The sun rose gently over Chennai. It was only his second morning in this reborn life, but Karthik felt decades older than everyone else walking the same streets.
As he adjusted his shirt and checked his old college bag, he heard his mother calling from the kitchen.
"Breakfast is ready! Don't leave without eating."
He entered the kitchen. His mother placed a hot idli on his plate and handed him his tumbler of coffee with a quick glance.
"You're behaving well these days," she said. "New version of my son?"
He smiled faintly. "Let's just say I have clearer priorities now."
From behind the newspaper, his father mumbled, "And yet petrol prices are still going up. Eight rupees a litre. What are we getting in return?"
Karthik gave a small laugh. "That question might shape the future, dad."
His father looked up. "What?"
"Nothing," he said. "Just thinking aloud."
First Campus Conversations
Anna University buzzed with young energy. Karthik walked through the wide entrance of the Economics Department and took a seat beside a tall, serious-looking boy.
"First year?" the boy asked.
"Yeah. You?"
"Same. I'm Aravind. West Mambalam."
"Karthik. Same area."
Before they could talk more, the classroom quieted as an older man with thick-rimmed glasses walked in, holding a notebook.
He looked calm, but purposeful.
"I'm Professor Srinivasan. You'll see a lot of me this semester."
He picked up a chalk and wrote a question on the board:
What is value?
He turned and asked, "Who wants to answer?"
Silence.
Then slowly, Karthik raised his hand.
"Yes?" the professor said.
"Value is created when needs meet resources."
The professor nodded. "A textbook answer. Good. But tell me—what if the need exists, and the resource exists, but they never meet?"
Karthik replied, "Then the value never reaches the user. It stays theoretical."
Srinivasan smiled slightly. "Can you give me an example?"
Karthik paused, then said, "Millions of people in India need healthcare. There are doctors, hospitals, and medicine. But the poor can't afford them. The resource is there. The value is locked."
There were murmurs of agreement from the class.
Srinivasan nodded, interested. "Interesting. What does that tell you about economics?"
"That it's not just about money," Karthik said. "It's about access."
"Excellent." The professor stepped forward. "Now, another question. Who decides who gets access?"
Karthik replied, "The system. Or rather, those who run it."
"Exactly," Srinivasan said. "That's why economics is not just a science. It's also politics, ethics, and power."
He paused, then looked at the class. "You will learn numbers here. Graphs. Charts. But never forget—every number hides a story. And your job is to ask: Whose story is missing?"
The class went silent, absorbing the weight of his words.
He turned back to Karthik. "What field of economics interests you?"
Karthik replied confidently, "Institutional reform."
Srinivasan raised an eyebrow. "Big answer for Day One."
"I think it's where most of our problems start."
The professor smiled. "Then we'll be expecting big answers from you all year."
Friends and Familiar Faces
During the tea break, Aravind handed Karthik a vada and said, "You just got adopted by the professor. That rarely happens."
Karthik smiled. "He asked the right questions."
As they walked toward the small side canteen, a familiar voice called out.
"Still hanging out with the lecture toppers, Aravind?"
They turned.
She was standing near the canteen counter — tall, confident, in a simple blue churidar.
It was Meena.
Karthik's past-life partner in passion projects, politics, and purpose. She didn't know it yet. But he remembered everything — her sharp questions, her sense of justice, the arguments they shared over budget proposals, and the unspoken connection they never fully explored.
"Hi," she said, looking at Karthik. "I liked your answer in class."
"Thanks," he replied, surprised by how steady his voice was. "It came from years of thinking."
"You mean two decades?" she teased.
Aravind laughed. "This guy's brain works in slow motion."
Meena smiled. "Slow motion or not, keep asking those questions."
She turned and left.
Aravind nudged him. "She's a challenge. Good luck if you're interested."
"I'm not here for that," Karthik said.
But deep down, a spark had been relit.
Lecture Two: A Wake-Up Call
The next session was on rural economics.
The visiting lecturer, a young man from Madurai, spoke fast, flipping through slides.
"In Tamil Nadu, over 5,000 schools don't have proper classrooms. In tribal districts, the nearest school is 5 kilometers away for many children. Meanwhile, urban schools have one computer and say they're 'digital'."
Laughter in the room, but Karthik remained serious.
He raised his hand.
"Sir, does your data show whether government funds for these schools are actually used?"
The lecturer paused. "Somewhat. There's little transparency."
"Then maybe the problem isn't just scarcity—it's structure."
The professor nodded slowly. "True. Poor systems waste good resources."
That sentence stayed with Karthik.
Poor systems waste good resources.
Evening Notes and Reflection
That night, Karthik sat on the terrace under a cloudless sky.
The street below was quiet. A distant train horn echoed in the night.
He opened his notebook and wrote:
"Today I learned three things:
Access defines value.
Systems decide access.
And our systems are failing.
Tamil Nadu doesn't just need reform.
It needs a parallel vision:
Build schools where none exist.
Upgrade systems where they do.
There's no single solution.
But there's a place to begin."
He paused, then added one final line:
"If I can understand every piece of this system —
I can change its shape before anyone sees it coming."
He closed the notebook and looked up at the stars.
The journey had truly begun.