The Sharma-Yadav residence in Delhi was a fortress of power, legacy, and pride. From the towering portraits of General Raghav Sharma, head of India's Army, Navy, and Air Force, to the elegant hallways adorned with accolades of the Yadav family, every corner spoke of influence and honor. But today, the grandeur was quietly overshadowed by anticipation.
In the drawing room, the two families gathered. Devendra Yadav, the political stalwart, sat beside his wife, Ragini Yadav, a celebrated surgeon whose brilliance was known across continents. Across from them, General Raghav Sharma adjusted his military insignia, while Upasana Sharma, the renowned reporter, watched with a mixture of curiosity and caution. Their children flitted around nervously—Rajesh Sharma, the eldest son, exuded calm authority; his wife Priya maintained her composed, professional demeanor; Anand, at ten, already carried the quiet strength of a future leader; Kavya, eight, had a sharp, attentive gaze; and finally, the youngest, Mukul, a five-year-old boy, sat clutching his mother's hand, wide-eyed and silent.
Today, a guest of unparalleled renown had arrived—Acharya Raghunandan Sharma, the world-famous astrologer. His visits were rare, reserved for moments of great significance. As he entered, the room seemed to still. His eyes, sharp yet kind, swept across the children, lingering on Mukul for a heartbeat longer than anyone expected.
"Your families," he began, voice deep and measured, "have shaped the destiny of this nation. But today, I do not come for politics or power. I come for the youngest, the one who carries the seven stars upon his neck."
Mukul shifted slightly as Priya instinctively adjusted the collar of his kurta, revealing the faint birthmark in the shape of seven stars on the nape of his neck. No one had ever spoken of it.
Acharya Raghunandan knelt beside Mukul, tracing a finger lightly above the mark. "This child," he continued, "is destined for trials beyond imagination. Before he reaches his sixth year, he will be separated from all whom he loves. Twenty-one years he will wander, grow, and learn—but not without purpose."
A chill ran through the room. Upasana's hand found Raghav's arm. Devendra Yadav's eyes narrowed, his mind racing. Priya's face drained of color, but she held Mukul close, whispering soft reassurances.
"The stars mark his fate," the astrologer said, rising to his full height. "Seven unions, seven trials, and through each, he will grow to protect not only this family but the world itself. Danger surrounds him, hidden yet inevitable. The boy you see now is the seed of a protector—a force to come."
Mukul, oblivious to the weight of the prophecy, reached for a small toy car on the floor. His laughter, innocent and pure, seemed to mock the severity of the words in the adults' ears. Yet even in that moment, a subtle aura of calm determination seemed to radiate from him, as if he somehow understood the significance of the stars on his neck.
Raghav Sharma finally spoke, voice steady but tinged with concern. "Acharya, if this child is to face such trials, we must prepare him, shield him, guide him."
The astrologer shook his head gently. "No. His path is not one you can guard. He must learn, endure, and rise on his own. You may guide him with love, yes—but the world will test him, and only through these tests will his destiny be fulfilled."
Priya's grip on Mukul tightened. "What… what must we do?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"Love him. Teach him what you can. Trust that the stars guide his steps. And pray, for the journey ahead will be lonely, perilous, and yet magnificent," Acharya Raghunandan replied, before pausing and fixing his gaze once more on the boy. "Remember, the prophecy cannot be undone, but it can be embraced."
Mukul yawned, unconcerned by the murmurs around him. Anand tugged at his mother's sleeve, curiosity sparkling in his eyes. Kavya whispered, "Is he… special?"
Upasana watched her son, her heart heavy yet filled with pride. She knew that the boy who had just giggled at his toy was destined to carry the weight of legacies, families, and perhaps the fate of nations.
The astrologer bowed slightly and departed, leaving the family in stunned silence. Outside, Delhi's sun set behind the skyline, casting long shadows over the Sharma-Yadav estate. Within those walls, a prophecy had been spoken, a journey set in motion—and a child, unaware of the storm to come, played peacefully in the hands of those who loved him most.
In the days to follow, no one could have imagined that a routine medical conference in Beijing, a sudden terrorist attack, and a tragic separation would mark the beginning of Mukul Sharma's journey—a journey of seven unions, seven trials, and the making of a protector destined to shape the world.