Ashes of Dharma

The light from the first gate dimmed.

Aarav stepped forward—not walking, not floating. Just being moved. The void bent around his breath, shaping reality to his pace.

Ahead: a narrow bridge of woven mantra threads stretched across nothing. On the other side stood a figure.

Not threatening. Not radiant.

Still.

They wore no crown, no armor, no robes. Just a plain dhoti and a shawl of shifting wind. Their face was Aarav's—but older, calmer, with eyes that held every question never asked.

The Gatekeeper.

They raised one hand.

"Only one question. You answer it, you pass."

Aarav nodded.

"Who are you when no one is watching?"

The words struck like a staff to the chest.Not who are you in power.Not who are you in pain.But in silence, in secret, in self.

Aarav stood on that mantra-bridge, breath steady.

He didn't think.

He remembered.

Not his achievements.

But the moment he saved a stranger in Delhi traffic without expecting thanks.

The time he stayed hungry so a child could eat.

The hours spent sitting by Dasi's bedside when she was sick, whispering mantras he barely believed.

"I'm the one who still chooses the hard thing when no one sees," he said quietly.

The Gatekeeper smiled.

And stepped aside.

As Aarav crossed the second threshold, the wind whispered around him:

"Truth opens more than gates. It unlocks self."