Diya and Sumendu ventured out toward the ancient Shiva temple on the outskirts of the village. They walked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, trying to make sense of everything that was unfolding—yet finding no answers.
As they neared the edge of the village, an inexplicable pull toward the temple grew stronger with every step. Soon, the distant outline of the temple emerged, and almost instinctively, their pace quickened. Within moments, they found themselves in the temple corridor, ascending the stone steps, moving from the outer sanctum into the inner one.
A deep sense of calm washed over them.
As they crossed the threshold, the fragrance of incense and burning camphor enveloped them. Oil lamps flickered softly along the walls, their light casting dancing shadows over intricate carvings of gods, serpents, and celestial beings. At the center stood the Shivling, adorned with fresh bilva leaves and flowers, with a steady stream of water dripping from a vessel suspended above.
Neither of them spoke.
They closed their eyes and began to pray—earnestly, intensely—seeking understanding, surrendering themselves completely to the divine. Gradually, a profound peace descended upon them. With reverence, they bowed once more to Shiva—the destroyer of time, the savior of humanity—and slowly made their way out into the outer corridor.
As they stepped into the temple courtyard, they noticed a Hindu monk seated in deep meditation beneath an ancient banyan tree. Its roots twisted into the earth like veins of time itself. Draped in flowing saffron robes, the monk's presence was serene, his face absorbed in a stillness that seemed beyond the physical world.
Drawn to him, Diya and Sumendu quietly sat before him and attempted to meditate.
As they settled into the lotus posture, something shifted.
In an instant, they were pulled into a depth of meditation unlike anything they had experienced before. When they opened their eyes, they realized they were no longer in their physical bodies—but in their astral forms. The monk now stood before them, also in his astral body, smiling… almost laughing.
Confused yet reverent, both Diya and Sumendu bowed deeply and touched his feet. The monk raised his hand in blessing, his gaze calm yet penetrating.
"I know why you are here," he said softly. "I can sense the anxiety and discomfort you carry—caused by the developments triggered by the darts. But understand this… it is not coincidence. It is design."
He paused, letting his words settle.
"You are being taken into your past—to witness what has been, and to understand why you have taken birth again. This is karma in motion. You are not here by chance, but by design. The script is unfolding exactly as it must."
He turned to Sumendu.
"Do you realize what is happening?"
Shaken, Sumendu replied, "Yes… it feels as though the same story is about to repeat itself in this life as well."
The monk smiled faintly and turned to Diya.
"That is exactly what will happen."
"Why?" Diya asked immediately, her voice filled with urgency. "Why is this happening again?"
The monk's smile deepened.
"This is how karma works, Diya. It makes you face the consequences of past actions. Patterns repeat… until they are broken. You are fortunate—you have been given a chance to break this cycle once and for all."
He looked back at Sumendu.
"Do you understand?"
Sumendu nodded slowly.
"Good," the monk said. "Then it is time for me to go."
"Wait… but who are you?" Sumendu asked, his voice trembling.
The monk began to fade, his form dissolving into light.
"That… does not matter," he said gently. "Go… break the pattern."
And then, he was gone.
In the next moment, Diya and Sumendu opened their eyes.
They were back in the courtyard.
The banyan tree had vanished.
The monk was nowhere to be seen.
Only the two of them remained—sitting quietly on the grass, in a silence that now carried meaning.