The flickering oil lamps cast dancing shadows, in the royal chambers. Dilip, his brow furrowed with concern, paced restlessly before his wife, Aarvi, who sat gracefully upon an intricately carved wooden chair, her fingers delicately weaving a garland of jasmine.

"Shubhey...." Dilip's voice trembled slightly, betraying his unease. "Mujhe Krishneshwari ka aatma-vidya sikhna, chinta mei daal raha hai."

Aarvi's brows furrowed. "Kintu kyu ? Aatma-vidya praapt karna toh sabse bada saubhagya hai."

"Bhaye lagta hai, Maharani..." Dilip halted his pacing, his gaze fixed on the ornate ceiling. "Brahmgyaan milne ke paschaat vyakti ko yeh sansaar nirarthak lagta hai. Yadi.... Yadi humari putri ne sanyaas le liya toh...."

The path of Brahmgyaan, the pursuit of ultimate knowledge, was notorious. Most who embarked on this journey, consumed by the yearning for enlightenment, eventually found themselves disillusioned with the fleeting nature of worldly pleasures. They saw futility in the pursuit of power, wealth, and earthly possessions, choosing instead the path of renunciation, seeking liberation from the cycle of birth and death.

The weight of his fears hung heavy in the air. Krishneshwari was not just their daughter; she was the embodiment of their hopes and dreams, the future of their kingdom. The very survival of his bloodline depended on her. Sanyaas, the path of renunciation, would sever that delicate thread, leaving their lineage to wither and die.

"Mujhe nahi lagta, aisa hoga." Aarvi smiled faintly. "Humari putri kartavya-nisht hai. Use bhali bhaati pata hai ki woh Raj-putrika hai, use pata hai ki rajya ke prati uske kuch uttardaitwa hai."

Dilip stopped pacing and sank onto a plush divan, his gaze fixed on the intricate patterns of the rug beneath his feet. The worry that gnawed at King Dilip ran deeper than mere parental anxiety. He feared that Krishneshwari, with her insatiable thirst for knowledge and her growing detachment from worldly concerns, might succumb to the allure of this path, leaving him and Aarvi bereft and their kingdom without an heir.

Dilip looked at his wife, his eyes searching hers for reassurance. "Prarthna karte hai ki aisa hi ho."
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The winter's icy grip was loosening its hold, and the forest of Ujjain began to stir. Buds swelled on the branches, promising a riot of green, while the air, still crisp, carried the sweet scent of thawing earth.

Krishneshwari, her brow furrowed in concentration, followed Mahakaal moving ahead of her. He spoke of the interconnectedness of all things, of the illusion of separation, of the eternal dance of creation and destruction. He spoke of the ultimate truth, a profound concept that resonated deep within her soul, yet remained elusive to her companions and the guards who trailed behind them. They, with their limited understanding, saw only a wise old man imparting philosophical musings to the princess. They heard his words, but they failed to grasp the profound truths he was revealing.

Krishneshwari, however, felt a deep resonance within her, a stirring of something profound that transcended mere intellectual comprehension. Suddenly Mahakaal gestured towards a vibrant patch of wildflowers where a swarm of bees buzzed busily.

"Krishneshwari," he began, his voice gentle yet profound, "kya tum pushpo ka ras ekatrit kar rahi unn madhumakhiyo ko dekh paa rahi ho ?"

Krishneshwari nodded eagerly. "Ji mahodaye." she replied, her eyes tracing the flight of a bee as it landed on a delicate blossom.

"Bhinn bhinn pushpo ka ras jab ek ho jata hai, tab woh madhu banta hai." Mahakaal smiled. "Par kya madhu banne ke baad kya koi ras yeh keh sakta hai ki woh kis pushp ka ras hai ?"

Krishneshwari pondered this question, her brow furrowed in thought. "Nahi."

Mahakaal nodded, a serene smile playing on his lips. "Thik iss hi prakar, jab vyakti shudh chetna ek saath ek ho jata hai, tab uski vyaktigat pehechaan ka annt ho jaati hai."

Krishneshwari felt a shiver down her spine, the profoundness of his words sinking deep within her. The analogy was simple yet profound, illuminating a path towards a higher state of being. The guards and her companions, oblivious to the deeper meaning, continued to trail behind them, their minds preoccupied with the mundane details of their surroundings.

"Jaise sagar mei milkar nadi apna astitva kho deti hai, waise hi annt mei sabhi uss chetna mei vileen ho jaate hai." Mahakaal continued, "Sabhi ko jodne wali woh chetna hi satya hai. Aur uss se hi tum bani ho. Tat tvam asi."

"Toh fir," she inquired, "Iss avibhajit chetna se, vibhajan bhare sansaar ne kaise janm liya ?"

Indeed, if all is one, if we are all ultimately connected to the undivided consciousness, then how does this diverse universe, with all its myriad forms and experiences, come into being. Mahakaal smiled gently, his gaze sweeping across the verdant landscape. His eyes settled upon a majestic banyan tree, its sprawling branches casting a wide, cool shadow.

"Uss vatvriksh ka ek fal le kar aao." He instructed.

Krishneshwari instinctively reached for one of the guards, intending to instruct them to retrieve the fruit. However, Mahakaal gently halted her. "Maine tumse woh fal laane ko kaha hai."

Krishneshwari, surprised by his request, hesitated. It would require some effort to climb and retrieve it. However this was an opportunity to learn, to deepen her understanding, and she was not one to shy away from a challenge. With a deep breath, she began her ascent.

The bark of the banyan tree was rough against her hands, but she climbed with surprising agility, her youthful strength propelling her upwards. The leaves rustled above her, creating a gentle canopy as she navigated the intricate network of branches. Finally, she reached the desired fruit, carefully detaching it from the branch.

Descending was much more challenging, and so the guards rushed towards her, concerned for her safety. However, Krishneshwari waved them off, and managed to get down with a mixture of grace and caution. Approaching Mahakaal, she presented him with the fruit.

"Ab ise todo aur batao ki iske madhya mei kya hai." He instructed.

Krishneshwari carefully split the fruit, revealing a cluster of tiny seeds nestled within. "Sahastro beej hai." She said.

Mahakaal nodded. "Ab unme se ek beej ko todo."

Intrigued, Krishneshwari carefully broke open a seed, only to find nothing. Just an empty shell.

"Kya hai uske bhitar ?" Mahakaal inquired gently.

"Kuch bhi nahi." Krishneshwari simply said.

Mahakaal smiled. "Iss sukshm tatva, jise tum dekh nahi sakti, usi ke sukhsmta se hi sampurn bargad ke ped ne janm liya. Iss prakar anubhuti se pare, avibhajit astitva se hi sampurn sansaar ne janm liya. 'Kuch nahi' se hi 'sab kuch' aya hai."

Krishneshwari pondered his words, a profound realization dawning upon her. Just as the universe, with all its diversity, emerges from the formless void, the undivided consciousness, so too does each individual life, carrying within it the potential for infinite possibilities, yet ultimately empty of the inherent self.

The simple act of breaking a fruit had revealed a profound truth, a glimpse into the interconnectedness of all existence. Deeply moved, she joined her hands in reverence, offering Mahakaal her respect.

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A/N

Vidyateertham Maheshwaram
😍🙏🏻

Also in the last chapter, when I showed Satyashree's pic, many asked for a picture of Krishneshwari. Well, her picture is already in Aesthetics, but still I'll show it here, in full size -

A sweet and simple 13-14 year old Krishneshwari ✨