Chapter 4: The Memory Beyond Time

As Adi shut his eyes beneath the Peepal tree, something stirred deep within him—not in his mind, nor in his body, but in his very soul. A wave of remembrance, ancient and vast, surged through him, unraveling memories that had never been imprinted in his brain or flesh, but rather woven into the fabric of his existence.

It was unlike any memory he had ever recalled. It was not his childhood, nor the faces of his past lives, nor even the fleeting recollections of love and loss. No, this was something far older—something beyond himself.

A billion lifetimes' worth of knowledge lay dormant within him, locked away, unseen, untapped. Now, for reasons unknown, fragments of it began to surface. And what he remembered—he could scarcely believe.

He saw civilizations lost to time, worlds that no longer existed. He saw gods walking the earth, deities not confined to temples and scriptures but present, real, divine. He saw the wicked rise, their power unchallenged, their cruelty endless. He saw warriors of righteousness rise to meet them, wielding weapons not forged by mortal hands but by forces beyond comprehension.

He saw the earth soaked in rivers of blood, wars waged between the forces of light and darkness. He saw avatars descend, the eternal balance shifting with their presence. He witnessed an age where the divine and the mortal were not separate—where the veil between worlds was thin, and the cosmic dance of dharma played out on the soil of the earth itself.

"But is this my memory?" he wondered. "Or is it something else? A universal memory? Something transmitted to me by unknown means?"

He did not know. And perhaps, he was never meant to know.

Yet within these revelations, one truth became clear—his choice. A choice made long ago, beyond time, beyond life, beyond even death itself.

He saw himself, not as a child beneath the Peepal tree, not as a professor or a wanderer, but as something beyond his mortal selves. He stood before something vast, something infinite. And a question was asked of him.

"Do you seek eternal liberation?"

"Or do you choose the path to the divine?"

There had been no hesitation. He had chosen his path without doubt, without regret. And now, this endless cycle—these infinite lives, these countless deaths—this was his reward.

But now, something had changed. This much memory had been retrieved. A glimpse into the past, a sliver of the truth.

Perhaps, just perhaps—he now had a way to break the cycle.