REAL PAST LIFE STORY
By Hitesh Chhabra • Past Life Regression Expert & Psychologist
Approx. 12 min read • October 2026
Long before he had earned a medical degree, he had carried a picture of his future: he wanted to serve his country in uniform. It was not merely the attraction of a secure profession. As a child, he felt drawn towards the army and towards doing something for the land he called his own. His parents, however, imagined another future for him. They wanted their son to become a doctor.
For some young people, those wishes might have become a choice between obedience and aspiration. His life found a meeting point. He studied medicine, continued beyond his initial qualification, and eventually joined the army as a doctor. The profession his parents valued became the very means through which he could fulfil his own longing. He did not have to abandon one dream to honour the other.
He told Hitesh Chhabra that his years of service had given him the opportunity to save soldiers’ lives. His qualifications could have opened a financially rewarding civilian career. Yet he had chosen this path. That choice mattered deeply to the question he later brought into the session: when he had entered the profession with such sincere intentions, why had his service become a source of humiliation?
The trouble, in his account, began with an officer responsible for assigning his duties. From their earliest interactions, he sensed hostility. He felt that the officer did not want him to succeed and was damaging his standing before senior officers. Small incidents accumulated until the tension no longer felt like an ordinary disagreement between colleagues. He began to fear that something more serious might follow.
He approached a higher-ranking officer and asked to be moved to another unit or place of service. He explained that working together had become difficult. The request was refused. They would have to continue working alongside one another. What he had hoped would provide distance from the conflict instead returned him to it.
Then came the incident at the centre of his distress. He said that a duty assignment had been entered in the records, but the instruction to report had not reached him. When medical support was needed, he was not there. The records pointed to him, and he was held responsible. Suspension followed, with an inquiry still unresolved at the time of the narration. The operational details were withheld for security reasons.
The wound he described was therefore larger than a professional setback. He had built his identity around service, only to find that identity questioned. He wanted to understand the hostility, the refusal of his transfer request, and the painful contrast between what he had intended to give and what he was now experiencing. His army doctor past life regression opened into two lives. The first would confront his relationship with power. The second would return him to the source of his love for his country.
The first scene did not begin in an office or a military camp. It began under the cover of a dense forest. He saw bare feet moving over the ground and a spear in his hand. Around him were other armed men, travelling carefully through the trees. Before he could explain the purpose of the journey, the body, the weapon and the movement of the group had already begun to take shape.
Hitesh asked whether they were at war. No, he replied. As he observed more closely, he understood that they were a hunting party. He identified the setting as an African community, rather than an Indian village. In that life, this group had a particular responsibility: to bring back food for the people waiting at home. They were regarded as warriors, and carrying weapons was part of their role.
He was their leader. The men did not simply rush towards whichever animal appeared. They worked together, using signals and sounds to coordinate their movements. An animal would first be surrounded. Only when the circle was ready would they attack, leaving it as little opportunity to escape as possible. Each person’s timing mattered to everyone else’s effort.
They had already been searching for hours when a large animal finally came into view. With that discovery, the mood changed. Here was the possibility of food not just for the evening but for the next two or three days. The chief would be pleased. The exhausting search seemed close to becoming a successful return. What had been patient movement through the forest became a moment charged with expectation.
But the circle had not yet closed. Before the leader gave his signal, one member of the group moved. In the client’s recollection, the man was overconfident and too eager to act. His sudden attack broke the plan. The animal escaped through the opening, and the men who had moments earlier imagined carrying it home were left struggling after an opportunity already lost.
The leader’s anger rose quickly. He did not stop at pointing out the mistake. He began beating the man. Hours of frustration, the thought of the empty-handed return and his own authority seemed to gather around that single act of disobedience. One person’s rash decision had cost the group its hunt. Now the leader’s reaction was creating a second harm, one that would not end when they left the forest.
They returned to the community without their catch. Before the chief, the leader explained what had happened in detail. They had found an animal large enough to feed everyone for several days. The plan had been sound. It was this man’s premature attack, he insisted, that had ruined everything. His explanation placed the burden of failure squarely on the subordinate who had already been beaten.
The chief became angrier as he listened. The punishment he ordered went far beyond a reprimand: the man was to be tied to a post in the middle of the community for three days, without food or water. The client saw him there through daylight and darkness. It was physical suffering, but that was not the only thing he noticed. The punishment took place where everyone could see him.
The public nature of it mattered. The man was not simply paying for a mistake in private. He was exposed before the people among whom he had held a respected place. After the three days ended, the chief took away his status as a warrior. He could no longer carry weapons as he once had. Instead, he was assigned to the place where weapons were made.
