January 25, 2005.
This was the date my ordinary life was shattered and rebuilt. It was the day my memories from future flooded into my mind. Unbeknownst to me, it was also the day an old(?), bald sorceress began to pay attention to my existence.
Back to the matter at hand, It was the evening of January 28, three days after my fateful call with Grandma. The three of us sat at the dinner table, the clatter of forks against plates a familiar rhythm to our usual banter.
My dad, ever the master of passive-aggressive inquiries, broke the comfortable silence. "So, why did you ask for a leave from school with an application that had my signature on it?" he asked, a knowing smirk on his face.
"I'm busy," I replied nonchalantly, spearing a piece of chicken.
"And how did you get my signature? I don't remember signing anything!" he demanded, his voice feigning outrage.
"Honey, sigh…" my mom muttered under her breath, a weary smile on her face.
"What?! What are you sighing about?" Dad exclaimed, looking at her in genuine confusion.
"You sign in capital letters, Dad. It's too easy to copy," I said, a little too matter-of-factly.
"No, it isn't! There are special marks, subtle flourishes!" he insisted, clearly offended.
"Yeah? Like the small horizontal lines on the 'R' and 'H'?" I challenged, perfectly mimicking his signature in the air with my fork.
"I told you to change your signature," Mom said, now directly to him. "Even a seven-year-old child can copy it."
"Like hell other seven-year-olds are like him," Dad retorted, gesturing to me.
"True," I agreed, earning a glare from him.
Dad changed tactics. "So, what are you doing holed up in your room all day long? You've barely left it."
"How did you know I was holed up in my room?" I asked, a flash of genuine surprise in my tone.
"Because I, your father, am a ninja!" he announced with a dramatic whisper, striking a ridiculous pose.
"Really!?" I asked, my inner child briefly taking over before my future-self's memories reasserted control.
"Of course not," he said, bursting into laughter. "How could you even believe that?" Mom said, shaking her head.
I quickly composed myself. "I was just playing along. You know, to humor you."
No way I'm letting him have a laugh at me, I thought, a silent promise to my future self.
"You didn't answer my question," Dad pressed, a twinkle in his eye.
"I was making plans to become the richest person in the world," I stated with absolute seriousness.
He leaned back in his chair, a look of mock belief on his face. "I believe you. And your mother is a descendant of a Chinese immortal cultivator."
"I know," I replied instantly, not a flicker of doubt in my voice.
The smile on his face faltered. He hadn't expected me to play along so perfectly. "You didn't fall for it this time," he muttered, sounding slightly defeated.
That's not entirely wrong, my mom, Casey Angelo, thought to herself, a small, knowing smile on her face as she looked at me. My dual heritage, both Indian and Chinese, was a complex, beautiful tapestry. My mother, with her sharp mind and quiet strength, had always been a mystery to my father, who was completely enamored with her.
My mom chose that moment to steer the conversation back to the main topic. "By the way, your travel plan is confirmed," she announced, her smile returning.
"Really? When am I leaving?" I asked, my excitement bubbling to the surface.
"February 6th," Dad said, his playful tone softening. "An Indian friend of mine is visiting his home and has agreed to accompany you to Chennai International Airport. Your grandparents will pick you up there."
"Sweet! Thanks, Dad," I said, a wave of relief washing over me.
"As a return, how about you build me a state-of-the-art lab when you become rich?" he proposed, his eyebrows wiggling playfully.
"Only if you invest now," I retorted, a quick grin spreading across my face.
"Ungrateful brat!"
"Stingy father!"
"You won't receive a penny from me now!"
"I'll just have to ask Grandmother, and you'll have to hand over everything you have," I said, a triumphant smirk on my face.
Dad's confidence wavered for a moment. He knew his mother's will was absolute. "I won't succumb to this," he declared.
"We shall see," I replied, the unspoken threat of Grandma's authority hanging in the air.
It's a losing battle, honey. You won't win against my mother, Casey thought, looking at the two of us, her heart full of warmth.
Then, I turned my gaze to my mom. "How about you invest, Mother?"
She considered it for a moment, her eyes thoughtful. With how smart my son is, he might actually succeed. And even if he fails, he needs the funds to actually try. "Okay, but I want a share," she said, a mischievous glint in her eye.
"Sure." I had her on my side.
"Brat, how about I do that too?" Dad said, a hint of desperation in his voice.
"No shares for you."
"Why!?" he demanded, his indignation reaching new heights.
"Because I'm not an ungrateful brat," I announced with a flourish. "I am THE UN-grateful Brat."
"You... rebellious son," he sputtered, completely dumbfounded.
"You... useless father," I countered, and we both burst into laughter, the ridiculousness of our exchange completely overtaking us.
My mom sighed, shaking her head. "They just won't stop." But the smile on her face said everything. It was a perfect, chaotic family moment, and in the background, a new plan was already beginning to unfold.
After dinner was over I retreated to my room and started marking my calender. According to the date I will reach India on feburary 7th, the moon was in its waning phase—Krishna Paksha—and it was the 14th day of the month on the Hindu calendar. I immediately knew that meant it will be the day of Masik Shivratri in India, an auspicious night dedicated to Lord Shiva each month.
How did I know that? The thought hit me with a jolt. Then, a memory surfaced: my future self learning to track the Hindu calendar during my time in the ashram. It was a small but profound sign of the knowledge I now carried.