River of Destiny
Rakesh Rajbhat
Chapter 1: The Miracle
The summer of 1995 arrived with an oppressive heat that settled over the village like a heavy blanket. In the foothills of the Himalayas, life slowed down in response to the scorching sun. Fields of corn and rice, usually vibrant and green, wilted under the unrelenting rays, and the villagers sought shelter from the unforgiving heat. Yet, for one family, the discomfort of the summer was far from their greatest concern.
Kuber and Kanxi were facing a nightmare that no parent should ever endure. Their one-year-old son, Rakesh, had fallen severely ill. Born in August 1994, Rakesh was normally a healthy, active child, always curious and full of energy. But in recent days, his small body had been overtaken by fever and pain, his eyes dull and his cries faint.
In their remote village, nestled in the shadow of the Himalayan mountains, access to medical care was limited. There were no nearby doctors, no electricity to power equipment, and certainly no hospital within reach. The nearest clinic, which was only a modest outpost with basic supplies, was located 1.5 hours away by foot, across treacherous terrain. To reach it, one had to traverse the jungle, cross a steep cliffside, and follow narrow, winding paths. It was not a journey for the faint-hearted, but it was one Kuber and Kanxi had no choice but to make.
With their son’s condition worsening by the hour,Kuber and Kanxi set out, their hearts heavy with fear. Kuber carried Rakesh in his arms, feeling the heat radiating from his child’s feverish body. Kanxi walked beside him, her hands trembling as she whispered prayers under her breath. They moved quickly, despite the uneven ground and the dense jungle that surrounded them, driven by the desperate hope that they could save their son.
The jungle, usually alive with the sounds of birds and animals, felt eerily silent that day. The air was thick with humidity, and the only sound was the crunch of their footsteps on the dry earth. Every step felt like a battle against time, each moment bringing them closer to—yet somehow farther from—the help they needed.
The journey was brutal. The cliffside path, narrow and perilous, required careful navigation. One wrong step could send them plummeting into the gorge below. Yet, neither Kuber nor Kanxi hesitated. Their love for their son propelled them forward, through exhaustion and fear.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached the small hospital, its whitewashed walls standing out against the green of the jungle. Kuber and Kanxi rushed inside, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as they pleaded for help. The doctor, an older man with kind eyes, took one look at Rakesh and immediately ushered them into the examination room.
The minutes that followed felt like hours. Kanxi paced the small room, her heart pounding as the doctor examined her son. Kuber stood by the door, his fists clenched, unable to breathe until he knew what the diagnosis would be. But the doctor’s expression, once neutral, soon turned grim. He set down his stethoscope and turned to face Rakesh’s parents, his eyes filled with sorrow.
“I’m sorry,” the doctor said, his voice heavy with regret. “Your child is no more.”
The words hit Kuber and Kanxi like a physical blow. For a moment, the world around them seemed to shatter, the walls of the hospital closing in. Kanxi’s knees gave way, and she collapsed to the floor, her sobs filling the sterile room. Kuber, though silent, felt as though his heart had been ripped from his chest. His hands trembled as he reached for Kanxi, pulling her close as tears streamed down his face.
“No,” Kanxi cried, her voice cracking with despair. “No, this can’t be. Please… please, no.”
The doctor stood back, giving them space to grieve. He had seen this kind of heartbreak before, but that didn’t make it any easier to witness. There was nothing more he could do, and so he quietly left the room, allowing Kuber and Kanxi a moment of privacy.
For what felt like hours, Kuber and Kanxi remained in that room, clutching their lifeless child, their hearts breaking in ways they didn’t know were possible. Eventually, though, they knew they had to leave. There was no point in staying, no miracle that would reverse the doctor’s diagnosis. With heavy hearts and tear-streaked faces, they prepared to return to the village, carrying with them the body of their beloved son.
The journey home was even more unbearable than the one they had taken to the hospital. The weight of their grief made every step feel like a mile, and the scorching sun, once a mere discomfort, now felt like a cruel reminder of the world that continued to turn despite their loss. The jungle, which had seemed so silent before, now felt oppressive, its dense canopy casting long, dark shadows over the path.
At one point, Kuber stopped, his voice shaking with emotion. “We can’t take him home,” he said, his throat tight. “It will be too much… for us, for my mother. Let’s leave him here, in the jungle. We’ll move on.”
Kanxi’s face twisted in anguish, but she said nothing. They walked forward, their footsteps heavy and unsteady, leaving their son behind. For a hundred meters, they pressed on, their grief weighing them down. But then, something inside Kanxi broke.
“No!” she screamed, suddenly stopping in her tracks. Her body shook with sobs as she turned back toward the direction they had come from. “I can’t leave him. We have to take him home. I can’t leave him here.”
Kuber, overwhelmed with sorrow, turned to follow his wife. There was nothing he could say. Her maternal instinct was too strong to deny. Together, they returned to the place where they had left their son. Kanxi knelt down, lifting Rakesh’s small, still body into her arms once again, holding him close as though he were still breathing, still alive.
