Resurgence of Kohl

6. Strength of Hands

"Ten" The vigor of my arms felt like giving up at that very moment yet I kept on accomplishing my task. It has been a week since my first lesson. The wind flew by my side, whispering the sublime secrets of the weather. It was not too sunny today, under the shade of a tree one could hardly discern the heat from the sun. Despite this, I was profusely sweating due to extraneous exercise bestowed upon me. 

"Eleven" The counting continued as I lifted the sandbag again. The heavy weight of the bags made my legs tremble but I tried not to stumble along the course of the exercise. 

"You are still too weak." My father commented as he strolled into the arena. His red dhoti fluttered along with the gales while his yellow angvastram embellished with several precious stones and golden threads was tightly wrapped around his upper body, highlighting his broad torso while also covering his gruesome battle scars. 

"I have just started," I winced while lifting the bag. "I yet have to-"

Thump

With that sound, I fell to the ground, covering myself with dust. It was tiring- I won't lie for I have been failing to continue these exercises for a week now but no one can be blamed as I knew, my father decided most facile routine for me compared to rest of the warriors there.

For a few minutes or so, I heaved; my lungs felt burning while a searing pain was registered in my arms. Finally, when the burning sensation subsided just a little, I turned to look at him- he had a stoic expression on his face that made me wince. 

"Start again" was all he said before turning around and leaving the process.

"No, I won't!" Agitation was brimming through my voice and my fist tightened to stop me from doing something rambunctious. 

He turned around and glared at me. "You are not the one supervising, your treatment here would be similar to any other trainee present in the arena. Repeat such behavior and you would have to restart all your exercises back again."

My irritation at his words was beyond description but I quickly bit my tongue with my teeth; drawing a small amount of blood. He was acting strange. Completely utterly strange. He usually said such a thing during the training. Somewhere in my mind, I knew he was doing this to rile me up so that I, to prove him wrong, would restart the work but my anger thought otherwise. My rage was like a mist covering the dew of my sweat and my hard work in its hindering embrace and I concluded that he is doing this to make me quit yet the conclusion was scarce for me to quench the mirth raging inside that bubbled up at his every word.

With the perturbation peeving up, I took the bag and started lifting it.

"One"

I somewhat hoped to see the irritation on his face that he could not succeed in making me leave the arena but all I could see was his phlegmatic face. At a point, I thought I saw his lip twitch but I shrugged it off.

'How he can be like this, apathetic and fierce while wielding a sword and just the opposite when we leave the arena. I knew all warriors were stoic in a place as such but was their behavior change also similar to one that of my father?' I mused internally while lifting the bags that were scabbing off the skin of my palms.

"Concentrate!"

I snapped out of my thoughts and realized I was only going halfway while doing the lift, making the whole process even more agonizing for me.

"If you wish to learn how to wield a sword, you better concentrate." 

I restarted my exercise without waiting for him to continue as I knew he would either ask me what made me go into trance or give a speech on the importance of concentration.

After a few painful exercises, my father forwarded me my wooden sword. It was hardly much different from a wooden stick yet for me, it was the first sword I ever held. I still remember how happy was I to hold the sword that day, albeit, it soon turned agonizing as I was asked to maintain the stance for the entire two pahars.

Over the past few days, I had learned how to hold it properly along with some basic ways to use it.  Usually, my father or some new soldier fought with me and today was no exception. 

My father came forward, took a practice sword, and got into the stance. With a roar, we both attacked each other which was mostly me being offensive and he being defensive.

Circling each other we both waited for a few moments before I attacked again from a higher angle which proved to be a big mistake for me as I left my rear defenseless. My father being the strong and abled warrior took hold of my sword with one hand and with the other one he attacked my rear end. 

The match was over and I was panting heavily. Beads of sweat were rolling down my forehead leaving me wet and sticky with a layer of grime that settled onto my scalp. My muscles were sore and I was a complete mess. If my mother would see me like this, she would probably stop my training then and there. 

"Never give your enemy an opening to attack."

I heard my father say. 

"Do not get angry while fighting. You let your anger rule you. Wait for the best moment to strike and use your brain while attacking not anger."

This was something I had been listening to for the past few days. I usually let myself be angry and agitated while fighting and missed good chances. Surely I would not win against my father for now but I could at least make use of my brain for future purposes.

"Do not think much. You would be able to do it. Just don't make it complex for yourself." I heard him again. "This would be enough for today. You can go."

I frowned but soon realized that there was only one hour left before the Rajyasabha begins. Dazed in the training, I forgot about the time and now I needed to hurry up to get ready before my mother sees me like this. She would always come with me to the training grounds but after some time would leave to fulfill her palace duties.

❁┈┈┈❅ ⋞〈 ✿ 〉⋟ ❅┈┈┈❁

Rajyasabha- court

Pahars- 3 hours

Angvastram- a long piece of cloth used to cover upper body

❁┈┈┈❅ ⋞〈 ✿ 〉⋟ ❅┈┈┈❁

How was the chapter?

Written by Mystery_Reader_195

Make sure to force him to write something more