Time travel, as we imagine it today—with flashing machines and paradoxes—belongs to the realm of science fiction. But long before anyone spoke of wormholes or time loops, ancient cultures were already telling stories that bent the rules of time in stranger, more poetic ways. Across continents and centuries, myths emerged that hinted at hidden realms where days stretch into decades, or where the world races forward while you stand still. In the Indian, Japanese, and Celtic traditions, we find three haunting allegories—of kings and fishermen, warriors and immortals—each offering a different lens on the timeless human fascination with what it means to leave your world, and come back changed.

The first allegory we will look at is "Kakudmi and Revati", a story from Hindu mythology.

The story tells of King Kakudmi, a powerful and virtuous ruler of Kushasthali (later known as Dwarka). He had a beautiful and accomplished daughter named Revati. As Revati grew older, Kakudmi sought a suitable husband for her, but he couldn't find anyone on Earth whom he considered worthy of her exceptional qualities.

Determined to find the perfect match, Kakudmi decided to seek divine guidance. He took Revati with him and traveled to Brahmaloka, the abode of Lord Brahma, the creator god. When they arrived, Brahma was deeply engrossed in listening to a celestial musical performance by the Gandharvas. Kakudmi and Revati patiently waited for Brahma to finish. After what seemed like a very short time to them—just a few moments or minutes—Brahma concluded his listening. Kakudmi then humbly approached him, presented his list of potential suitors for Revati, and sought Brahma's advice.

Brahma smiled and laughed. He informed Kakudmi that during their brief wait in Brahmaloka, thousands upon thousands of years had passed on Earth. All the suitors Kakudmi had in mind, along with their descendants and even their entire civilizations, had long perished. The world had undergone immense changes, and humanity itself had evolved, becoming "dwindled in stature, reduced in vigor, and enfeebled in intellect" compared to their own era.

Brahma then advised Kakudmi to return to Earth and offer Revati's hand to Balarama, the elder brother of Lord Krishna, who was then incarnated on Earth. Brahma explained that Balarama was the most suitable match for her in the current age. Shocked but accepting of Brahma's divine wisdom, Kakudmi and Revati returned to Earth. They were astonished by the drastic changes and found their city unrecognizable. True to Brahma's word, Balarama was indeed present. However, because Revati belonged to an earlier epoch where humans were significantly taller, she was much taller than Balarama. Balarama, with his divine plow (his characteristic weapon), gently tapped her on the head, which caused her to shrink to the appropriate size for the current age.

Revati and Balarama were then happily married. After fulfilling his fatherly duty, King Kakudmi renounced his worldly life and went to the Himalayas to perform austerities and attain spiritual liberation.

The second allegory we will look at is "The Legend of Urashima Tarō", a story from Japanese mythology.

Urashima Tarō was a kind young fisherman who, one day, rescued a sea turtle from a group of tormenting children. To his surprise, the turtle he saved was actually the daughter of Ryūjin, the Dragon King of the Sea, Princess Otohime. As a reward for his kindness, the turtle invited Urashima to visit Ryūgū-jō, the magnificent Dragon Palace beneath the sea.

Urashima spent what felt like a few blissful days at the palace, enjoying feasts and the company of Princess Otohime. However, a pang of homesickness eventually struck him, and he decided to return to his village. Otohime, saddened by his departure, gave him a beautiful jeweled box called a tamatebako, with a strict warning never to open it.

Upon his return to the surface, Urashima discovered that his home village had drastically changed. His house was gone, and no one recognized him. When he inquired about his family and friends, he was told that an Urashima Tarō had disappeared at sea centuries ago. To his shock, Urashima realized that while he had spent only a few days in the Dragon Palace, hundreds of years had passed on Earth.

Distraught and desperate, Urashima forgot Otohime's warning and opened the tamatebako. A puff of white smoke billowed out, and instantly, Urashima Tarō transformed into a frail, white-haired old man, as all the years he had missed on Earth caught up to him in a single moment.

The third and final allegory we will look at is "The Story of Oisín and Tír na nÓg", a story from Celtic mythology. This allegory centers on the exploits of Fionn mac Cumhaill and his band of warriors, the Fianna. Oisín, Fionn's son, is often considered the greatest poet of the Fianna. The most famous version of Oisín's story is his journey to Tír na nÓg, the Land of the Young.