With heavy hearts, they continued their journey back to the village, determined to bring their son home for the final time. As they neared the outskirts of the village, the weight of their loss became almost unbearable. The familiar sight of the fields and the distant outline of their home should have brought them comfort, but instead, it deepened the ache in their hearts.
As they reached the final stretch of the path, an old man appeared on the road ahead of them, emerging from the rows of rice like a figure from a dream. His weathered face was etched with concern, his steps slow and deliberate. He approached them with a quiet reverence, his eyes filled with empathy.
“Nani, why do you cry?” he asked softly, using the affectionate term.
Kuber, his voice cracked and raw, explained what had happened. The old man listened, his face serene, as though he had seen such sorrow many times before.
“There is nothing we can do about what the soul wants,” the old man said gently. “But come with me. Bring the child to my hut. You should not carry this burden alone.”
He offered them his company, guiding them away from the village and toward his small, humble home. Kuber and Kanxi , too broken to resist, followed him, grateful for the comfort of his presence. The old man’s words, though mysterious, seemed to bring them some small measure of peace, as though he understood a part of their grief that even they could not.
Chapter 2: Growing Up with Wonder
Rakesh’s miraculous recovery was more than an extraordinary event—it became the bedrock of his family’s faith and resilience. For his parents, Kuber and Kanxi , it was a second chance that they hadn’t dared to hope for. The days following that encounter with the old man were a blur of emotion, but the outcome was one of joy: Rakesh lived. He had been pulled back from the edge of death, and though he was too young to understand the gravity of it, the experience left an indelible mark on his soul.
Life in the village returned to its familiar rhythm, but for Rakesh, there was a subtle shift. Even as a young child, he was different from the others. His parents, still shaken by their brush with loss, held him a little tighter, cherished him a little more. They spoke quietly about the day they thought they had lost him, how the old man’s intervention had saved their son. Though they couldn’t explain it, they were certain that Rakesh’s survival was no ordinary occurrence—it was a sign, a gift, a reminder of life’s delicate balance.
For Rakesh, those early years were filled with wonder. His family’s home, though simple, was surrounded by the rich beauty of the Himalayan foothills. The village, with its green paddy fields, winding river, and thick jungle, was a playground for his curious mind. The world felt alive to him in ways he couldn’t yet articulate, and he spent hours exploring, asking questions, and observing the small miracles that nature had to offer.
A Child of Nature
The natural world fascinated Rakesh from the start. While other children played games and chased after one another, Rakesh found himself drawn to the quiet places—the dense trees, the riverbanks, the fields of wildflowers. The gentle sway of the trees in the wind, the rush of the river’s current, the chirping of birds overhead—all of it seemed to speak to him, filling him with a sense of wonder.
His mother, Kanxi, often found him wandering barefoot near the river, his eyes wide with curiosity as he watched the water flow past. “Why does the river never stop moving?” he would ask, his voice full of innocent wonder.
Kanxi would smile softly, her heart swelling with love for her son. “Because the river has a path, just like all of us,” she would say. “It keeps moving forward, no matter what happens.”
Rakesh would nod, though he didn’t fully understand the depth of his mother’s words. Still, something about the river resonated with him. It reminded him of something he couldn’t quite place—something from the day he had nearly drowned, when the water had claimed him only to release him back to life.
As he grew older, Rakesh became even more connected to the land around him. He watched as the seasons changed, as the rice fields turned from bright green to golden brown, as the jungle shifted from the lush, rainy monsoons to the dry heat of summer. Every detail fascinated him—the way the earth smelled after a heavy rain, the way the clouds shifted across the sky, the way the sunlight danced on the river’s surface.
His father, Kuber, often took him along to help with the daily tasks of village life—tending the fields, caring for the goats, gathering firewood. Though these tasks were part of the routine, Rakesh approached them with the same curiosity he did everything else. Why did the crops grow one way in the summer and another in the winter? Why did the goats know to return home at dusk? Why did the earth beneath his feet feel different after a storm?
Kuber, a practical man, answered as best as he could, though some of Rakesh’s questions went beyond the realm of everyday knowledge. “Some things just are,” his father would say. “Not everything needs an answer.”
But for Rakesh, everything was a puzzle waiting to be solved, a mystery to be unraveled. He couldn’t help but wonder if his near-death experience had given him a special connection to the world—one that allowed him to see things others couldn’t.
The Influence of Three Women
While his parents provided the structure and stability of village life, it was the presence of three remarkable women—his mother, his grandmother, and his great-grandmother—that shaped Rakesh’s sense of wonder and his understanding of the world around him.
Kanxi, His Mother
Kanxi was the emotional center of Rakesh’s life. Her love for him, intensified by the fear of nearly losing him, created a bond that was unbreakable. She was the one who soothed his fears, answered his endless questions, and encouraged his curiosity. Her patience seemed boundless, and Rakesh often found himself sitting with her for hours, listening as she told him stories of the gods and goddesses who watched over their village.
She spoke of Ganga, the goddess of the river, who carried the souls of the departed to the afterlife. She told him about the spirits that dwelled in the forests, the ancient beings who protected the land.Kanxi’s stories weren’t just tales to entertain—they were teachings that instilled in Rakesh a deep respect for the unseen forces that shaped their lives.
