Gujarat, India – Year 2025
The morning sky was clear, too clear.
Flight AI-117 sliced through it like a silver arrow, bound from Ahmedabad to London. The engines hummed with quiet power, unaware of the mechanical fault buried deep inside.
When the explosion came, it wasn't loud—it was final.
Somewhere over the Gir forest, the aircraft burst into flames. Steel cracked. Glass shattered. A chorus of screams met the silence of fate.
In that fire, two souls were freed.
---
One was Advika Sharma, 21. A bright, sharp girl with sandalwood eyes and a hunger for truth. She was headed to London to unearth untouched Sanskrit scriptures—works untouched by western filters, works that could reveal what Sanatana Dharma truly was.
The other was Aarav Malhotra, 23. A mechanical engineering student with a strange mind—he talked about startup systems and ancient Rishi sciences in the same breath. He wasn't going abroad for dreams; he was going for his first internship.
They had never spoken in life.
And yet in death, they collided.
As their souls floated through the Void Between Realms, memories fell away. Language vanished. Flesh and name dissolved.
They were light. Conscious thought. Echoes of purpose.
Then something rare happened.
A fragment of her soul brushed against his.
Not like lovers. Not like enemies.
But like two pages from the same forgotten book—suddenly overlapping.
A single golden thread of her essence attached to his. His mind—logical, focused—held on.
Not out of desire.
But curiosity.
Resonance.
For a moment, they weren't two.
They were one anomaly.
Then light.
Then silence.
---
Aryadesh – Year 319 of Kali Yuga
"He lives! The third prince lives!"
A cry of celebration echoed through the marble halls of Chandrika Mahal, a peaceful summer palace far from the capital's clamor. It was here, under the full moon, that Prince Adityaveer took his first breath.
His tiny fists curled against the silk. His mother, Maharani Devika, cradled him gently—her third son, born into privilege but far from the line of succession. She saw no throne in his future, but something brighter—freedom.
Unlike the other royal heirs who stayed in the main palace with tutors and guards, Devika chose to raise Adityaveer here—where peacocks danced on stone balconies and sandalwood incense whispered through the halls.
---
By age four, Adityaveer had already begun asking strange questions.
> "Why do we carry water every day?"
"Why do we not have a bathroom?"
"Why don't we have a... tap?"
His nurses laughed it off.
"Let the child dream," they said. "He plays with clay as if he were an old potter reborn."
But Maharani Devika watched him with quiet wonder. Every night, she'd sit with him by the lotus pond, oiling his hair, singing soft Vedic lullabies as he traced strange diagrams in the dirt.
> "Amma," he whispered one evening, "what if water came from the wall itself?"
She smiled. "Would you build such a wall, my prince?"
He nodded seriously. "Yes. I will."
---
The Dream Begins
That night, as moonlight filled his chamber, something clicked inside his mind.
> [SYSTEM ONLINE]
User: Adityaveer (Gene: Technology)
Memory Match Detected: Water Distribution Systems
Initiating Structural Simulation...
His thoughts sharpened like a blade. Diagrams lit up in his dreams—pipes, pulleys, gravity-fed chambers.
When he awoke, he ran barefoot to the courtyard, dragging chalk and clay. On the floor he drew a vision:
A raised tank on the rooftop
A bamboo pipe running down into the bathroom
A wooden valve carved like a plug
A hand pump to lift water from the well
Servants gathered and blinked at the sight. The prince was... building?
"Naina Didi," he said to the carpenter's widow who washed floors, "can you carve wood like this?"
She knelt beside him. "Where did you learn this?"
"I... saw it in a dream."
Naina, who had buried a child last year, saw something divine in his eyes—and obeyed.
---
For weeks they worked. The hardest part was the hand pump—getting suction without modern valves. But the boy adjusted the lever length, used boiled neem bark for the seal, and calculated gravity angles with river stones.
At last, the system was ready.
He climbed the rooftop with Naina, filled the clay tank, and twisted the wooden plug.
Water flowed.
---
The first tap in Aryadesh was born in Chandrika Mahal.
The maids cheered. The guards whispered. His elder brothers laughed.
> "Is he a prince or a plumber?"
"He should open a shop instead of joining court."
But Maharani Devika—she said nothing.
She simply held him that night, stroking his hair, whispering:
> "Let them laugh. One day, the world will come to your pipe and beg for water."
---
Respect in Dirt
But the prince wasn't done.
He watched the maids drag ten pots of water daily for washing and bathing. So he expanded the pipes, built a channel beneath the stone floors, and dug a soak pit at the back of the palace. The water now drained into flower gardens—clean and odorless.
Then came the toilet—a simple seat connected to a sloped bamboo pipe. Not elegant, but effective.
For the first time, the palace had private sanitation.
The maids wept with joy.
> "This boy has done what kings could not," said Mira, the oldest among them. "We are not just cleaner—we are free."
From that day, the servants worshipped him.
Not because of his bloodline.
But because he made their lives easier.
---
Meanwhile, in a scholar's home near the capital, a young girl with sandalwood eyes woke up screaming.
Her name was Advika—daughter of the royal Rajpandit.
(Rajpandit - Royal priest)
She could not explain why she dreamt of falling metal and burning wind.
Or why, sometimes, she saw the face of a boy she'd never met—with eyes that glowed like stars.
But her story would begin soon.
For fate was preparing a reunion.
And when they met, the world would never be the same again.