One day, while Fionn and the Fianna were hunting by the shores of Lough Leane, a beautiful woman named Niamh Cinn-Óir (Niamh of the Golden Hair) appeared to them, riding a magnificent white horse. Niamh revealed that she was a princess from Tír na nÓg, a magical island where no one ever ages, gets sick, or dies. She had fallen in love with Oisín from afar, having heard tales of his bravery and poetic skill, and had come to take him away with her. Oisín, captivated by her beauty and the allure of an eternal paradise, agreed to go. He mounted Niamh's white horse, Enbarr, and they rode together over the waves, passing through a shimmering mist, until they reached the shores of Tír na nÓg.

In Tír na nÓg, Oisín lived a life of idyllic pleasure with Niamh. He feasted, hunted, made music, and was surrounded by beauty and eternal youth. He never felt the passage of time. However, after what felt to Oisín like three years, a deep longing for his father, Fionn, and his companions, the Fianna, began to gnaw at him. Despite Niamh's pleas and warnings, he decided he must return to Ireland, if only to see them one last time. Niamh reluctantly agreed but gave him a strict warning: he must take her white horse, Enbarr, but he must not dismount from the horse, nor let his feet touch the soil of Ireland. She explained that if he did, all the hundreds of years that had passed would instantly catch up to him.

Oisín rode Enbarr back to Ireland, emerging from the mist to find a land vastly changed. The great forests were gone, the familiar landmarks were altered, and the people he saw were small and frail compared to the mighty Fianna he remembered. He searched for Fionn and his warriors but found no trace of them. He was told by the locals that the legendary Fionn mac Cumhaill and his Fianna had existed hundreds of years ago.

As Oisín was riding through a valley, he saw a group of men struggling to lift a large stone from a cart. They were clearly exhausted and weak. Out of compassion and a residual sense of his immense strength from Tír na nÓg, Oisín leaned down from his horse to help them. As he strained, the saddle girth snapped, and he fell to the ground. The moment his feet touched the soil of Ireland, all the hundreds of years that had truly passed instantly caught up with him. The strong, youthful Oisín withered into an ancient, frail, blind old man.

All three allegories share several profound common themes, even though they originate from distinct cultures and mythologies. The most striking similarity between them is their portrayal of the relativity and irreversibility of time. In all three stories, characters experience a significant discrepancy in the passage of time between two different realms. They vividly illustrate that time is not absolute but relative, flowing differently in different realms or planes of existence. What might seem like a mere moment in a higher, spiritual realm can correspond to vast eons in a lower, material realm. This concept remarkably predates modern scientific theories of time dilation, such as Einstein's theory of relativity.

Another striking similarity between the allegories is the peril of time travel. In each story, the protagonist's journey to an extraordinary realm leads to unexpected and often tragic consequences upon their return to their original reality. While the magical or divine realms in these stories offer allure, peace, or extended life, engaging with them, particularly in a way that suspends or accelerates time, inevitably leads to significant and often devastating repercussions. These allegories make certain that there is always a price to be paid for escaping the natural flow of time, and that price is always a profound loss of one's original context, self, or physical being.

Another common theme among the allegories is the fleeting nature of the material world. This theme is a profound and perhaps melancholic undercurrent in all three allegories. By contrasting the unchanging, timeless realms with the rapidly evolving mortal world, these stories powerfully underscore how transient and impermanent earthly life, achievements, and relationships truly are. They serve as a stark reminder that everything we hold dear in the material world is subject to the relentless march of time and will eventually pass away. If anything, these allegories invite contemplation on what truly endures beyond the ephemeral nature of mortal life.

In all three allegories, the extraordinary temporal experiences in them are not random occurrences or natural phenomena but are explicitly initiated, mediated, or governed by forces, beings, or realms that transcend ordinary human existence. What they all underline is that the natural order of time is disrupted only by forces beyond the ordinary human grasp, often with a sense of destiny or cosmic design. But it should not go without notice that all of these stories are, ultimately, cautionary tales. They aren't just fables of divinity, they serve as moral or philosophical warnings about human choices, the nature of reality, and the consequences of attempting to transcend or manipulate fundamental aspects of existence like time.

They all give the same lessons: be wary of seeking forbidden knowledge or places, heed warnings given by those with greater understanding, understand the limitations of human perception and control, and accept the profound and often irreversible consequences of attempting to bypass or manipulate the natural flow of time and change. These myths don’t just prefigure our modern obsessions with time machines and paradoxes—they outshine them in emotional depth and existential warning. They remind us that the past cannot be reclaimed, the present cannot be frozen, and the future is never guaranteed. Time, in these stories, is not a road to be traveled but a current to be respected—mysterious, untouchable, and always moving on.