“Always remember,” Kanxi would say, “the world is full of things we cannot see. Just because we can’t touch them doesn’t mean they aren’t real.”
Her words took root in Rakesh’s mind, making him keenly aware of the spiritual world around him. It wasn’t just the river that called to him, but the wind, the trees, the earth itself. He began to sense that everything was connected, that life was a delicate balance of the seen and the unseen.
Sakuntala, His Grandmother
Rakesh’s grandmother, Sakuntala, was the keeper of stories. She carried the oral traditions of their ancestors, passing them down to Rakesh as they sat by the fire in the evenings. Her voice, strong and steady, brought to life the legends of their people—tales of ancient warriors, wise sages, and the gods who had shaped the mountains and rivers of their land.
Sakuntala’s stories were not just entertainment; they were lessons in resilience, morality, and faith. She spoke of times when the village had faced famine, when the crops had failed, and the people had looked to the gods for help. She told Rakesh about the rituals they had performed, the offerings they had made to the spirits of the land.
“Never forget,” Sakuntala would say, her voice low and serious, “we are part of something much bigger than ourselves. The land, the river, the mountains—they have been here long before us, and they will be here long after we are gone.”
Her words filled Rakesh with a sense of continuity, a deep understanding that he was part of a much larger story. The river that had nearly claimed him was not just a physical presence—it was a symbol of the eternal flow of life, connecting him to the generations that had come before and the ones that would follow.
Ganga, His Great-Grandmother
Ganga, Rakesh’s great-grandmother, was a woman of few words, but her presence spoke volumes. At nearly a eighty years old, she had lived through more hardship than Rakesh could imagine. Her hands, gnarled with age, still worked the earth, and her eyes, though clouded with time, saw the world with a clarity that only came from a lifetime of experience.
Ganga rarely spoke of the past, but when she did, her words carried the weight of history. She had lived through wars, famines, and political upheavals, yet she remained rooted in the traditions of their people. She believed in the power of endurance, in the strength of the human spirit to overcome even the most difficult of circumstances.
“Life is not easy,” Ganga would say, her voice rough with age, “but you must keep moving forward. The world will try to break you, but you are stronger than you know.”
Her strength and resilience left a lasting impression on Rakesh. She was a living testament to the power of survival, a reminder that no matter how hard life became, there was always a way through. Her presence in his life grounded him, reminding him that the path forward was not always easy, but it was always possible.
A Growing Curiosity
As Rakesh grew older, the influence of these three women shaped his understanding of the world. His mother’s gentle wisdom, his grandmother’s stories, and his great-grandmother’s strength gave him a foundation of faith, resilience, and curiosity. They taught him to respect the world around him, to see the beauty in the small things, and to find strength in the face of adversity.
But alongside this foundation grew a restlessness—a desire to know more, to see more, to understand the mysteries that lay just beyond his reach. The near-death experience that had marked his early life seemed to linger in his mind, a reminder that there was more to life than what he could see or touch. The river, the jungle, the mountains—they all whispered to him, urging him to explore, to discover what lay beyond the familiar confines of the village.
Rakesh’s childhood was one of wonder and exploration, but it was also the beginning of a journey—one that would take him far beyond the village and the life he had known. The lessons of his youth, the teachings of his family, and the mysteries of the world around him would guide him as he stepped into the unknown.
Chapter 3: Three Women, One Soul
As Rakesh grew into his early childhood, the presence of three influential women—his mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother—became the cornerstone of his emotional and spiritual development. These three women, each with their unique strength and wisdom, shaped his understanding of love, life, and the greater universe. Together, they were like the three pillars of a temple, each supporting the sacred space where Rakesh’s soul would find its purpose.
Kanxi: The Nurturer and Guide
Kanxi, Rakesh’s mother, was the first and most constant influence in his life. From the moment he was born, she had devoted herself to nurturing and protecting him. Her love for him was unwavering, especially after their family’s close encounter with losing him to illness. That experience had deepened her bond with Rakesh, and she often looked at him with a tenderness that spoke of a mother’s gratitude for the second chance they had been given.
Kanxi was not only a nurturer, but she was also Rakesh’s guide into the unseen world—the spiritual dimension that surrounded their everyday lives. From a young age, she taught him that there was more to life than what they could see with their eyes. She believed in the power of the gods and spirits that watched over their village, and she shared these beliefs with Rakesh, weaving them into the fabric of their daily existence.
“The world is full of things we cannot see,” she would tell him, her voice soft yet filled with conviction. “The spirits of the forest, the river, and the mountains are always with us. You must respect them, Rakesh, for they hold power far greater than our own.”
When she spoke, Rakesh listened with rapt attention. He could feel the truth in her words, even if he didn’t fully understand them at the time. His mother’s teachings planted the seeds of his belief in the interconnectedness of all things—the idea that the visible world and the spiritual world were two sides of the same coin, constantly influencing each other.
Kanxi’s role as both mother and spiritual guide helped Rakesh develop an early sense of wonder and reverence for the mysteries of life. Her gentle presence, her stories of the gods and spirits, and her unwavering belief in the sacredness of the natural world shaped Rakesh’s view of the universe and his place within it.
