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Midnight.
Only a small lamp burned in Vikram’s room. The ancient palm-leaf manuscript was spread out on his desk, flanked by his notebook, a pencil, and a Sanskrit-Kannada dictionary.
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Vikram adjusted his glasses, squinting at the ancient script. Every word held multiple meanings. Every sentence was a riddle.
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"‘Vanaspati Vidyavanta’..." he muttered, scribbling notes. "‘Vana’ means forest, ‘Spati’ means Lord... Lords of the Forest? No... Masters of Plants..."
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The clock struck twelve.
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The Difficult Verses
He turned the next leaf. Complex Sanskrit shlokas stared back at him.
"Pranayamena Vanaspati Samvadah... Prakriti Chetana Samyogah..."
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"‘Pranayama’... breathing exercise? And ‘Vanaspati Samvadah’... communication with plants?" He wrote furiously in his notebook.
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In the dim lamplight, the illustrations of plants in the book seemed to shimmer. The sketches had wavy lines drawn around them—perhaps depicting the aura.
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The clock struck two.
Vikram’s eyes were burning, but he couldn't stop. Arjun... his powers... the answers were all here in this book.
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The Dawn’s Realization
As the first light of dawn crept through the window cracks, Vikram finally deciphered the core message.
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"People like Arjun have existed throughout history," he whispered excitedly. "Guardians of Flora. Protectors of plants. They used to heal diseases through herbs..."
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He looked at his notes. The pages were full—translations, questions, theories.
"I have to share this with them," he decided.
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---
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Sunday morning. The old ruined temple was peaceful. The chirping of birds mixed with the rustling of leaves. The morning sun filtered through the canopy, illuminating the ancient stones.
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Arjuna and Kiran were already there, sitting on an old stone platform, in a relaxed weekend mood.
"Look there, a new Peepal root has grown through that crack," Kiran pointed at a broken wall.
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Arjuna looked. A faint green aura flickered around that root. A light visible only to him.
"Yes, it's beautiful," he said softly.
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Vikram’s Arrival
"Oh, someone’s coming," Kiran said.
Vikram was walking down the path, holding something carefully wrapped in cloth. His face looked tired, but his eyes were bright with excitement.
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"Vikram! You’re here this early?" Kiran shouted.
"I had to come," Vikram said, sitting down next to them.
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Kiran laughed. "Dude, you don't even rest on Sundays! Brought a book again?"
Arjuna chuckled. "Seems like Vikram has homework even on Sundays!"
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Vikram smiled, but his expression turned serious. "This isn't homework. This is about you, Arjun."
Arjuna and Kiran both straightened up.
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Vikram carefully unwrapped the cloth. The palm-leaf manuscript lay before them. Ancient. Sacred.
"What is this?" Kiran asked curiously.
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"I studied this all night," Vikram said. "Remember how Arjun helped me? This book explains how that is possible."
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Arjuna looked at the book with interest, but also a hint of fear.
"What does it say?" he asked softly.
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Vikram opened the first leaf. His finger traced the ancient script.
"According to this book," he read slowly, "in the past, there were ‘Vanaspati Vidyavantas’."
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"‘Vanaspati Vidyavanta’?" Kiran repeated. "Meaning?"
"Those who knew the science of plants," Vikram translated. "Those who had the knowledge to communicate with herbs."
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Arjuna leaned forward. "Were there people like me in the past?"
"Not just existed," Vikram said enthusiastically. "They were revered."
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Vikram continued slowly. "You know about Sage Sushruta in Ayurveda, right?"
"Sushruta?" Kiran asked.
"Yes. The great ancient physician. The Father of Surgery," Vikram explained. "In his texts, he mentioned that plants used to speak to him."
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"Speak to him?" Arjuna asked in amazement.
"Yes. The plants would reveal their medicinal properties to him. Which plant is useful for which disease."
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"Really?" Kiran asked skeptically.
Vikram continued, more passionate now. "Look, Ayurveda lists the medicinal properties of thousands of plants. Every detail—which leaf, which root, which flower, for which disease."
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"How did they know?" Arjuna asked.
"That’s exactly the question!" Vikram said. "With modern science, it takes years to test a single plant and find its chemical properties. But Sushruta and other sages knew about thousands of plants. How was that possible?"
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Silence. The three boys pondered this.
"Maybe..." Arjuna said slowly, "The plants really did speak to them?"
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"Exactly," Vikram said. "And according to this book, you have that same power, Arjun."
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"But how?" Arjuna asked. "I don't know how to use it. It just happens on its own."
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Vikram turned the leaf. "That's why the method is given here. Look."
He began reading the Sanskrit verses:
"Pranashakti Samyogena Vanaspati Chetana... Prakriti Tattva Samvadah..."
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Kiran frowned. "What are you saying? I don't understand half the words."
"‘Pranashakti’ means life force... ‘Samyoga’ means connection... ‘Vanaspati Chetana’ means plant consciousness..." Vikram struggled to explain.
