Writter:- Shiva the great, Shiv kumar
Part 1: upside down
Mohit was a quiet, observant boy, filled with wonder and curiosity. He lived in a small colony. His best friend, Punit, was his partner-in-crime—clever, a little wild, and always the one with the daring ideas. The two were inseparable.
At the age of 7, Mohit was just an ordinary boy with an extraordinary crush on a girl named Kritika, or as he fondly called her, Kannu. . She was a bit rude, always tossing attitude, but for Mohit, her smirks and sharp comebacks only made her more special. He loved the way her braid bounced when she walked, the way she argued with teachers, and even how she rolled her eyes at him.
One lazy summer afternoon, while the boys sat on Punit's terrace, Mohit was lost in thought, sketching Kritika's name inside a heart on a notebook.
Punit peeked over. "Is this the same Kritika who you see every day?"
Mohit blushed. "I... was just writing like that."
"Just like that?" Punit laughed. "You're writing a full love letter!"
That evening, Punit did what only a true friend would do—he wrote a full confession script for Mohit.
"These lines you need to say in front of her. Tomorrow, after school," he grinned.
Mohit gulped. "I won't be able to do it..."
Punit slapped his back. "You will. If you don't say it, I'll go and say it for you!"
The next day, after school, Punit cornered Mohit with a serious face. "This is your final chance. Kritika is still tying her shoes. Go, be the hero."
Mohit walked up to her, holding the notebook in his sweaty hand. Kritika looked up.
"Yes?" she said, raising an eyebrow.
Mohit opened his mouth. The words Punit wrote were perfect. But nothing came out. His body stiffened, his heart hammered against his chest, and all he could do was stare—completely frozen.
Kritika frowned, tilting her head. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Mohit stammered, "I… I just wanted to… uh…". Words failed him, and instead of saying "I like you," all that came out was, "Abalalikiu."
"Are you okay?" she asked, slightly annoyed.
Before he could say anything, she rolled her eyes and walked off.
From a distance, Punit facepalmed so hard it echoed.
The First Blackout
Later that week, Mohit was sitting in his tuition class, bored out of his mind as the teacher explained basic math. As he blinked slowly, something strange happened.
When he opened his eyes…
He wasn't in class anymore.
He was outside his house, standing in the garden near the gate, with no memory of walking out. He felt dizzy, lost, and confused. He looked around—his tuition bag was gone. He ran back home.
His parents were shocked when he said he didn't remember anything from the last ten minutes.
They thought he was making excuses, trying to avoid tuition. But Mohit knew… something was wrong.
His mind had gone blank. Completely blank.
The Second Blackout
Exactly a month later, the second episode occurred.
Mohit's parents were in the kitchen preparing dinner when they realized he had vanished. After frantic searching, they found him on the fifth floor of their building, standing in front of a wooden desk. A diary lay open on the table, filled with scribbled names of companies—future company names—and profits.
Mohit was staring at it, frozen, eyes wide.
"Mohit!" his mother shouted.
He looked up, dazed. "How did I get here?"
The diary slipped from his hands. He didn't remember climbing the stairs. He didn't remember opening the book.
Again—his memory was gone.
Terrified, his parents rushed him to a psychiatrist. The doctor suggested close observation and warned them that if it happened again then we have to observe him for a week.
The Third Blackout
It was a regular day.
Mohit, now 8 years old, sat quietly in his classroom, attending a science lecture. The teacher was explaining how light takes around eight minutes to travel from the sun to the Earth—something that fascinated Mohit deeply. He rested his chin on his palm, eyes wide with curiosity as the class went on.
And then… he blinked.
When he opened his eyes, the classroom was gone.
He found himself standing on the side of a road. It wasn't near his school, and it wasn't right next to Kritika's house either—but it was a place he recognized. A familiar street, not too far, not too close to her home.
His eyes wandered—and then froze.
Kritika was lying there, on the road.
Blood was spreading beneath her like a growing shadow. Her body was twisted, broken—especially her lower half. A truck stood nearby, its front dented, people yelling around it. But all Mohit could see was her.
