The following morning in Varanasi dawned bright and intensely humid, the sun already burning off the last vestiges of the night's relative cool. Kunal had barely slept, his mind buzzing with a mixture of anticipation and dread about meeting the enigmatic Pandit Sharma. In the small guesthouse room, Vaibhav was already up, packing a small daypack with characteristic energy.
"Ready, Bhai?" Billa grinned, adjusting the strap of his camera. Even on a mission ostensibly about finding obscure scholars, Billa treated every outing like an exploration, his observant eyes already scanning the street scene below their window. "Panditji's lane is near Dashashwamedh, so it'll be crowded. Best time to approach, Vaibhav had advised via message, was late afternoon when the worst of the heat subsided, and the Pandit sometimes sat in his small inner courtyard.
Kunal nodded, trying to project a calm he didn't feel. He'd spent the early morning reviewing Ananya's notes on Pandit Sharma's known publications – dense analyses of Nyaya logic sutras and obscure Mauryan epigraphy. He also meditated, focusing on the रक्षा मन्त्रः (rakṣā mantra), trying to achieve a state of alert receptivity rather than anxious apprehension. "आज पहला कदम है" (Aaj pehla kadam hai), he thought. (Today is the first step.) "देखते हैं नियति क्या चाहती है।" (Dekhte hain Niyati kya chahti hai - Let's see what Destiny wants.)
"Any tips on approaching him?" Kunal asked, pocketing the burner phone and the obsidian fragment, ensuring the latter was well hidden.
Billa slung his bag over his shoulder. "Just be respectful, Bro. Extremely respectful. Mention my name – my grandfather used to occasionally consult him on very old family documents, that's the connection. Frame your questions around philosophy, logic structures, maybe Mauryan administration if you must. Don't push too hard if he seems dismissive. He's old-school Kashi through and through – knowledge is earned, not demanded. And maybe…" Billa winked, "mention you appreciate truly authentic Banarasi paan. Might soften him up."
Kunal managed a faint smile. "Right. Paan diplomacy." He sent a quick secure message to Ananya and Abhishek: Heading out with Vaibhav now to attempt contact with Pandit Sharma. Will update when possible. Stay alert. Abhishek's reply was instant: Vetting clean, but location is crowded, easy for surveillance. Keep comms open if poss, panic button ready. Good luck. Ananya added: His work on early logic systems is fascinating! See if he mentions anything about non-linear arguments or symbolic representation beyond standard Brahmi!
Navigating the पुरानी गलियां (ancient lanes) leading towards Dashashwamedh Ghat was an immersion in sensory overload. Narrow passageways twisted impossibly, lined with tall, crumbling houses painted in faded blues and ochres, their balconies almost touching overhead. The air was thick with the competing smells of incense from tiny shrines, sizzling street food कचौड़ियां, जलेबियां (kachoris, jalebis), fragrant flower garlands, and the underlying damp, earthy scent of the nearby Ganga. मंदिर कि घंटियां (Temple bells) chimed intermittently, blending with vendors' cries, devotional music blaring from shops, and the constant murmur of the crowd.
Vaibhav moved through it all with an easy familiarity, pointing out hidden temples or explaining the history behind a particularly ancient building facade, his camera clicking occasionally. Kunal followed, trying to match Billa's relaxed pace but finding himself constantly scanning – faces in the crowd, figures lurking in doorways, watchers on the rooftops above. The paranoia was a constant companion, a cold counterpoint to the vibrant life teeming around them.
They finally found the lane Vaibhav had described, slightly quieter than the main thoroughfares, leading to the tall, old house with the intricately carved wooden door. It looked even more ancient and secretive up close. A small, faded brass plaque beside the door simply read 'R. D. Sharma'.
"Right then," Billa said quietly, stepping back slightly. "You take the lead, Bhai. I'm just the guy who knows the guy." His eyes, however, were sharp, observant, taking in every detail of the lane, the doorway, the windows above.
Kunal took a deep breath, murmured the mantra one last time, and raised his hand to knock on the heavy door. The sound was absorbed by the thick wood. He knocked again, louder this time.
For a long moment, nothing happened. Kunal exchanged a glance with Vaibhav. Was the Pandit out? Or simply ignoring them? Kunal was about to knock a third time when bolts scraped heavily from within, and the door creaked open just a few inches. A pair of sharp, intelligent, and deeply skeptical dark eyes peered out from the gloom within. They belonged to a very old man, thin and frail-looking, with a wispy white beard and hair tied in a small knot. He wore a simple, clean white cotton dhoti and kurta. This had to be Pandit Sharma.