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Arjuna looked overwhelmed. "This is too difficult... all these ancient words..."
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Vikram tried reading another verse:
"Dhyanavasthayam Prakriti Tattva Sakshatkarah... Panchamahabhuta Samvedana..."
"In the state of meditation... realization of nature's elements..." He pronounced every word slowly.
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Kiran shook his head. "This sounds like our Sanskrit teacher at school. I don't get it."
Arjuna looked dejected. "Maybe I am not worthy of understanding this."
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Kiran stood up. "Vikram, this is too hard. We won't understand."
Arjuna stood up too. "Yes... maybe we don't need this knowledge."
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Vikram looked at them, desperate. All night of study... and they were giving up already?
Suddenly, Vikram stood up, his voice filled with frustration.
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"Stop! Don't give up so easily!"
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Arjuna and Kiran looked at him in surprise. It was new for them to see Vikram scolding like this.
"But Vikram—" Kiran started.
"No!" Vikram stopped him. "You don't understand. Arjun, you have something extraordinary. Something special. And you want to ignore it? Just because it's difficult?"
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Arjuna looked down, feeling guilty.
"But these verses..." Arjuna said weakly.
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"Then let's find a simple way!" Vikram said. "Every complex theory has a simple root. Let's find that."
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Vikram sat back down by the book. He started turning the leaves slowly, searching.
Arjuna and Kiran sat back down, influenced by Vikram's determination.
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"It must be here somewhere..." Vikram muttered. "Basic method... primary technique..."
Suddenly his hand stopped. His eyes focused on a specific section.
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"... Look at this!"
Three simple lines.
He began reading excitedly. These lines were different—in a simpler script, clearer.
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"Vanaspativat Bhava
Vanaspatau Pranam Dehi
Vanaspatih Tava Pranam Dadatu"
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"What does that mean?" Kiran asked.
Vikram translated slowly:
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"Become like the plant.
Breathe into the plant.
Let the plant breathe into you."
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Silence. The three boys absorbed the simple words.
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The Understanding
Arjuna spoke slowly. "That... that feels like what happens to me."
"What happens?" Vikram asked curiously.
"When I am near plants... I feel like I can feel their breathing. Like they are alive and breathing."
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Vikram leaned forward eagerly. "This sounds like a meditation technique, but with plants!"
"So we just... have to breathe with the plants?" Kiran asked practically.
"According to this book, yes," Vikram said. "It says this is the root of all communication with Flora."
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Arjuna looked at the surrounding plants. The multi-colored aura was shimmering softly. "Should I try?"
"Let's all try," Vikram said.
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---
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Part 3: The Ritual
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"The book says," Vikram read, "this must be done in a place with dense vegetation."
They looked around. The old ruined temple was perfect. Plants, creepers, and trees everywhere. Nature had completely reclaimed the ancient stones.
"Can't find a better place than this," Kiran said.
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"But what if something goes wrong?" Arjuna asked anxiously.
Vikram smiled at him. "It's just breathing, Arjun. What can go wrong?"
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The three sat around the old stone platform in the center of the temple. Dense greenery surrounded them. Wild trees, Peepal, creepers, flowers.
To Arjuna, the multi-colored aura was visible everywhere. Today, it shimmered more intensely.
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"Close your eyes," Vikram instructed. "Focus on a plant near you."
The three closed their eyes.
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The Breath
"Now breathe," Vikram said softly. "But breathe like a plant. Let your breath become the plant's breath."
"How do plants breathe?" Kiran asked with his eyes closed.
"Slowly... calmly... naturally..." Vikram said. "Imagine how a plant breathes."
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Silence. Only the chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves.
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Kiran scrunched his face slightly. He felt nothing special. Just normal breathing.
Vikram slowed his breathing, following the method methodically. He felt nothing special either, just a sense of peace.
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But Arjuna...
The moment Arjuna started breathing, something changed.
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The multi-colored aura around him began to intensify.
Green, blue, violet, and golden light swirled around him, dancing.
His breathing slowly deepened. An expression of peace settled on his face.
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Arjuna’s breathing fell into a specific rhythm. Slow, deep, natural. Like the respiration of the forest itself.
His expression shifted—from anxiety to peace, from peace to wonder.
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His head turned slightly to the left, then to the right. Even with his eyes closed, it looked like he was watching something. Listening to something.
The aura grew brighter, swirling around him like a vortex.
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Kiran and Vikram, eyes still closed, focused on their breathing. They had no idea what was happening to Arjuna.
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The colors played across Arjuna’s face. Golden light flickered on his closed eyelids.
His body became completely still, but his face... he looked like he was experiencing something divine.
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The subtle sounds—the rustle of leaves, the whisper of the plants—became intense for him.
Arjuna’s lips moved slightly, as if to speak. But no sound came out.
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The lights became blindingly bright in his mind's eye, engulfing him completely.
And on his face... a look of pure, sacred connection.
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He was entering the world of the plants...
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