He didn't understand what was happening. He didn't know how he got there.
He just ran.
Mohit dashed across the road, knelt beside her, and screamed her name. He could barely speak. With trembling arms, he picked her up and rushed to the nearest hospital, not stopping, not thinking, just crying and begging for help.
The doctors took her inside. Her parents arrived. His parents arrived.
The doctor came out and said in a calm but heavy voice, "Her lower body is crushed. She will never walk again. And… she won't be able to bear children."
Mohit stood still. The words didn't make sense to him yet—but he could feel the weight of them crushing his chest.
Later that night, his parents took him to the psychiatrist. He couldn't stop shaking. He couldn't speak. For one full week, he stayed under psychiatric observation.
He didn't know how or why it happened.
All he knew was that he saw the girl he loved broken… and he couldn't do anything to stop it.
And that shock gives him a memory loss now he forgets everything except the accident. He didn't remember abouts blackout or anything.
Part 2: The Proposal and the Challenge
Mohit and Punit, both having scored top marks in their school exams, were accepted into one of the best science colleges in the country. The excitement of this achievement filled the air as they set foot in their new college, ready to explore the world of advanced science and make a mark in their respective fields.
During this time, Kritika was also in college, though in a different one. She still moved around in a wheelchair, with the help of her friends. Mohit had kept in touch with her, and despite the challenges she faced, they grew closer. As time passed, Mohit realized that he couldn't live without her. He had always been in love with her, and now, as they entered their college lives, he knew it was the right moment.
One afternoon, as Mohit was walking across campus, he spotted Kritika being helped by her friend toward the cafeteria. She was always the same—strong, yet vulnerable, with that warm smile that had captivated him all those years ago. Mohit, taking a deep breath, made his way toward her.
When he reached her, he didn't hesitate. "Kritika," he started, "I know we've been through a lot together, and I've loved you for as long as I can remember. Will you marry me?"
Kritika looked up, her eyes wide with surprise. She paused for a moment, her lips trembling slightly. Then she smiled softly and nodded. "Yes, Mohit. I've waited for this moment, too."
For the next three to four years, they were inseparable. Mohit became a scientist, working tirelessly to develop groundbreaking innovations in his field. Kritika supported him, as always, even though she still faced the struggles of living with her disability. Together, they grew stronger, and their bond deepened. The love they shared was something they both cherished dearly.
After graduating, Mohit decided it was time to take the next step in their relationship. He had already planned his future with Kritika, and the only thing left was to officially propose to her. He gathered his courage and, one evening, after a long discussion about their lives ahead, he knelt down and asked her once again, "Kritika, will you marry me?"
However, Kritika, with a serious look in her eyes, replied, "Yes, but there's something I need from you. You have to talk to my father. He has to approve of our marriage."
Mohit was taken aback but agreed. He had always known that Kritika's father was a strict man, but he wasn't prepared for what awaited him. The very next day, he made his way to Kritika's house, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst.
When he arrived, Kritika's father, a man in his 50's, greeted him with a cold expression. There was no warmth in his eyes as he invited Mohit inside. The conversation began civilly, but soon, it took a harsh turn.
"What are your intentions toward my daughter?" Kritika's father asked, his voice stern. "What do you want to do with her? She can't even walk. She's not capable of having children. She's nothing but a burden. What are you thinking, marrying her?"
Mohit's heart raced, and his anger bubbled up. He couldn't believe the cruel words coming from the man who was supposed to be a father figure. But before he could say anything, the words slipped out—an uncontrollable surge of emotion.
Without warning, Mohit stood up and punched Kritika's father in the face. The impact stunned both men, and for a moment, the room was filled with tense silence.
Kritika's father, wiping the blood from his lip, looked at Mohit, but instead of anger, a faint smile crept onto his face. He straightened his posture and said, "You've passed. You can marry her."
Shocked and breathless, Mohit stood there, trying to process what had just happened. Kritika's father wasn't angry; he had been testing Mohit to see if he truly loved his daughter.
After becoming a scientist they married with their parents permission and lived a happy life.
