“Scholar-ji,” the ferryman said, “you chant Buddham Sharanam Gacchami — but tell me, who is going where?”

With that, the ferryman waded deeper into the river and vanished beneath the dark water — leaving no ripple, no trace.

Raghava sat alone on the bank. For the first time, he did not chant. He simply breathed. The river flowed. The moon rose. And somewhere inside him, a boat that had been full of noise and ambition and fear — suddenly became empty.