What if the Mahabharata wasn't just a story of the past... but a fate waiting to be rewritten?

Parth, a young man of 2071, wakes up in an ancient world of kings and destinies, only to realize he is Arjun—the legendary Pandava reborn. Haunted by future knowledge and aching with memories from another life, Parth walks the line between myth and man, duty and desire. But this Mahabharata is not the one he studied. The characters are the same—but the choices are his to change.

Can war be stopped before it begins?
Can family heal across lifetimes?
Can a modern soul carry the weight of an eternal dharma?

From royal courts and battlefield prophecies to secret riverbank meetings and stolen heartbeats, this is a reimagining of the epic where Karna learns the truth, Draupadi stands taller, Subhadra chooses her siblings, and Satyavati returns as a grandmother watching history fold into fate once more.

A story of rebirth, redemption, and remembering who you were — and who you choose to become.

The air was heavier than it should have been.


Aarav walked briskly past the old lab building, checking his watch. He hated how quiet the campus got after ten. It was too large, too shadowed. The kind of silence that pressed into your bones.


He muttered under his breath, "Should've gone to the bell tower in daylight."


His EMF detector blinked erratically in his jacket pocket. He tapped it.


"Broken," he scoffed. "Just like everything else in this place."


Battery drained from 43% to black in a heartbeat. A single crow shrieked from somewhere near the library roof.


The hairs on his arms stood up. The corridor ahead shimmered—like heatwaves on concrete. A blur of something just beyond comprehension.


No face. Too tall. Bones bending where they shouldn't. And a sound—like thousands of whispering tongues.


Parth sprinted like instinct had yanked his soul out of his chest.


One moment, he was looking at Neel's latest danava sketch in the library. The next, something inside him pulled. A wave of dread hit him like a fist, and he just knew—


Neel looked up from his sketchpad. "I know. South wing."


Pinned to the wall, a thick black limb clawed across his neck. Not touching, but pressing—like a weight from a dimension that didn't belong.


> "He is awake," it whispered. "He remembers the war."


Its form kept shifting—teeth, metal, smoke, nothing.


Parth collided into the creature, bare hands glowing faintly. Not with fire. But with something deeper—ancestral. Ancient.


The danava let out a cry that bent the air around them. It twisted, pulling into itself—but Parth grabbed it.


He didn't even think. No bow. No arrows.


Parth stood above him, eyes wide. His palms were smoking slightly. His pulse thundered in his ears.


> "You… you touched it. And it—vanished."


Neel reached them seconds later. His eyes darted from the soot on the floor to Parth's hands.


> "I didn't have time to. It was instinct."


> "It was real. I saw it. I… I thought I was going to die."


Then Neel sat down beside them and said, deadpan—


> "So. Ghost demon thing tried to kill you. Parth turned into a divine pressure cooker. Thoughts?"


Aarav laughed—shakily, bordering on tears.


They all sat there in the dark, breathing, the air slowly returning to normal.


But nothing would ever be normal again.


Chapter 64 - Divine pressure cooker