The Journey of Destiny

Some stories are those we go searching for. Others are those that come searching for us. "Niyogathinte Yathra" (The Journey of Destiny) belongs to the latter.

I first went to Bastar as a photographer. Red dirt tracks slicing through sal forests, the vibrant weekly markets of Jagdalpur, intricate paintings on the mud walls of Gond villages, and mahua blossoms dropping to the earth at dawn-I captured them all through my lens. Yet, one thing eluded every frame: the stories those people shared as they gathered around the bonfire at night.

They said the forest remembers. That every tree, cave, and lake has its guardian. That an ancient debt, passed down through generations, is still waiting for someone. The words of an old woman-"The forest is waiting for someone"-still echo in my ears. It is from that waiting that this story begins.

Madhu is one of us-a young man raised in the village, living a life filled with screens and endless hurry, entirely unaware of his roots. An ancient palm-leaf manuscript saved by his grandmother takes him from Idukki to Bastar. From there, into the deep woods. And ultimately, into his true self.

A whole world awaits him there. Jwalini Muthashi, who has guarded the forest for a thousand years. Garuda, sitting alone atop the mountain for centuries, waiting for a companion. Mahua, who is not waiting to be rescued, but stands at the frontlines with a sword in hand. And on the opposing side, Andhakan and the dark shadows of the twilight forest.

This is a story of fantasy, but its roots are planted in real soil. On one side are the tribal myths of Bastar. On the other is a sacred dusk lamp that burned uninterrupted for thirty-five years on a verandah in Idukki. This book is the meeting point of these two worlds.

The word "Niyogam" (Destiny/Duty) holds a special meaning in this tale. It is not a fate forced upon someone by another; it is a responsibility chosen by oneself. Madhu could have turned back at any moment. He didn't. That choice is what birthed this book.

When I started writing, I had no idea where this journey would lead. Today, as four volumes stand complete, the story has crossed the boundaries of the forest and reached far beyond the seas. But it all began right here-on that platform in Jagdalpur, in the breeze carrying the fragrance of sal trees. This volume is the root of that grand tree.

As you turn these pages, I hope you feel the moonlight of Bastar, the rhythm of the tribal songs, the roar of an impending war, and the quiet beauty of love.

Welcome to the journey.

With love,

Somakumaran.A