Part 3: The Time Travel Experiment
Years passed, and the curiosity about time travel slowly consumed Mohit and Punit. Both had become scientists in the field of rocket science, but the idea of time travel never left their minds. It was something that haunted them, a puzzle that seemed impossible to solve.
One evening, while having a casual chit-chat with his colleagues at work, Mohit couldn't keep his thoughts to himself anymore. "You know," he began, "the light from the Sun takes around 8 minutes to reach Earth. But our thoughts, they travel instantly, don't they? The mind can think about anything and immediately it's there. It got me thinking—what if something that has mass can't travel through time, but thoughts are weightless? Is it possible to create a machine that can travel in time, just like how thoughts can travel instantly?"
The room was silent for a moment, and then everyone burst into laughter. "What are you talking about, Mohit? Traveling through time like a thought?" one of his colleagues mocked. They all laughed it off, brushing it off as another one of his eccentric ideas. But there was one person who didn't laugh—Punit.
He looked at Mohit seriously, as if he understood the weight of his words. "You really believe in this, don't you?" Punit asked, his voice full of curiosity. Mohit nodded, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
That night, the two friends sat in the basement of Mohit's house, away from prying eyes. They had made a decision: they were going to try it. They would try to create the impossible.
"Don't tell Kritika," Mohit whispered, as he set up the strange, bulky machine in the corner of the room. "This is just a new model I've been working on for my company."
Punit nodded and began to help Mohit with the setup. It was a secret, one they were willing to risk everything for.
For months, they worked tirelessly, learning, experimenting, and creating. The project grew bigger and bigger until they finally had something that resembled a machine that could actually accomplish the impossible. The machine had a helmet-like structure, designed to fit perfectly over the user's head. In front of the helmet, a small candle was placed. The candle was used to focus the user's mind, helping them concentrate on the task ahead.
Excited and nervous at the same time, they were ready for the first test.
With the machine finally assembled, Mohit and Punit stood before it. They were filled with both hope and fear. "It's now or never," Mohit said, adjusting the machine.
The first test was to be done on a monkey. The idea was to send the animal's mind through time, but they hadn't anticipated the sheer overload of thoughts the monkey would experience. As the machine powered on, the monkey began to shake uncontrollably. The overload of stimuli was too much for its mind, and within moments, it died.
The failure hit them hard, both emotionally and mentally. They had lost the animal, but worse, the trauma of it shook them to their core.
Punit and Mohit didn't give up. The experience taught them valuable lessons, and after two more years of research and modifications, they were ready to try again. They worked on refining the machine, making it more precise, more user-friendly, and safer. They added a pinpoint system that allowed them to focus the energy more accurately.
This time, the machine was not just a failure—it was a masterpiece.
Part 4: The First Human Trial – A Step into Time
After the failure with the monkey, Mohit and Punit sat in silence for hours. The loss hit hard—not just emotionally, but scientifically. They realized that perhaps an animal's brain just wasn't capable of handling such immense memory transfer. Maybe… only a human mind could bear it.
Now, they stood in front of the machine again—this time, ready to test it on themselves.
"I'll go first," Punit said firmly.
But Mohit stepped forward. "It was my idea. You think I'd let you steal my credit now?" he smirked.
Punit narrowed his eyes. "I'm not worried about credit. I'm worried about you, idiot."
Mohit laughed, shaking his head. "Same here. But this—this is my madness. So let me be the first."
They activated the machine. Mohit locked himself in, his hands slightly trembling. The timer was set—his consciousness would travel back to when he was eight years old. That was the plan.
But something went wrong.
A glitch in the calibration sent Mohit's consciousness not to his 8-year-old self, but into the fragile body of his 6 month old infant self—a body not ready to carry the weight of adult memories.
The baby didn't cry—but its temperature shot up dangerously. Veins became visible on the tiny forehead, his body began to shake uncontrollably. His parents, horrified, rushed him to the hospital, cradling the burning baby in their arms.
Doctors were alarmed. They examined him, uncertain what they were even dealing with. "This is beyond us," one of them said. "We'll try our best."
