Anika strolled along the narrow path that led to Rudra Swami's ashram, her mind racing with questions. The air was rich with the scents of incense and damp earth. From within, the gentle strumming of a tanpura floated out, creating a serene backdrop.
Birds flitted through the trees overhead, as if they were the guardians of the tranquil silence that enveloped the place.
As she stepped onto the cool marble threshold of the ashram, she found Rudra already waiting for her.
"You made it," he said, his eyes radiating a calm understanding.
"Of course I did. You just showed me a centuries-old image of a guy in a hoodie." She paused, raising an eyebrow. "That's not exactly normal."
Rudra chuckled softly. "Neither is your journey, Anika. But it's uniquely yours."
He slid a folder across the table to her. Inside were printouts of surveillance stills, one capturing the hooded figure at the precise moment the blue flame had erupted in Varanasi. Anika ran her fingers along the edges of the photo.
"He looks the same in every shot. Doesn't age a day. Doesn't even blink."
"Because time has no hold on him," Rudra replied. "He exists beyond it."
"Who is he?" she pressed.
"Your past, child. And your future."
Anika frowned, recalling his earlier words. "You've said that before."
"Because it's still true."
---
Meanwhile, in the winding alleys of Dharavi, Shiva wandered barefoot. His hoodie was dusty, but his presence shone brightly.
Children dashed past him, chasing after a plastic ball. One girl paused, turned, and offered him a slice of bread with a smile.
He accepted it with a nod and settled down on the ground beside her.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Meena."
"That means jewel," he replied, smiling back.
They sat in comfortable silence, watching a nearby group recite rhymes.
The slums were thick with hardship, yet brimming with authenticity. Here, unlike the towering skyscrapers above, people still prayed with genuine hearts. The less fortunate gazed up at the sky with unwavering hope.
And that sincerity always resonated with him.
Rudra Swami poured steaming tea into two clay cups, and Anika watched him intently.
"Guruji, I need you to be honest with me. No riddles this time."
He nodded slowly. "You see, Anika, the world moves in cycles—ages, or Yugas, if you will. And in every cycle, when the balance is disrupted, he makes his return. Sometimes he comes as a storm, other times as a whisper. But he always carries fire in his throat."
Anika leaned in closer. "You mean Shiva."
"Mahadev. The Adiyogi. The one who dances at the end of time. He's back, not to bring destruction, but to awaken us."
"And what about me? What's my role in all of this?"
He reached into his robes and pulled out a charred pendant shaped like a lotus.
"You wore this once. In a different life. Back then, you walked alongside him."
Anika took the pendant in her hands, feeling a warmth radiate from it, even after all these years.
"I don't really believe in reincarnation."
"That's okay. The truth believes in you."
---
At AstraDyne headquarters, Daman Raut stood in front of a digital screen filled with swirling symbols.
"What's the situation?" he asked.
"Energy anomalies are on the rise," his tech officer replied. "But it's localized—Dharavi, specifically near an old temple ruin."
Raut squinted, deep in thought. "Send a drone. No weapons. Just observe. If he senses any hostility, we'll lose our chance."
The drone took off into the sky.
---
Shiva stood before the temple ruin, which had long ceased to be a proper structure. It was now just a crumbled stone platform, covered in tarpaulin and forgotten idols.
He placed his hand on the stone.
A surge of energy rippled through the earth.
The old trishul, half-buried in the dirt, began to rise on its own.
Birds took flight, and people in nearby huts paused mid-conversation, sensing something unusual.
The drone flew overhead, unnoticed by the crowd. But Shiva was aware. His gaze flicked upward, catching the soft hum of the machine. No fear in his eyes.
He raised his hand.
The drone short-circuited and plummeted to the street without a sound.
In the AstraDyne control room, the screens suddenly went dark.
"He saw us," the technician whispered, a hint of panic in his voice.
Raut clenched his jaw. "He's sending a message."
---
Anika wandered through the winding lanes of Dharavi, feeling an inexplicable pull in her chest. It wasn't logical. It wasn't digital. It was just... a calling.
Eventually, she stumbled upon the crumbling temple. A crowd had gathered, but they were eerily quiet. Respectful. Even the children sat cross-legged, absorbed in the moment.
And there, beneath a half-broken stone arch, sat the man.
He looked up.
Their eyes locked.
The world shifted.
It wasn't just recognition. It was remembrance.
He rose to his feet.
"Anika," he said, not as a question, but with certainty.
She took a step closer. "Who am I?"
"You were the one who burned without pain. The one who danced with me when the world ended and began anew."
Tears brimmed in her eyes. "Why can't I remember everything?"
"Because the mind tends to forget what the soul holds dear."
The crowd faded into the background. The world shrank down to just the two of them.
It was the yogi and the hacker.
Past and future.
The code and the flame.
Reuniting to begin the dance once more.