-The warrior, Vikram-
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It was on a rainy day that my story finally started. The day I truly became the warrior Vikram.
"Vikram!" I heard my aunt scream my name. I stopped scrubbing the floor and got up as fast as I could.
I ran to her. She was standing in the kitchen, arms crossed.
"What is this?!" she yelled. My heart started beating, beads of sweat trickling down my face.
"W-what, madam?" I asked in a trembling voice. Her gaze was sharp as ever. The maid stopped cooking to observe the commotion with curious eyes.
"You started to behave like your father, haven't you? You wish to become a robber like him. I mean, it wouldn't be a surprise, since your father was low-born unlike us." She laughed bitterly, shaking her head.
"Still, I always thought that the blood of your mother would overcome… the disgrace." She smiled for a split second before her face became completely cold.
"Have you stolen my bread… again?" The disgust in her words could not be hidden. She threw a metal plate at me that landed on my face. I got on my knees, kissed her feet, and begged her.
"Madam, I swear I didn't touch anything. I haven't eaten in days like you ordered—please believe me…" My voice was wavering, though I didn't cry.
It was dirty, old bread that they had left on the table to tempt me. It had been five days since they had given me any food. During the night, the anger was so strong that this old bread tasted like heaven in my mouth. My mistake was to indulge in my gluttony while my uncle was still at home and not away at an official's house.
He entered the room. I was still kneeling, but I felt the air change; it grew heavy.
My uncle seemed to have finally found the perfect reason to throw me away. He didn't say anything at first—I only heard the rustle of clothes folding.
"Get up."
He ordered. I slowly got up, and his hands immediately found my face, propelling me to the other side of the room. My body ached from the impact.
"Get up."
I rose again as he approached slowly. This time it was his foot that pushed me to the ground. He started to stomp on me. After beating and stomping on my frail body, he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me outside.
"Don't you ever, ever show your face in front of this house!" The fury in his voice and his eyes full of hate made my wounded body shake. "You are no longer part of this family. Now leave, and never come back." His voice was loud and echoed through my mind.
He slammed the door and left me on the streets. Panic overtook me, but I was also relieved. My only question was, where would I go now?
The neighbors had gathered to watch the commotion. Some snickered, others spat on the ground, and the rest either lowered their gaze in pity or returned home. In the end, I was alone.
I summoned my courage and tried to get up, supporting my weight on the wall. Once I was finally standing, a sharp pain struck my right ankle. But I couldn't dwell on it, and I limped along the walls of my village.
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Night began to set in. The harsh, cold wind blew my weak body like a ragged doll. I had to find shelter, but as I was leaving the village, the forest loomed before me—dark, scary, and noisy. A guard barked at me to either get in or out as he closed the gates for the night.
I walked for hours, afraid to stop in case wild animals or thieves attacked me, but my weak body forced me to take multiple breaks. My breath came in ragged gasps, and my body ached all over. I would surely die—eaten by a wild animal, starving, or from my wounds.
I finally gave up and limped toward a tree, too tired to continue. I didn't cry, as I had promised myself—but I was terrified.
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I stayed silently against the tree for hours. No animals came near. I wanted to die there; I wanted everything to end.
Then I heard a noise—a whistle. I didn't pay attention at first. But the sound of a horse's hoof forced me to turn my head.
A man, a foreigner it seemed, was approaching. He wore strange robes and had long hair. Even in the darkness, his skin seemed fair compared to mine.
"Hey, you! What are you doing here?" He looked at me coldly. I didn't respond. He spoke my language with a strange accent.
"I was chased away by my family. I am here to die, sir," I muttered, head down. I sighed.
"Now follow me, child. I'll give you shelter for the night." I looked at him without a word.
"No… just let me. I'm not worth your time. I'm not worth it," I whispered as darkness engulfed me.
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I woke up feeling my body being moved, strong arms holding me. The sun was already up in a clear blue sky.
"Wake up, boy." He nudged me gently. I slowly opened my eyes. We were in front of a beautiful gate. Two guards nodded and opened it.
"Mataji!" screamed the man behind me. A tall man came rushing out of the house. He seemed a bit old but had a gentle gaze.
"Shifu, you are already back. Who is this boy?" asked the old man. Shifu grabbed me to hand me to the other man.
"Well, I don't know yet. The boy hasn't given me his name, Haridas." He got down from the horse and handed the reins to another man. This man was indeed a foreigner, with smaller eyes, a sharper nose, fair skin, and strikingly handsome features. His blue robes were unusual.
"Now, please give him a bath and feed him. Kamala, where is my wife?" A beautiful woman in a green sari came out of the house. Her dark ebony hair was braided and decorated with white flowers and gold. Her entire body was adorned with gold and precious stones.
She gave a warm smile to Shifu, and his face immediately lightened. A strange warmth invaded my body—I had never seen people so overjoyed at someone's arrival.
But my awe was cut short as Haridas took me by the arm and led me inside.
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After a refreshing bath, Haridas handed me a plate of steamy rice, lentils, and chicken. I had never been given such delicacy before. I took my time, and each bite felt like heaven.
"Now what possessed you to take such a decision without consulting me first, husband? Look at him—you can clearly see he is low-born. I will not accept a child with such skin," I faintly heard a woman argue. Surely it was the woman in green from before.
"Mataji, where is your heart? Have you seen the state of this poor creature? Please, madam, take pity on him. He was barely breathing when I found him. He told me to let him die." I heard small gaps in the conversation. Haridas glanced at me and left the kitchen.
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PS: I am neither Chinese nor Indian but I really love both cultures; If I made any mistakes please tell me in the comments without attacking me.
Mataji= a very formal way to address women of noble status or women you are not close to as mother; it's a way to address them
Shifu= Master in Chinese