The Cosmic Dance
In the boundless expanse of the cosmos, a celestial dance unfolded across a canvas painted in shades of eternal black. Stars—some faint whispers, others blazing titans—dotted the infinite void, their light a testament to the passage of uncountable millennia. Among them moved planets, asteroids, and comets, weaving intricate patterns dictated by the unseen hand of universal order.
The silence was not empty. It resonated with the pulse of creation, carrying a voice—primordial, vast, and eternal. This voice was not heard but felt, etched into the very fabric of reality, touching every atom and star.
"By the will of the Primordial Force, the Triumvirate forged the limitless cosmos. They shaped realms upon realms, weaving together dimensions brimming with energy and life. From their hands sprang gods, beings of might and grace, who carried forth their legacy—seeding life across infinite universes."
These words echoed through the void, not as sound but as truth—a memory shared by stars and worlds alike. It was the legacy of creation, binding all things together.
---
Scene Shift: Arthlok
Far across the infinite stretch of the Omniverse lay a solar system harboring a unique jewel: Arthlok. This was no ordinary world. Its lands were a tapestry of breathtaking beauty and impossible wonders. Towering cities, with spires kissed by both sunlight and magic, rose above rolling plains and verdant forests. Flying cars zipped between these skyscrapers, leaving trails of light like shooting stars, while humanoid androids strolled the streets alongside humans, their perfection betrayed only by their flawless features.
Arthlok was divided into four great continents, each home to cities that stood as pinnacles of human and magical achievement. Uri, the largest, was a sprawling metropolis where technology and magic converged seamlessly. Rice and Sign thrived as centers of commerce and culture, bustling marketplaces teeming with invention and artistry. And then there was Alok, the smallest and humblest city. Nestled amidst rolling hills and ancient forests, Alok lacked the grandeur of its counterparts but concealed secrets that even the gods of Arthlok did not fully comprehend.
---
Scene Shift: Outskirts of Alok
On the outskirts of Alok lay a quiet village cradled between gentle hills and whispering woods. Life here moved at the rhythm of the sun and seasons, untouched by the rush of flying cars and city spires. At the heart of the village stood a modest two-story house, its ivy-clad stone walls exuding rustic charm. Warm lantern light spilled from its windows, casting soft glows onto the cobblestone path below.
Inside this humble dwelling, an eighteen-year-old boy stood before a wooden door. His hand hovered over the handle, hesitation flickering across his face. With a steadying exhale, he pushed it open.
The room beyond was dim, bathed in the soft amber glow of a lantern on the bedside table. Its simplicity spoke of practicality—wooden furniture, neatly stacked books, and a bed occupied by a sprawled, snoring figure.
The older boy—Govind Singh—grinned mischievously, his brown eyes gleaming with elder brotherly affection. Without a word, he grabbed the blanket’s edge and yanked it away with dramatic flair.
“Five minutes, Pavan!” he barked, his mock-serious tone failing to mask his grin. “If you’re not downstairs, I’ll eat your breakfast!”
The younger boy stirred, groaning in protest. Pavan Singh, sixteen and perpetually teetering on the edge of adventure and mischief, sat up sluggishly, his tousled hair falling into his eyes. “What’s the rush?” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.
Govind laughed, already halfway out the door. “You’ll find out soon enough. Just don’t make me come back up here!”
The door clicked shut, leaving Pavan alone in the silence. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he stumbled toward the bathroom. Minutes later, he emerged dressed in a black T-shirt and gray shorts, his fingers raking through his hair. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he frowned. “What’s so important today?” he muttered.
---
Chee’s Teasing Voice
A melodic, almost ethereal voice answered from nowhere. “You really don’t remember, do you, Pavan?”
He froze. That voice—so familiar, so unmistakable—belonged to Chee, his ever-watchful companion. She was no ordinary presence but a being of infinite intelligence and boundless energy, a guardian whose powers defied explanation.
“Chee?” he called out, his brow furrowing. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ll see,” she replied, her tone teasing. “But you really should hurry. Govind isn’t joking about the breakfast.”
Pavan groaned, leaning back on his hands. “Wait… Chee, is today important? It’s not my birthday, is it?” He paused, his face lighting up with mock realization. “Oh no. Did I forget my birthday?”
There was a beat of silence before Chee responded, her voice laced with mock disappointment. “Unbelievable. You actually forgot your own birthday.”
“Wait!” Pavan shot up. “Is it actually my birthday? Chee, just tell me!”
But her voice had already faded, leaving Pavan staring at the ceiling, frustration and curiosity swirling within him. Whatever awaited him downstairs, he had a sinking feeling it was going to be… unusual.
With a resigned sigh, he pushed himself to his feet. “Fine,” he muttered, grabbing his shoes. “Let’s see what the big deal is this time.”
A Quiet Shift
As Pavan descended the creaking wooden staircase, the atmosphere shifted subtly. The familiar warmth of his home felt… different. A quiet energy buzzed in the air, like the calm before a storm. The faint aroma of spices drifted from the kitchen, mingling with the gentle hum of Chee’s ever-present essence in his mind. The house seemed alive, as though it, too, was waiting for something.
Little did Pavan know, this morning would mark the beginning of something extraordinary—a journey that would take him beyond the hills of Alok, past the boundaries of Arthlok, and into the heart of the infinite cosmos. The quiet life he cherished was about to collide with a destiny greater than he could have ever imagined.
And it all began with a whisper—a voice carried on the starlit wind.
---
Scene Shift: The Dining Hall
The dining hall buzzed with the gentle hum of morning activity. The aroma of freshly made parathas and steaming tea filled the room, mingling with the earthy scent of polished wooden furniture. Sunlight streamed in through latticed windows, casting intricate patterns on the stone floor like an artist’s brushstrokes.
Pavan sat at the table, absently tearing a piece of paratha into ever-smaller fragments. His mind replayed Chee’s cryptic words, her teasing tone lingering like a melody just out of reach. Around him, his family’s chatter blended into a soothing murmur.
Across the table, his older brother Govind animatedly discussed their plans for the city with their father, Laxman Singh. Govind’s voice carried an unmistakable pride and authority, while Pooja, their twelve-year-old sister, added a cheerful counterpoint with her high-pitched enthusiasm about decorating the house for the upcoming festival.
