A Morning That Felt Like a Lifetime,The First Steps of a New Future

Mumbai, June 6, 1980 – 8:00 AM

Arjun sat at the wooden dining table, his fingers gently pressing against the warm surface of the plate. The aroma of freshly made aloo parathas, rich with ghee, mixed with the earthy scent of the morning air. The sound of the radio playing Binaca Geetmala blended with the rustling of his father's newspaper, the occasional honk of a passing car filtering in through the open windows.

It was so… familiar.

Yet, so impossibly distant from the life he had once lived.

His mother moved around the small kitchen, her bangles jingling as she poured hot masala chai into a stainless steel glass. That sound. It had been years—decades, even—since he had last heard it.

"Beta, you're just staring at the food. Eat before it gets cold," she chided, placing the steaming glass of tea beside his plate.

Arjun exhaled softly, nodding. He picked up a piece of paratha and took another bite. The crisp outer layer, the perfectly spiced potato filling, the hint of green chilies and coriander—it was comfort, warmth, nostalgia, and love all in one bite.

His mother sat down across from him, her soft brown eyes watching him carefully. "Are you feeling okay today? You seem… quiet."

Arjun glanced up from his plate. The worry in her eyes made his chest ache. In his past life, he had been too busy, too caught up in his own struggles to notice how often his mother looked at him like this. How often she had worried about him.

"I'm fine, Maa," he said softly.

She didn't seem entirely convinced, but she let it go, reaching for the bowl of mango pickle on the table. "Take some achar," she said, spooning a small portion onto his plate. "It's fresh. Your Dadi made it last month."

Arjun froze.

His grandmother.

Alive.

She had passed away in 1994, when he was just a child in his past life. He barely had clear memories of her—just faint images of an elderly woman with silver hair, wearing a faded cotton saree, sitting on a wooden stool in the balcony, telling him stories of her youth.

But now… she was still here.

His hands tightened around his plate for a moment before he forced himself to relax. He had to hold it together. He couldn't break down now.

He reached for the pickle and took a small bite. The tangy, spicy taste hit his tongue—homemade, sun-dried, just like he remembered.

His mother smiled in approval. "Good boy."

Dinesh Mehta, his father, cleared his throat and lowered the newspaper slightly. "You have college today, don't you?"

Arjun swallowed his bite, nodding. "Yes, Baba."

His father gave a small hum, adjusting his glasses. "Good. Study well. Engineering is not easy. You need to work hard if you want to build a future for yourself."

Arjun froze for a fraction of a second.

Engineering.

That's right. In this timeline, he was an 18-year-old college student, enrolled in an engineering program.

He had completely forgotten.

In his past life, he had studied business and finance. But now… he was back in his younger body, with a completely different academic path ahead of him.

But did he really want to follow that path again?

He knew exactly how the stock market would evolve. He had 45 years of financial knowledge that could make him richer than anyone in the country. Engineering wasn't necessary for him anymore. He had bigger plans now—plans that would change history itself.

Still, he couldn't just blurt that out. He needed to play the role of his younger self for now.

"I will, Baba," he said carefully.

His father gave a small nod of approval before returning to his newspaper.

Arjun took a sip of the chai his mother had placed beside his plate. The heat, the spice of ginger and cardamom, the slight bitterness of the tea leaves—it was perfect.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, savoring it.

"How long has it been since I had a morning like this?"

In his past life, he had been too caught up in the rush of adulthood. Breakfast had been quick bites of toast and instant coffee, consumed while reading emails on his phone. There had been no slow mornings, no conversations, no warmth of a family meal.

Now, he had it all again.

And this time… he wouldn't take it for granted.

8:30 AM – Getting Ready for College

After finishing breakfast, Arjun stood up, stretching slightly. His mother was already collecting the empty plates, moving with the practiced ease of someone who had done this for years.

"Maa, I can wash these."

She blinked, looking at him in surprise. "You? Washing dishes?"

His father let out a low chuckle from behind his newspaper. "Looks like our son has suddenly become responsible today."

Arjun smiled faintly. "Just trying to help."

His mother waved a hand dismissively. "Go get ready for college. You'll miss your bus."

Bus. Right.

There were no Ubers, no metro trains. Just the crowded, chaotic BEST buses of Mumbai.

Arjun turned to leave, but his mother's voice stopped him.

"Arre, wait." She hurried toward the cupboard near the kitchen and pulled out a stainless steel tiffin box. "Your lunch."

She placed it in his hands, her face warm with affection. "Don't eat outside food all the time. It's not good for your health."

Arjun's throat tightened again. She always used to pack him lunch when he was younger. In his past life, as he grew older, he had stopped taking it—choosing instead to eat at college canteens or restaurants with friends.

And now, after so many years, she was doing it again.

"Thank you, Maa," he said quietly.

She smiled. "Go, go. And be careful!"

With the tiffin in hand, Arjun stepped out of the house, his mind racing.

He was now stepping into the real world of 1980s Mumbai.

The world was different. No internet. No smartphones. No modern luxuries. But he had knowledge that no one else did.

And he was about to use it to reshape history.