"कौन है? क्या चाहिए?" (Kaun hai? Kya chahiye?) the old man rasped, his voice surprisingly strong, carrying the distinct cadence of old Kashi. (Who is it? What do you want?) His eyes flickered dismissively over Kunal, then registered Vaibhav standing slightly behind him.
प्रणाम, पंडितजी, (Pranaam, Panditji) Kunal began respectfully, using the traditional greeting. "My name is Kunal Shukla. My friend, Vaibhav Tiwari, suggested I might seek your wisdom." He deliberately mentioned Vaibhav's full name clearly.
The Pandit's sharp gaze shifted to Vaibhav. Recognition flickered there, perhaps mixed with faint annoyance. "अच्छा, तिवारी का पोता?" (Achha, Tiwari ka pota? - Ah, Tiwari's grandson?) Still wandering?" He opened the door a fraction wider but didn't invite them in. "And what 'wisdom' does a modern young man in fancy clothes seek from an old man buried in dusty books?" His tone was gruff, challenging.
Kunal kept his voice level and respectful. "Panditji, I am undertaking some personal research into Mauryan-era philosophy and its connection to ancient systems of logic and linguistics. Specifically, the underlying structures – Nyaya principles, perhaps esoteric interpretations of grammar beyond simple communication. Vaibhav mentioned your deep knowledge in these areas…"
Pandit Sharma scrutinized Kunal for a long moment, his gaze sharp enough to feel physical. Kunal felt like his carefully constructed pretext was being dissected. Vaibhav gave a small, encouraging nod from behind Kunal.
"Mauryan logic? Esoteric grammar?" the Pandit scoffed, though perhaps with a fraction less hostility. "सब इंटरनेट पे मिल जाता है आज कल। (Sab internet pe mil jaata hai aaj kal - Everything is available on the internet these days.) Why bother an old man?"
"The internet offers information, Panditji," Kunal replied carefully. "But not always ज्ञान (gyaan - knowledge), nor प्रज्ञा (Prajñā - Pragya- wisdom/insight). Some structures… some symbols from that era… they defy easy interpretation. I hoped someone with your depth of experience…"
He trailed off, letting the implied respect hang in the air. The Pandit remained silent, his eyes still assessing Kunal. Kunal decided to take a small risk, recalling Billa's tip. "Also," he added with a slight, respectful smile, "Vaibhav mentioned you occasionally appreciate a truly well-made Banarasi paan."
A tiny flicker of surprise, perhaps even faint amusement, registered in the old man's eyes. He snorted softly. "Tiwari's boy remembers that, does he?" He looked Kunal up and down one last time. "ठीक है। (Theek hai - Okay.) Don't stand blocking my doorway. Come in. लेकिन सिर्फ दस मिनट। (Lekin sirf dus minute - But only for ten minutes.)"
He opened the door wider, revealing a dim, narrow entryway piled high with books and manuscripts. The air inside smelled intensely of aged paper, sandalwood incense, and something else – perhaps old herbs. Relief warred with trepidation as Kunal and Vaibhav stepped across the threshold into the scholar's hidden world.
The Pandit led them not into a formal sitting room, but into what was clearly his study – a small, cluttered space dominated by floor-to-ceiling shelves overflowing with books and palm-leaf manuscripts. More were piled on the floor, on a low desk, on every available surface. A single window looked out onto a tiny, walled courtyard. The Pandit settled himself onto a simple mat on the floor, gesturing towards two equally simple cushions for Kunal and Vaibhav.
"So," the Pandit said, fixing Kunal with his sharp gaze again after taking a pinch of tobacco. "Mauryan logic. What specific प्रश्न (praśna - question) troubles your modern mind?"
Kunal chose his words carefully, sticking to his prepared cover. "I've encountered certain geometric symbols, Panditji, particularly one recurring pattern – found in Gandhara region, associated sometimes with early monastic sites. It seems… structured. Almost like a schematic or a linguistic map. The logic isn't immediately apparent through standard Brahmi or Sanskrit grammatical analysis." He described the Ārambha symbol vaguely, focusing on its geometric complexity and recursive nature, without mentioning where he'd seen the hidden versions or the obsidian key.
The Pandit listened impassively, chewing his tobacco. "Geometric patterns? Many traditions use them. Buddhist mandalas, Jain cosmological diagrams, Vedic yantras… they map different aspects of reality, seen and unseen. Describe this symbol."
