Author Archives: rishir

The Boy Who Returned

Age: 78

Text: TT told me a family story involving the death of two boys and the belief that the same soul returned decades later through another person.

When TT was younger, she was very close to her teenage cousin P, who treated her like his elder sister. When they used to play together as kids, TT always remembers how P was loving and protective of her. When P was 16 years old, he was diagnosed with a very aggressive type of bone cancer. They had to amputate his leg at the femur where the cancer was, but it spread quickly to the rest of his body and he died on December 18th at 5:30 ​‍​‌‍​‍‌​‍​‌‍​‍‌P.M.

The following year, TT had her first child named S who was a baby boy. A few days after birth, doctors discovered a fracture in S’s left femur. It was broken in the exact location where P’s leg had been amputated. The family found this strange but was too overwhelmed with medical concerns to interpret it at the time.

S recovered from the fracture and was a normal, active infant until he fell suddenly ill around six months old. Despite TT taking him repeatedly to the doctor, his condition worsened, fever, diarrhea, dehydration, and he died in the hospital on December 18th, at 5:30 PM, the exact date and time of P’s death, one year later.

Because of the mirrored injuries and the identical death date and time, TT came to believe that S was P returned to her. The boy who once loved her as a sister in life came back to her as a son, if only briefly, completing some unfinished time he felt he still needed with TT.

Decades later, another figure entered TT’s life: a young man, called R (who was the same age that S would have been at the time), who helped care for her very sick husband during his declining years. R handled every detail of caregiving with deep loyalty, devotion, and emotional steadiness. TT often said that even a biological son might not have shown such unwavering dedication.

Over time, she began to feel that R carried the same soul as S and P. She described his presence as a spiritual continuation of the boy she lost and as someone who had returned yet again, this time in adulthood, to help her husband through illness and to make sure she was not alone.

TT also believed that R’s actions reflected the qualities of Lord Ram, the Hindu figure symbolizing duty, righteousness, and service. She often said R was “like an incarnation of Ram”. He not a literal divine rebirth, but a way of saying that he embodied the compassion, loyalty, and spiritual purpose associated with Ram in Hindu tradition.

Following her husband’s death and R’s eventual departure, TT remarked that it was as if she were losing a son all over again. The sorrow she experienced at that time was similar to the pain of her children leaving home for the first time and even the grief she had carried since losing S many years ago. To TT, R was more than just a caretaker, he was the living continuation of a soul she believed had returned to her twice before. Letting him go was painful, as though she were watching that same soul walk away yet again.

However, their relationship was not affected by this separation. TT and R are still very close. He calls her before making major decisions, visits when he can, and treats her with the same reverence and affection that a son would show his mother.

Context:​‍​‌‍​‍‌​‍​‌‍​‍‌ TT shared this story with me when we were having a private conversation for a folklore assignment. While she was speaking from her apartment in India, I was listening from Los Angeles. 

This is a story that is hardly ever shared and only with very close family. It is brought up when one thinks or talks about fate, reincarnation, and the secret ways in which the people we love might come back to us. 

In a South Asian setting, the interpretation of such occurrences is highly influenced by the concepts of reincarnation, destiny, karmic ties, and spiritual return. For instance, if somebody is said to be “like an incarnation of Lord Ram,” it is a way of acknowledging that person’s admirable traits and not as the actual god reborn, but as a recognition of the person having high moral or spiritual qualities. 

The Narrator’s Perspective: TT does not talk dramatically when she tells this story. She talks softly, but at the same time, with complete belief that it is not a matter of chance that the coincidences are very exact. 

She believes that P came back to her in the form of S, maybe only for a short time and one of the signs of a spiritual unity were the same death dates and both having broken legs. She also believes that after a long time, it is through R, whose love for the family was way beyond the ordinary, that the same spirit comes back to us. 

The traits of R, the goodness, the quietness, the indestructible faith, was that of Lord Ram, thus, to her, the return of this spirit was to give her family security and protection. To her, it is not a scary story but rather a reassuring one. It revolves around the idea that love never dies. 

My Thoughts (Analysis): From a folkloric perspective, this is a classic reincarnation memorate (classic in Hindu/Indian culture), where lived experience is interpreted through cultural beliefs about soul continuity.

The story contains several motifs common in South Asian reincarnation narratives:

Firstly, mirrored injuries as a reincarnation marker (fractured thigh matching an amputated leg). Also, identical death dates and times signaling a cyclical spiritual pattern. Finally, the soul returning through multiple forms across a single lifetime.

What makes the story striking is not only the coincidences, but how the family uses them to create meaning from profound loss. Instead of viewing these tragedies as disconnected events, TT interprets them as part of a spiritual continuity that kept her connected to someone she loved deeply. Personally, I find the story powerful because it shows how families turn grief into meaning, transforming randomness into relationship.