But Pavan remained detached, his thoughts tangled in unanswered questions.
And then it happened.
A soft, rhythmic ching echoed from the kitchen—the unmistakable sound of anklets in motion. The metallic melody grew louder with each step, resonating in harmony with the room’s warm ambiance. Pavan froze, his pulse quickening. There was something about that sound—commanding yet graceful—that seemed to hold the entire room captive.
He turned instinctively toward the source, his breath hitching as time seemed to pause.
---
Chee's Graceful Entrance
Emerging from the kitchen, carrying a glass of milk, was Chee. Her presence transformed the room, as though even the sunlight conspired to frame her in its golden glow. Her flowing golden hair cascaded like liquid light, catching every ray and forming a radiant halo that framed her serene face.
Her striking green eyes shimmered with an otherworldly glow, deep and enigmatic, like emerald pools reflecting secrets of the cosmos. They seemed to hold warmth and mystery in equal measure, a silent promise of knowledge far beyond mortal comprehension. Resting atop her head was a delicate headpiece, its intricate designs pulsing faintly with unseen energy.
Chee’s attire was as elegant as it was otherworldly. A sleek black blouse hugged her form with understated grace, while a flowing golden lehenga swayed with her every step like ripples of sunlight. A shimmering dupatta, adorned with faint star-like patterns, draped gently over her shoulders. Her anklets chimed with every movement, their rhythm like a subtle heartbeat resonating through the room.
The hum of conversation faded, the air itself seeming to still in her presence. Pavan sat frozen, his gaze locked on her, his thoughts slipping away like sand through his fingers.
Why does she always have this effect on me? he wondered, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure the others could hear it.
Before he could tear his gaze away, Chee’s melodic voice slipped into his mind, teasing and gentle:
"Had your fill of staring? Now, drink this milk before you turn into a statue."
Startled, Pavan fumbled to grab the glass, nearly spilling its contents in his haste. His cheeks flushed a deep crimson as he averted his eyes, acutely aware of every heartbeat thudding in his chest. Chee smiled softly, her teasing replaced by a quiet warmth that steadied his nerves.
As he sipped the milk, he stole a hesitant glance upward. She was still watching him, her emerald gaze unrelenting. It wasn’t discomforting—it was grounding, as if silently reassuring him that no matter what storms awaited, she would always be his anchor.
A Life-Changing Announcement
The peaceful rhythm of the morning shattered as Pavan’s mother entered the dining hall, her face alight with excitement. Her movements were hurried but purposeful as she took her seat at the table.
“Pavan,” she began, her voice trembling with joy, “you’ve been accepted into Triveni!”
The words echoed in the room, hanging in the air as if time itself had paused to acknowledge their weight. Pavan froze, the glass of milk suspended halfway to his lips. He blinked, his mind stumbling over itself, trying to process what he had just heard.
“What?!” he sputtered, nearly choking on the milk. A fit of coughing followed as his wide eyes darted between his family members, searching for confirmation that he hadn’t imagined it.
The room erupted into celebration. His father’s face radiated pride, his chest swelling as though he had just achieved a monumental victory. Govind leaned back in his chair with a smirk, his tone teasing as he said, “Guess you’ve got big shoes to fill now.” He punctuated his comment with a playful wink. Pooja clapped her hands, her laughter bright and infectious, her joy uncontainable.
But amidst the lively atmosphere, Pavan sat frozen, his heart racing. His mind dragged him back to the entrance exam two weeks earlier. He remembered the vast, intimidating hall, the impossibly difficult questions that had stared back at him, and leaving most of them unanswered.
How is this even possible?
His gaze drifted inward as his thoughts turned to Chee. In the quiet corners of his mind, he asked, “Chee… did you do something?”
Her response came swiftly, her tone calm and matter-of-fact. “Do you truly believe I could influence something as monumental as Triveni’s selection process? You underestimate yourself, Pavan.”
The voices of his family swirled around him as they animatedly discussed his future at the prestigious academy, but Pavan barely heard them. He forced a weak smile, but a seed of unease had already taken root deep within him. No amount of celebration could dislodge it.
---
Scene Shift: Pavan’s Room
Later, back in his room, Pavan sat on the edge of his bed, his head cradled in his hands. The once-familiar comfort of the space now felt distant, overshadowed by the uncertainty of what lay ahead. A deep sigh escaped him as his thoughts churned in an unrelenting storm of doubt.
The air shimmered faintly, and from the corner of the room, Chee materialized. She stepped out of thin air with her usual effortless grace, her form outlined by a faint glow that seemed to carry the serenity of the stars. Without a word, she crossed the room and placed her hands gently on his head, pulling him close until his forehead rested against her waist. Her touch was a balm, silently promising comfort.
“Are you really so sad about going to Triveni?” she asked softly, her voice a gentle melody. “I saw how happy your parents were. Don’t you want to make them proud?”
Pavan’s voice was barely audible, his words tinged with vulnerability. “I’m not sad about Triveni… I just… I don’t want to leave them. I don’t want to be alone.”
Chee knelt in front of him, her hands cupping his face as she lifted his gaze to meet hers. Her emerald eyes were steady, glowing with an assurance that seemed to pierce through his fear. She smiled, her tone gentle yet firm. “You won’t be alone, Pavan. I’ll be with you—always. No matter where you go, whether to Triveni or the farthest reaches of the universe, I’ll stay by your side. That’s a promise.”
A faint, tentative smile crept onto Pavan’s lips. “Promise?”
Chee’s smile deepened, her voice unwavering. “I promise. Together… forever.”
In that moment, the weight pressing on Pavan’s chest lifted. The vastness of the universe and the unknowns of his future seemed less daunting. With Chee by his side, he felt ready to face whatever awaited him.
A Moment Beyond Time
Pavan sat on the edge of his bed, his breath shallow, his heart quietly thudding in his chest. The soft golden light of the afternoon filtered through the curtains, bathing the room in a warm, intimate glow. Before him stood Chee, her emerald eyes catching the fading sunlight like glittering jewels. The world beyond them—the noise of the village, the weight of his responsibilities—faded away, leaving only the two of them in their shared moment.
