As I heard what Anu said, I froze on the spot, smiling awkwardly. I slowly made my way to the sofa and sat down, trying to gather my thoughts. Anu continued to observe me, her eyes sharp and unyielding. The tense atmosphere was palpable. Bheeshma, who was sitting comfortably, suddenly stood up. I looked at him, hoping for some support, but he just smiled at me and said, "I remember something. I'm going to my room."
With that, he left me alone to face the storm. My father also quietly exited to the garden, leaving me without his usual calming presence. My mother simply smiled at me from the doorway, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes, and made her way to the kitchen, clearly deciding not to get involved.
Anu, still looking at me with a mix of curiosity and mild annoyance, asked again, "So, Krishna, can you tell me who is coming with us?"
I nodded nervously and, before answering her directly, I decided to stall a bit. "Anu, how did you know that someone is coming with us to Kakinada?"
She replied, "As I said, Seenu told me this afternoon. I called you, but you didn't pick up. So, I called Seenu and asked where you were. He said you were in a meeting and then mentioned that you told him we were leaving for Kakinada in a few days. He also told me how you promised your secretary that she could come along."
Internally, I cursed Seenu for spilling the beans. "That traitor," I thought. "I'm definitely going to beat him tomorrow."
Anu's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Krishna, now can you tell me why she is coming with us?"
I nervously nodded and said, "Anu, you don't have many friends here, so I thought it would be a good idea if you befriended Ammu. Also, it's good for our future if you and Ammu become friends."
Anu raised an eyebrow. "And why is it good for our future?"
I nervously smiled and said, "I mean, in the future, you won't have to feel lonely if you become friends with Ammu. Hahaha," I laughed awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood.
Anu looked at me with one eyebrow still raised, clearly not buying my attempt at humor. "But why does she have to come with us? I just want to spend time with you, just the two of us."
I scrambled to find a convincing reason. "I thought it would be good if Ammu came with us so that you two could get to know each other better. And as for spending time with me alone, we can still do that. Besides, we're also going to meet Raji, so it won't be just the three of us."
Anu stared at me suspiciously for a moment, as if trying to read my mind. Then, she sighed and said, "Okay, but next time, if you promise anyone to take them anywhere with us, you have to ask me first."
I nodded hurriedly and said, "Okay, promise."
Anu seemed to accept this and said, "Now go freshen up. I'm staying here tonight."
I nodded again, relieved that the tension was easing. Anu walked back to the kitchen to help my mother with dinner. I let out a sigh of relief and headed to my room to freshen up.
As I made my way toward my room, a thought suddenly struck me, and I muttered to myself, "Now that I think about it, why did Anu easily believe my words? Also, Ma and Papa didn't have any issues when Bheeshma joked about me marrying four or five girls. They didn't seem to mind that both Anu and Raji liked me. Even Seenu didn't say anything about my relationships with multiple girls. It's as if it's completely normal for me to have romantic relationships with many girls. What the hell is going on?"
I paused outside my room, trying to piece together the strange acceptance everyone had toward my multiple relationships. "Could this be part of my reincarnation gift?" I wondered aloud. "When I was reborn here, did I receive some kind of special ability that makes it normal for everyone to accept my romantic entanglements? If that's true, is it a good thing or a bad thing? And if it is true, does that mean I can marry multiple girls without any societal backlash?"
I sighed deeply, running a hand through my hair. "What is going on? Let's just forget about it for now. I'll leave everything in my future self's hands. He can handle it. For now, I should take a good shower."
(A/N:I thought this is good way to tell why Krishna can marry more than one girl tell me about your opinions)
With that, I opened the door to my room. The familiar scent of my space greeted me, and I felt a sense of calm wash over me. I kicked off my shoes and headed straight to the bathroom, turning on the shower and letting the water heat up. As I undressed, my mind kept circling back to the strange acceptance everyone had shown. It was almost too convenient, too perfect.
As the warm water cascaded over my body, I let my thoughts drift. Maybe it was a gift, something that came with my perfect body, voice, and knowledge. Or perhaps it was something more subtle, an unspoken understanding in this world that relationships could be more flexible. Whatever it was, I would have to navigate it carefully.
After my shower, I felt more relaxed. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I stepped out and looked at myself in the mirror. "You've got a lot to figure out, Krishna," I said to my reflection. "But you'll handle it, one step at a time."
I got dressed in comfortable nightwear and headed back to the living room. Anu and my mother were chatting in the kitchen, their laughter drifting through the house.
I saw Bheeshma and my father seated on the sofa. They must have returned after I went to my room. To me, they were traitors. I walked over and sat down beside them. Bheeshma kept looking at his phone, occasionally glancing at me, while my father stared at the TV, sneaking glances my way.
"You two are traitors," I declared, glaring at them.
They both looked away, pretending to be engrossed in their respective distractions. "Yeah, yeah, ignore me," I muttered. They continued their pretense of not hearing me.
After a moment, I turned to my father and said, "Father, I want to ask you something."
He looked at me, his expression attentive. "What is it?"
