Morning arrived just like every other in the Raghavan household—with soft sunlight filtering through the clay walls, the smell of warm roti filling the air, and the sounds of family life stirring all around.
Sania, ever determined, was back at it again—sitting cross-legged with her eyes squeezed shut, fists clenched at her sides, and brows furrowed in fierce concentration. She was doing her best to "awaken the Urja."
Unfortunately, her best today had the same result as yesterday: absolutely nothing.
I lay as usual in my command post—Meera Maa's lap—sipping warm goat milk and watching with equal parts admiration and pity. My silly sister had heart, no doubt about it. But results? Not yet.
"Haaaahhh," she sighed loudly, flopping backwards onto the mat like a very disappointed starfish. "It's not working!"
"That's alright, my child," Meera Maa said gently as she tucked a cloth under my chin. "Magic doesn't bloom in a day. Even seeds take time to sprout."
Sania groaned. "But what if I have no seed!?"
"You have one," Maa assured her, chuckling softly. "You just haven't found the right sunlight yet."
A poetic answer. But enough of this for now.
Because while everyone was going about their normal village routine—cooking, practicing, doing chores—I had important matters to attend to.
Namely: exploring.
Yes, yes, I know. It sounds very suspicious. But I assure you, my intentions were purely intellectual. And besides, Pikku Mark 5 had been itching for another flight.
"Let's stretch your wings, partner," I whispered mentally, activating our vision link.
Pikku, loyal if not particularly bright, perked up from her perch on the rooftop, flapped her wings twice (slightly crashing into the thatched edge again), and took off into the morning sky.
Her body gleamed under the sunlight—a blur of sky blue, white, and silvery streaks. I had to admit, despite her… limited intelligence, she looked quite impressive in flight.
As she soared upward, the village of Amritpura grew smaller in my borrowed view. Thatched huts, grazing goats, and waving villagers faded into the distance as she climbed higher and turned eastward, flying toward her next destination.
Beyond the village was a vast expanse of dense greenery known as Jīvāvana, the Forest of Life.
Raghavan had often mentioned this place in passing—how he gathered herbs from its edges, how the trees whispered in the breeze like wise old friends. The name fit. From Pikku's aerial view, it was nothing short of magical.
Sprawling trees stretched like emerald oceans, their canopies thick and vibrant. Below, I caught glimpses of colorful fruits hanging from branches, vines trailing lazily across the undergrowth, and wildflowers blooming with unashamed flair.
There were no straight paths in Jīvāvana. Just winding trails, fluttering birds, and the gentle rustle of a forest so alive it practically hummed with energy.
"Hmm... Father really comes here often?" I mused. "Brave soul."
It wasn't just herbs. No, this forest had it all. Mangoes. Guavas. Wild oranges. Something that looked like golden berries. Pikku, following my commands, swooped closer to a particularly bountiful tree.
"Scan... confirm... deploy Storage Belly."
Pikku chirped like a tiny golem and opened a compartment near her abdomen—her internal storage. With clumsy but determined movements, she snatched fruits one by one and swallowed them. It was both fascinating and mildly disturbing.
"Good job," I praised. "That's ten mangoes, four guavas, two strange glowing fruits, and—wait, is that a jackfruit?! You crazy bird!"
By the time she had packed a small fruit stall's worth into her belly, I was positively gleeful. This mission was a resounding success.
But now, for the true goal: reaching the next village beyond Jīvāvana.
I leaned back mentally, letting Pikku cruise ahead.
We crossed forest clearings, glided over streams, startled a few peacocks, and followed the path where foot trails vanished into dense fog. It was beautiful, like something out of a painting.
Then came the problem.
"Warning: 29.3 km… 29.5 km…"
Oh no.
Pikku began to wobble. The connection grew fuzzy, the image flickering like an old TV with bad reception.
"30 km limit reached," I sighed. "That's all we've got for now."
The vision turned to static, the mind-link fading. Like a good soldier, Pikku turned around on her own, returning to base as instructed.
About half an hour later, she crash-landed on our rooftop again, flapping her wings triumphantly before clumsily tumbling into a haystack.
Sania, who had been practicing breath exercises nearby, jumped up. "Ms bird is back! Did she go far today?"
Meera Maa peeked outside from the kitchen. "Was she gone all this time?"
"Yes," I whispered myself, "She explored the sacred realm of… spicy guavas."
Using my link, I checked Pikku's storage. Still intact. Fruits undamaged. Mission accomplished.
But of course, I had no way to actually eat them yet. So for now, I simply uploaded the "vision footage" to my mental memory and rested—feeling both successful and incredibly bored.
Later that evening, as the family gathered for dinner and Sania quietly reviewed her notes on Tattva Energy Flows, I caught her glancing at the window.
"Did Ms bird really see another village today?" she asked.
I couldn't respond directly, but I blinked twice. Once for yes.
Her eyes sparkled. "Then I'll work even harder. I want to visit one someday, too. Not just fly over it—I want to walk there. Meet people. Learn their stories."
Oh, sister. You silly, bright star.
You may be terrible at meditation… but your spirit is stronger than most. I just hope that when you do walk to those places, I'll be walking beside you.
Or flying above you in the form of a majestic, stupid bird.
Either way, the adventure had only just begun.