Chapter 5 The Whispers of Stone

In the days that followed, the village paths turned quiet. Walls seemed to lean inward with eavesdropping ears. Even the temple bells rang duller, as if afraid of being heard.

One evening, Arinay visited the temple at the village edge, not for prayer but peace. There, he met Gopal Baba, the old priest with a voice like husk and honey.

"You look like a man who's spoken too much truth," the priest said, pouring tea.

"I only told the children what they deserved to know," Arinay replied.

Gopal Baba stirred the tea slowly. "And now the stones listen. Be careful. In villages like ours, stone has memory-and voice."

As they sat, Arinay noticed an old engraving on the temple wall-faint, worn. It showed a figure standing before fire, holding a book in one hand and a sapling in the other.

"Who is that?" he asked.

"The First Teacher," the priest whispered. "Long before landlords ruled, teachers guarded balance. Words were weapons. Knowledge was rebellion. You are not the first flame."

That night, Arinay dreamt of the engraving. He stood in the same pose, flames around him, children behind him. And the banyan tree spoke in his dream: What you water, will grow. But what you burn, will rise.

He awoke with the first light, determined.

The whispers had begun, yes. But it was time to speak louder.