Idhika knew her anxiety would evaporate once the dark hour of Suryast was over, when the earthen lamps in Vanyasa lit up the edges of huts and paths. Every evening, their light, collectively powered by meditation, brought the valley back to life. It truly is magnificent after dark.

She entered the woods. Aranyala was a limitless labyrinth, but Idhika knew its secrets, and so she walked its trails without hesitation. When the time was right, she abandoned the main path and pierced the thick forest. Dry leaves started to crackle under her feet as she thought about her home and how secluded it was from the rest of the world. Pity that plain dwellers never learn of its beauty.

Her father’s exile from Vanyasa had come early in Idhika’s life. After he’d left, alone in the valley, it took her years to figure out why she was the only one her age to be born here. Her mother had been the second-to-last Eka and her father one of the ten Souls of Samsara in that decade. But she had never been able to understand how exactly her mother had died on the Mahayatra.

Idhika walked deeper into Aranyala, past a bright-feathered peacock that didn’t flinch at her approach. The air became cooler. She was now concealed inside the forest under a canopy that blocked the sunlight. She could have been anywhere. But it didn’t matter. Today, she’d come to the Clearing, a place of peace.

Time was running out. She needed to practise and be ready. With bright scarlet flowers giving her company, she started a combination of asanas, yoga postures, by bending forward. She shifted her weight to her palms and arched her back until she looked like a downward-facing dog. Only then was her yog ready to be taken to the next step.

Idhika sat cross-legged and straightened her back. Next, she closed her eyes, rested her knuckles on her knees and formed a jnanamudra, sacred hand gesture, with her fingers. Taking a deep breath, she began to meditate. Just as Father taught me, she noted wryly. Her mind kept thinking of Gurukul—if the new Souls bested her at anything she would never be able to live it down. So, she focused on her breathing, until there was nothing but the sensation of Vayu passing through her lungs. In from the nose, out from the mouth.

When Idhika was close to the moment she awaited, she was disturbed by a tickling on her thigh. It took her a while—her eyes still shut—to realize that it was a caterpillar inching up her skin, annoyingly keeping her away from her yog. She felt guilty when she moved her hand and brushed the caterpillar away. But it paid off, as she soon found herself slowly receding from the edges of her physical body. The world surrounding her was inviting, and she felt the familiar weightlessness that signified a deep meditative state. Here we go.

She was finally within reach, but the need for a companion remained. It couldn’t be done alone. Idhika’s atman, soul, searched with warmth, approaching a butterfly that wouldn’t let her in, a ladybug that flew away at the request, a mongoose that was too far away. She was ignored by all those she approached.