Rudra awoke to the faint glow of dawn filtering through the curtains. The disorientation from the night before still clung to him, but the throbbing in his head had subsided to a dull ache. He blinked, taking in his surroundings with a clearer mind. The room was modestly furnished, with a small wooden table near the bed and a window draped with simple curtains. Everything seemed strangely familiar yet different. The walls were painted a muted shade of blue, and the furniture had an old-fashioned charm as if it belonged to a different era.
Rudra swung his legs over the side of the bed, his bare feet touching the cool floor. As he stood up, a wave of dizziness washed over him, but he steadied himself against the bedpost. The air in the room was crisp, carrying the scent of morning dew and something else—something that reminded him of his childhood, of simpler times before the military consumed his life.
He wandered over to the window and pulled back the curtains, revealing a view of a quaint, peaceful street lined with trees. The sight was soothing, but it only added to the growing sense of unease. Where was he? And why did everything look so old?
As he turned away from the window, Rudra heard faint voices coming from down the hallway. He carefully opened the door, peering out to see Commander Batra and Kiran talking in hushed tones near the kitchen.
Kiran had stayed by Rudra's side throughout the night, her concern for him unwavering. As morning light filtered into the room, she turned to Commander Batra, who had just entered. "I stayed with him all night," she said softly. "He hasn't woken up again, but his fever is down. He must be feeling weak after everything. I'll try to feed him some khichdi—something light and easy to digest."
Commander Batra looked at her with gratitude. "Thank you, Kiran. Make sure he eats something, and then give him the medicines the doctor left. Should we consider postponing the adoption? We haven't even discussed it with him yet."
Kiran thought for a moment before shaking her head. "I don't think we should delay it unless we have to. If he's feeling better by this evening, we can talk to him about it and finalize the legal process tomorrow. But if he's still unwell, we can always adjust the dates. Karan, I've already accepted him as our son in my heart. He's been through so much, and I can't wait to make him part of our family."
Rudra, leaning against the doorway, felt a wave of emotion wash over him as he listened to their conversation. The words were familiar, echoing in his mind from a distant memory, yet they felt more real and intimate now, as if he were hearing them for the first time. The realization hit him hard—these were the moments leading up to his adoption, the day his life changed forever.
He watched as Kiran prepared breakfast, her movements efficient and graceful. Commander Batra, on the other hand, stood near the kitchen counter, his posture tense, as if he were carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Rudra could see the concern etched in his face, a worry that went beyond just the fever. This was a man who had faced countless battles, but the thought of adopting a child seemed to be a battle of a different kind—a personal one.
Rudra had trouble believing what he was hearing. His thoughts churned in confusion as he tried to make sense of the situation. Why was he having this bizarre dream? The room, the people, the conversation—it all felt too real, too vivid. He wondered if the medicinal drugs had caused this strange, realistic delusion, making him question the severity of his injuries. His mind raced with possibilities: How badly was he hurt? How long would it take him to recover? And, more urgently, when would he finally wake up from this surreal experience?
His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed a newspaper lying on the small table near the bed. Curiosity and dread mingled as he reached for it. His eyes fell on the date printed at the top—March 1996. His heart skipped a beat. He rushed forward, snatching the paper, his hands trembling slightly.
He scanned the headlines, and sure enough, they reflected the events of that time. The reality of it all hit him like a wave, making his head throb with the weight of what he was seeing.
Just as the headache started to build, his gaze shifted, and he caught sight of himself in the mirror across the room. What he saw took him by surprise.
Rudra stared at the mirror in disbelief. It was indeed him, but a much younger version—so much younger that he barely recognized himself at first glance. The face staring back at him was one he hadn't seen in years—no scars, no lines of worry, just the innocent features of a boy on the cusp of adolescence. This was too much for him to process. Desperation clawed at him, and he wanted nothing more than to wake up from this surreal nightmare.
Without thinking, he slapped himself hard across the face. The sharp sting and the ringing sensation in his ears confirmed that he was very much awake. But instead of providing relief, the pain only deepened his confusion.
Before he could gather his thoughts, the door creaked open, and Kiran entered the room, carrying a tray with food. Her gentle smile seemed to light up the dim space as she approached the bed. Rudra quickly composed himself, deciding to act as normally as possible, doing his best to mask his shock and the storm of thoughts raging in his mind.