A quiet evening at the Shivneri Fort. The golden light of the setting sun filters through the windows of the royal chambers. Shahaji, a seasoned warrior and father, stands at the balcony, looking out over the vast landscape. Jijabai, his wife and the mother of their young son Shivaji, is seated inside, deep in thought.

The wind carries the scent of the earth, Jijau. It reminds me of the many lands I have marched across, the battles I have fought. And yet, my heart always longs for home.

And what is home, Maharaj? Is it the grand palaces of our masters? Is it a land ruled by those who do not care for our people? My heart longs for a home where our son can stand with pride, without bowing before another.

Jijabai (softly, but firmly)

         You speak of Swarajya, of freedom. But the road to such a dream is treacherous. The Adilshah, the Mughals—powerful enemies surround us. Do you think Shivaji is ready to bear such a burden?

Jijabai (rising to her feet, her eyes fierce)

Shivaji is no ordinary child, Maharaj. He is growing under the guidance of warriors, sages, and the wisdom of our ancestors. His heart is pure, his resolve unshakable. Have you not seen the fire in his eyes? He does not dream of personal glory—he dreams of a land where our people live with dignity.

A quiet evening in the rugged hills of Maharashtra. Shivaji and his childhood friends, Tanaji Malusare and Yesaji Kank, sit near a campfire after a day of sword training. The air is filled with excitement and the promise of a new future.

Shivba, today you defeated five of us in a row during training. Have you secretly grown another pair of arms?

Tanaji Malusare (grinning, sharpening his sword)

Shivaji (laughing)

Tanaji, it is not the number of arms but the strength of purpose that wins battles. A true warrior fights not for himself but for his people.

Yesaji Kank (nodding)

And yet, our enemies have vast armies, war elephants, and riches beyond imagination. How do you plan to challenge them?

Shivaji (his eyes shining with determination)

            Power is not in numbers alone, Yesaji. It is in strategy, in the will of the people. The Mughals and Adilshah may have mighty forces, but their greed weakens them. We, on the other hand, fight for something greater—Swarajya!

Tanaji Malusare (clenching his fist)

Swarajya! The very word sets my blood on fire. But how do we begin? How do we fight without a great army?