Chapter 3: An Echo of Home
The interrogation—or interview, as Ananya preferred to call it—took place in a spacious chamber with open archways that overlooked the palace's serene inner gardens. Captain Eva Rostova and two of her senior officers sat on one side of a long, carved teak table. They had been given fresh clothes, food, and water. While they were prisoners, they were being treated with the honor befitting their rank, a decision that had already begun to lower their defensive posture.
On the other side sat Princess Ananya, her ten-year-old form exuding a calm authority that rivaled her father's. Beside her sat Prince Aarav, his small feet barely touching the floor. He was the bridge, the translator, the single most important person in the room. Royal Guards stood silent and watchful at every entrance.
Ananya began, her questions precise and strategic, with Aarav translating flawlessly.
"Tell us of your world, Captain," Ananya began. "What is your nation called?"
"The Volkov Republic," Eva replied. "It is part of a great alliance of states."
"And there are other alliances? Other nations?" Ananya asked, her brow furrowing.
Eva nodded. "Many. The world is divided into great powers and smaller nations. We have... disagreements. We have had two great wars in the last century that involved the entire world."
Ananya's face remained passive, but Aarav could feel her shock. The concept of a "world war" was utterly alien to a civilization that hadn't known conflict in over 6,000 years. Eva went on to describe their technology—automobiles, radio, rudimentary computers that filled entire rooms, and the first rockets reaching for the stars. It was a world of crude but powerful machines, born from a history of constant competition and warfare.
After an hour, Ananya had a clear, if horrifying, picture of the outside world. She had learned what she needed to for her report to the council. She gave Aarav a small nod, signaling he could ask his own questions.
Aarav leaned forward slightly, his childish posture shifting to one of intense focus. The ghost of Rohan was now at the forefront.
"Captain Rostova," Aarav began, his voice still that of a child, "you speak of many nations across the continents. In your histories, is there mention of a great, ancient land in the south of Asia? A subcontinent shaped like a diamond. Is it known to you?"
Eva looked puzzled. "A subcontinent? Yes, of course. There are many nations there."
The words sent a jolt through Aarav. He pressed on, his heart beating a little faster. "I speak of the land from which all other cultures in that region were born. A land our oldest texts call Bharat."
Eva frowned, the name unfamiliar. "Bharat? I do not know that name as a country. The region is... complicated. Politically fractured. But the largest nation there, the one that covers most of this 'diamond' you speak of, is the Republic of India."
India.
Rohan's breath caught in Aarav's throat. It was real. His home. It still existed.
"Tell me of this... India," Aarav said, his voice a near whisper, filled with an emotion that made Ananya study him intently.
"It's a land of contradictions," Eva said, her tone becoming more academic. "It has over 500 million people. It is a democracy, one of the few major powers that did not align with either of the great alliances during the long cold war. They have a rich and ancient culture, vibrant cities, beautiful art. But..." she hesitated.
"But what?" Aarav pressed.
"But it is also a land of great struggle," Eva said bluntly. "Poverty, disease, overpopulation. Their ancient glory is mostly in ruins and legends now. They are a proud people, but their past greatness is a story, not a reality."
Aarav sat back, the words hitting him with the force of a physical blow. His home, Rohan's home, was not the shining, modernizing nation he remembered from 1994. In this timeline, through Eva's 1960s-era lens, it was a struggling giant. The ancient, magical land his ancestors had left had become a place of legend, while the new, mundane India had risen in its place.
The people of Hindustan had preserved their ancient glory in isolation. The people of India had been left to fight through the mud of history to build something new.
For the first time, a sliver of doubt entered Aarav's mind. His entire life, his entire kingdom, was built on the absolute certainty that their ancestors had made the right choice. But in leaving, had they preserved a legacy, or had they abandoned their people?
Ananya watched her little brother, her mind racing. She saw the profound, ancient sadness that flickered in his eyes, an emotion a six-year-old had no right to possess. She did not know what the word "India" meant to him, but she knew, with absolute certainty, that it was the key to the great mystery of Prince Aarav.