Another year gone. Felt like yesterday he was sitting here for the first time, listening to some old man talk about lights and gates and whatever.

  Now here he was again. Same chamber. Today was different. Today the old man wasn't his usual boisterous self. No back-slapping. No booming laughter echoing off the walls. Just quiet. Focused.

  "Anand," the Pitamaha said, and his voice was actually calm for once. "You've strengthened your body. You can feel Prana moving now. That's good. But you need to understand what the chakras actually are. Not just know about them. Understand them."

  Anand nodded. He'd gotten good at nodding.

  "They're not physical. You won't find them if you cut someone open—not that you'd want to, but some people apparently try." The Pitamaha made a face. "They exist in your sukshma sharira. Your astral body. Think of them as wheels. Spinning gates. They connect your physical self to... more."

  He paused, letting that sit.

  "You open them by purifying yourself mind and body and then directing Prana up from your spine's base to your crown. But order matters. Root first. Always root first. Then sacral, navel, heart, throat, third eye, crown. Never skip. Never force. The people who force?" He shook his head. "They don't last long."

  Anand tilted his head. "How do I open them?"

  "Few ways." The Pitamaha held up a finger. "Meditation. You focus on each chakra's spot. Visualize its color, its element. Start at the bottom and work up. Don't rush."

  Second finger. "Bija mantras. Seed sounds. Each chakra has one. You chant 'em and the vibrations unlock things."

  "Muladhara, the root—Lam. Red. Earth."

  "Svadhishthana—Vam. Orange. Water."

  "Manipura—Ram. Yellow. Fire."

  "Anahata—Yam. Green. Air."

  "Vishuddha—Ham. Blue. Space."

  "Ajna—Om. Indigo. Light."

  "Sahasrara—Silence works, or Om. Violet. Beyond."

  Anand filed them away. Lam. Vam. Ram. Yam. Ham. Om. Silence. Got it.

  Third finger. "Asanas. Poses. Tree for root. Boat for navel. Different postures hit different centers."

  Fourth. "Pranayama. Breath stuff. Nadi Shodhana alternate nostril breathing it clears the paths so Prana can actually move."

  Fifth. "Maha Bhed Mudra. Uses locks bandhas at your root, stomach, throat. Forces Prana up if you do it right."

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  "But here's the thing, Anand. Each chakra's got blockages. Fear blocks root. Guilt blocks sacral. Shame blocks navel. Grief blocks heart. Lies block throat. Illusion blocks third eye. Attachment blocks crown."

  He jabbed a finger toward Anand's chest. "You can't just smash through 'em. Doesn't work that way. You gotta face what's inside. Purify it. Let it go."

  Anand absorbed this. Made sense. Hard, but made sense.

  "This ain't quick work," the Pitamaha continued. "Most people spend years on root alone. Years. You need guidance a guru who's been there. You need sattvic living. Pure food. Clean conduct. Truthfulness."

  He mentioned something about deities governing the chakras Ganesha in Muladhara, worship helping but Anand's mind was already turning. All of this is so similar to his previous life except the fact all of this is real here.

  "Premature opening..." The Pitamaha shook his head slowly. "Madness. Sickness. Death, sometimes. Seen it happen in your cousins a lot."

  He looked at Anand with an expression the boy rarely saw on his face. Genuine seriousness.

  "You understand?"

  Anand nodded. "I understand, Pitamaha."

  So he practiced.

  Every morning for a year. Same spot. Same cushion. Same quiet.

  He focused on Muladhara—the root at his spine's base. Visualized the red lotus. Chanted Lam until his throat felt raw and the vibration settled somewhere deep in his bones.

  Tree pose until his leg stopped shaking. Then until it didn't shake at all. Then until he could stand on one foot for an hour and forget he was standing.

  Nadi Shodhana until the breath moved through him like water through clean pipes.

  Root lock contracting those pelvic floor muscles holding it, directing energy up, up, up.

  And every day, he sat with fear.

  It was there. Had been there a long time. Fear from this life letting his grandfather down, failing the clan, never being what they needed. Fear from before older, stranger, carrying echoes of a life he only half-remembered. Varanasi.

  He didn't fight it. Couldn't fight it. He just sat there and let it rise and fall like waves. Breathed through it. Watched it fade. Watched it come back. Watched it fade again.

  The Pitamaha said it would take years. Anand believed him. He wasn't in a hurry. What was time anyway? He'd already waited twelve years in a womb. He could wait a few more for some chakras.

  One morning exactly a year after that first lesson, though he didn't know it until later Anand sat as usual. Eyes closed. Breath steady.

  Lam. Lam. Lam.

  The red lotus at his spine pulsed. Warm. It had grown stronger over the months. More present. Like a second heartbeat down there.

  But today felt different.

  Today the warmth didn't stay put.

  It started rising.

  Anand kept breathing. Didn't force anything. Just watched as the warmth crept up his spine, slow and thick like honey, until it reached—

  Something shifted.

  A gate blew open inside him.

  Boom.

  Not violent. Not loud. Just... complete. The energy he'd been building for a year suddenly flooded through. His body hummed with it. His mind went still not empty, just still. For one moment he felt rooted to everything. Not just the floor. The mountain under the floor. The continent under the mountain. The world under the continent. The bones of the earth itself.

  He opened his eyes.

  The Pitamaha stood in the doorway. Must've come to check on him. He froze mid-step, one foot in the air like a statue.

  "Anand... did you just "

  Anand looked at his hands. Same hands. Felt the same. Felt completely different.

  "I think... Muladhara opened," he said quietly.

  The Pitamaha stared. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. No sound came out.

  "Wait," he finally managed. "No. No way."

  Anand tilted his head. "Is that... not normal?"

  The Pitamaha made a noise like something got stuck in his throat. "Normal? Boy, do you know how many clan members take five years just to feel Muladhara? Five years! Some never open it at all! And you sit there asking if it's normal?"

  Anand didn't know what to say. It hadn't felt hard. It had felt like... breathing. Like something he was supposed to do.

  The Pitamaha shook his head slowly. Then a grin spread across his face that familiar, too-wide grin and he laughed. Loud. Booming. Echoing off the walls.

  "Your father was a prodigy!" he shouted. "Three years for the root! Three years! And here you are, one year, asking if it's normal!"

  He strode forward and gripped Anand's shoulder. Squeezed hard enough to hurt.

  "Rest today. Tomorrow we start Svadhishthana. Sacral chakra. But remember—" His voice dropped, serious again. "No forcing. Sequence exists for a reason. You did good. Don't ruin it by getting impatient now."

  Anand nodded. "I understand, Pitamaha."

  After his grandfather left, Anand sat alone in the chamber. He placed his hand over his lower spine. The warmth still pulsed there. Steady. Deep.

  So Father was a prodigy?What happened to him then.Where is he? Is this some kind of fantasy novel where i will cause a huge mess and my dad will appear out of nowhere announcing he became a chakravarti or something?.

  He almost smiled.

  Then he rose, walked out, and let the sun hit his face. ughh he hates the sun light so much