The eight-hour journey had drained us all, leaving us to fall into bed at a late ten o'clock. The dinner had been a blur, eaten in a silence born of pure exhaustion. The house, our ancestral home, was a haven of quiet, and we had all surrendered to its embrace, each of us collapsing into sleep almost instantly.
But despite the weariness of my body, my mind remained alert. I woke before sunrise, a faint, pearly light filtering through the window. For half an hour, I wrestled with my sheets, tossing and turning, my thoughts buzzing with an energy I couldn't contain. Finally, I conceded defeat, throwing off the covers and deciding to take a walk to clear my head.
The air in the courtyard was cool and fresh, a stark contrast to the stuffy room. As I stepped outside, the first rays of the sun were painting the sky in soft hues of rose and gold. In the center of the courtyard, I found my grandmother. She was performing a slow, deliberate series of yoga poses, her movements as fluid and graceful as water, as if she were a part of the morning itself.
"Good morning, Amma," I said softly, not wanting to disturb her.
Her eyes, still closed, crinkled at the corners. "Morning, child."
"Where's Grandfather?"
"Still asleep, tired from all the driving. And how are you?" she asked, her voice a calm hum.
"I'm great. I wanted to talk about—"
"I can tell you're in a hurry," she interrupted, a quiet smile playing on her lips. "Go sit over there, and we'll talk in a minute." She gestured with a graceful sweep of her hand toward the chairs and a small stone table at the side of the courtyard, her eyes still closed in her meditative state.
I did as she commanded, settling into one of the chairs and watching the sky lighten. Five minutes later, she joined me, carrying a glass of warm milk for me and a glass of juice for herself. The steam from the milk rose in a soft curl, smelling faintly of spices.
"Now," she said, her voice soft and composed, as she took a seat. "Tell me why you were in such a hurry to come here. I know it's not just to see your old grandmother."
I took a breath, letting the moment hang in the air. "Grandma, I've come back from the future."
She simply looked at me for a few seconds, her expression unreadable. When I didn't continue, she finally spoke.
"...And, go on."
"That's it?" I exclaimed, completely thrown. My hands instinctively gestured, nearly knocking over my glass. "That's your response to time travel? Not even a little bit of surprise?"
A small, knowing smile touched her lips. "It's always so funny how you react when someone teases you."
I groaned, trying to ignore her. I knew she was trying to lighten the mood to ease the tension building inside me, but it wasn't working. "But you really have no questions about it?"
"I will reserve my questions for when you finish your story," she said, her gaze steady. "Unlike you, I learned how to be patient."
"...Ugh," I let out a low groan and took a deep breath. I looked at the glass of warm milk in my hands and downed it in one go, the warmth a strange comfort as I prepared to continue. "I don't remember how I came back. The last thing I remember was you were going to take me somewhere to prepare for the challenges I might face in life." I then proceeded to tell her everything, from the tragic death of my parents to my struggle to start a business, living with her, and eventually, our shared time in the monastery.
A heavy silence settled between us, broken only by the chirping of a few early morning birds. She absorbed every word, her face betraying no emotion. Finally, she spoke, her voice calm and measured.
"I can infer a few things from your story," she said, her gaze steady. "What do you plan to do?"
"I plan to establish my business, just like before," I answered, my voice finding its own rhythm. "Now that I have more time to prepare."
She nodded slowly. "You should. You'll need as much preparation as you can get to face what's coming. But, be discreet in your actions."
A knot of unease tightened in my stomach. "Why?"
"What do you think was the cause of your parents' death?" she asked, her voice dropping to a low, serious tone.
I hesitated, the memory of their death a painful blur. "I don't know. There might have been some kind of conspiracy, but I never found out."
"The answer isn't that complicated, child."
My heart pounded against my ribs. "What was it?"
Her expression was grave. "Human greed."
"What?!" I shot up from my chair, the empty milk glass toppling over onto the table with a clatter. "What could they even want? We weren't even rich!"
"From what I know," she explained, "your parents are working on a kind of medicine that could revolutionize healing. While they are hardly successful now, they might have been in the future. Their success would have aroused someone's greed."
A cold dread washed over me. "Then we should just leave everything behind and move back here."
She shook her head. "Escaping isn't the answer, my child. And from what I could infer from your life chart, you should face it head-on."
"Why?" I pleaded, feeling a surge of fear. "From what I remember, all the trouble only happens in America. We could just move here to live a peaceful life."
"No, my child. Running is never the answer. Even if you don't want trouble, it will come after you. When the whole world turns upside down, you may find a place of solace, but there will be no place to hide." Her words were final, yet I had a feeling that there was something more, left unsaid, hanging just beyond my understanding.
Trouble will be everywhere, I thought, the weight of her words sinking in. "I see. What should I do?"
"Go on bravely. What can Kaal, death, do to you when Mahakaal, the Absolute End - Shiva, himself is watching over you? You don't need to fear the winds when you are the storm, Rudra, itself. Just... be careful."
Despite her encouraging words, I could feel the deep worry in her voice. Seeing that, I decided I would be strong so she wouldn't need to worry about me. I won't run anymore. I already died once, maybe twice. Even if I die a third time, I might just come back to life.
Peh, peh, let's not jinx myself, I thought, a small, hopeful smile on my face.
"I will, Grandma."
The thought of being involved in global-scale catastrophes was daunting, but I refused to run from it. I had to prepare for what came next. "By the way, where were you hoping to take me according to my future memory?"
My grandmother's lips curved into a mysterious smile. "Ah, we need to get you there, huh?"
"Where?" I pressed, my impatience getting the better of me.
"I will tell you when the time comes," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'll give you up to four months to get your company business on track, and then I'll take you there. Meanwhile, I'll give your parents something to come here for a holiday when their contract expires."
A new idea sparked in my mind. "Why don't I help them set up an independent lab?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Will you have enough funds?"
"From what I remember, their current lab will be financially unstable sometime at the end of next year. I'll ask Uncle Raghu and see what we can do. Maybe we can acquire some of their assets."
"Good." She nodded, a look of quiet approval on her face.
"Now I need to acquire funds to start my business."
"How much do you need?" she asked.
"At least $10 million for a good start, but I'll make do with what I have," I replied.
"I'll get you about 100 crore rupees. Use that."
My jaw dropped. "How?!" I exclaimed, completely stunned.
"You don't have to worry about it." Her words were final, and her expression left no room for questions.
Looks like Grandfather was right, my Grandma is too capable, I thought. "Then I will honestly follow your footsteps, Grandpa," I muttered to myself as I watched her walk away.
I felt like her back looked so chic and strong, and she was surrounded by an overflowing golden light, just like a treasure chest filled with gold. Or maybe it was just the sun playing tricks on me. At this point, I honestly didn't care.