Sakuntala: The Keeper of Stories
If Kanxi was the nurturer, Sakuntala, Rakesh’s grandmother, was the storyteller. She was the guardian of the family’s oral traditions, the one who kept alive the ancient tales passed down through generations. Sakuntala’s stories were not just for entertainment; they were the threads that connected the present with the past, weaving together the lives of their ancestors with the lives of those who came after.
Sakuntala’s hands were always busy—whether weaving baskets, preparing meals, or tending to the animals—but her mind was always filled with stories. Every evening, after the day’s work was done, she would sit with Rakesh by the fire and tell him the tales of their people. These stories were filled with gods and goddesses, with heroes and villains, with spirits and forces of nature that shaped the world they lived in.
One of Rakesh’s favorite stories was about the great river goddess, Ganga, who carried the souls of the departed to the afterlife. Sakuntala’s voice would soften as she described how the river flowed through the heavens and the earth, connecting the world of the living with the world of the dead.
“The river is eternal,” Sakuntala would say, her eyes gleaming in the firelight. “It never stops flowing, just like life itself. Even when we are gone, the river continues, carrying our souls onward.”
Rakesh loved these stories because they made him feel connected to something much larger than himself. The river that had once nearly claimed his life was not just a body of water—it was a living, spiritual force that held within it the power of life and death. Sakuntala’s stories gave him a sense of purpose, a feeling that he was part of a greater journey that stretched far beyond the boundaries of the village.
Sakuntala’s storytelling was more than just a pastime; it was a way of passing down wisdom. Through her stories, Rakesh learned about resilience, about the importance of courage, and about the strength of the human spirit. He came to understand that life was not just about surviving—it was about living with meaning, about finding one’s place in the grand narrative of existence.
Ganga: The Matriarch and the Survivor
Then there was Ganga, Rakesh’s great-grandmother, the oldest and wisest of the three women. Ganga was a force of nature in her own right—strong, resilient, and deeply rooted in the traditions of their people. She had lived through more than most people could imagine—wars, famines, political upheavals—and yet, she remained steadfast in her belief that life was a gift, even when it was difficult.
Ganga’s presence was quiet but powerful. Though her body was frail and her movements slow, her mind was sharp, and her words carried the weight of a lifetime of experience. She didn’t speak often, but when she did, Rakesh listened. Her words were like the final piece of a puzzle, completing the lessons that Kanxi and Sakuntala had already begun to teach him.
“Life is hard,” Ganga would say, her voice raspy with age. “But we are harder. The world will try to break you, but you must not let it. You must stand firm, like the mountains, and let the winds of fate blow past you.”
Ganga’s strength was a source of inspiration for Rakesh. She had seen the world at its worst, and yet she had never lost her faith in the power of endurance. To her, life was not about avoiding hardship—it was about facing it head-on, about standing tall in the face of adversity and coming out stronger on the other side.
Her stories were different from sakuntala’s. While Sakuntala’s tales were filled with gods and myths, Ganga’s stories were about survival—about the practical realities of life in a harsh and unforgiving world. She spoke of times when the crops had failed, when the village had been on the brink of starvation, and how they had persevered through it all.
“Life is like the river,” she would say. “It can be calm one moment and wild the next. But no matter how hard it crashes against you, you must keep moving forward.”
Ganga’s lessons taught Rakesh about the importance of resilience, about the power of determination, and about the need to face life’s challenges with courage. Her strength became his strength, her wisdom a guiding light as he navigated the complexities of growing up in a world that was often unpredictable.
Three Women, One Soul
Together, these three women—Kanxi, Sakuntala and Ganga—formed the foundation of Rakesh’s early life. Each of them contributed a different piece to the puzzle of his soul, shaping him in ways that would stay with him for the rest of his life.
Kanxi’s love and spiritual guidance gave him a sense of wonder and reverence for the unseen forces of the world. Sakuntala’s stories connected him to the past, showing him that he was part of a larger story that stretched across time and space. And Ganga’s strength taught him the importance of resilience, of standing firm in the face of adversity and never giving up.
These women, with their deep well of wisdom and experience, became the compass by which Rakesh navigated his early years. They helped him understand the delicate balance between life and death, between the physical world and the spiritual world, between survival and thriving. They gave him the tools he needed to face whatever challenges life would throw his way, and they did so with a love that was both fierce and unwavering.
As Rakesh grew older, he began to realize that the lessons these women had taught him were more than just words—they were the foundation of his identity, the guiding principles that would shape his journey through life. He was not just their child or grandchild; he was a reflection of their strength, their wisdom, and their love.
And though the river that had nearly taken him still flowed through the village, it no longer filled him with fear. Instead, it reminded him of the powerful connection between the physical and the spiritual, between the seen and the unseen. The river, like the women in his life, was a force that shaped him, guiding him forward on his journey of discovery and self-realization.
