Episode 3: Different Timeline

My head hurt.

It felt as though something heavy was pressing against my skull.

For a few moments, I kept my eyes closed, hoping the dizziness would pass.

The last thing I remembered was sitting at my desk.

The ancient book.

The strange symbols.

The phone ringing.

Then....

Darkness.

Slowly, I opened my eyes.

The ceiling above me was unfamiliar.

Wooden beams crossed overhead, carved with simple patterns worn smooth by time.

I frowned.

This wasn't my room.

I immediately sat up.

A sharp wave of dizziness hit me, forcing me to steady myself against the bed.

The room around me was large but simple.

A clay lamp rested on a wooden shelf.

Several rolled manuscripts lay neatly stacked in one corner.

A brass water vessel sat beside the bed.

Nothing looked modern.

Nothing looked familiar.

My heartbeat quickened.

"Where am I?"

The words left my lips before I could stop them.

I looked down at myself.

And froze.

The clothes I wore were not mine.

Not even close.

The jeans and sweater I had been wearing were gone.

Instead, I wore soft cotton garments unlike anything I owned.

A light-colored antariya (lower draped garment) was wrapped around me, while an uttariya (upper drape) rested over my shoulder.

The fabric was simple but well-made.

Exactly the kind of clothing I had studied in historical records.

My stomach dropped.

"No..."

I pushed myself off the bed and hurried toward the nearest window.

The moment I looked outside, I stopped breathing.

Mountains.

Endless mountains.

Green valleys stretched beneath the morning mist.

Tall pine trees covered the slopes.

Birds flew between cliffs touched by golden sunlight.

The sight was breathtaking.

Almost heavenly.

For a brief moment, I forgot my fear.

Then reality crashed back into me.

I stepped away from the window.

Did I die?

The thought appeared suddenly.

The book.

Had there been poison on it?

Some ancient fungus?

Had I collapsed?

Was I in a coma?

I pinched my arm.

Hard.

"Ouch!"

Pain.

Real pain.

I stared at my arm.

Definitely not dead.

Definitely not dreaming.

Which somehow made everything worse.

A knock interrupted my thoughts.

Before I could react, the wooden door opened.

A middle-aged woman entered carrying a small brass tray.

She wore a plain cotton saree wrapped simply around her body, with almost no jewelry except a few bangles.

She looked surprised to find me standing.

"Vatsanavi?" she asked.

I blinked.

Vatsanavi?

The name sounded strangely familiar.

The woman hurried forward.

"Arre, Putri (child), you should not be standing."

I stared at her.

She stared back.

Neither of us spoke for several moments.

Finally she frowned.

"Kya hua? (What happened?)"

I swallowed.

"I..."

The words caught in my throat.

What was I supposed to say?

Hello, I think I traveled through time?

The woman set the tray down.

"You frightened everyone."

"Everyone?"

She nodded.

"You collapsed during your studies."

Studies?

I looked around again.

The manuscripts.

The room.

The mountains.

Then a distant sound reached my ears.

Voices.

Young voices.

Reciting something in unison.

Almost like students.

The woman noticed my confusion.

"You truly do not remember?"

My heart skipped a beat.

Remember what?

Before I could answer, she sighed.

"I should inform Acharya."

The moment she said that, something about her expression changed.

Respect.

Almost reverence.

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and left.

The door closed behind her.

I stood there in complete silence.

Acharya.

Teacher.

Head of the Gurukul?

My mind raced.

None of this made sense.

Minutes later, the woman returned.

"Acharya wishes to see you."

I hesitated.

Every instinct told me to demand answers.

But this Acharya might be the only person who could explain what was happening.

So I followed her.

Outside, the sight stole my breath.

Stone pathways wound through the mountainside.

Students dressed in simple garments walked between wooden halls.

Some practiced archery.

Others sat beneath trees reciting lessons.

The entire Gurukul seemed woven into nature itself.

It was beautiful.

Ancient.

Alive.

And impossible.

Eventually we reached a modest wooden chamber.

The woman stopped outside.

"Acharya is waiting."

I nodded nervously.

Then stepped inside.

An elderly man sat cross-legged near an open window.

His white hair fell to his shoulders.

The moment I entered, his eyes lifted to meet mine.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

His gaze was calm.

Too calm.

Almost as though he had been expecting me.

Then he gestured toward a cushion before him.

"Aao, Putri (Come, child)."

His voice was gentle.

"Baitho. (Sit.)"

I hesitated before slowly taking a seat.

The Acharya studied me quietly.

Not in the way a stranger would.

Not even in the way a teacher would look at a student.

It felt as though he was searching for something.

Or perhaps confirming it.

Finally, a faint smile appeared on his face.

"Kaisa lagta hai tumhe yah Gurukul? (How do you find this Gurukul?)"

The question caught me completely off guard.

Of all the things I expected him to ask, that wasn't one of them.

I glanced toward the open window.

The mountains stretched endlessly beneath the morning sky.

The sound of students reciting lessons drifted through the air.

"It's beautiful," I admitted.

The smile on his face deepened slightly.

"As beautiful as before."

Before?

I frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Instead of answering, he slowly rose to his feet and walked toward the window.

The mountain breeze stirred the edge of his robes.

For a few moments, he simply looked outside.

Then he spoke.

"Samaya Chakra ne antatah tumhe is samaya tak pahuncha hi diya."

(The Cycle of Time has finally brought you to this age.)

My body went still.

I stared at him.

The old man continued as though speaking of something long expected.

"Kuch yatraein samapt nahi hoti."

(Some journeys never truly end.)

"Kuch kartavya samayie ke saath vilupt nahi hote."

(Some duties do not disappear with the passing of time.)

My heartbeat quickened.

I didn't understand.

Yet somehow his words felt important.

Dangerously important.

I stood abruptly.

"What are you talking about?"

The Acharya turned toward me.

There was kindness in his eyes.

But there was something else too.

Relief.

As though a burden he had carried for years had finally become lighter.

Then he spoke softly.

"Vanshika..."

The sound of my name made me freeze.

How did he know?

A gentle smile appeared on his face.

"A beautiful name."

I could barely breathe.

"But in this Samaya Chakra..."

His gaze held mine.

"...you are known as Vatsanavi."

The room suddenly felt smaller.

My thoughts became a tangled mess.

How did he know my name?

Who was Vatsanavi?

What was this place?

And what exactly was the Samaya Chakra?

Before I could ask another question, the Acharya spoke once more.

"Rest, Putri."

His voice was calm.

"The answers you seek cannot be given all at once."

Then he turned toward the mountains again.

Leaving me with only one terrifying realization.

The Acharya already knew who I was.

And somehow...

He had been waiting for me.

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