The sky was still painted with the brushstrokes of night—stars twinkling, black clouds swirling—yet faintly touched by the promise of dawn. Crickets droned their last tired chorus, and somewhere in the distance, a rooster called too early:

"Cock-a-doodle-doo!"

A cool breeze slipped inside the clay hut, stirring its stillness. The kerosene lamp flickered low, its flame shrinking and swelling, always a breath away from fading into all black.

Rudraksh was lying on his stomach, diagonally claiming the narrow cot, balanced on the verge of sliding off. His arms and feet dangled off the side, palm open, fingers twitching every now and then as if trying to hold something in his dream that reality failed to offer.

The coarse blanket had long given up the fight, kicked onto the floor, looking more like some used tissue paper than a source of warmth. His pressed cheek against the pillow squashed his lips into a lopsided pout, while the rough threads of the cover left tiny criss-cross tattoos across his skin.

The world hovered in that fragile pause between night and day, while he lay adrift in its hush, deep in the kind of sleep that belongs only to the darkest hours before the morning.

DONGGGG!!

His body jolted, limbs sprawling as he hit the hard earth with a dull thud. A small puff of dust lifted from the cracks in the ground.

Moments passed before he finally sat up, settling cross-legged on the cold earth – his face tilted to the side, one arm loosely resting on his lap, the other splayed out against the ground.

His hair, cut short in gentlemanly neatness, fell across his forehead, veiling just slightly his shut eyes and that six stitches near his left eyebrow. His chest rose and sank in a steady rhythm, lips parted just enough for a slow breath to seep out.

DONGGGGG!!!!

His eyes flew open, eyelashes fluttering against the stubborn drag of sleep that refused to loosen its grip.

"Why?" A low groan slipped from his lips, caught somewhere between a laugh and a cry. "For the last ten days, this 'DONGGGG' has been sending shockwaves through me."

His lips pursed as he jerked his head toward the hut's closed gate. "They won't leave me alone until they've turned me into a full-fledged saint."

Flaring one hand into the air while the other pressed firmly against the earth, he sprang upright in a single sharp motion. Dust scattered from beneath his palm, and his lean frame straightened with a quiet force.

With a detached motion, he strode toward the wooden almirah, no higher than his waist. Reaching it, he bent a little, fingers brushing over the neatly folded pile before pulling out a fresh set of the same simple attire he had worn.

"Time to take a bath, Rudraksh," he whispered to himself, folding the clothes between his palms. "Back to the same routine as the hostel." With a soft sigh, he turned on his heel and walked out of the hut.

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The bathroom corridor stretched long and hushed, its walls painted in muted clay tones and lit faintly by camphor candles flickering low along either side. Their yellow glow washed over the rows of potted plants lined neatly against the wall, casting restless shadows of the leaves whenever a gust of wind slipped in from the front door.

Rudraksh walked with unhurried steps. The freshly mopped floor felt cool beneath his feet, carrying the faint scent of lemongrass and detergent. He held a folded towel in one hand, while his plain white kurta and pyjamas hung loosely from the other.

As he reached a turning point, a long mirror fixed to the wall reflected his tall frame – composed, watchful, his eyes sharp despite the hour.

Then something in the reflection shifted: the blurred outline of a figure lingering behind him. A man, most likely, slipping in and out of sight near the entrance, like someone who wanted to look, but not be seen.

Again?

Rudraksh's eyes narrowed, the muscles around his shoulders tightening as his footsteps slowed.

It's the third time.

His jaw clenched, his gaze dropping briefly to the path before he lifted it again, resuming his pace. His head stayed straight, but his dark eyes scanned the corridor in passing:

Each door shut, nothing unusual.

The edge of his tongue pressed slowly against the inside of his cheek, shifting from one side to the other. Tilting his head just a fraction, he continued walking, turning the corner with ease, whistling a joyful tune that skimmed through the empty corridor.

Beside the first chamber past the corner, he stopped and pressed his back against the cold aluminium door, eyes fixed on the mirror. He tapped his feet against the floor in a steady rhythm, each tap thrown a little farther ahead, tricking the silence into believing he had walked on.

The reflection followed.