Chee reached out, her touch warm and electric, her arms wrapping gently around his shoulders. Her delicate fingers traced soft, fleeting patterns across his back, sending a shiver through him. Drawn into her orbit, Pavan instinctively placed his hands around her waist, his fingertips brushing against the smooth fabric of her golden lehenga. In that moment, the cosmos seemed to collapse into the space between them, their hearts beating in harmony with the faint hum of magic that always surrounded Chee.
When she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper, fragile and soft, as though she feared to disturb the quiet connection between them.
Chee: “No matter where you go, Pavan, I’ll always be with you. My place is by your side.”
Her words were more than affectionate—they were a vow, transcending time and space. Chee wasn’t just his companion; she was a part of him, bound to his fate in ways neither of them fully understood. Her presence was a warmth that shielded him from the looming uncertainties of his future.
Pavan’s chest swelled with emotion, his thoughts racing with unspoken words. How could he tell her what she meant to him? How could he express the gravity of a connection that seemed to defy logic, one that felt as though it had existed for eternity? All he knew was that he couldn’t imagine letting her go.
He tightened his hold on her waist, pulling her closer. Chee’s breath hitched slightly, her emerald eyes widening before softening into a gentle, affectionate smile. The golden strands of her hair shimmered as they brushed against his cheek, their softness a comforting contrast to the weight of the moment between them. For a fleeting second, Pavan allowed himself to get lost in her—her beauty, her warmth, her promise.
But the fragile silence was soon broken.
---
An Interruption
A hesitant knock sounded at the door, soft but intrusive in the quiet room. It echoed like a distant drum, drawing both Pavan and Chee out of their private world.
A muffled voice followed, tinged with worry.
???: “Brother, may I come in? I need to talk to you.”
The voice grounded them back in reality. Chee’s arms loosened gently from around Pavan’s shoulders, and he reluctantly let his hands fall away from her waist. She glanced at the door, her emerald eyes flickering with understanding. Turning her gaze back to Pavan, she offered a soft, reassuring smile.
Chee: “I’ll be nearby. You should talk to her.”
Her form flickered slightly, as though she were a hologram glitching out of existence. Tiny glowing green cubes rippled across her body, breaking her form into fragments of light. She stepped back, her shimmering presence dissolving like a mirage. With one last lingering look at Pavan, she vanished, leaving behind the faint scent of jasmine and the gentle hum of energy.
---
Chee’s Ability
Chee’s ability to “glitch” wasn’t just teleportation—it was a bending of reality itself. She could interface with dimensions, shifting through space-time in ways incomprehensible to ordinary beings. Her existence danced on the line between the tangible and the ethereal, leaving echoes of her presence wherever she went.
---
Pooja’s Worry
As the last trace of Chee faded, Pavan sighed, his heart still caught in the warmth of her touch. Running a hand through his hair, he turned to the door, his voice calm and steady.
Pavan: “Come in, Pooja.”
The door creaked open, revealing Pooja. She stepped in hesitantly, her small frame seeming even smaller in the dim light. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, her posture stiff, as though she were trying to hold herself together. Pooja’s usual brightness—her infectious cheer and lively energy—was absent. Instead, her downcast eyes glimmered with a worry that tugged at Pavan’s heart.
At twelve, Pooja was the light of their family, the one who always managed to lift their spirits. But now, her solemn expression and the hesitation in her movements betrayed the weight of something far beyond her years.
Pavan sat up straighter, concern flashing across his face. “What’s wrong, little fairy?” he asked gently, using the affectionate nickname he and Chee had given her.
Pooja glanced up briefly, her eyes glistening with unspoken emotion, before looking away again. “I… I don’t want you to leave, Bhaiya,” she said softly, her voice trembling.
The words struck Pavan like a blow, the sincerity in her tone cutting through his own uncertainties. Whatever reservations he had about Triveni, the thought of leaving his sister behind made them all the heavier.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
A Brother’s Promise
Pavan smiled gently, hoping to ease Pooja's concern. He had always been protective of his little sister, especially after Govind had left for Triveni University. In the months since Govind’s departure, Pooja had grown even closer to him, and the thought of leaving her behind weighed heavily on his heart.
Pavan: “What’s wrong, my little fairy? Why do you look so sad?”
The nickname brought a brief smile to Pooja’s lips, but it flickered and disappeared as quickly as it had come. She stepped quietly into the room, her bare feet barely making a sound against the wooden floor. Pavan watched as she sat down beside him on the bed, her small hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. The tension in her posture was unmistakable.
Pavan didn’t need to ask; he already knew what was troubling her. She was afraid of losing him.
He reached out, his hand gently settling on her head as he stroked her hair, a gesture that had always comforted her when she was younger.
Pavan: “You’re worried I’ll leave for Triveni, just like Govind, aren’t you?”
Pooja nodded slowly, her dark eyes beginning to shimmer with unshed tears. She bit her lip, trying to hold back the emotions threatening to overwhelm her. Pavan’s heart ached at the sight of her struggle. He knew how much she looked up to him, how much she depended on his presence. The thought of leaving her behind, even temporarily, felt like an unbearable weight.
Sliding off the bed, Pavan knelt in front of her, his eyes level with hers. He smiled softly, his voice filled with reassurance.
Pavan: “I’m only going there to make everything ready for you. That way, when my little fairy comes to Triveni, she won’t have to worry about a thing.”
Pooja blinked, her brow furrowing slightly as she processed his words. She stayed quiet, and for a moment, Pavan worried his attempt at comfort wasn’t enough. Then, in a trembling whisper, she asked:
Pooja: “But… do you really have to go, brother?”
The question hit him harder than he expected. The weight of responsibility pulling him toward Triveni University was immense—his family’s expectations, the promise of a future he wasn’t sure he was ready for. But the fear in his little sister’s eyes made him wish, even if just for a moment, that he could stay.
He reached out and gently patted her head, trying to lighten the mood.
Pavan: “Yes, I do. But it’s so that when you come, you won’t get lost. And guess what? I’ll even become friends with your favorite actor, Aditya Roy. Imagine how cool it’ll be when you tell your friends your brother is friends with Aditya Roy.”
Pooja’s eyes widened in disbelief, a spark of excitement breaking through the storm of her worry. The mention of her favorite actor lit up her face like the dawn chasing away the night.
Pooja: “Really, Pavan bhaiya?”