Only then did the leader begin to feel the weight of what had happened. He had already punished the man in the forest. Why had he needed to bring the complaint to the chief with such force as well? The memory of the failed hunt was no longer the only thing before him. He could also see a person whose standing, dignity and place in the group had been taken away.
He wanted to apologise. Yet the man would not speak to him. He avoided him, leaving no easy opening for the words the leader now wished to say. Regret had arrived, but it had not restored the relationship. The leader could feel sorry inside himself; he could not decide when, or whether, the other man would be ready to hear it.
Hitesh asked whether they ever reconciled. Instead of an apology, another scene appeared. The leader was standing near the weapons workshop, talking with someone, when an arrow passed close to his face. He turned. The man he had wanted to approach was holding a bow. In the scene, the attempted attack came from that same wounded relationship.
Fear and anger overtook the remorse. Once again, the leader beat him. The possibility of a conversation disappeared into another act of violence. Neither man had moved beyond what the other had done. One carried the humiliation of punishment; the other reacted to the threat against his life. Their conflict had found another way to continue.
There was still one more encounter. The leader was again heading into the forest with his hunting companions. The former warrior was no longer part of their team, but the client sensed someone following behind them. Then, from a short distance back, came a cry. It was loud enough to stop the men. Almost as suddenly as it had begun, it fell silent.
They hurried towards the sound. On the ground lay the same man, struggling beside a snake. The client saw the snake near his feet, its posture aggressive, and understood that the man had been bitten. This time the spear in the leader’s hand was not raised against his old opponent. He struck the snake and killed it.
But he could not save the man. The scene ended with the man’s death in the forest. The apology had never become a completed conversation. The two beatings, the public punishment, the loss of status and the arrow remained between them. Even this final attempt to remove the immediate danger could not take them back to the moment before the conflict had begun.
During the regression, the client recognised that man as the officer with whom he was struggling in his present life. The person who had once stood beneath his authority now held power over his professional circumstances. The humiliation that had once travelled outwards from him was now something he was experiencing himself. This reversal gave the first life its particular emotional force.
He also recognised the chief. In the present, that soul was the higher-ranking officer who had refused his request for a transfer. The session brought the three figures into one pattern: the person at the centre of the conflict, the person who could intensify or ease it, and the man trying to understand why he felt trapped within it.
The story had not offered him an image in which he had always been innocent and someone else had always been cruel. It had required him to look at anger from the position of the person who had exercised power. That was the difficult mirror in the forest. Yet there was another part of his life still waiting to be understood, one that was not built around anger at all.
For the second exploration, the question changed. Where had the desire to serve his country come from? Why had that feeling been so strong before he was old enough to choose a profession? This time, the first figure he saw was a boy of about ten or twelve. He identified himself as a Pathan Muslim child in Lahore, at a time before Pakistan existed as a separate country.
He described himself as a messenger, a khabri. The word initially raised another question: was he carrying information for the British authorities? He immediately clarified that he was not. He worked with people who were trying to free India. His young age helped him move without attracting the suspicion that an adult might attract. Messages and supplies, including weapons, could pass through his hands.
The next scene placed him on the back of a bicycle. He was being taken to the place where older members of the group were gathered. Something important was in his pocket. On reaching them, he took out the message he had been entrusted to carry and handed it to a young Sikh revolutionary. A child’s small task formed one link in a much larger effort.
In the original narration, Hitesh connects the revolutionary’s identity with the martyr remembered on 23 March, a reference to Bhagat Singh. Within the scene itself, the important action was the delivery: the boy had been trusted with something that needed to reach the right hands, and he had completed that responsibility.
The life then moved forward to 1947. He was no longer a child riding behind someone else. He saw himself as a grown man in Lahore during Partition. Around him, people were attacking one another. The country for whose freedom he had carried messages was now passing through a rupture he had never imagined in his childhood dreams.
Hitesh asked what he had done in that violence. His response was immediate. He had not joined it. He could not imagine doing so. He said that he had tried to save as many Hindu and Sikh families as he could. The religious identity he had described at the beginning of the life did not become a boundary around the people he was willing to protect.
That moment brought a different meaning to patriotism. Serving the land was not only about carrying a message for a movement. It was also about recognising the human beings standing in danger before him. When collective anger demanded division, he chose to help people across that division. His concern was for their lives.
The final scene was quiet by comparison. He was elderly, seated in a chair in his own home. He described suddenly falling, and then finding that his life had ended. The young messenger, the adult who protected families and the old man in the chair belonged to the same lifetime. For the client, the desire to serve had run through it, just as it had run through his present childhood and his choice to become an army doctor.
