The Bloody Battle: Excerpts from Chakra by Ritu Lalit

“Guruji, they are all gathering,” twelve-year-old Sumant, his cheeks covered with a fuzzy growth of beard, peered through the flap of the tent and informed the old man.  He was skinny and looked as though he had recently shot up in height, and his clothes had not kept up.
The man addressed as Guru, or Teacher, sighed and stood up, his old bones aching.  There was a time when he had considered the weather a non-issue.  It had just been a matter of mind over body.  But age had caught up, and he realized that even Japas could feel cold.  It was freezing in the desert; he peered out of the tent at the full moon.  He had read somewhere that the full moon in January was known as the Wolf Moon.  How apt, he thought as he stepped out, his aged joints creaking.  He felt a slight unease arising from his base chakra.  He inhaled deeply and said, “I smell danger.  This peace among them will not last the night, I know it.”