Pavan grinned, relieved to see her mood lifting. He knew how much she adored Aditya Roy, and the thought of meeting him was enough to distract her, at least for now.
Pavan: “Really. And when I become friends with him, I’ll make sure he invites you to his next show.”
Pooja’s earlier sadness vanished, replaced by a burst of excitement. She threw her hands in the air, her voice filled with renewed enthusiasm.
Pooja: “Really, brother? Then you should hurry up and go! Make Aditya Roy your friend!”
Pavan couldn’t help but laugh, her sudden enthusiasm infectious. Seeing her smile so brightly filled him with warmth, momentarily pushing aside his own doubts. He reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately.
Pavan: “Alright, alright! I’ll go and make it happen, just for you.”
Pooja beamed at him, her worries forgotten, at least for now. With a final glance back at him, she bounded out of the room, her laughter echoing softly down the hall. Pavan watched her leave, his smile lingering even after she disappeared from view.
---
Lingering Doubts
As the door clicked shut behind her, Pavan’s expression sobered. Slowly, he rose to his feet, the weight of reality settling back onto his shoulders. Triveni was no small journey, and while he had managed to comfort Pooja, he couldn’t shake the uncertainty gnawing at him.
The challenges ahead loomed like a shadow over him, vast and unknown. Yet, even as doubt crept into his heart, he reminded himself of the promise he’d made—to his family, to Pooja, and, perhaps most importantly, to himself.
With a deep breath, Pavan straightened his shoulders. Whatever awaited him at Triveni, he would face it. Not just for his family, but for the little fairy who had so much faith in him.
A Heavier Task Ahead
Pavan had successfully comforted Pooja, easing her worries about his departure to Triveni Gurukul, the most prestigious academy in Arthlok. Yet, as he rose from her side with a soft smile, he knew the hardest part still lay ahead: breaking the news to his friends.
The house, once a sanctuary of comfort, now felt heavier, as if the walls themselves were aware of the changes on the horizon. Pavan stepped out of his room and descended the narrow staircase to the main hall. The familiar aroma of spices and freshly prepared food wafted from the kitchen, mingling with the faint hum of a drone hovering just outside the window.
The kitchen was modest yet alive, a space where countless memories had been cooked and shared with love. His mother stood at the stove, stirring a pot with rhythmic precision. The soft sizzle of spices hitting the pan echoed through the room, steady and grounding.
Pavan paused, taking in the details he often overlooked: the worn wooden furniture his father had built, the crooked family portraits on the walls, the faint blue glow of their AI assistant projecting holographic notifications in the corner. These little things suddenly felt precious.
---
A Quiet Exchange
Pavan approached his mother, his steps steady despite the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind. What will my friends say? he wondered. How do I tell them I’m leaving? The sense of finality pressed on him like a lead blanket, making each step heavier.
Pavan: “Mom,” he called softly, his voice calm but carrying the weight of his thoughts. “I’m heading out to meet my friends. I might be back a little late.”
His mother turned briefly from the stove, her hands never pausing their work. Her warm, knowing eyes flicked toward him. She didn’t need to ask what was on his mind; mothers always knew.
Mother: “Alright, but don’t be too late,” she replied, her tone gentle but tinged with quiet concern.
Pavan nodded and turned toward the door. Just as his hand reached for the doorknob, a shimmer of green light caught his eye. Tiny, glowing cubes materialized in mid-air, assembling rapidly into a sleek, elegant smartphone that hovered within his grasp. The familiar manifestation of Chee’s power brought a faint smile to his face.
Grasping the phone, Pavan chuckled inwardly, his thoughts reaching out to her.
Pavan (thinking): Thank you, Chee.
From the kitchen, Chee glanced at him, her green eyes sparkling with understanding. She stood beside his mother, gracefully helping with the meal, her presence an unspoken reassurance. Her golden hair shimmered under the warm kitchen light, her movements fluid and delicate, even as she performed mundane tasks.
Though Chee said nothing aloud, her smile conveyed everything. The bond between them required no words.
Pavan’s mother noticed the silent exchange but, as always, chose not to comment. There was an unspoken understanding in their household: Chee wasn’t ordinary, yet she was undeniably part of their family.
---
Reaching Out
With the phone in hand, Pavan dialed Vikram’s number. The line rang a few times before his friend picked up, the sound of the connection bringing a new weight to Pavan’s chest.
Pavan: “Hey, Vikram. Meet me at the temple on the hill. I’ve got something important to tell you.” His voice carried a forced excitement, but beneath it, anxiety lingered.
On the other end, Vikram sat on the edge of his bed, his dark hair falling into his eyes. His usually confident demeanor was subdued, his posture tense. There was an unusual heaviness in his voice when he replied:
Vikram: “I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”
The response was quiet, lacking Vikram’s usual spark. Pavan hesitated, sensing something was off but choosing not to press the issue.
Pavan: “Oh, and bring Krishna too,” he added, attempting to keep the conversation light.
Vikram: “Yeah… I’ll get him. I need to talk to both of you anyway.”
The call ended, but Vikram’s tone lingered in Pavan’s mind. There was something there—sadness, hesitation, or perhaps something deeper. Pavan decided to let it go for now. He had his own burden to share.
---
The Weight of Change
As he pocketed the phone, Pavan took a deep breath, feeling the gravity of the moment settle in. His life was about to change forever, and while he had reassured Pooja, he couldn’t ignore the uncertainty in his own heart.
Chee’s voice echoed softly in his mind, calm and steady.
Chee (telepathically): You’ll be alright, Pavan. Just take the first step.
Bolstered by her silent encouragement, Pavan stepped out into the late afternoon sun. The road to the temple stretched ahead, a path he had walked countless times with his friends. But today, it felt different. The weight of his decision hung heavy in the air, and for the first time, the familiar path seemed like a journey into the unknown.
The Call to the Hilltop
After ending the call with Pavan, Vikram immediately dialed Krishna’s number. The phone barely rang once before Krishna’s voice came through, sharp and impatient.
Krishna: “What?” he barked, frustration bleeding into his tone.
Vikram, unfazed, kept his voice steady and to the point. There was no time for pleasantries.
Vikram: “Be at the hilltop temple in 10 minutes.”
