Author : Vasudeva_AY
"Where am I? Is this the afterlife?" Vivek's voice quivered with uncertainty as he grappled with the darkness enveloping him.
Straining against the void, he attempted to move his limbs, but the sensation was foreign, lacking the familiar touch he once knew.
"I can feel, sense around," he murmured, his movements tentative as he explored the confines of his newfound existence. With each attempt to open his eyes, he encountered naught but impenetrable darkness.
"I can feel my body... someone must have intervened," he mused, a hint of resignation coloring his words. "Death remains an elusive escape for me, it seems." Memories of loved ones flooded his mind, their faces etched into his consciousness.
Yet amid the melancholy, a subtle warmth enveloped him, a comforting presence that eased the tumult of his emotions. Surrendering to the tranquility, Vivek succumbed to the embrace of sleep, finding solace in the gentle embrace of the unknown.
As the passing moment stretched into what felt like eternity, the oppressive darkness began to wane, yielding to a dazzling radiance that shimmered like celestial stardust. Vivid colors swirled and pirouetted in an otherworldly ballet, indigo and gold intertwining in a mesmerizing symphony of light.
"What... What's happening?" Vivek's voice trembled with wonder and apprehension.
Amidst the kaleidoscopic brilliance, Vivek sensed a gravitational pull—a strong force tugging him towards an unknown destination. His body compressed, enveloped in a tangible pressure, yet he felt weightless, adrift in the currents of the unknown, guided by invisible hands.
Blinking against the overwhelming light, Vivek's senses were assailed by a cacophony of joyful noises, a chorus of jubilant voices that resonated with warmth and excitement.
"I was sav..." Vivek's words faltered as his thoughts scattered, his train of thought derailed by the unexpected. And then, before he could comprehend the situation, his reverie was abruptly interrupted by a spank against his buttocks as he found himself in arms of a women.
Confusion and shock gripped Vivek as he surveyed his surroundings, his consciousness trapped within the confines of a tiny, infantile form. His limbs felt impossibly small, his entire being reduced to a mere fraction of its former stature.
"What the... Where am I?" Vivek attempted to vocalize his thoughts, but only unintelligible babble escaped his lips, his voice lost in the incomprehensible world of infancy. His wide eyes darted around the room, taking in the scene before him—a trio of women, gathered in what appeared to be a cozy cottage chamber.
"Is the baby alright? Why isn't it crying?" The concern in the bedridden woman's voice hung palpably in the air, casting a shadow of uncertainty over the room.
"No cause for concern, Your Highness. It's a healthy baby boy," reassured the attending woman, her gaze gentle yet discerning. "He seems rather inquisitive, doesn't he? Quite unlike most newborns."
With a decisive motion, the woman holding Vivek administered another spank to his tiny buttocks, expecting the customary cry of protest. Instead, she was met with the piercing gaze of a child whose eyes betrayed a wisdom far beyond his years. There, in the depths of those solemn orbs, lay the essence of a soul tempered by the weight of untold experience—a presence that defied the innocence typically associated with infancy.
"Try doing that, If you have a death wish," Vivek's babbling resonated with an unusual intensity, his gaze unwavering as he locked eyes with the women. However, his words were lost in the sea of incomprehension, met only with the hearty laughter of the woman before him.
"Here, Your Majesty, it seems you've given birth to an old soul," the woman remarked jovially as she passed Vivek to the bedridden mother, her laughter still echoing through the room.
"Majesty," Vivek mused, the word rolling in his head with a sense of regal resonance.
The bedridden woman reached out, her hand gently brushing against Vivek's cheek, a tender smile gracing her lips. "His eyes are just like him," she remarked, her voice soft with reminiscence.
Nestled in the arms of his mother, Vivek felt an unfamiliar sense of security wash over him, a serenity that eluded him in his former life. Despite the strangeness of his circumstances, he found solace in the embrace of this woman who radiated warmth and affection.
Ever the keen observer, even in his infantile state, Vivek's curiosity remained undimmed as he scrutinized his surroundings with a discerning eye. As he studied the features of the woman who cradled him, he noted the ethereal beauty that seemed to emanate from her very being. Her cascading locks of blonde hair framed a countenance of otherworldly grace, her golden eyes sparkling with a luminous intensity that hinted at mysteries untold. Draped in a flowing white gown that accentuated her fair complexion, she appeared as though plucked from the pages of a fairy tale, a vision of maternal tenderness and celestial elegance.
