Chapter 19: The First Chase
Dhrubo did not enter Champa with haste.
After seeing the city divided into three lives, he understood one thing clearly. If he wanted to find Karna, he should not look inside the palace, nor among scholars or warriors. Karna did not belong there, yet. At this age, Karna belonged to the edges. To effort. To places where strength was tested quietly.
He did not know where Karna lived.
He did not know his house.
He did not even know his face.
All he knew was this—
Karna, at this age, would not live in comfort.
So Dhrubo walked where royal das-dasi lived.
Where chariot riders stayed.
Where stable hands slept.
Where people worked close to power but never touched it.
He walked slowly and listened.
People talked while repairing wheels, feeding horses, and cleaning chariots.
"Did you hear?" one man said.
"About Adhiratha?" another replied.
"Yes. He got promoted as a royal charioteer."
"That is because he won the chariot race."
"True, but his son helped more than anyone."
"Vasusen?"
"Yes. When the wheel got stuck in mud, that boy pushed it out."
"A five-year-old did that?"
"I saw it. The chariot would have fallen without him."
Dhrubo stopped for a moment.
Vasusen.
Karna before called Karna.
Dhrubo felt happy. Adhiratha's promotion meant Karna's effort mattered, even if his birth did not.
Dhrubo continued walking.
He continued walking, observing houses near the chariot grounds. Most were simple. Many looked alike. He could not tell which one belonged to Adhiratha.
Then he saw movement. A boy ran out from between two houses.
He was barefoot.
His clothes were plain.
Dust clung to his feet.
But something about him was different.
The boy ran freely, without hesitation or fear.
His body was well-formed beyond his age—shoulders broad, limbs balanced, every movement disciplined by instinct rather than training.
There was strength in him, but also grace.
His steps were light, yet each carried certainty.
His posture remained straight even while running, chest open, spine firm, like one born to stand before others rather than behind them.
Dust touched his skin, yet did not dull him.
Others around him blended into the city. This boy stood apart without trying.
Dhrubo felt a certainty rise in him.
This must be him.
The boy ran toward the outer edge of Champa. Dhrubo followed, keeping distance. He did not know why the boy was running, but he still followed.
The boy crossed a garden where wild grass and tree grew. He passed a small shrine and climbed a low hill beyond it. The place was empty. Quiet.
From behind a tree, Dhrubo watched.
Vasusen stretched his arms. Rolled his shoulders. Bent his knees. His movements were not taught. They were instinctive. He did not know forms, but his body knew effort. Then Vasusen moved aside bushes.
A bow lay hidden there.
It was badly made. The wood was uneven. The string was tied too tight on one end and loose on the other. Nearby lay sticks sharpened roughly into arrows.
The boy took position and aimed.
The arrow fell short.
He frowned. Adjusted his stance. Tried again.
The arrow flew sideways.
He sighed, but did not throw the bow. He picked it up again.
Dhrubo watched quietly.
This was not talent yet.
This was will.
Suddenly Vasusen stopped.
"Come out," he said. "I know someone is there."
Dhrubo smiled.
Instead of stepping out, he climbed onto a tree branch and sat there.
The boy turned.
He saw Dhrubo sitting above him, swinging his legs.
"Hey!" the Vasusen said. "Who are you?"
Dhrubo tilted his head.
"Shouldn't you tell your name first?" he asked.
The boy blinked.
Then he laughed.
"Hah! That's true."
"I'm Vasusen. Son of Adhiratha and Radha."
"Now you."
Dhrubo jumped down lightly.
"I don't really know who I am," he said.
"But you can call me Pāpi."
"Pāpi?" Vasusen frowned.
"That means sinner."
"Yes."
"That's a strange name."
"I chose it."
Vasusen crossed his arms.
"So what's your real name?"
Dhrubo smiled slightly.
"If you want to know my real name," he said, "you must earn it."
Vasusen stared. Then he smiled, not offended, but intrigued.
"And how do I earn it?" he asked.
Dhrubo pointed behind him, toward the open field.
"Catch me."
Before Vasusen could respond, Dhrubo turned and ran.
"Hey—!" Vasusen shouted, surprised.
Then he laughed.
"So that's how it is."
He ran after him.
They ran across the hill.
Across grass and uneven ground.
Dhrubo ran lightly, choosing paths instinctively. Vasusen ran straight, pushing forward with raw strength.
Dhrubo ran lightly, choosing paths instinctively.
Vasusen ran straight, pushing forward with raw strength.
"You're fast," Vasusen said between breaths.
"You're strong," Dhrubo replied.
They ran without anger. Without challenge. Only curiosity.
They ran until their legs burned.
Vasusen slipped once and almost fell.
"Hah! Careful!" Dhrubo shouted.
"Don't laugh!" Vasusen yelled back, laughing himself.
They kept running.
The sun moved slowly across the sky.
Sweat covered their faces.
But neither stopped.
Vasusen's breathing grew heavy, but he did not stop. His legs burned, but his eyes did not lose focus.
Dhrubo noticed.
He slowed just a little.
Vasusen saw the chance.
He pushed harder.
Just as he reached out—
Dhrubo leapt away again.
Vasusen stumbled, fell, rolled, and stood back up.
They continued the run whole afternoon.
Finally, Vasusen slowed.
"Hah… hah… I can't catch you," he said honestly.
Dhrubo stopped and turned back.
"You did not give up," he said. "That matters."
Vasusen smiled, breathing heavily.
"I will catch you next time."
"Maybe," Dhrubo replied.
They sat on the grass.
For a while, they said nothing.
The city of Champa stood behind them.
The future stood before them.
"Will you come again?" Vasusen asked.
"Yes," Dhrubo answered.
"When?"
"Tomorrow."
"And your name?"
"Not yet."
Dhrubo stood and walked away.
Vasusen watched him leave.
He did not know why, but he felt something settle in his chest.
"I'll be worthy," he said quietly.
The sun dipped below the horizon.
Two five-year-old boys ended their day laughing, running, and dreaming.
Neither knew what future waited.
For now, tomorrow was enough.
Chapter End.