Kunal sketched a simplified version from memory on a notepad he carried. The Pandit glanced at it, his expression unchanging. "Hmm. Familiar, yet not standard. Looks like a variation of certain mandala structures used for धारणाः (dhāraṇā - concentration) or mapping energetic pathways. Possibly influenced by Greek geometry prevalent in Gandhara then, but the core structure feels… older. Pre-Mauryan, perhaps." He waved a dismissive hand. "These things are often just contemplative tools. Or degenerate copies of forgotten science."
Forgotten science? The phrase snagged Kunal's attention. "Science, Panditji?"
The old scholar gave a dry chuckle. "What you call विज्ञान (vigyaan - science) today merely rediscovers fragments of विद्या (vidya - knowledge) known long ago. Knowledge of patterns, of energies, of the shunya from which all arises. Some sought to map it, control it. Dangerous path. Leads to मोहः (Mohaḥ - delusion), or worse." His eyes seemed to pierce Kunal again. "Why does a young analyst seek such things?"
Kunal felt the probe. He kept his answer academic. "Understanding the foundations, Panditji. How ancient thinkers perceived structure in the universe, in language. If Panini could create a near-perfect generative grammar, could similar principles apply to other systems?"
The Pandit considered this. "Panini," he mused. "His Ashtadhyayi… more than grammar. It's an algorithm. A mirror of ऋतं (Ṛtaṁ - cosmic order). Yes." He looked sharply at Kunal. "You have a peculiar focus for a young man. Most seek wealth, position. You seek… structure?"
Before Kunal could frame a reply, Vaibhav, who had been listening intently while subtly observing the room, interjected smoothly. "Kunal has always been like this, Panditji. Even as kids, he was fascinated by how things fit together – machines, ideas, history…" He deftly steered the conversation slightly away from Kunal's specific intensity.
Pandit Sharma grunted, his gaze lingering on Kunal. "Structure can be a prison, boy. Or a key. Depends on the hand that turns it." He seemed to lose interest then, turning towards a stack of manuscripts beside him. "दस मिनिट हो गए।" (Dus minute ho gaye - Ten minutes are up.) I am busy."
It was a clear dismissal. Kunal knew better than to push. He and Vaibhav stood up, offering respectful pranaams. As they reached the door, the Pandit spoke again, without looking up from his manuscripts.
"That symbol you drew… variations exist. Some say they are maps not of the world, but of… possibilities. Be careful which path you follow on such maps, young man. Not all destinations are desirable."
Out in the bustling lane again, blinking in the afternoon sun, Vaibhav let out a low whistle. "Whoa. Intense old dude, Bhai Sahab. But sharp as hell. Did you get anything useful?"
Kunal nodded slowly, his mind racing. "More than you know, Billa." He didn't mention the confirmation of 'forgotten science' or the reference to 'maps of possibilities', but the Pandit's words resonated deeply. Structure can be a prison, or a key. The warning felt pointed. "He confirmed the symbol is unusual, potentially pre-Mauryan, linked to mapping energies or possibilities… and he mentioned Panini as an algorithm, mirroring cosmic order."
"Sounds like exactly the kind of deep structure stuff you were talking about for your language project!" Vaibhav said enthusiastically. "So, success? Where do we go next?"
Kunal thought for a moment. The Pandit hadn't given them another contact, hadn't offered direct help. But he had confirmed the symbol's significance and pointed towards deeper, perhaps pre-Mauryan, knowledge systems. "We need more context on that symbol," Kunal decided. "And those variations he mentioned. Let's head back. I need to send photos of the sketch and relay this conversation to Ananya. Maybe she can cross-reference 'maps of possibilities' or pre-Mauryan geometric traditions."
As they turned to leave the narrow lane, Kunal glanced back towards the Pandit's ancient house. He felt a prickle on his neck. Further down the gali, half-hidden in the deep shadow of an archway, a man stood leaning against the wall, seemingly nonchalant, reading a newspaper. But his eyes weren't on the paper. They were fixed on the Pandit's doorway. And they flickered towards Kunal and Vaibhav as they emerged.
Kunal's blood ran cold. He subtly steered Vaibhav in the opposite direction, quickening their pace. "चल, बिल्ला, जल्दी।" (Chal, Billa, jaldi - Let's go, Billa, quickly.) The watchers were here too. Or perhaps, the Pandit himself was being watched. The game of shadows continued, even in the heart of holy Kashi.
To be continued…