They prepped the child for emergency brain surgery. But just minutes before the operation began, something unbelievable happened—the baby's body suddenly relaxed. The temperature dropped. The visible veins vanished. His tiny chest rose and fell calmly, like nothing had ever happened.
The doctor stepped out to the terrified parents. "It's… a miracle. We didn't even touch him. He's completely fine now. But we'd like to observe him for a few days—just to be sure."
Meanwhile, back in the basement, Mohit's adult body was convulsing. He was soaked in sweat, his eyes wet with tears, but completely unconscious. Punit worked non-stop, trying everything to stabilize him. For 30 minutes, he battled to bring his friend back.
Then—finally—Mohit gasped for air.
Punit grabbed him and pulled him into a tight hug, half in relief, half in frustration. "Don't you ever pull something that reckless again, you maniac! I need you alive!"
Mohit, dazed and smiling, whispered, "We did it, Punit… We succeeded. I… I actually went into my past self. The only problem… I landed in my 6 month old body by mistake."
Punit looked at him, heart still pounding. "This isn't a moment to celebrate. You could've erased your existence completely if I hadn't acted in time."
Mohit's smile softened. "But still… this was our first step. We proved it. Time travel… is real.
Part 5: The Future Within Reach
A month has passed since their last experiment. With more confidence and improved stability in the machine, Mohit decided to try again. This time, he successfully sent his consciousness back into his 8-year-old self.
The transition was smooth. His adult body lay unconscious without any complications, and his younger self—now infused with the memories of the future—was sitting quietly in tuition class.
Suddenly, the 8-year-old Mohit stood up and said to the teacher, "I have something urgent. I need to go now." He rushed out, forgetting his bag in the process, and sprinted toward home. But just as he was nearing the house, something unexpected happened—the connection broke. The adult consciousness returned to the present.
Though the duration was brief, both Mohit and Punit were thrilled. It was a small but important success. Now they had proof that full memory transfer could happen without harming either body.
Still, Mohit wanted to increase the duration. So, over the next month, they enhanced the machine by adding brain vein controllers—a system to stabilize concentration and prevent mental interference during the transfer.
Once everything was set, Punit asked, "Can I try this time?"
But Mohit shook his head. "Not yet. I want to make sure everything works perfectly. I can't risk anything happening to you, sweetheart."
So, Mohit stepped into the machine once more. But this time, he had a different goal in mind—something he'd been thinking about for a long time. He remembered a list of companies that rose to massive success around the year he was eight. He wanted to gather that information directly from the past.
He set the timer for 30 minutes.
Mohit opened his eyes in his 8-year-old body, sitting on the first floor of his house, watching TV. He quickly got up and walked to Kritika's house. From a distance, he watched her, just a child then, playing innocently. A soft smile appeared on his face.
Then, he returned home and carefully wrote the names of all the growing companies he could recall into a secret diary.
When the 30 minutes ended, his adult consciousness returned. And this time—it was a perfectly successful time travel.
Overjoyed, Mohit and Punit went out to celebrate. They drank, laughed, and truly felt like they were touching the edge of something world-changing. The next step would be to prepare Punit's trial and publish their model to the world.
But then, something shifted.
One night, when Punit wasn't in the basement, Mohit had a wild idea. He knew the machine worked. And now… he wanted to try something no one had done before—to go forward in time.
He quietly set the destination: Age 51. Duration: 15 minutes.
As the machine hummed, his surroundings faded.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself in a different world—an older world. He looked around, confused, and then saw her.
An older woman, around 50, looked at him with warmth and tears in her eyes.
"Welcome to your body," she said softly.
It was Kritika.
And beside her stood a beautiful girl.
"This is Kanishka," Kritika said, smiling. "Our daughter."
Mohit couldn't hold back his tears. His eyes filled with emotions he couldn't put into words.
Kritika gently placed her hand on his. "I can stand… with support. Because of you. You made it happen, Mohit. But now, you must stop. You have to stop."
Before he could ask more questions, the timer ran out—and he was pulled back into the present.
But this time, he came back with tears of joy in his eyes and a heart filled with hope.
