Chapter 3: A Mind Beyond Months
February 1976 – June 1976
Singh Family Home, Aminabad, Lucknow, India
By the time Bharat was two months old, the city of Lucknow had begun to warm. Winter's cold sigh gave way to soft sunlight, and the Singh home was alive with laughter, footsteps, and the rhythmic melody of a joint family filled with love.
But inside the smallest member of the household stirred a quiet storm—a storm of memory, of purpose, of ancient echoes now awakening again.
Bharat's Inner Voice – Born Again, But Not Forgotten
"This body is new, but my soul is not. I've lived before. I've loved before. I've failed before."
"This time, I will not."
Lying in his soft cradle beneath the ceiling fan, he listened not like a baby—but like someone watching the world from behind a glass curtain. Every voice, every sound, every scent—he memorized.
"They cannot know yet. I must grow slowly… but with purpose. Because I love them too much to frighten them."
Maa's Wonder – Vandana's Quiet Questions
Each morning, Vandana (Maa) would place him gently on a white cotton sheet near the courtyard. Her hands, still tired from sleepless nights, lovingly adjusted the folds of his blanket.
One day, she whispered, brushing his tiny forehead,
"Beta… tu itna shaant kyun hai?"
("My son… why are you so quiet?")
She leaned close. "Don't you want to cry? Or laugh? Or babble like other babies?"
Bharat simply blinked up at her.
"I cry not because I must—but when I choose to. I want you to feel peace in me, Maa. You deserve peace."
She smiled at his silence. "You're not an ordinary child," she murmured. "Kuch toh alag hai..." ("There is something different about you...")
Chacha Arjun – The Silent Soldier
Arjun, the eldest chacha (uncle), had returned home for a short leave from the NDA (National Defence Academy). His body had changed—sharper, more defined—but the moment he picked up Bharat, his heart softened.
Kneeling beside him, he said quietly,
"Chhote sainik, ready ho?"
("Little soldier, are you ready?")
Bharat's eyes met his uncle's, unwavering.
Arjun turned to Vandana and said, "He doesn't flinch. He's alert. Most infants shy away from movement or light—he tracks them."
Vandana chuckled. "Yeh toh baba banega, sainik nahi."
("He'll become a saint, not a soldier.")
Arjun smiled faintly. "Maybe both."
"Chacha… I will learn your discipline. One day, I too will protect something sacred."
Chacha Raghav – Laughter's Best Friend
Raghav, the second chacha (uncle), treated Bharat like a secret game partner. Every day after finishing work at the textile shop, he'd rush in loudly:
"Bharat baba! Tera Raghav chacha aaya!"
("Little Bharat! Your Uncle Raghav is here!")
He made faces, sang nonsense songs, bounced him playfully, and whistled tunes with exaggerated flair.
One afternoon, while tickling Bharat's feet, he whispered:
"Sach bata… kya tu sach mein baccha hai? Ya koi chhota raja jo iss badan mein chhupa hai?"
("Tell me honestly… are you really a baby? Or a little king hiding in this body?")
Bharat grinned—just a hint.
Raghav gasped, clutching his chest. "I knew it!"
"Yes, Chacha. I hide because I must. But your laughter makes this life feel warm again."
Bua Pooja – The Whispering Star
Pooja, Bharat's seventeen-year-old bua (paternal aunt), had become his daily companion. She read aloud from her biology books while rocking him on her lap.
"Tum mere saath padho, Bharat," she'd say.
("You study with me, Bharat.")
"Doctor banoge na?"
("You'll become a doctor, won't you?")
Bharat listened—not just to her voice, but to the patterns of the words, the kindness in her tone, the dreams behind her eyes.
Some afternoons, she would switch to storytelling:
"Ram ji vanvaas gaye, aur unke saath Lakshman bhaiya aur Sita mata bhi gaye. Par Hanuman sabse vishwasniya the."
("Lord Ram went into exile, and with him went brother Lakshman and Sita Mata. But Hanuman was the most loyal of all.")
"You remember, don't you, Bua? You once held me when I was broken. I chose to be near you again."
She'd often whisper into his ear, "Kabhi kabhi lagta hai tu mujhe sun raha hai."
("Sometimes it feels like you're really listening to me.")
He was.
Determined Steps – A Will Stronger Than Legs
By the time Bharat turned five months, he was already trying to lift himself on his elbows, then on his knees. Each attempt ended in a fall, a grunt, or a sideways tumble—but he never gave up.
Ajay (Pitaji) watched in awe. "He's not just growing. He's preparing."
Raghav said jokingly, "Lagta hai Olympic race ki training chal rahi hai."
("Looks like he's training for the Olympics!")
But Bharat's mind was set.
"Most children walk at twelve months. I will walk at seven. Not because I must—but because I promised myself I would."
Evenings of Flame and Faith
As dusk spread over Lucknow and temple bells rang through the lanes of Aminabad, the Singh family lit their small mandir (temple) each evening.
A brass diya flickered before idols of Ram, Lakshman, Sita, and Hanumanji. The fragrance of agarbatti (incense sticks) wafted through the house.
Bharat was always brought forward to the pooja. Saraswati (Dadi) would mark his forehead with sandalwood paste and say,
"Nazar na lage mere Lalla ko."
("May the evil eye never fall on my little one.")
Ajay would whisper:
"Lord Ram stood for Dharma, Hanuman for devotion, and Krishna for wisdom. In you, I see all three."
"I remember. I was once their follower. Now, I must become their example."
Dadaji Devendra's Blessing
Late one night, Devendra (Dadaji) stood silently beside Bharat's cradle, as everyone else slept.
He touched the child's chest gently.
"Tu alag hai, beta. Iss ghar mein ek nayi roshni leke aaya hai."
("You are different, my son. You've brought a new light into this house.")
He looked out the window, his voice trembling. "Humne desh ke liye ladha. Humne sab kuchh dekha. Par tere jaisa chehra… kabhi nahi dekha."
("We fought for the country. We've seen everything. But never a face like yours.")
"Because I came back, Dadaji… for you. To continue what was left incomplete."
Tears of Mischief – Bharat's Little Drama
Sometimes, Bharat cried only to get attention—especially from Bua Pooja. He would stretch his lips, let out a dramatic cry, and wait.
Pooja rushed in,
"Arey! Kya ho gaya mere chhote Raja ko?"
("What happened to my little prince?")
The moment she picked him up—he smiled.
"Badmaash!" she laughed. "Nautanki karta hai!"
("You little troublemaker! Such drama!")
"Because your arms feel like home, Bua."
Conclusion – The Quiet Fire Within
As Bharat crossed six months, everyone in the family began to feel a strange truth—this child was not ordinary.
He was still learning to speak, still struggling to stand—but in his gaze was a memory older than time, and in his silence, a promise stronger than words.
Each night, as the city of Lucknow dimmed under a blanket of stars and the fan spun lazily above him, Bharat would look up at the sky and whisper within:
"I was given another chance. I will walk early. I will learn deeply. I will carry them forward—not just in name, but in spirit."
The journey had begun.