Chapter 4: The River's Edge
As Rakesh approached his early adolescence, the restlessness that had always lived just beneath the surface began to intensify. Life in the village, though filled with the comfort of family and the beauty of nature, felt smaller to him now. The world beyond the green paddy fields and thick jungle beckoned him with an irresistible pull. His near-death experience still lingered in his thoughts, not as a haunting memory, but as a mystery he had yet to unravel.
It was a warm afternoon when the events of that fateful day by the river would come full circle, bringing Rakesh face-to-face with the forces that had shaped his early life. The river, which had once nearly claimed him, now seemed to call out to him in a way it hadn’t before. The weight of that memory hung in the air, pressing down on him, and he knew he had to return to the place where it had all happened.
A Day by the River
Rakesh’s friends had gathered, as they often did, with their goats to graze near the riverbank. It was a familiar routine—one that had become part of the rhythm of their lives in the village. The sun was high in the sky, casting long shadows over the land, and the boys moved along the dirt paths with a carefree sense of adventure. Rakesh, however, was quieter than usual. Something about the river unsettled him, though he couldn’t explain why.
As they reached the river, the sound of rushing water filled the air. The river had swollen with recent rains, and its currents moved faster than usual, creating deep pockets of water that were hidden beneath the surface. The boys didn’t seem to notice, laughing and chasing after one another, but Rakesh kept his distance, his gaze fixed on the water.
The memories of his near-drowning flashed before him—the cold shock of the river as it pulled him under, the way his body had gone limp as he surrendered to its power, the strange detachment he had felt as he watched himself from above. It was all still so vivid, as if it had happened only yesterday.
Rakesh stood on the bank, staring at the water, lost in thought. His friends called out to him, urging him to join them, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he inched closer to the edge, his bare feet sinking into the wet earth.
Without warning, his foot slipped.
The Fall
One moment, Rakesh was standing on solid ground, and the next, he was tumbling into the river. His foot had caught on a slick stone, sending him plunging into the deep, fast-moving water. The shock of the cold hit him instantly, stealing the breath from his lungs as the current pulled him under.
Instinctively, Rakesh began to thrash, his arms and legs kicking wildly as he struggled to stay afloat. But the more he fought, the deeper the water seemed to pull him in. The river, once a familiar presence, now felt like a living force, determined to drag him down.
Panic surged through him. He couldn’t swim—he had never learned. His friends’ voices, once clear and playful, faded into the distance as the water engulfed him. He could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, pushing him deeper into its dark embrace.
For a moment, Rakesh’s thoughts became a blur of fear and desperation. He clawed at the water, his lungs burning for air, but there was nothing to hold onto. The river had him now, and it wasn’t letting go.
And then, something strange happened.
The Detachment
In the midst of his struggle, as the last of his strength began to slip away, Rakesh felt a strange calm wash over him. His body, once tense with fear, went still. His arms stopped thrashing, and his legs ceased to kick. It was as though the river had taken not just his breath, but his will to fight.
He let go.
In that moment of surrender, Rakesh felt something extraordinary. His consciousness seemed to rise above his body, drifting away from the physical form that was being pulled under by the current. He was no longer fighting for air, no longer panicking. Instead, he watched from above as his limp body floated in the water, helpless and still.
It was a surreal experience, one that Rakesh couldn’t fully comprehend. He wasn’t afraid anymore. In fact, he felt detached from the situation entirely, as though he were merely an observer, watching someone else’s struggle.
From this strange, otherworldly vantage point, Rakesh saw everything with a clarity that was both startling and peaceful. He could see the sunlight filtering through the water, casting patterns on the riverbed below. He saw his arms and legs floating aimlessly, his body drifting further downstream. But he felt no pain, no fear—only a deep sense of calm.
For a moment, it seemed as though time had stopped. The world around him faded into the background, and all that remained was the stillness of the water and the quiet detachment of his soul.
The Hands of Rescue
And then, just as suddenly as it had happened, something shifted.
Rakesh’s consciousness, once floating above the scene, snapped back into his body with an intensity that jolted him. He could feel the cold water again, feel the weight of it pressing against his chest. But before he could react, he felt something else—something warm and solid.
Hands.
Rough, strong hands were grasping his arms, pulling him back toward the surface. His friend, having noticed Rakesh’s absence, had jumped into the river after him. The hands pulled him up, dragging him through the water and back toward the riverbank.
The world came rushing back into focus as Rakesh’s body was lifted from the water. His lungs heaved, and he coughed violently as water spilled from his mouth. The air burned in his chest, and his vision blurred as he gasped for breath. He could feel the solid ground beneath him, the warmth of the sun on his skin, and the frantic voices of his friends around him.
But even as he lay there, coughing and sputtering, Rakesh’s mind was elsewhere. The memory of that strange detachment—the feeling of floating outside his body—lingered in his thoughts, leaving him shaken and confused.
A Miraculous Survival
The boys gathered around Rakesh, their faces pale with fear. They had all seen what had happened—they had watched as the river nearly took him. But Rakesh, still catching his breath, couldn’t explain what he had just experienced.
For a long while, he lay there, staring up at the sky, trying to make sense of it all. The fear that had gripped him in the water was gone now, replaced by a profound sense of awe. He had come face-to-face with something far greater than himself, something he didn’t fully understand.