A smirk tugged at Rudraksh's lips as he watched the figure quicken his steps silently. The moment the man leaned into the corner—

—Rudraksh spun. In one swift motion, his arm shot out, pinning the man against the concrete wall with a sharp thud. The towel slipped soundlessly to the floor. His fingers wrapped firmly around the man's throat, pressing until the man's breath caught in a startled rasp.

The man struggled, his back scraping against the rough wall, hands clawing at Rudraksh's grip. A soft grunt escaped him, cut short when the hold tightened.

Rudraksh leaned in, eyes narrowing as he tried to make sense of the man's features. "What were you doing?!" he asked in a low, growling whisper.

The man coughed, choking, his hands fumbling helplessly at Rudraksh's wrist. His mouth opened once, twice, but no sound escaped beyond the strangled rasp of breath.

Rudraksh's stare didn't waver. He held him there until the man's legs began to weaken. Then he loosened his grip just enough for him to breathe, while his other hand shot to the collar, dragging the man's face into the pool of candlelight.

The flame quivered, throwing a warm glow across the man's features.

Rudraksh's eyes narrowed, then his expression eased.

"Mangal?" The name left his lips, sharp and sudden, annoyance flashing as he shoved the man's collar away. "You've been following me?"

Mangal coughed, rubbing his throat where Rudraksh's grip had burned. His chin lifted, a snarl curling his mouth. "You're insane!" he snapped, then sprinted down the corridor, vanishing around the corner.

Rudraksh stayed rooted to the spot, confused. "Then what are you?" he muttered into the stillness. His toes hooked the towel off the floor, flipping it into the air until it landed smoothly in his outstretched hand.

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Ruffling his damp hair with one hand, Rudraksh strode down the grassy path, his steps long but patient. Each blade of pointed grass pressed sharply against his bare soles, tingling until the cool film of mist softened their touch. The hem of his pyjamas clung wetly to his ankles, heavy with dew.

Above him, the sky was still painted in an expanse of pale, waiting grey. A single star—Venus—burned stubbornly in the emptiness. His eyes lingered on it for a moment, his eyebrows knitting in a faint furrow.

A restless gust of wind, carrying the edge of winter, tore through his kurta, and his jaw set hard in reflex.

It's March, but the chill is still in the air.

He dropped his gaze, shoulders curling in slightly as he jogged ahead. Folding his arms loosely across his chest, he rubbed his palms over his skin in slow, absent strokes, chasing away the lingering cold.

"Forty-five minutes late."

Rudraksh lifted his head, following the voice as his lips curled into an awkward smile. "Good morning, doctor."

"A very good morning to you too, Rudraksh." Tanvi approached him with her usual warm smile, her hands folded behind her back. "Did you get a good night's sleep?" The pallu of her clay-coloured saree billowed lightly in the morning breeze. The yellow glow from the tree lamps illuminated her serene features.

Rudraksh's eyes closed as a long yawn escaped him, his hand tapping lightly against his mouth. The corners of his eyes misted, his lips pressing into a thin line as he met the doctor's expectant gaze. "Sleep at 8:00 p.m. and wake up at 4:00 a.m."

His eyes flickered to the side, toward the rows of mats laid neatly one after another, where some members were yawning or on the verge of dozing back to sleep. He returned his focus back to the doctor. "What do you think?"

A soft laugh escaped Tanvi's throat as she adjusted the rim of her glasses near her ear. "You will get used to this routine," she said. "It's not exact, but somewhat similar to our Vedic practice."

Rudraksh's lips curved into a half-smile as he exhaled through his nose. "But once I get out of here, I'll automatically slip back into my earlier routine." He shrugged lightly. "So are there any benefits?"

"Rudraksh..." Tanvi rubbed her upper arms with her palms. "The first and foremost thing you need to understand is that you're here to heal, not to think about what has happened or what will happen. You—"

"It's not that easy, doctor," Rudraksh interrupted, his voice low and even. "Especially when you're left alone in that small hut for precisely eight hours, surrounded by nothing but four clay walls, a cot, a flickering oil lamp, and a wooden almirah." He blinked, silently bracing himself for some cliché advice about turning suffocating boredom into something beneficial.