The urgency in Vikram’s tone left no room for argument. Without waiting for a response, he ended the call, cutting off any protests Krishna might have had.
---
A Storm at Home
Krishna, standing in the middle of his living room, clenched his phone tightly in one hand. His other hand was balled into a fist at his side, trembling slightly as his anger simmered just beneath the surface. The argument with his father, left unresolved, weighed heavily on him, and the call with Vikram had only added to his frustration.
Krishna: “Dad, just tell me the truth for once! What have you been hiding from me?” he demanded, his voice rising with each word. His sharp gaze bore into his father, who sat quietly on the worn sofa, his face unreadable.
His father’s silence was infuriating. It wasn’t just the lack of answers—it was the deliberate refusal to engage, the dismissal of his questions as if they didn’t matter. The weight of the unspoken truths between them pressed down on Krishna, making his chest feel tight.
When it became clear his father wouldn’t respond, Krishna turned his gaze to his mother, who stood silently in the doorway of the kitchen. Her face was a picture of quiet concern, torn between the two men she loved most. Seeing her hesitation, Krishna softened his tone, though frustration still tinged his words.
Krishna: “Mom, I’m going to meet my friends,” he muttered, his voice lower but still firm. His eyes flickered briefly with regret for dragging her into the storm of his emotions.
Turning back to his father, he spoke again, his voice now cold and controlled.
Krishna: “This isn’t over, Dad. I’ll deal with you when I get back.”
Without waiting for a response, Krishna stormed out, the door slamming shut behind him. The sound reverberated through the small house, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.
---
The Weight of Secrets
Inside, Krishna’s father sat heavily on the sofa, his broad shoulders slumped under the invisible weight of years of secrets. His hands rested on his knees, his knuckles white as they gripped the worn fabric of his pants. The furrow in his brow deepened with each passing second, his thoughts a storm of conflicting emotions.
Krishna’s Father: “I don’t know if we’ve raised a son… or my father,” he muttered bitterly, his voice low but edged with frustration. He shook his head, staring at the floor as if the answers he sought might appear there. “Did you hear the way he talks to me? Like he’s the one in charge.”
His wife moved gracefully from the kitchen, the soft scent of turmeric and cumin lingering around her. She was a woman of quiet strength, her calm presence a counterbalance to her husband’s fiery demeanor. Without a word, she poured a glass of water from an earthen jug and walked over to him, her steps light and deliberate.
Placing the cool glass in his calloused hands, she sat beside him on the sofa, her hand resting gently on his arm. Her voice, when she spoke, was soft yet filled with quiet wisdom.
Krishna’s Mother: “He’s just like your father, you know. Strong-willed, stubborn, but only because he cares so deeply. Give him time. He’ll understand.”
Her faint smile was reassuring, a balm against the tension in the room. Her gaze drifted toward the door, as if she could still feel the echo of Krishna’s frustration lingering in the air.
She knew her son—knew that beneath the anger and stubbornness lay a heart full of passion and love. He was so much like his father, both in temperament and in the way he struggled to express his feelings.
Krishna’s father sighed deeply, his fingers tightening around the glass as he stared straight ahead. In the dim light of the room, his face looked older, the lines of worry etched into his features more pronounced than ever.
Krishna’s Father: “I just want him to be happy,” he admitted quietly, his voice cracking slightly. “That’s all I care about.”
For a moment, the vulnerability in his tone hung in the air, breaking through his rough exterior. His eyes flickered with emotions he rarely allowed himself to show—worry, fear for the future, and above all, love for a son who mirrored him in ways he couldn’t yet admit.
A Walk Toward Change
The midday sun bathed the village roads in golden light, the hum of life softened by a warm, fragrant breeze. Pavan walked along the winding path from his house, his hands buried in his pockets and his thoughts elsewhere. The faint scent of blooming jasmine mingled with the rustle of leaves, but he barely noticed. His mind was tangled with worries—how to tell his friends he had passed the entrance exam for Triveni Gurukul and would soon be leaving for an unknown chapter of his life.
Every step felt heavier than the last as he replayed imaginary conversations. Would they be happy for me? Sad? Angry? The thought of leaving behind his family, his friends, and his familiar world gnawed at his heart. Unconsciously, his feet carried him to the hill where the Hanuman temple stood, a place of solace and reflection. He had asked his friends to meet him there, hoping the serene atmosphere might help him find the right words.
The crunch of dirt beneath his sandals barely registered in his distracted mind. Birds chirped nearby, and the distant chime of a vendor’s bell echoed faintly, but Pavan was too lost in thought to notice.
Then, without warning, a sleek automated car sped down the same road, its A.I. calculating its route at a reckless 120 kilometers per hour.
The car’s sensors detected Pavan too late, honking sharply to alert him. But lost in his thoughts, he didn’t hear the warning or see the vehicle barreling toward him. As the car drew dangerously close, Pavan felt an invisible force seize him. His body froze mid-step, his muscles unresponsive, as if an unseen power had taken control.
The car zipped past him, missing him by mere inches. Its speed whipped up a gust of wind that tousled his hair and left him standing there, trembling and wide-eyed. His heart thundered in his chest as he watched the vehicle disappear down the road.
Pavan: “How did such a big car suddenly appear out of nowhere?” he muttered, his voice shaky. His legs felt like jelly, and for a moment, he thought he might collapse.
A familiar voice, soft yet tinged with concern, echoed in his mind.
Chee: “The car was always there, Pavan. But you… you weren’t.”
He exhaled sharply, relief flooding through him as he recognized the voice.
Pavan (whispering): “Chee... Thank you. I understand now.” A hint of humor crept into his tone. “But could you let me go, please?”
Her amused hum resonated in his thoughts.
Chee: “Hmm... I suppose.”
The invisible grip released, and Pavan staggered slightly before regaining his balance. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself and murmured,
Pavan: “I need to stay focused from now on.”
This time, his steps were more cautious as he approached the hill. In the distance, the golden spires of the Hanuman temple gleamed in the sunlight, a beacon of hope and serenity.
---
The Temple and Chotu
At the base of the hill, a small shop run by an A.I. assistant named Chotu caught his eye. Pavan approached the counter, leaning against it with a faint smile.
Pavan: “Chotu, give me a coconut, 250 grams of makhana, and a pack of incense sticks.”