It wasn’t just the fact that he had been saved. It was the experience of detaching from his body, of watching himself from above, as though he were both part of the scene and separate from it. It was a feeling that would stay with him for the rest of his life—a reminder that life, fragile as it was, was also full of mystery and wonder.
As his friends helped him to his feet, Rakesh glanced back at the river. It flowed peacefully now, as though nothing had happened. But to Rakesh, it was no longer just a river. It was a force of nature, a symbol of the delicate balance between life and death.
Though he didn’t fully understand what had happened that day, one thing was clear: the river had spared him once again.
Chapter 5: Detached and Reconnected
In the days following his second near-death experience, Rakesh struggled to understand what had happened. His body recovered quickly—he had escaped the river physically unharmed—but his mind was a whirl of confusion and awe. The feeling of detachment he had experienced underwater, watching himself from above, remained imprinted on his memory like an unsolvable riddle. How could he have been floating outside his own body? What did it mean?
The other boys quickly moved on from the event, dismissing it as a close call and returning to their carefree ways. But Rakesh could not shake the sense that something deeper had occurred. He hadn’t just nearly drowned—he had felt himself leave his body, surrendering to the forces of nature in a way that was both terrifying and peaceful.
Restlessness and Reflection
Rakesh found himself returning to the river often, not to swim or play, but to sit on its banks and reflect. He would watch the water flow, remembering the sensation of being pulled under and the strange calm that had followed his initial panic. It had felt as though his very essence had floated free from the physical world, as if, for a brief moment, he was no longer bound to the limitations of his body.
In those quiet moments by the river, Rakesh would close his eyes and try to recapture that feeling of detachment—the sense of being both present and absent, both alive and apart from life. He didn’t fully understand what had happened to him, but he felt sure that it meant something.
For the first time, Rakesh began to ask questions about life and death that went beyond the stories his grandmother Sakuntala had told him. What existed beyond the physical world? What was the nature of the soul? Was there something more that connected all living things, something unseen but powerful?
The questions stirred inside him, unsettling the calm that had once defined his life in the village. There was more to life, Rakesh felt, than what could be seen or touched. The river had shown him that. But how could he explain what he had felt? And who could he turn to for answers?
Conversations with His Mother
Kanxi noticed the change in her son. Since the incident at the river, Rakesh had grown quieter, more introspective. He no longer ran about with the same carefree abandon as the other boys in the village. Instead, he spent long hours alone by the riverbank, his eyes clouded with thought. It worried her, though she did not press him.
One evening, after the sun had set and the village lay under a blanket of stars, Kanxi approached Rakesh as he sat outside their home. She sat beside him, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders to guard against the evening chill.
“Rakesh,” she said softly, her voice full of concern, “you’ve been distant lately. What troubles you?”
Rakesh hesitated, unsure how to explain what he had experienced. How could he put into words something that felt so far beyond the ordinary? He looked at his mother, her kind eyes filled with worry, and felt a pang of guilt for keeping his thoughts to himself.
“I don’t know how to explain it, Amma,” he said finally. “When I fell into the river… it wasn’t like before. I felt myself… leave my body.”
Kanxi’s eyes widened in surprise, but she didn’t interrupt. She listened intently as Rakesh described the feeling of floating outside himself, of watching his body drift in the water as though it belonged to someone else.
“I wasn’t afraid,” Rakesh continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “It was peaceful, almost. Like… I had let go.”
Kanxi took a deep breath, processing her son’s words. She had heard stories of people who had experienced near-death moments, tales of souls leaving their bodies and glimpsing the world beyond. But hearing it from her own son filled her with a mixture of awe and fear.
“I think,” Kanxi said carefully, “that when we are close to death, we sometimes touch something beyond this world. It’s not something we can see or understand, but it’s real. Perhaps the river, in its own way, was showing you that.”
Rakesh frowned, still unsure. “But why me? Why did I feel it?”
Kanxi smiled gently and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Because, my son, you’ve always been different. You’ve felt things more deeply, seen things others don’t. The river didn’t take you because it wasn’t your time. But maybe… maybe it wanted to show you something about life.”
Rakesh felt a deep sense of comfort in his mother’s words, though the questions still lingered. The river, the detachment, the overwhelming sense of calm—it all pointed to something greater, something beyond his understanding. And though he didn’t yet have all the answers, his mother’s belief that the experience was meaningful gave him hope that one day, he would understand.
Seeking Guidance from Grandmother Sakuntala
The next day, as Rakesh sat by the fire with his grandmother Sakuntala, he felt the need to speak to her about what had happened. If anyone could make sense of his experience, he thought, it would be her. She had lived a long life, filled with stories of gods and spirits, and she had a way of explaining the mysteries of the world in a way that made sense.
“Aabai,” Rakesh began hesitantly, “have you ever heard of someone… leaving their body? Like their soul was outside of them?”
Sakuntala paused in her weaving, her sharp eyes focusing on her grandson. “You speak of something very rare,” she said slowly. “A soul leaving the body is not something that happens to everyone. It’s a sign that you’ve touched the edge of the spirit world.”