Tanvi sighed, her lips parting as she lowered her head before looking back up at him, her eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly. "People usually talk and enjoy themselves in groups before going to bed. Why don't you join them?"

"Doctor, my life story is not a biography that everyone needs to know," Rudraksh replied evenly, though a thin edge of irritation crept into his tone. "I'm sharing my problems with you. That's more than enough. I don't want fake concern and empathy from everyone."

Tanvi's lips parted, her hand lifting near her stomach—

A whistling sound echoed around them, making both of them turn their heads toward the source.

The yoga teacher was gesturing for everyone to take their respective seats, the whistle still pressed between his lips, occasionally reminding everyone of its presence.

Tanvi looked back at Rudraksh, smiling warmly. "We'll talk about this in the afternoon therapy session. First, let's complete the morning routine." Her gaze flickered toward his left hand, hanging by his side. "Will you be able to perform Suryanamaskar from today onwards?"

Rudraksh followed her gaze, jerking his left hand a few times to test its strength, then nodded. "Yeah."

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The sun emerged from the horizon, painting the sky in a mix of red and yellow hues. The trees swayed, their restless branches brushing against each other, making the leaves appear in silhouetted form. Birds, startled by the sudden burst of light, fluttered from branch to branch, chirping melodiously.

"Everyone, attention!" the yoga instructor announced, a sharp whistle between his lips punctuating his stern tone.

The group snapped into stillness – feet pressed together, hands stiff by their sides.

The instructor strode to the front with measured steps, his chest lifted, chin tilted high, the crisp folds of his kurta swaying with the breeze. He turned so that his back faced the sun, leaving the rows of students staring into the glow.

"Surya Namaskar," he said, his voice firm and steady, "also known as Sun Salutation, is a spiritual practice that honors the Sun God – expressing respect and seeking blessings for health, prosperity, and spiritual awakening."

Rudraksh, positioned at the front of the first row, shifted his weight slightly. His palms dangled loosely against his thighs, his eyes narrowing, not only against the light but at the words themselves, absorbing them in silence.

"Ancient texts like the Rigveda mention Surya as a divine being, often associated with light, wisdom, and consciousness." The instructor lifted one arm in a half-salute toward the horizon before letting it fall gracefully by his side. "The practice of saluting him has been observed in our tradition for thousands of years – to align ourselves with the natural rhythms of life, absorbing the energy of the sun and transmitting it throughout the body and mind."

Rudraksh glanced at the red disc shifting into orange as it broke free from the horizon, spreading its majestic glow across the open sky. His spine straightened more firmly, as though the sun itself demanded his stance.

"Surya Namaskar consists of twelve different asanas, each with a specific alignment, purpose, movement, and breathing pattern." The instructor paced across the line, his eyes grazing over each student. "When performed in a fluid, mindful manner, the sequence activates all parts of the body, providing a balanced workout."

He stopped mid-step, hands clasped neatly behind him, posture unwavering. "Let's start." His voice softened.

The crowd stiffened into attention once again, the sound of shuffling feet settling into silence.

Shoulders squared, chests opened.

"Firstly, we will be normalizing our breathing patterns." His gaze swept over each raised head like a commander surveying his army.

"Breathe in." His palm carved a slow arc through the air.

A deep rustle followed – dozens of lungs drawing the same breath.

The instructor's palm hovered, fingers spread, commanding stillness. "Hold."

Rudraksh's jaw clenched, the line of his throat tightening as he locked the air inside his lungs.

With deliberate grace, the teacher's hand descended, tracing a downward path. "Exhale."

The sound unfurled like a tide – a long, collective release, lungs surrendering in unison.

"Repeat this ten times, then we'll move to the twelve asanas one by one," the instructor said as he stepped aside, observing everyone's breathing patterns.

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"Alright." The instructor appeared once again, with another man by his side. "Let's begin our first round of Suryanamaskar. Remember, don't rush. Breathe with each movement. Feel the flow."

Everyone stood attentively at their position, facing the two instructors. The garden felt lively with the cool air in the early dawn; faint streaks of orange sky peeked above the horizon. A few sleepy birds hopped along the compound wall, watching the rows of mats aligned neatly on the ground. Performers' eyes flickered from instructor to sky, then back to the ground.