The Sage of Room 108

Age: 50

Text (The Story): TT (my mother) told me a story from her college days in India about a particular dorm room, Room 108, which students treated almost like a sacred site.

Years before she arrived on campus, an older student, known simply as “the Sage of 108”, had lived in that very room. No​‍​‌‍​‍‌​‍​‌‍​‍‌ one was able to recall his original name. It was said that he was a very quiet, withdrawn, and even reclusive a philosophy scholar, who was so much absorbed in his meditation that he almost never spoke, hardly ate, and didn’t seem very attracted to the usual college life.

According to one version of the myth, he arrived at jivanmukti which is the freedom of the spirit during life. Another one suggested that he was able to foresee things way before time: a professor’s sudden resignation, a student’s family emergency, or even an exam question weeks before it was written. 

It was whispered that he could be none other than the very Dattatreya, the Hindu god who is the wandering teacher. Dattatreya is a character who is said to go about the world very quietly, and be there when you least expect it, in different guises, to help people. Stories on the campus, however, say that the person living in Room 108 and carrying the same vibe as Dattatreya. He was detached, loving, and very much aware without being told. 

During the last days of his final year, the Sage just went off the campus without informing anyone of his intention. He left hauling with him a single cloth sack one morning and walked out through the college gate. When someone came to his room a few hours later, they found it empty with the exception of a piece of cloth neatly folded on the ​‍​‌‍​‍‌​‍​‌‍​‍‌desk.

After that, strange things were reported. Students claimed the room smelled faintly of incense even when no one entered. One girl told TT that she stepped inside room 108 and felt a pressure, a kind of overwhelming stillness that made her leave immediately.

The administration eventually sealed Room 108. They gave practical explanations such as “structural damage” and “student safety”, but none of the students believed that. Everyone knew the real reason: the room was too spiritually charged. Too many people reported intense emotions inside it. Too many believed the Sage had left something behind.

When TT attended college, students had already begun a tradition:

Before any major exam, they would slip into the hallway, fold their hands, and offer a quick prayer outside the locked door of Room 108.

Some just tapped the door frame.

Some left flowers or pens on the ground.

Some whispered the Sage’s name, though no one could agree on what it was.

TT herself admitted that before her final board exams, she walked there with a group of friends in the early morning. They didn’t really know what they were praying for, whether it was luck, calmness, clarity, or perhaps the presence of someone who achieved spiritual awakening.

She​‍​‌‍​‍‌​‍​‌‍​‍‌ mentioned that the corridor outside 108 had this weirdly quiet vibe all the time, like the sounds were muffled. When she and her schoolmates meet for reunions, there is always a person who talks about “the Sage of 108,” and all the others acknowledge it by a nod as if it were a shared ​‍​‌‍​‍‌​‍​‌‍​‍‌secret.

Context: TT told me this story while reminiscing about her college years in India. This memorate is typically shared among alumni, usually during nostalgic conversations about exams, early adulthood, or campus myths.

The setting, an Indian university, makes belief in holy men, gurus, reincarnation, and spiritual presence feel normal rather than supernatural. Indian campuses often blend secular life with sacred spaces, and Room 108 became one such hybrid: part dorm room, part shrine, part student ritual.

This story also fits a larger South Asian cultural context where certain numbers (such as 108, a sacred number in Hinduism and Buddhism) carry deep spiritual significance.

The Teller’s Thoughts: TT treats the story with a mix of nostalgia and respect. She doesn’t necessarily claim the Sage was literally an incarnation of Dattatreya, but she believes he had a spiritual depth that left an imprint on the campus. She describes Room 108 as a place students approached with sincerity, not fear and something in between superstition and faith.

She said, “We all felt calmer after praying there. Maybe that’s all that mattered.”

My Thoughts (Analysis): This memorate blends campus legend, reincarnation belief, and folk religion into a single story.

This story functions as a sacred space on a secular campus, a rite of passage before exams, and a blending of Hindu spiritual motifs with student life. The association with Dattatreya deepens the story’s symbolic power. Dattatreya is the wandering divine teacher who appears in humble forms, and the idea that a spiritually advanced figure might quietly live in a college dorm room fits this motif perfectly.

The closure of Room 108, the lingering incense scent, and the informal prayer ritual all add to the all add to the mysterious atmosphere that made Room 108 feel like more than just a dorm room.. The story also shows how students use legend to navigate stress and this transforms anxiety about exams into a communal ritual that is rooted in cultural spirituality.

Personally, I think the story beautifully captures how folklore forms in modern environments. A single individual, remembered only in fragments, becomes a symbol of calm, wisdom, and hope for generations of students who never met him.