Rakesh leaned forward, eager for more answers. “But why did it happen to me? And why did I come back?”
Sakuntala smiled, a knowing smile that hinted at wisdom beyond words. “The spirit world is always close, Rakesh. Closer than you think. Sometimes, when we are on the edge of life and death, our soul leaves the body and visits that world. It’s not for us to know why it happens, but it is a gift. You were given a glimpse of something most people never see.”
Rakesh frowned. “But why didn’t I stay there? Why did I come back?”
“Because it wasn’t your time,” Sakuntala said simply. “The river may have wanted you, but your soul knew you had more to do in this world. That’s why you came back.”
Her words resonated with Rakesh in a way he hadn’t expected. The experience, the detachment, the calm—it was all part of something bigger. The river hadn’t taken him because his time on earth wasn’t finished. There was something more waiting for him, something he hadn’t yet discovered.
“You were given a gift,” Sakuntala continued, her voice low and serious. “You’ve seen the world beyond this one. But that doesn’t mean you should seek it out again. Your place is here, with us, for now. When the time is right, the spirits will call you back.”
A New Understanding
In the weeks that followed, Rakesh came to accept that his experience with the river was something he might never fully understand. But he no longer felt burdened by the questions that had once weighed so heavily on his mind. His mother’s belief that the experience was meaningful and his grandmother’s wisdom about the spirit world gave him a sense of peace.
He understood now that life was more than just the physical world. There was a connection between the living and the spiritual, between the seen and the unseen, and he had touched that connection, if only for a brief moment. The detachment he had felt in the river was not a sign of weakness or surrender—it was a glimpse into a greater truth.
And though Rakesh still didn’t know what his future held, he knew one thing for certain: he had been spared for a reason. The river had let him go, not once but twice, and that meant something. What that something was, he didn’t yet know. But he felt sure that, in time, life would reveal it to him.
The Road Ahead
As Rakesh continued to grow, the questions of life and death, of the physical and spiritual, became part of the foundation of his worldview. He no longer feared the unknown. Instead, he approached it with curiosity and respect, knowing that there was much more to life than what he could see or understand.
The river, which had once filled him with fear, now served as a reminder of the delicate balance between life and death, between the body and the soul. It had shown him that sometimes, letting go—detaching from the struggle—was the only way to find peace.
Rakesh knew that his journey was far from over. In fact, it had only just begun.
Chapter 6: Revival and Renewal
As time passed, Rakesh’s second near-death experience faded from the forefront of his mind, but the lessons it had imparted remained embedded in his soul. Life in the village carried on, the seasons shifting from the heat of summer to the cool, crisp air of autumn, and Rakesh’s daily routine returned to normal. Yet, something within him had undeniably changed.
The river, which had once been a place of danger and fear, had transformed into a symbol of life’s unpredictability. It had shown Rakesh the thin veil that separated life and death, the world of the physical and the world of the unseen. Now, as he moved through the rhythm of village life, Rakesh carried with him a deeper understanding of the forces that shaped his existence.
This new awareness came with both curiosity and a quiet determination to live with purpose. He knew that his life had been spared for a reason—twice, the river had let him go—and that realization gave him a growing sense of responsibility. He couldn’t yet see the full path ahead of him, but he knew that his life was meant for something more than the routine of village life. And though he didn’t have all the answers, he was ready to embrace whatever life had in store.
A Quiet Transformation
Rakesh’s transformation was subtle, but noticeable to those who knew him well. His mother,Kanxi, could see it in the way he carried himself—more thoughtful, more deliberate, as though he was constantly reflecting on something deep within. His grandmother,Sakuntala, sensed it in his questions, which had grown more philosophical, more curious about the mysteries of life and death. And Ganga, his great-grandmother, watched with quiet approval as Rakesh became more attuned to the world around him, more resilient in the face of life’s challenges.
While his friends remained content with the daily rhythms of village life—playing by the river, helping with the harvest, tending to the goats—Rakesh began to seek something beyond the familiar. The village, though filled with love and comfort, felt small to him now. He felt a pull toward something greater, something unknown.
Often, Rakesh would find himself drawn to the riverbank, where he would sit for hours, watching the water flow and reflecting on the events of his life. The river, which had once been a source of fear, now seemed like a trusted companion. It flowed steadily, sometimes calm, sometimes fierce, but always forward—just as life did.
As Rakesh sat by the river, he would think back to the moments when he had felt his soul detach from his body, when he had let go of the physical world and drifted into a place of peace. It was a sensation that had both frightened and intrigued him, and though he no longer feared death, he remained captivated by the mystery of it.
“Life is like the river,” he mused one day, watching the current ripple over the rocks. “It never stops moving, even when we don’t know where it’s taking us.”
The thought brought him comfort. The river’s constant flow reminded him that life, too, had a direction, even if he couldn’t yet see it clearly. The experiences he had endured—the near-death moments, the detachment from his body, the strange sense of peace—were all part of the greater journey he was on. And while the path ahead remained uncertain, Rakesh was no longer afraid.