"First, Pranamasana or Prayer Pose."

Stand upright; feet together; hands pressed together near your chest; elbows relaxed by your sides." The earlier instructor guided, while the other performed. "Inhale deeply; let the calm settle in your mind and body."

This pose grounds you in the present moment, preparing the body for the series of postures ahead."

Second, Hasta Uttanasana or Raised Arms Pose."

Inhale and raise your arms overhead, keeping your palms facing each other. Expand your chest and lean back slightly to create an arch."

This pose opens up the chest, stretches the abdominal region, and promotes energy flow throughout the body."

Third, Padahastasana or Standing Forward Bend."

Exhale and bend forward from the hips, bringing your hands down to the floor beside your feet. If possible, touch the ground with your fingertips or palms. Keep the legs straight, and allow your head to hang loosely."

This pose stretches the hamstrings, calves, and spine, improving flexibility and promoting a calming effect on the mind."

Fourth, Ashwa Sanchalanasana or Equestrian Pose."

Inhale and step your right leg back, lowering your right knee to the floor while keeping your left foot firmly planted. Reach your arms overhead or place your hands on the floor next to your left foot, opening the chest."

This pose stretches the hip flexors, thighs, and groin, promoting flexibility and strengthening the lower body."

Fifth, Dandasana or Plank Pose."

Exhale and step your left leg back, bringing both legs straight into a plank position. Your body should form a straight line from head to heels, with your arms firmly pressed on the ground, shoulder-width apart."

This pose strengthens the arms, shoulders, core, and legs, while also improving balance and stability."

Sixth, Ashtanga Namaskara or Eight-Limbed Pose."

Lower your knees, chest, and chin to the floor, keeping your hips lifted. Your elbows should be bent, and your chest should be open and facing the floor."

This pose tones the arms and chest while promoting flexibility in the spine."

Seventh, Bhujangasana or Cobra Pose."

Inhale and lift your chest upward, using your back muscles rather than your arms. Keep your elbows slightly bent and your legs straight on the ground. Look forward and expand your chest."

This pose stretches the spine and opens the chest, improving posture and stimulating the abdominal organs."

Eighth, Adho Mukha Svanasana or Downward-Facing Dog Pose."

Exhale and lift your hips toward the ceiling, forming an inverted "V" shape with your body. Your hands and feet should be flat on the floor, with your head between your arms and your chest pressing toward your thighs."

This pose stretches the hamstrings, calves, and spine, and helps improve circulation and digestion."

Ninth, Ashwa Sanchalanasana or Equestrian Pose."

Inhale and step your right foot forward between your hands, while your left leg remains extended back. Raise your chest and look forward, keeping the back knee lifted."

This pose stretches the hip flexors and strengthens the legs."

Tenth, Padahastasana or Standing Forward Bend."

Exhale and step your left foot forward to meet the right, bringing your hands to the floor beside your feet. Allow your head to hang freely.

This pose stretches the hamstrings and releases tension from the neck and back."

Eleventh, Hasta Uttanasana or Raised Arms Pose."

Inhale and rise up, reaching your arms overhead, arching your back slightly, and looking upward."

This pose energizes the body, opens the chest, and improves flexibility in the spine."

Twelveth, Pranamasana or Prayer Pose."

Exhale and return to the standing position with your palms pressed together in front of your chest."

This final pose completes the sequence, allowing you to bring the practice to a peaceful conclusion and center your mind."

The first round closed in silence, only the faint hiss of breath rising and falling through dozens of chests filled it. Mats shifted softly under bare feet as the practitioners straightened, palms pressed, faces lifted faintly toward the newborn sun.

A sheen of sweat already clung to many foreheads, the thin morning air carrying away its salt before it could drip. Some shoulders trembled, a few chests heaved, but the group tried to wear composure, masking their strain with stillness.

Rudraksh stood tall in the first row, palms pressed together at his chest. His face gave nothing away, but the pulse throbbed sharp at his neck. The faint ache in his left wrist made his knuckles whitened, yet he didn't lower it. He swallowed hard, jaw flexing, as his eyes stayed fixed ahead on the sun rising higher above the horizon.

