his own unnaturally keen interest.The next morning, Bhairav shadowed Baje as he went about his daily chores. He offered to help with tasks he would previously have feigned weakness to avoid, carrying heavier loads of firewood, weeding the vegetable patch with surprising efficiency. Baje, initially surprised, seemed pleased with Bhairav's apparent recovery and newfound diligence.As they worked side-by-side in the fields, Bhairav initiated conversation, carefully steering it towards the topic of local legends and traditions. "Baje," he began, his voice carefully pitched to sound innocent and curious, "last night, Jetha Kaka was talking about Pishach spirits. Are they real?"Baje chuckled, a dry, wheezing sound. "Village tales to scare children, Bhairu. Though… there are things in this world we don't understand." He paused, glancing at the distant hills, his eyes losing focus for a moment, as if lost in memories. "Old powers, hidden ways…"Bhairav seized the opening. "Like the Lakhe dancers? You said they have spirit strength."Baje nodded slowly. "Lakhe… that's different. That's… tradition. Passed down through families. Ancient rituals, they say." He became taciturn, his gaze distant again."Rituals for what, Baje?" Bhairav pressed gently, maintaining his childlike curiosity. "To get spirit strength?"Baje sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Strength of a kind. Not spirits exactly… more like… harnessing what's already here. In the land, in the air, in living things." He gestured vaguely around the fields, encompassing the mountains, the sky, the very earth beneath their feet. "Everything is connected, Bhairu. Everything has… shakti (power)."Shakti. Power. Life force. Prana. The terms were different, but the underlying concept was the same. Baje, in his own rudimentary way, was touching upon the essence of Gu Sadhana."And how do Lakhe dancers… harness this shakti, Baje?" Bhairav asked, keeping his tone light and inquisitive.Baje hesitated, glancing around as if checking for eavesdroppers, even though they were alone in the quiet fields. He lowered his voice. "Some say… they use… seeds. Ancient seeds, passed down through generations. Seeds that… attract the shakti. Bind it to them."Seeds? This was intriguing. Bhairav had not encountered the concept of "seeds" in his previous life's Gu Sadhana. Gu were typically cultivated from eggs, larvae, or found in specific environments. But "seeds" implied a different method, a more… fundamental approach, perhaps closer to the origins of Gu power itself."What kind of seeds, Baje?" Bhairav asked, barely containing his excitement.Baje shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Don't know, Bhairu. Old secrets. Lakhe families keep to themselves. Villagers just see the dances, the masks, the strength. Don't ask too many questions about things you don't understand." He ended the conversation abruptly, turning back to his work with a sudden intensity, effectively shutting Bhairav down.Bhairav sensed Baje's withdrawal. He had probed too directly, too quickly. He needed to be more patient, more subtle. He shifted tactics.In the following days, Bhairav focused on gaining Baje's trust and affection. He listened attentively to his stories of the past, showing genuine interest in his farming techniques and village lore. He massaged Baje's aching back after long days in the fields, fetched his Chilamchi without being asked, and generally acted the part of a dutiful and loving grandson.Slowly, Baje began to open up again. He started sharing more about his own life, his struggles and triumphs, his beliefs and superstitions. He even started teaching Bhairav some rudimentary farming skills, showing him how to identify different plants, how to read the signs of the weather, how to care for the animals.One evening, as they sat by the fire, mending fishing nets, Bhairav steered the conversation back towards the unusual events plaguing the region. "Baje," he said, his voice low and concerned, "Jetha Kaka said the Vaidya from Paschim Gaon feels a darkening in the land. Is that… dangerous?"Baje sighed, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames. "Things change, Bhairu. Seasons turn. Sometimes… the balance shifts too much. Nature… she can be harsh.""But what is this darkening, Baje?" Bhairav persisted gently. "Is it… spirits?"Baje hesitated, then looked at Bhairav, his eyes searching, assessing. He seemed to sense a genuine, albeit childlike, curiosity in Bhairav, a need for understanding that went beyond mere childish fear.He leaned closer, lowering his voice to a near whisper. "Long ago, Bhairu, before the Ranas, before even the Shahs… this land was different. Wilder. More… alive." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "They say… in the old days, people knew how to… work with that wildness. To guide it. To use its… gifts.""Gifts?" Bhairav prompted, his heart quickening."Yes. Gifts of the land. Powerful things. But also… dangerous things. If not handled with respect… with knowledge…" Baje trailed off, shaking his head slowly. "Some say… those old ways were lost. Forgotten. But sometimes…" He glanced around again, as if the very hut had ears. "Sometimes, echoes remain. Imbalances… stirrings…"He looked directly at Bhairav, his eyes surprisingly sharp and intense in the firelight. "You must promise me, Bhairu, never to speak of this to anyone. These are old stories, village whispers. The Ranas… they don't like talk of old powers. They want everything controlled, predictable."Bhairav met Baje's gaze, his own dark eyes holding an unnerving steadiness for a child. "I promise, Baje. I will keep your secrets."Baje seemed to search Bhairav's face, perhaps sensing something beyond mere childish obedience. He finally nodded, a slow, deliberate movement. "Good. Some knowledge… is a burden. Especially for the young." He sighed again, the weight of unspoken years heavy on his shoulders. "But… to know where the shadows fall… is sometimes necessary to walk in the light."Bhairav remained silent, absorbing Baje's cryptic words, his mind racing. Old ways… lost knowledge… gifts of the land… seeds… imbalances… shadows… The pieces were beginning to fall into place. The "darkening" was not just superstition. It was connected to ancient Gu Sadhana practices, to a forgotten power that was stirring once more in the land. And Baje, in his own guarded way, held fragments of that Purkhako Gyaan – Ancestral Knowledge.Bhairav knew he had only scratched the surface. But he had gained Baje's trust, and a crucial first clue. He would continue to listen, to learn, to subtly unravel the secrets hidden within Baje's fragmented memories and village whispers. The path to understanding the "darkening" and exploiting its potential was beginning to reveal itself, step by careful, calculated step. The Serpent Child was learning to speak the language of revelation, whispering his way into the heart of ancestral knowledge.