A Sense of Purpose
As Rakesh entered his teenage years, the quiet transformation within him became more pronounced. He began to take on more responsibilities around the village, helping his father with the harvest and working alongside his mother to care for their home. But even as he fulfilled his duties, Rakesh felt a growing sense of purpose beyond the confines of the village.
One afternoon, as he worked in the fields with his father, Rakesh paused to wipe the sweat from his brow. The sun was high in the sky, casting long shadows over the golden rice stalks. His father, Kuber, noticed the faraway look in his son’s eyes and stopped his work.
“You’ve been quiet lately,”Kuber said, his voice filled with the concern of a father who knows his child is searching for something more. “What’s on your mind, Rakesh?”
Rakesh hesitated, unsure of how to explain the restlessness that had taken root inside him. He loved his family, and he was grateful for the life they had built in the village. But something deeper was calling him, something that went beyond the fields, the river, and the routine of village life.
“I feel like… I’m meant for something more,” Rakesh said slowly, his gaze drifting toward the horizon. “Like there’s something I need to do, but I don’t know what it is yet.”
Kuber nodded thoughtfully. He had sensed this in his son for some time—the growing desire to explore the world beyond the village, to find his own path. It was a feeling Kuber understood, though he had chosen a different life for himself. He had found contentment in the village, in the simple yet fulfilling life of a farmer, but he knew that his son was different.
“There’s no rush to find your purpose,” Kuber said gently. “Life will reveal it to you when the time is right. But don’t ignore that feeling, Rakesh. It’s there for a reason.”
Rakesh nodded, grateful for his father’s understanding. Though he didn’t yet know where his journey would take him, he felt reassured by his father’s words. The sense of purpose that had been stirring inside him was real, and it was leading him toward something important.
A Conversation with Sakuntala
Later that evening, as the family gathered around the fire for their evening meal, Rakesh found himself seated next to his grandmother, Sakuntala. She had always been a source of wisdom for him, and her stories of gods, spirits, and the unseen world had shaped his understanding of life in ways he hadn’t fully appreciated until now.
As they ate in comfortable silence Sakuntala glanced at her grandson and smiled. “You’ve got that look again,” she said, her voice teasing but kind.
“What look?” Rakesh asked, raising an eyebrow.
“The one that says you’ve got more questions than answers,” Sakuntala replied with a chuckle. “What’s troubling you?”
Rakesh hesitated, unsure of how to explain the feeling of restlessness that had been growing inside him. But Sakuntala had always been a safe place for him to share his thoughts, and so he took a deep breath and spoke.
“Nani, do you ever feel like… like there’s something you’re supposed to do, but you don’t know what it is yet?” he asked, his voice tentative.
Sakuntala’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “All the time,” she said. “That’s part of life, Rakesh. We don’t always know what our purpose is right away. Sometimes, it takes time to reveal itself.”
Rakesh nodded, though he still felt uncertain. “But what if I never find it? What if I’m just… waiting?”
Sakuntala placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch warm and reassuring. “You won’t be waiting forever. Life has a way of guiding us where we need to go, even when we can’t see the path. Just trust that you’ll find your way when the time is right.”
Her words brought a sense of peace to Rakesh’s troubled heart. He had always admired his grandmother’s wisdom, and hearing her speak so confidently about the journey of life gave him hope. Perhaps he didn’t need to know everything right now. Perhaps it was enough to trust that the answers would come in time.
A Growing Sense of Direction
As the weeks turned into months, Rakesh continued to wrestle with the feeling of restlessness that had taken hold of him. He was grateful for his family, for the love and support they provided, but the desire to explore the world beyond the village grew stronger each day.
Rakesh began to dream of what lay beyond the mountains that framed their village. He imagined the vastness of the world, the cities he had heard about in passing, and the people he had yet to meet. The stories his grandmother had told him about faraway lands and ancient gods only fueled his curiosity.
The river, too, seemed to call to him in a different way now. It no longer represented danger or fear. Instead, it felt like a reminder of the journey that lay ahead—a journey that would take him far from the village and into the unknown. The river, with its ever-flowing current, symbolized the path of life, always moving forward, always carrying him toward something greater.
And so, as the seasons changed once again, Rakesh made a silent vow to himself: he would follow the river’s call. He didn’t know where it would lead him or what challenges lay ahead, but he was ready to embrace the journey.
He had been spared by the river for a reason. Now, it was time to discover what that reason was.
A New Chapter Begins
As Rakesh stood on the riverbank one last time before the onset of winter, he looked out at the water with a sense of anticipation. His childhood had been filled with love, wonder, and the lessons of those who had come before him. But now, he was ready to step into a new chapter of his life—a chapter that would take him beyond the familiar and into the unknown.
The river’s flow, constant and unyielding, reminded him that life never stood still. It was always moving, always changing. And Rakesh knew that it was time for him to do the same.
With the strength of his family’s love and the wisdom of the women who had shaped him, Rakesh set his sights on the horizon. He didn’t know where his journey would take him, but he was ready.
For the first time in his life, Rakesh felt truly alive.
To be Continued with the flow……. SUBSCRIBE/FOLLOW AND STAY CONNECTED.
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