The instructor clapped his hands once. "Excellent! That was your first round of Surya Namaskar."

A ripple of relief passed through the group. Some exhaled with audible sighs, others bent slightly to stretch their ankles or shake the stiffness from their fingers. A few exchanged muted smiles, their fatigue disguised as pride.

Rudraksh rolled his shoulders back, pressing his lips into a thin line, breathing steadily.

The instructor's voice once again broke through the murmurs. "Now, repeat the sequence-eleven more times."

A low murmur broke out across the rows. One man let his arms fall limp by his sides with a half-groan. Another woman rubbed her calf discreetly with her toes, trying to ease the cramp before anyone noticed.

Someone in the back whispered, "Eleven?" as though hoping it was a mistake.

Rudraksh's lips curved into a humorless smirk. His eyes flickered shut for the briefest second before snapping open again. "Twelve rounds," he muttered under his breath.

But instead of moving back, instead of groaning like the others, he inhaled deeply, palms brushing against each other near his chest, eyes fixed on the glowing orange sun.

If this was what he had to do to get rid of all the chaos, he would do it with all his strength.

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DING DONG! DING DONG! DING DONG! DING DONG!

"Mhm-huh, calm down, man," Siddharth muttered, climbing down the stairs, slipping his arm in the white shirt hung loosely from his one shoulder. The black trousers he wore contrasted the white marble steps. Tiny droplets of water from his freshly showered hair sparkled around, glittering in the morning ray slipping in from the ventilators.

The chime still echoed in the quiet rooms as his bare feet pressed against the cool marble, one step at a time, the faint squelch of damp soles leaving pale imprints on the glossy surface. His fingers fumbled with the shirt buttons, the fabric shifting against his built chest with each hurried tug downward, collar to waist.

The living room opened before him – sofas neatly aligned around the table, where an unwashed empty mug lingered at the center.

He reached the main door and wrapped his damp, long fingers around the knob, twisting it with a click before pulling it open in one swift draw.

Light poured in, spilling across the threshold, chasing away the pale hush of the house. The air stirred, carrying dust motes that danced between his lashes as he blinked into the brightness.

He stepped forward, peeking to both sides, searching for the visitors. But found none.

"Today's kids," he muttered, ready to turn around when his eyes fell on the bouquet lying carelessly at the entrance steps. Its cellophane wrapper caught the light, crinkling faintly as the morning breeze teased it.

His eyebrows drew together. His gaze swept the lane once again, but nothing came into view except the rustle of trees and the distant honk of a vehicle.

He lowered his eyes, glancing at the bouquet of vibrant, colorful flowers. He nudged it with the side of his foot. The flowers shifted, and an envelope slipped out.

His eyebrows furrowed. The envelope's surface was scribbled with thick, eerie letters in red that looked too dark, too raw to be mere ink.

𝕳𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖞 𝕳𝖔𝖑𝖎 𝖎𝖓 𝖆𝖉𝖛𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊, 𝕾𝖔𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖐𝖎.

He bent down, fingers curling around the stiff paper before lifting it slowly. For a moment, his gaze remained fixed on the white envelope. The sound of his heartbeat thudding against his ribs echoed in his ears, yet his expression stayed calm as his fingers tore open the edge and slid the contents out.

A photograph.

Rudraksh. Standing in white kurta and pyjamas, hands folded in prayer. His expression serene.

Siddharth's breath hitched at the sight.

The picture was defiled, stained and bruised with dried blood. There were deep, crusty scars on Rudraksh's face and heart, all in a perfect line, as if bullets had struck straight into them.

The suffocating silence broke with the shrill ring of his phone.

Unfocused, he slipped his free hand inside his trousers' pocket, pulling the phone out and pressing it firmly against his ear.

"S-Siddharth!" Aanand's trembling voice rang through the line.

A/N: Hello, how's it?

Was it boring? The yoga session and all?

Actually I was too confused to lane a path forward for the plot😅. But, worry not. Now I've gotten ideas for Rudraksh's healing journey in this wellness centre.

So, see you in the next part!