As he spoke, he pulled out the sleek smartphone Chee had gifted him, transferring 50 rupees with a few taps. Chotu’s screen-face flickered as it responded with its robotic but cheeky tone.
Chotu: “I’ll tell Uncle Ramu you were here and said ‘Jai Shri Ram,’ but that’ll cost extra.”
Pavan raised an eyebrow, feigning offense.
Pavan: “Extra? You tin can!”
Chotu’s screen-face mirrored his glare, and the two stared each other down for a moment. Then, with a mischievous grin, Pavan snatched a packet of chocolates from the counter and bolted toward the stairs.
Pavan (laughing): “Need more extra charges now, tin can?”
Chotu leaned out of the shop, its mechanical arms flailing.
Chotu: “Who are you calling a tin can, you thief!”
Pavan’s laughter echoed as he climbed the steps, slowing only when exhaustion caught up with him. By the time he reached the final stretch, he was gasping for air. Bent over, his hands resting on his knees, he muttered,
Pavan: “They really should install an elevator here.”
Back at home, Chee, monitoring him from afar, smiled at his remark. Her voice, soft and teasing, drifted into his mind.
Chee: “If they install an elevator, this place would lose its charm. The peace and quiet would be gone.”
Pavan chuckled, wiping the sweat from his brow. Looking around, he took in the lush greenery, the rustling leaves, and the distant chants from the temple.
Pavan: “Yeah, that makes sense.”
---
A Prayer for Strength
At the temple, the scent of burning incense and marigold garlands filled the air. The priest greeted Pavan warmly, accepting the offerings as Pavan stepped forward to stand before the majestic idol of Lord Hanuman.
With hands clasped in prayer, Pavan closed his eyes and silently poured his heart out:
Pavan (praying): “Lord, please give me the strength to tell my friends the truth. Help me succeed at Triveni Gurukul and make my family proud.”
When he opened his eyes, the priest handed him the prasad, which he accepted with gratitude. Stepping outside, he found a quiet spot under the shade of a large neem tree. Sitting on a bench, he allowed himself to relax, letting the cool breeze soothe his tired body.
For the first time in days, Pavan felt at peace. The weight of his upcoming conversation with his friends still lingered, but surrounded by the temple’s tranquility, he felt ready to face whatever came next.
---
A Moment of Solace
After offering the prasadam at the temple, Pavan stepped outside, the holy offerings still in his hands. He wandered toward a majestic tamarind tree nearby, its wide branches swaying gently in the summer breeze. Beneath its shade, the grass shimmered in a soft, inviting green—a perfect spot to escape the weight of the world. Slipping off his sandals, Pavan let the cool earth touch his bare feet and sank down onto the grass.
His thoughts swirled as he tried to figure out how to break the news to his friends. The weight of the decision sat heavily on his chest, and anxiety churned in his mind. Yet, as he sat under the sprawling branches, a cool breeze swept through, carrying with it the faint scent of flowers from the temple garden. It tousled his hair and caressed his face, as if the world itself sought to comfort him.
The sensation pulled him from his thoughts. For a moment, the constant buzz of worry in his mind quieted. With a deep breath, Pavan decided to set aside his concerns about the future. Just for now, he thought. He stretched out on the grass, his arms and legs sprawling out as the earth seemed to cradle him.
The shade of the tamarind tree wrapped around him like a cocoon, the midday heat replaced by the cool tranquility of the spot. The gentle rustle of leaves above, the soft tickle of grass beneath his feet, and the melody of nature all around lulled him into relaxation. The mingling scents of fresh blooms and moist soil filled his lungs, grounding him in the present moment.
Far away, Chee sensed Pavan’s growing calm and decided to help him unwind further. A soft, melodious tune resonated directly in his ears—a lullaby of her creation, soothing and sweet. Pavan’s eyelids grew heavy as the music wrapped around him like a warm embrace. Before long, his breathing slowed, and he drifted into a peaceful sleep beneath the tamarind tree.
---
Scene Shift: Vikram’s Journey
Meanwhile, Vikram, having asked Krishna to meet him at the temple, stepped out of his house and began the winding path uphill. The midday sun beat down on him, but the occasional shade from overhanging branches and the familiar sights of the village kept his thoughts grounded. As he approached Chotu’s store at the foot of the hill, he paused, scanning the area.
Vikram: “Where’s Ramu Chacha, Chotu?”
Chotu, still fuming after Pavan’s earlier antics, snapped back with irritation.
Chotu: “Can’t you see? I’m the only one here!”
Vikram, unfazed, quickly surmised that Pavan had already gone up the hill. He knew Pavan’s tendency to tease Chotu, and the assistant’s current annoyance was evidence enough of his friend’s earlier visit. Keeping his tone calm, Vikram replied,
Vikram: “Alright, pack me a box of those milk sweets with cashews and almonds.”
Chotu grumbled under his breath but quickly packed the sweets and handed them over.
Chotu: “Here. Now hurry up and get out of here,” he huffed, his mechanical tone brimming with irritation.
Vikram took the box with a polite nod and began his ascent, his thoughts preoccupied with his own worries. Step by step, he climbed the hill, lost in the question of how he would share his own difficult decision with his friends. By the time he reached the temple, his mind was a swirl of uncertainty.
---
At the Temple
Inside the temple, Vikram greeted the priest and handed over his offerings.
The priest, a man with a warm and knowing smile, looked at Vikram with mild surprise.
Priest: “Did you have a falling out with those two rascals?”
Vikram blinked in confusion.
Vikram: “No, Pandit Ji. Nothing like that. Why do you ask?”
The priest chuckled softly.
Priest: “It’s just strange to see you alone. Usually, those two are glued to your side. But if you’re looking for Pavan, he’s under the tamarind tree.”
Vikram nodded gratefully, thanking the priest before heading toward the tree. As he approached, he scanned the area but couldn’t see Pavan anywhere. For a moment, he wondered if the priest had been teasing him. Then, a soft snore caught his attention. Following the sound, Vikram rounded the tree and found Pavan sprawled out on the grass, sound asleep.
---
A Quiet Respite
Vikram’s first reaction was irritation. Pavan had called him out, claiming there was something important to discuss, and now he was napping without a care in the world. For a moment, he considered waking him up, but as he stood there, his frustration began to fade.