He had seen the future he always dreamed of—a future where love, healing, and family waited for him.
The last : Best outcome
After returning from the future, Mohit became obsessed with one thing—the accident. He began searching through documents, old records, and eventually found the medical report from the time when his six-month-old self had gone into critical condition. And then, finally, he found the file he truly needed—the record of the day everything changed. The day that shattered the life of the one he loved the most.
The very next day, he called Punit urgently. Without hesitation, they both took leave from work and rushed to the basement. There, Mohit explained everything. He told Punit about what he had seen in the future… and now, he wanted to change the past.
Punit was furious at first. "You used the machine without telling me? What if something went wrong?" But when he saw the pain in Mohit's eyes—when he heard the full story—his anger turned into hope. They were finally going to set things right.
Mohit sat down in the machine again. This time, he entered the date: 7th March 2013, two days before the accident. He set the timer for 11:10 AM, knowing the accident had happened at 11:45. The plan was simple: reach Kritika and warn her before it was too late.
The machine activated. Mohit's consciousness shot back in time—into his 8-year-old body, sitting in a science class. He quickly pretended to be in severe stomach pain and got leave from school. As soon as he was free, he ran straight to Kritika's house.
But she wasn't there.
After a few tense minutes, she appeared, walking back from a nearby store. Mohit rushed to her and, struggling to hold back tears, pleaded with her: "Please don't go near that road on 09 March. Something terrible is going to happen. Please, I beg you please please please don't go to that road on 09 March."
Kritika, startled, asked, "Is there anything else you want to say?"
Mohit shook his head. "Just please… stay away from that road on 09 march."
He turned back and began heading home. But on his way, he overheard two people arguing about money. One shouted, "You said you'd return my money on 7th March, and now it's already the 9th!"
Mohit froze.
9th March?!
He grabbed the nearest man and asked, "What's today's date?"
"9th March," the man said casually.
Mohit's heart dropped. Something had gone wrong. He'd aimed for the 7th, but landed on the day of the accident—just ten minutes before it would happen.
"She might think I'm a fool—just someone making up stories to get her attention. She might laugh it off, walk away… but what if she actually goes to that road? What if this time, I lose her forever?"
He sprinted with all his strength toward the road, his mind screaming in panic. How could this happen? Why now?
And there she was.
Kritika, crossing the road.
Mohit screamed her name at the top of his lungs. She turned toward him… just as a speeding truck came crashing into her.
Mohit's world shattered.
He collapsed, overwhelmed by guilt, rage, shame, and unbearable sorrow. His tears streamed down as the countdown of the time machine pulled him back.
Back in the present, the adult Mohit was shaking violently. Tears, sweat, and blood poured from his eyes. His body convulsed with pain as he cried out Kritika's name over and over.
Hearing the screams, Kritika—still in her wheelchair—rushed into the basement. What she saw shook her: Mohit trapped in the machine, and Punit desperately tried to stabilize him.
Without hesitation, Kritika rolled forward, bleeding from her hands as she ripped wires from the machine. She slapped Punit in panic and climbed up to pull the helmet off Mohit herself. Punit begged her to stop, but she slapped Mohit too, her bloody hand trembling with emotion.
The machine finally stopped.
Mohit collapsed into her arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Kritika held him, crying too, terrified of losing him. "It's all my fault," Mohit repeated over and over. "It's all my fault."
Punit called the ambulance. They were both taken to the hospital—thankfully, the injuries were not life-threatening. After a few days, Mohit told Kritika everything.
She held his hand and said gently, "If you hadn't been there… I might've died completely that day. It was because of you I stopped. You saved me. So please, stop putting yourself in danger."
A week later, they made a life-changing decision: to adopt a daughter. Kritika suggested the name Kanishka.
Punit, with a warm smile, gave one last piece of advice: "Destroy the machine. Because if you keep playing with time… time will make a playground out of your life."
And so, they dismantled the time machine forever.
With surgery, therapy, and determination, Kritika began to walk again—slowly, but steadily.
And one day, she held Mohit's hand and said, "I'm not broken… not as long as you're with me."
And that… was their happy ending.