Darkness.
It surrounded him like the final breath before death, vast and infinite, heavy with the weight of silence.
Then came the voice.
> "You have the heart of a MAHARSHI."
A whisper, yet it echoed through every fiber of his soul.
> "You have been granted a chance to become a MAHARSHI."
> "You have been granted a boon."
> "The more you give, the more you get."
Rajan's body jolted, as if something inside him had stirred for the first time in eternity. The darkness began to melt, not into light—but into color. Color that bled into shape. Shape that formed memory. And memory that became… reality.
---
London – St. Vivaan College – Graduation Day
He blinked.
He was sitting in a classroom. Wooden desks. White boards. The faint buzz of the ceiling fan and the warmth of June sunlight pouring in through the window.
Wasn't he just… dead?
His hands were trembling. He looked around in disbelief. His eyes stopped at the familiar face in the front row. Kabita. There she was. Alive. In a simple lavender kurta, deeply immersed in Professor Satya's lecture on "Cultural Literature in Post-Partition India."
Rajan's breath caught.
"Is this… a dream?" he muttered under his breath.
> "What? You dreamt of your past love till now?"
The voice came from beside him. He turned slowly.
And there she was—Rani.
A girl he didn't remember, and yet… somehow knew. She wore a simple yet elegant white saree with a golden border, her long black hair cascading down her back. There was a curious blend of modern sharpness and ancient grace in her posture, like someone carved from a lineage older than history.
> "Who… are you?" Rajan asked, stunned.
She smiled, mischievously. "Don't pretend. You remember. This is your last day in college. And I'm Rani—your classmate for the past two years. Though we've never talked much until now."
Suddenly, like floodgates breaking, memories crashed into his mind. They weren't from the life he died in. They were from this life.
In this reality, Rajan was born into wealth. His family once ran a powerful export business in Delhi. Their name was respected. Revered. He had cars, a mansion, international exposure. In his first year at St. Vivaan, Kabita, then a driven middle-class girl, had fallen for that version of Rajan. She loved the shine, the power, the promise of security.
But six months ago, it all collapsed. A bad business deal. Legal issues. Debts. One by one, they sold everything to keep the company alive. House, car, watches—gone.
And so was Kabita.
She left him quietly. Without a goodbye. And just a month later, she was with Ravi—the young heir to a digital finance company.
Was he angry? No.
He couldn't be.
Not after everything. In his previous life, he had never even touched her hand. She was always out of reach. And now, even in this timeline, they were destined to be together, it seemed.
Maybe that was just fate.
---
Rajan looked at Rani again. She had been watching him silently.
> "You're thinking too much," she said softly. "You always look like that when you're remembering something painful."
> "You know me that well?"
She shrugged. "I observe people. Especially the quiet ones. You… you're complicated."
Rajan let out a short laugh. "Complicated? I'm just a guy who loved and lost."
> "So? Love isn't a one-time offer, Rajan."
He turned to her, studying her features. She was beautiful. Maybe more beautiful than Kabita ever was. Not just physically—there was something real about Rani. Unapologetically bold, unafraid of speaking her mind, and yet filled with a quiet, royal dignity that made her seem almost untouchable.
> "What?" she asked, smiling slyly. "Don't tell me you've fallen for me just because I look like a Bollywood dream today."
> "I don't know," Rajan answered honestly. "If I could, I'd be happy."
> "Do you think I'd accept?" she tilted her head.
> "Who knows?" he smiled. "This is our first real conversation. You're bold, I'm reserved. Maybe we're not meant to be. But today, your boldness… it's making you glow."
There was a pause. A charged silence between two souls at the edge of a turning page.
Rajan slowly opened his bag and took out something he hadn't touched in months—a fountain pen. It was old, engraved with his initials. A farewell gift from his father before the company fell.
> "Want to exchange?" he asked, holding it out.
Rani looked at him with surprise. "Why?"
> "To remember this moment. Something to hold on to. A small act… maybe it will pull us back to each other in some other timeline."
She laughed—a soft, melodic laugh that made something flutter in his chest.
> "You're strange today, Rajan. But fine. Let's make it special."
She reached into her bag and pulled out a small rainbow marble, its colors shifting under the sunlight like a drop of magic.
They exchanged their tokens without a word. His pen for her marble.
> "Now we're bound by memory," Rani whispered.
Rajan didn't know what destiny had in store. He didn't know if this was real, or some illusion before reincarnation. All he knew was this—he had given everything in one world and was now being given something in return.
And perhaps... this was just the beginning of that boon.
.
.
The graduation ceremony was wrapping up in a flurry of applause, photo flashes, and cries of laughter. Students hugged, some cried, and others cheered as their names were called one last time at St. Vivaan College. The air was thick with nostalgia, with endings and uncertain beginnings. It was beautiful chaos.
Rajan stood a little apart, his eyes drifting to the crowd.
And there she was again—Rani.
Draped in a shimmering ivory saree that danced with golden threads, she stood under the golden lights like a mirage. Surrounded by friends, her laugh broke through the din like a chime, sweet and unbothered.
Rajan felt something stir deep inside him.
It wasn't lust. It wasn't even longing. It was more primal than either.
He wanted to be near her. Hold her. Kiss her like the world was crumbling and only they remained. Her laughter echoed like a haunting promise. The warmth of her presence filled his veins like wine.
His hands clenched into fists.
> What are you doing, Rajan? he thought. This isn't you.
But his eyes wouldn't move. She was glowing, untouchably beautiful—yet something in her gaze was grounding. Familiar. She wasn't just royalty. She was real.
As if sensing his gaze, Rani turned.
Their eyes locked.
And something passed between them. Not a message. Not a word. Just something raw and electric.
Rajan couldn't bear it. He stood abruptly and made his way through the crowd, pushing through celebrants and laughter, his chest tight. He needed a moment to breathe, to calm the thunder inside his heart.
The hallway was quiet, lined with portraits of past alumni and plaques of academic honor. He reached the restrooms and turned toward the boys' bathroom—but just before his hand touched the door…
A hand gripped his wrist.
Soft. Firm. Unmistakable.
He turned, startled.
It was Rani.
Her eyes were steady, unreadable. Without a word, she pulled him—not roughly, but with certainty—toward the girls' restroom.
He didn't resist.
Once inside, she let go of his wrist and closed the door behind them. The silence between them throbbed with heat and questions. Neither said a word for a heartbeat. Then two. Then three.
Rajan finally spoke, voice low and trembling:
> "Do you… feel the same?"
Rani's expression softened. Her lips curled slightly. "I don't know. Maybe."
There was a pause. His breath caught in his throat.
> "I really want to do it," he whispered.
He stepped closer, close enough to see the flecks of gold in her eyes.
She didn't move away.
Rajan gently reached up, cupping her face in one hand, the other arm wrapping around her waist. Her breath hitched, but she didn't stop him.
And then, he kissed her.
It wasn't rushed or frantic. It was deep—soulful—like he was pouring everything he couldn't say into that moment. The sorrow of his old life. The ache of unreturned love. The loneliness. The divine second chance.
And Rani kissed him back.
Her fingers tangled in his shirt, drawing him in closer. They stayed like that for a moment that bent time—a kiss that said I see you, even if I don't yet understand you.
When they finally parted, her forehead rested against his.
> "What… are we doing?" she asked, eyes half-closed.
> "Something real," he whispered.
She smiled, a soft, knowing smile.
> "Maybe we're both mad."
> "Maybe madness is what love is built on."
They didn't say more. There was no need. The silence between them had become something alive. Sacred.
And outside that restroom, the world kept spinning.