The hum of fluorescent lights overhead, the rhythmic clicking of keyboards, and the scent of stale coffee filled the air. It was just another day in the corporate world. Kunal Shukla leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as another email notification popped onto his screen. "Urgent: Client Reporting Deadline Extended to 9 PM."
He sighed. Another late night. Another evening spent drowning in spreadsheets instead of doing something that truly mattered. The thought sent a wave of frustration through him, though he had long mastered the art of suppressing it.
Kunal had spent the past five years climbing the corporate ladder, landing himself a stable job as a business analyst in one of the top financial firms in Mumbai. On paper, he was successful. A decent salary, a respectable title, and a career that promised steady growth. Yet, every morning, as he buttoned up his shirt and adjusted his tie, he felt an inexplicable emptiness settle in his chest.
It wasn't that he despised his job—he was good at it. Numbers made sense to him. Data followed patterns. Predictions could be made. But deep down, he knew he was meant for something more. Something greater than financial models and revenue projections.
Lately, the feeling had grown stronger. It came in whispers at first—random thoughts, fleeting dreams of battles fought in distant lands, voices speaking in a language he had never learned yet somehow understood. And then there were the visions.
They started about a month ago. Brief flashes of another world—ornate palaces, ancient scrolls, a vast battlefield stretching beyond the horizon. He saw himself, yet not himself, standing at the heart of it all. A crown of gold and sapphires on his head, a sword in hand, an empire at his feet.
He had dismissed them as the result of stress. Overwork could play tricks on the mind. But then… the dreams became clearer. The voices grew louder. And the strangest part? Some of the things he saw in his dreams… were real.
Yesterday, while researching market trends, he had come across an ancient manuscript on the internet, a page from a long-lost text. The moment his eyes fell upon the script, he felt his breath hitch. He could read it.
A language he had never studied, yet understood perfectly.
He had shut his laptop immediately, his hands trembling. There had to be a rational explanation. But deep down, something in him whispered: You already know the answer.
Tonight, as he walked home through the dimly lit streets of Lower Parel, his thoughts swirled like a storm. He needed to understand what was happening. Was it a past life? A delusion? A calling?
A sudden gust of wind sent a shiver down his spine. As he turned the corner toward his apartment, a sense of unease washed over him. Someone was watching him.
And that's when he saw it.
A figure stood beneath the flickering streetlight, clad in robes that didn't belong to this time. Their gaze met his, and for a split second, he felt the world shift around him. The street, the buildings, the very fabric of reality flickered like a mirage.
And then, the figure spoke in a voice that echoed through his very soul.
"Kunala… it is time to remember."