Chapter 6: Bharat 's thoughts
January 1978
Singh Family Home, Lucknow, India
At just over two years old, Bharat had become the quiet flame at the heart of the Singh household—calm, curious, and strangely aware of the world in a way no one could explain.
From the outside, he was a bright little boy who loved sweets, teased his aunt Pooja during study time, and ran circles around his cousins. But inside, Bharat held a truth no one knew:
He wasn't only from this time.
He had been born before. Not just in another body—but in another century. The year 2025 lived inside him like a faded photograph.
Memories Without a Name
He remembered buildings made of glass, screens that people stared into day and night. A place where cars had no drivers, and people talked to machines. He remembered a sky filled with drones and noise—and a world that had forgotten how to pause.
But when it came to his own name, his friends, or what exactly had gone wrong… the memory blurred.
Sometimes, he'd stare at a diya (oil lamp) during pooja and wonder:
"Who was I?"
"Did someone love me back then?"
"Did I hurt someone?"
The only thing he knew for sure was that he had made a mistake. A big one. Something that left his heart heavy even in this new life.
Purpose in Innocence
His family saw only parts of the truth.
They noticed how Bharat could remember long phrases, repeat complex numbers, or finish his Dadi's sentences. He once pointed to a map and said, "America will have a woman in power." No one believed him, of course, but they laughed and kissed his cheeks.
"Yeh toh kisi rishi ka punarjanm hai!" his Dadi once said. (He must be a sage reborn!)
But Bharat didn't feel like a rishi. He felt like a boy who had failed in his last life—and had been sent back not as punishment, but as a chance to set things right.
Small Moments, Big Feelings
One morning, while his mother cooked in the kitchen, Bharat crept in silently and snatched a piece of raw dough from the thali.
"Bharat!" she gasped. "Kya kar rahe ho?" (What are you doing?)
He gave her an innocent look and popped it into his mouth, then said with a smirk, "Bas dekh raha hoon ki maida kaisa lagta hai." (Just testing how the dough tastes.)
She rolled her eyes but smiled, "Tum pakka kisi purani duniya ke ho." (You're definitely from another world.)
And he was.
He loved moments like that—because even in his wisdom, he craved the love of a simple home, a mother's scolding, and a family that didn't expect him to be anything more than their little boy.
With the Family
In the evenings, he'd sit between Arjun chacha and Raghav chacha while they played cards or chess. Sometimes, he'd give a winning suggestion—and they'd stop, stunned.
"Wait… how did he know that move?" Raghav would whisper.
"Just luck," Arjun would mutter—but he knew it wasn't.
Later, when his aunt Pooja studied her medical books in the courtyard, Bharat would lie beside her, peeking at the diagrams.
"Ye kya hai?" he asked once, pointing at the heart.
"It's how we live," she said.
Bharat paused, then whispered, "Toh pichhli baar mera dil kyun bandh ho gaya tha?"
(Then why did my heart stop last time?)
Pooja looked at him, puzzled. "Last time?"
But he just smiled and looked away.
Regret and Prayer
That night, Bharat couldn't sleep. He sat up and stared out of the window, where stars blinked in the Lucknow sky.
"I had a life once. I don't remember my name. But I remember failing someone. Maybe a friend. Maybe myself."
He placed his palm on his chest.
"God gave me this family… not just to be loved—but to do something."
"Not for money. Not for fame. But for dignity. For truth. For India."
He thought of his Dadi's stories about Lord Ram, and Lord Hanuman's devotion.
"I wasn't devoted before," he said softly. "But this time, I will be."
The Promise
Before lying back down, Bharat walked barefoot to the prayer room. He couldn't reach the idol of Ram, but he folded his hands.
"Bhagwan… mujhe ek aur mauka diya. Main galtiyan sudhaarunga. Iss baar, main jeevan ko sahi dhang se jeeyunga."
(God… you've given me one more chance. I will correct my mistakes. This time, I will live life the right way.)
He didn't ask for power. He didn't ask for wealth.
He only asked for strength—to carry his past with humility, and his future with courage.
And then, he returned to bed, closed his eyes, and for the first time in many nights, he slept without guilt.
A small boy with a giant purpose—hidden in a heart still growing.