Instead, Vikram sighed and sat down beside his friend. He glanced at Pavan’s peaceful face, taking in the rare sight of his friend completely at ease. As he watched, a quiet sadness crept into Vikram’s heart. He realized that moments like these—just the three of them together—would soon become scarce. Pavan’s departure would mark the beginning of a new chapter, one that might pull them apart in ways they couldn’t yet foresee.
Lost in his thoughts, Vikram leaned back against the tree. The weight of his own worries pressed on him, but for now, he allowed himself a brief escape. The soothing shade of the tamarind tree, the gentle breeze, and the soft hum of nature worked their magic, and soon, Vikram, too, drifted into a peaceful sleep beside his friend.
---
Scene Shift: Krishna’s Chase
Krishna, still fuming after his argument with his father, stormed toward the hilltop temple. His mind churned with frustration, his thoughts racing too fast to notice the path ahead of him. His strides were forceful, each step an outlet for his boiling anger.
Suddenly, his foot brushed against something soft, but he paid no attention, lost in his internal storm.
A low growl from behind snapped him back to reality. Turning around, he found himself face-to-face with Bhura, the neighborhood dog. Bhura’s fur bristled, his eyes glaring with indignation. Krishna recognized him instantly and smirked, unfazed by the dog’s anger.
Krishna: “Not today, Bhura. I’m already in a bad mood.”
He turned to continue his path, dismissing the dog entirely. But Bhura wasn’t about to let the slight go unnoticed. Krishna had stepped on his tail—a grievous offense in Bhura’s eyes—and the dog was determined to make him pay.
With a sharp bark, Bhura lunged forward, barking ferociously. Krishna ignored him at first, his patience strained to its limit. But as Bhura’s growls grew louder and closer, Krishna’s frustration boiled over.
He stopped abruptly, spun on his heels, and glared at the dog.
Krishna: “I warned you, Bhura. Now you’ve done it!”
Bhura froze for a split second as Krishna lunged. The dog’s heart raced, and in a burst of panic, he darted away, yelping as he fled. Krishna gave chase, his anger momentarily replaced by laughter as he sprinted after Bhura through the village streets.
---
A Wild Scene
The chaotic pursuit eventually led them to Ramu Chacha’s store, where Krishna finally managed to grab Bhura by the scruff of his neck. Pinning the squirming dog down, Krishna grinned triumphantly.
Krishna: “Got you now, Bhura! Today’s your unlucky day. Maybe I’ll turn you into a snack—fry you up with some chili and salt!”
Bhura’s eyes widened in horror, his gaze darting around for help. Inside the store, Chotu peeked nervously from behind the counter. The scene outside sent shivers through his circuits.
Chotu (muttering): “That monster’s going to turn Bhura into dinner!”
Bhura looked pleadingly at Chotu, but the robotic assistant only shook his screen-face, trembling. Chotu knew better than to get involved with Krishna. The boy’s mischievous streak was legendary, and the consequences of interfering were too terrifying to imagine.
Chotu (thinking): If I step in, Krishna will sell me for scrap and eat sweets from my store while I’m dismantled.
Chotu stayed hidden, silently praying for the ordeal to end quickly.
---
Ramu Chacha’s Fury
Just as Krishna prepared to continue his mock threats, a sandal flew through the air and struck him squarely on the head. Startled, Krishna blinked in confusion and looked around, clutching the offending sandal.
Krishna: “Who dares interfere with my business?”
A deep, gravelly voice answered from behind him, laced with authority and annoyance.
Ramu Chacha: “Oh, you’re in for it now.”
Krishna turned slowly, his bravado crumbling. Standing before him was Ramu Chacha, his second sandal already in hand, ready for action.
Krishna (stammering): “Ra-Ramu Chacha... I-I was just playing with Bhura…”
Ramu Chacha’s glare could have melted steel. Raising his sandal, he ignored Krishna’s excuses.
Ramu Chacha: “Playing, huh? Well, now it’s my turn!”
Without waiting for a response, Ramu Chacha charged, sandal swinging.
---
A Hasty Retreat
Krishna bolted up the hill, his laughter replaced by panicked gasps as he ran for his life. Bhura, now free, barked triumphantly from a safe distance.
Krishna (panting): “It was just a joke, Chacha! I swear!”
But Ramu Chacha wasn’t listening. He chased Krishna halfway up the hill before stopping, shaking his sandal in the air as a final warning.
By the time Krishna reached the temple, he was out of breath, his face flushed, and his legs aching. Safe at last, he leaned against a stone pillar to catch his breath.
Krishna (muttering): “I swear… Bhura and Chotu are teaming up against me. Next time, I’ll—”
But before he could finish his thought, the soothing tranquility of the temple grounds calmed him. His frustration and exhaustion began to ebb away, leaving only the faint echoes of his earlier anger.
Looking around, Krishna spotted the tamarind tree in the distance and began walking toward it, ready to join his friends and put the chaotic events of the day behind him.
---
The Serene Hilltop
Krishna raced toward the peak of the hill, his breaths coming in quick, frantic gasps. He glanced over his shoulder, heart pounding, scanning for any sign of Ramu Uncle. Relief washed over him when he realized the chase was over. He leaned against a tree, chest heaving, a victorious grin spreading across his face. The thrill of his escape still buzzed through him, but as the adrenaline faded, his thoughts turned to the task at hand.
Once he had caught his breath, Krishna composed himself and made his way toward the temple. The area around it was unusually quiet, almost unsettlingly so. The only sounds were the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze and the faint ringing of bells from within the temple. The scent of incense and sandalwood lingered in the air, creating an almost dreamlike atmosphere.
Krishna frowned. He scanned the courtyard, expecting to find Vikram and Pawan waiting for him, but the place was empty. Worry began to creep in as he stepped into the temple. Inside, the priest was carefully arranging the musical instruments for the evening Aarti.
Krishna: “Do you know where my friends Vikram and Pawan are?” he asked, his voice sharp with impatience.
The priest, unperturbed, continued his work in silence.
Krishna’s temper flared, his fists clenching, but he forced himself to take a deep breath. Calming the storm within him, he tried again, his tone softer.
Krishna: “Priest, have you seen my friends Vikram and Pawan around here?”