I glanced toward the kitchen to ensure Anu wasn't eavesdropping. She was engrossed in conversation with my mother. With a sigh of relief, I nervously asked, "Why did you take Bheeshma's joke about me marrying many girls so lightly? I mean, what if I actually marry more than one girl?"
My father studied me for a moment, then burst into laughter. Puzzled, I asked, "What's so funny? Did I say something amusing?"
Shaking his head, my father replied, "No, you didn't say anything funny. I took Bheeshma's joke lightly because your kundali says you are destined to marry more than one woman. I know it will eventually happen."
I was even more puzzled. 'Written in my kundali? What does that mean? And why he taking it so lightly?.'
Seeing my puzzled expression, my father placed his hand on my shoulder and said calmly, with a smile, "Krishna, we know you're not a normal person like us. You are special, Krishna."
His words only deepened my confusion. "What is that supposed to mean?" I asked.
My father chuckled softly. "I still remember that crazy day when you were born."
Curiosity piqued, I leaned in. "What happened the day I was born?"
Hearing this, my father began to recount an extraordinary tale, one that had always been shrouded in mystery and intrigue. "It was a Saturday in the middle of summer," he started, his voice taking on a reflective tone. "The heat of the sun was rising over Hyderabad, making everything shimmer with intensity. It was noon, and Bheeshma and I were standing outside the delivery room, anxiously awaiting your arrival. Your mother was in the throes of labor, her cries of pain filtering through the thick hospital doors."
I listened intently, the vividness of his memories drawing me in. My father continued, "Suddenly, amidst all the tension, I heard the cry of a peacock. It sounded as if it were crying out in joy. Now, a peacock's cry in the middle of a bustling city like Hyderabad was unusual, to say the least. Curiosity got the better of me, and I stepped out onto the gallery of the hospital to see if I could spot the bird."
As he spoke, I could almost picture the scene: the sterile hospital corridor, the heat pressing in from all sides, and then the unexpected, haunting cry of the peacock.
"To my astonishment," my father went on, "dark clouds began to gather in the sky, almost out of nowhere. The clear blue was quickly overtaken by rolling, ominous clouds. Lightning began to flash, illuminating the sudden darkness, and the peacock's cry grew louder, mingling with the rumbling thunder. The whole atmosphere felt charged with an energy I couldn't quite understand. Then, heavy rain started to pour down, an abrupt and intense monsoon deluge."
His eyes took on a distant look as he recalled that fateful day. "As I was standing there, bewildered and trying to make sense of it all, I noticed a figure in the distance. A man was standing in the middle of the road, looking completely out of place. He appeared to be an aghori—an ascetic with long, matted hair and a beard, his body smeared with ashes, and he was stark naked. Beside him stood a massive ox with long, sharp horns."
My father's voice grew softer, tinged with awe and fear. "The aghori looked directly at me, his eyes piercing through the distance as if he could see into my very soul. He spoke, and even though he was far away, I could hear his voice clearly, as if he were standing right next to me. 'Your son is not a normal human,' he said. 'When he is born, do not name him. Take him to Ujjain.'"
The room seemed to hold its breath as my father paused, his words hanging in the air. "In my confusion and fear, I nodded, unable to do anything else. Then I heard your first cry from the delivery room, and my heart leaped. I glanced towards the room for just a moment, but when I looked back, the aghori and the ox were gone, vanished into thin air. The rain continued to pour down, drenching the city, but that eerie encounter had left a lasting impression on me."
As my father continued recounting the events surrounding my birth, the atmosphere in the room grew even more solemn. My mother and Anu joined us, taking seats beside me, their expressions a mix of curiosity and anticipation.
"After that, I entered your mother's delivery room," my father continued, his voice steady as he relived the memories. "I saw you in her arms, and as I reached out to hold you, I began to speak to you, welcoming you into this world. But then, Bheeshma's voice interrupted our moment."
As my father's narrative unfolded, the room seemed to hold its breath, each word carrying the weight of destiny. "As I was looking at you," he continued, his voice tinged with wonder, "suddenly I heard Bheeshma's voice. 'Ma, papa, something is on the baby's foot,' he said."
I could feel the tension in the air as my father recounted the moment of discovery. "Hearing this, I looked down at your tiny foot, Krishna, and there it was—a tattoo of a beautiful lotus, with intricate lines curling around it in the symbol of a UNALOME. It was a sight that left me stunned, the significance of the symbol echoing in my mind like a distant bell."
My father's voice softened as he continued his tale, the memories still vivid in his mind. "When we returned home, I told your mother everything that had transpired—the encounter with the aghori, his cryptic message, and the strange disappearance in the midst of the rain. After much deliberation, we made the decision not to name you and to heed the aghori's advice to take you to Ujjain."
Anu, who had been listening intently, interjected with a curious expression, her eyes wide with wonder. "What happened next, Uncle? Who gave Krishna his name?"
My mother, sensing the weight of the moment, gently took over the storytelling. "After I had fully recovered from the birth, we made preparations to journey to Ujjain with you, Krishna," she began, her voice carrying a mix of nostalgia and reverence. "And it seemed as though fate was on our side, for the day we arrived in Ujjain happened to be the day of the Kumbh Mela."
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