The two lives did not leave the same impression. The African story brought him face to face with power, anger and remorse. The Lahore story brought him back to courage, responsibility and the wish to protect life. Together, they allowed the session to hold more than a single explanation of suffering. There was something to examine, and there was also something valuable to remember about himself.
His current pain had made the suspension feel like a verdict on his whole life. Yet the second narrative returned his attention to a motive that had existed long before the dispute: service. A professional crisis could shake his confidence in that motive without necessarily erasing it. Looking at his own harshness in one scene did not mean forgetting his capacity for care in another.
Hitesh’s account also leaves the practical ending open. It does not tell us that the inquiry was closed, that the suspension was reversed or that the officer apologised. The change described is a fuller understanding of the patterns and emotions the client had brought to the session. His real-world career circumstances still required their own course of action.
For a reader, the story turns towards the choices available now. When someone makes a mistake under our authority, do we correct the action or diminish the person? When we recognise that we have caused harm, do we make room for repair? And when we are hurt, can we protect our dignity without handing the rest of our life over to revenge?
This is a literary adaptation of a narrated regression session. Atmosphere and pacing have been expanded; no invented dialogue is presented as a client quotation. Past-life scenes and identifications are subjective and unverified. The employment allegations are the client’s account, not established facts. The story is not a medical assessment, historical proof, legal advice or a promise of a changed career outcome. Illustrations are symbolic AI-created artwork.
Past Life Regression Expert
& Psychologist
Helping people explore recurring emotional, relationship & life patterns through Past Life Regression, healing and spiritual guidance.
Open each reflection to explore the story’s lessons and the choices they invite in everyday life.
The hunter’s mistake required a response, but the beating, public deprivation and removal of status created a much larger wound. This scene asks us to distinguish accountability from the desire to make someone feel small. In families and workplaces, a correction can be clear and firm while still protecting a person’s dignity.
The leader’s report to the chief did not stay a private explanation. It helped produce a punishment carried out by someone with greater power. Before escalating a complaint, consider whether you are seeking a fair resolution or simply securing agreement with your anger. Accuracy, proportion and context matter.
The leader felt remorse, but the injured man would not speak to him. Being sorry inside is a beginning, not a completed repair. An apology may need acknowledgement of the specific harm, changed conduct and patience. The person who was hurt is not obliged to feel ready simply because we are ready to apologise.
The arrow did not restore the former warrior’s dignity. It led to another beating and another layer of hostility. The scene shows how retaliation can keep both people organised around the original injury. Seeking safety, fair treatment or a formal remedy is different from making another person’s suffering our goal.
The hunting party’s plan relied on timing. One premature move undid hours of collective work. The lesson is not that initiative is wrong, but that courage and confidence need awareness of the people beside us. In a shared task, understanding the plan can be as important as being eager to act.
The final forest encounter left no opportunity for the apology the leader had wanted to make. The story gives that unfinished wish emotional weight. Where contact is safe and appropriate, a timely, respectful effort to acknowledge harm may matter. Reconciliation cannot be forced, but responsibility need not wait indefinitely.
The doctor’s suspension overshadowed the service that had shaped his life. The Lahore narrative brought that underlying motive back into view. When one role becomes painful, ask what value originally drew you to it. That value may still guide your next responsible step, even while the external problem remains unresolved.
The adult in Lahore helped Hindu and Sikh families despite the divisions around him. The significance lies in whom he was willing to protect. Service becomes deeper when it extends beyond people who share our background, faith or loyalties. Compassion is a choice made towards a person, not merely a slogan about humanity.
The session offered a way to examine emotions and relationships; the professional inquiry remained a separate matter. Reflection and practical action can coexist. Clear records, appropriate advice and fair procedures still matter when a career is at stake. Understanding our reactions should help us engage more thoughtfully with life, not withdraw from it.
One life showed the client causing harm; the other showed him protecting people. The contrast resists a simple label of entirely good or entirely bad. Honest growth means recognising a harmful response without making it our whole identity, and recognising our strengths without using them to excuse the harm we need to address.
Explore one-to-one Past Life Regression, healing and consultation sessions with the Vighnahartaa team.
Learn meditation free of cost and receive spiritual guidance to develop greater peace, inner strength and a deeper connection with God.
Past Life Regression Expert & Psychologist
We help people explore recurring emotional, relationship and life patterns through Past Life Regression, healing and spiritual guidance.
You May Also Like
Watch Hitesh Chhabra’s original session narration on YouTube. The source video is in Hindi.