The priest paused, glancing at Krishna with an air of understanding.
Priest: “They’re under the tamarind tree,” he said simply, then returned to his duties.
Without waiting for another word, Krishna bolted toward the tamarind tree. When he arrived, he stopped abruptly, his irritation bubbling over as he found Vikram and Pawan sprawled out on the grass, fast asleep. Their peaceful slumber seemed to mock his earlier panic.
His fists tightened, his face flushing with frustration. He took a step forward, intent on waking them, but stopped himself. What would I even say? he wondered, his anger momentarily replaced by uncertainty.
---
Joining the Quiet
Krishna sat down beside Pawan, glancing at his sleeping friends. Their calm, serene expressions only aggravated him further. After sitting in silence for a while, boredom began to creep in. His anger dissipated, replaced by a reluctant acceptance of the moment’s stillness.
Finally, Krishna lay down beside Pawan. The soft grass and the cool shade of the tamarind tree worked their magic, soothing his restless mind. Before long, he too drifted into a quiet, peaceful sleep, the tension melting from his body.
---
A Dream of Eternity
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, its golden rays filtered through the tamarind tree’s branches, casting dappled light over the three friends. The soft, warm glow caressed their faces, as if nature itself were nudging them awake, whispering, “It’s time to rise.”
But for Pawan, sleep had taken him to another realm entirely. In his dreams, he found himself in a magical garden, unlike anything he had ever seen. The garden was alive with vibrant colors, each hue glowing with an otherworldly brilliance. The sky above was a mosaic of celestial wonders—planets, moons, and galaxies twinkled like jewels in a cosmic tapestry.
The air was rich with the scent of flowers, mingling with a cool, refreshing breeze. The garden felt timeless, a sanctuary untouched by the worries of the world. In this ethereal paradise, Pawan rested his head on Chee’s lap.
Her touch was gentle, her fingers combing softly through his hair. Each stroke seemed to carry a magic of its own, dissolving his exhaustion and worries. Though his eyes remained closed, a contented smile graced his lips. Time felt meaningless here, stretching and blurring into a serene eternity where only he and Chee existed.
Chee: “You’ve been carrying so much, Pawan,” she whispered, her voice like the melody of a distant star. “Rest now. There’s no need to rush.”
Her words wrapped around him like a warm embrace, her presence grounding him in this perfect moment. As she continued to soothe him, Pawan’s mind floated in blissful quiet, his heart lighter than it had been in weeks.
---
Rude Awakening
Slowly, Pawan opened his eyes, still caught in the dream’s haze. His gaze lingered lovingly on Chee’s face, vivid and warm, as though she were truly there with him. He reached out, wanting to touch her, to hold onto the fleeting serenity of the dream. But an odd sensation gripped him—like invisible bonds holding him in place.
The peaceful moment shattered as he felt a soft tickle near his ear, followed by the warmth of someone kissing his cheek. A faint whisper reached his ears, “I love you.”
Pawan’s eyes snapped open in horror. The magical garden was gone, replaced by the shade of the tamarind tree—and Krishna, clinging to him in his sleep, mumbling the very same words.
Pawan’s face turned crimson with shock and fury. Without a second thought, he shoved Krishna away with all his might, shouting,
Pawan: “Get off me, you pervert!”
Krishna, caught completely off guard, tumbled a few feet away, landing with a grunt. Groggy and confused, he rubbed his sore arm and looked up at Pawan.
Krishna: “What the hell is your problem?”
Pawan, wiping furiously at his cheek, growled,
Pawan: “You sicko! Stay the hell away from me!”
Grabbing his shoe, Pawan launched himself at Krishna, wielding it like a weapon.
Pawan: “I’ll make sure you never do that again!”
Krishna, now wide awake and panicked, scrambled to defend himself, throwing up his arms.
Krishna: “What are you talking about? I was asleep! I didn’t mean to!”
---
The Commotion
The ruckus woke Vikram, who groggily sat up, his hair disheveled and his eyes squinting in confusion. Seeing Pawan relentlessly attacking Krishna with a shoe, he quickly got to his feet and pulled Pawan back.
Vikram: “Pawan, stop! What’s wrong with you?”
Pawan struggled against Vikram’s grip, his face still flushed with anger.
Pawan: “Let me go, Vikram! This pervert kissed me in his sleep!”
Vikram froze, his eyes darting between Pawan’s furious expression and Krishna’s bewildered, bruised face.
Vikram: “Wait… what?”
Pawan launched into an animated retelling of the incident, his voice rising with every word. As the story unfolded, Vikram’s expression shifted from shock to barely-contained amusement. By the time Pawan finished, Vikram was struggling to keep a straight face.
Letting go of Pawan, Vikram chuckled,
Vikram: “Alright, alright, calm down. It was an accident.”
But Pawan wasn’t done. The moment he was free, he lunged at Krishna again, resuming his assault.
Pawan: “I’ll show you an accident!”
Krishna yelped, scrambling backward and shouting,
Krishna: “I said I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!”
Vikram sighed, running a hand through his hair. He realized this wasn’t going to resolve itself peacefully. Muttering under his breath, he turned and walked toward the temple.
---
A Cooling Off
A few minutes later, Vikram returned, holding a small bag of ice and some bandages. He had convinced the priest to let him borrow them after hastily explaining the situation.
He found Krishna on his knees, profusely apologizing to a still-fuming Pawan. Vikram handed the ice pack and bandages to Krishna, who gratefully began tending to his bruises.
Vikram turned to Pawan, his voice calm but firm.
Vikram: “So… now that we’ve dealt with that, care to tell us why you called us here in the first place?”
Krishna, still wincing as he wrapped a bandage around his arm, glanced at Pawan expectantly. The anger on Pawan’s face melted into a mix of sadness and apprehension. He had momentarily forgotten the reason they were there, but now the weight of it settled back onto his shoulders.
The sudden silence was heavy, thick with tension. Pawan opened his mouth to speak but hesitated. The words wouldn’t come. His gaze dropped to the ground, his fists clenching at his sides.
The three friends sat quietly under the tree, the echoes of their earlier commotion fading into the stillness of the evening. The golden light of the setting sun filtered through the tamarind tree’s leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground. It was as though the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for Pawan to speak.
---
To be continued.....
