"why does it feel like i know you....?" meera's voice trembles with confusion, completely oblivious to our past over the eras.
i smile, knowing more than she could ever guess. "maybe some connections go beyond time and memory."
...
I feel it before I hear it—a pull, subtle, like a thread tugging at my very soul. And then it comes—faint at first, but unmistakable. A call. A prayer. A plea for help—for protection.
The words, so faint yet so full of devotion and belief amidst the fear, are so strong that even the meditation as deep and long as mine could be wavered.
It has been centuries since I chose this mountaintop (now as they call it mount shasta) to make my sanctuary, a place where time feels still. I have waited here—waiting for the time when I would be needed again. When my Lord calls, I will rise, ready to fulfill whatever role is necessary, to aid in the work of Lord Vishnu through His many avatars.
I have lived through the rise and fall of empires, witnessed the dance of Yugas, and seen the world transform in ways too vast to fathom. Yet this—this call—is different.
More than infinity itself, I have heard cries to my Lord Hanuman from the world, but never has such devotion echoed through the air. This cry—it is not for Him, it is for me... but why? The plea has not reached me through the usual channels. It is as if my very soul has been woven into this call, binding me to this moment. Why now? Why has this cry chosen me?
I hold my stillness, feeling the weight of the question hang in the air. I have meditated for so long, my thoughts a silent ocean, but now... now, a ripple stirs.
My journey began long ago, when I was a warrior, like so many others in Bharat. But I had no true purpose. I was fierce and skilled with weapons, but I lacked something—a deeper understanding of my place in the grand scheme of things. And then, one fateful day, I crossed into the Dandaka Forest.
The call of righteousness was strong, and so I took up my weapons, ready to face any challenge that came. I did not know that it was not just a battle of strength, but a battle of hearts—one that would bind me forever to the divine will. In those forests, I saw a figure unlike any I had seen before. Tall, regal, His eyes burning with a divine fire that could set the world alight. His name was Ram, the seventh incarnation of Vishnu, the one who would vanquish the demon king Ravana and restore dharma to the world.
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