**Twenty-five Years Later – Yamuna Riverside Villa, Diwali Night**
The twin butterfly trees now touch the sky, their roots drinking from the Yamuna, their silver-pink blossoms visible from the Delhi-NCR skyline.
Every year on Diwali, the whole city turns off its lights for ten minutes so the trees can shine alone.
Tonight is the twenty-fifth anniversary.
Rajesh Kumar (now sixty-seven, hair fully silver-white, flowing like moonlight) stands at the same spot where he once walked on water.
Wrinkles frame his eyes, but the smile is unchanged.
He wears a simple cream kurta, the same black thread still tying his hair.
Anjali (sixty-one, still breathtaking in a rose-gold saree) leans on his arm, a little slower now, but eyes brighter than ever.
In front of them:
- **Priya Kumari** – 28, National Award-winning director, pregnant with her first child, golden lehenga glowing under the trees.
- **Arjun Kumar** – 24, astrophysicist by day, children's author by night, silver eyes sparkling, holding his wife's hand.
- **Little Sheru** – still a Pug, still immortal, bandana now faded but proudly reading **"Original Spark Distributor – Age 10,034"**.
Grandchildren (five of them, ages 2 to 9) run between the trees, chasing glowing butterflies.
---
### 8:00 p.m. – The Tradition
Every year, the eldest child lights the **Silver Lotus Lamp** at the exact spot where the Debt Collector once stood.
Tonight it is Priya's turn again (full circle).
She is heavy with child, so Arjun steadies her.
Together they place the lamp on the river.
It floats, blooms into a **silver-pink lotus**, and rises into the sky.
The city lights go dark on cue.
Delhi, Gurgaon, Noida (millions of homes) honour the old promise.
Only the twin trees remain lit.
---
### 8:10 p.m. – The Final Film
A giant screen unfurls from the banyan.
Title in Priya's handwriting, now confident and elegant:
**"The Last Lotus – A Film by Three Generations"**
25-minute documentary shot over decades:
- Rajesh burning his first mortal roti.
- Anjali's tears on the night the Time Bead vanished.
- Priya's first day of school.
- Arjun's first word ("Sheru!").
- Every Diwali, every birthday, every ordinary Tuesday dinner.
The final scene:
Tonight's festival, filmed live by Priya's eight-year-old daughter using the same mini camera Anjali gave her twenty-five years ago.
Last line, spoken by baby-voice Priya (archival audio):
**"Thank you for choosing burnt rotis over godhood, Papa."**
The screen fades to black.
Then one line appears:
**"For Rajesh Kumar –
The man who defeated the universe
and still came home for bedtime stories."**
Silence.
Then the entire parivaar (hundreds strong now) erupts.
---
### 9:00 p.m. – The Quiet Moment
Crowd gone.
Just the original five under the trees.
Rajesh sits on the old swing, creaking gently.
Anjali beside him.
Priya and Arjun on the grass, heads in their parents' laps.
Sheru curled between the grandchildren, pretending to sleep.
Rajesh speaks, voice soft but carrying like it once commanded galaxies:
"I was offered eternity twice.
I chose morornings with burnt rotis,
school runs in traffic,
Diwali smoke in my eyes,
and your laughter louder than any cosmic explosion."
He looks at the silver lotus lamp still floating high above the Yamuna.
"Tonight it doesn't dissolve.
It simply stops, hovers, and slowly descends.
It lands in Rajesh's outstretched palm (
warm, weightless, eternal).
Priya whispers, "Papa…?"
He smiles, eyes wet.
"I think the universe finally agrees
that some things are bigger than immortality."
He places the lamp in Priya's hand, then Arjun's.
"Keep it burning.
Not for me.
For every ordinary day you choose love over everything else."
Anjali rests her head on his shoulder.
The grandchildren fall asleep one by one.
Sheru gives a single, contented sigh.
The swing creaks.
The twin trees sing their oldest lullaby.
Rajesh closes his eyes.
**Day 9,490.**
No wars left to win.
Only love left to give.
The silver lotus lamp glows steady in his children's hands (
pink and silver light merging into one).
Somewhere in the night sky, a new constellation forms:
a grey-haired man holding his family beneath twin lotus trees.
The city lights come back on.
But no one in Delhi-NCR looks away from the villa glowing on the riverbank.
They know the story.
They've grown up with it.
**The Supreme Daddy became legend.
The Silver-Haired Father became myth.
And the family—
the family became forever.**
The butterflies settle.
The Yamuna flows gentle and slow.
And under the twin lotus trees,
five hearts beat as one.