"She must be the mother." Vivek pondered.
Gazing into baby's eyes, the woman's smile illuminated the room with a brilliance that spoke volumes of her profound joy. Yet, as quickly as the light had appeared, a shadow descended upon her countenance, casting a veil of sorrow over her features. Her once radiant expression darkened, brows furrowing and eyes narrowing with a sudden weight of melancholy. With a tender touch, she gently caressed Vivek's face, her fingers tracing the contours of his tiny features with an almost palpable tenderness.
Perplexed by the abrupt shift in her demeanor, Vivek's thoughts swirled with questions, but before he could unravel the mystery, a sensation flooded his mouth—a sweet nectar trickling down his throat. Dizziness washed over him as the nourishing liquid filled his being, its warmth enveloping him in a cocoon of comfort, lulling him into a peaceful slumber.
"Prepare everything immediately. I am ready," the bedridden woman commanded, her voice tinged with resolve.
"Are you certain, Your Majesty?" the attendant inquired, her concern palpable. "The baby..."
"Yes, I cannot allow my family to bear the consequences of my transgressions," she declared, her tone resolute yet tinged with a poignant vulnerability that belied her words.
After some time, Vivek opened his eyes to find himself surrounded by a brilliant glow, causing his newborn eyes to flicker before adjusting to the light.
"Where am I now?" Vivek's gaze wandered, revealing a vast expanse of blue sky above him, while he lay nestled inside what appeared to be a woven basket, gently swaying in the cool waters of a river, with lush forest foliage enveloping the scene. His mother sat nearby, cradling the basket, tears cascading down her cheeks as she tenderly caressed Vivek's tiny face.
Vivek regarded her with skepticism and confusion, his mind struggling to comprehend her emotional outpouring.
"I'm sorry, my son," his mother's voice quivered with emotion, tears streaming unabated, her entire frame trembling with the weight of sorrow.
The maid offered her support, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder as she spoke with gentle reassurance. "Your Highness, you knew this day would come. You must let him go before anyone discovers him."
His mother's cries grew more intense, her entire being shaken by anguish. "How can I?" she lamented, her voice choked with tears. "He is my own flesh and blood."
The maid's words cut through the air, laden with emotion, "We have to. If we don't, the family's name will be tarnished, and all your sacrifice will be for nothing." Tears streamed down her face, mirroring the deep connection both women shared, rooted in loyalty and shared hardship.
Though Vivek struggled to fully comprehend their conversation, his keen intellect parsed through the sounds and intonations, extracting meaning from the unfamiliar language—a skill honed through the rigorous training he underwent with Leverage. The language they spoke carried echoes of Sanskrit intertwined with Slavic influences, a linguistic tapestry that hinted at their cultural heritage.
"Sorry, son, women crying, laying in a basket, and family's reputation " Vivek's thoughts churned as he contemplated his situation, his tiny form nestled in the basket adrift on the water's surface. "From this, I can only surmise abandonment or sacrifice," he reflected, casting a knowing gaze at the traditional attire adorning the women.
"Have I traveled back in time?" Vivek mused, his thoughts swirling amidst the antiquated clothing and ornate jewelry adorning the young woman cradling him. Her youthful visage bespoke nobility—a princess, perhaps, no more than twenty years old.
For Vivek, the prospect of abandonment or sacrifice held little weight. Having endured the trials of orphanhood by birth and countless perilous missions in his past, each akin to sacrifice, and having brushed shoulders with death countless times. It held almost no fear over him.
The mother tenderly pulled Vivek from the basket, engulfing him in a tight embrace as tears streamed down her face. "Please forgive me, son. Please forgive me," she pleaded, her voice quivering with remorse.
In the next breath, she gently placed Vivek back into the basket, her hands trembling as she pushed it away, letting it drift upon the expansive river. With a heart heavy with sorrow, she sank to her knees on the shore, her body racked with sobs. For a women's pain of letting her child go can't be explained in words.
"Orphaned again," Vivek sighed resignedly, his expression devoid of attachment. He had known the woman for mere moments, and the bond of mother and child held little meaning to him. Having learned that attachments only led to pain, he remained detached, his heart shielded from the sting of loss.
* * * * *