A man ran through the jungle — lost, desperate, haunted.
Arjun clutched his head tightly as the voices screamed inside his mind. Echoes. Wails. Whispers. A hundred trapped souls clawing at his sanity.
> "Stop… STOP… PLEASE!" he cried, stumbling over roots and fallen branches.
But the voices only grew louder — like a storm of suffering, a flood of forgotten agony echoing through every corner of his being.
He crashed through the trees, breath shallow, eyes wild, until he reached a clearing. His knees buckled. He collapsed to the ground, trembling, helpless.
> "Stoooopppp!! Stooooooopppp!! PLEASEEEEE!" he screamed into the empty night, tears cutting through the mud on his face.
Still, the cries didn't fade.
They pierced deeper — not just his ears, but his soul.
And then… something shifted.
Arjun's body stilled. He gritted his teeth. His eyes, swollen with pain, suddenly blazed with something else — a raw force rising from within.
He stood.
Shaking. Bleeding. Determined.
And with every last breath, he roared into the sky:
> "WAKE UPPPPPPPPPP!!!"
The jungle froze.
The cries vanished.
The burning shadow that hovered in the air evaporated — a smoky wisp dissolving into silence.
All that remained was the echo of his voice and the pounding of his heart.
Silence… but not peace.
Something had changed.
Something ancient had heard him.
And far, far away… something stirred.
---
One Year Ago…
The ticking of the wall clock echoed in the quiet room.
Arjun adjusted his shirt collar in the mirror, checked his wristwatch — 8:15 AM, and picked up his leather file folder.
Outside his apartment window, the early morning sun peeked through scattered monsoon clouds. The city of Pune was slowly waking up — chai stalls steaming, buses honking, children running to school with half-eaten toast in hand.
He locked the door behind him and took the stairs down. His Bullet stood parked near the compound wall, polished, proud. He kicked the stand, revved the engine, and rode off toward SK Real Estate's Head Office — unaware that the path ahead would slowly begin to bend.
---
The clatter of keyboard keys echoed softly in the large account office. Fluorescent lights above hummed quietly, casting a sterile white glow across rows of cubicles lined with files, ledgers, and dusty calculators. It was the end of another day — just numbers, entries, and silent conclusions drawn from the mathematics of people's lives.
Arjun Kulkarni sat on the 11th floor of the SK Real Estate building, his eyes fixed on a column of figures in a balance sheet. The red pen circled a mismatch. He sighed, made a neat note in the margin, and checked the table clock again.
5:45 PM.
He leaned back in his chair. The city of Pune stretched beyond the glass window — dense, humid, layered with distant honks and fluttering hoardings. The monsoon clouds had begun their slow dance above the skyline, a thick grey sheet rolling over the city.
He stood up, walked to the window, and placed his hand on the glass. The cold sensation brought back a familiar memory… a flash from another time.
---
Flashback – College Days
Wind rushed past his face. The bell of a cycle jingled as Ravi pedaled faster on the narrow road alongside him. The scent of damp leaves, the occasional splash from potholes, and the carefree energy of youth made that moment feel like freedom.
"Chal yaar," Ravi called out, laughing. "Accountancy lecture mein aaj bhi ghanta samajh nahi aayega."
(→ "Come on, man. We won't understand a thing in today's accountancy lecture either.")
Arjun smirked. "Samajhna zaroori nahi… likh lena kaafi hai."
("Understanding isn't necessary… just writing it down is enough.")
They turned into the college gate, parked their cycles, and ran toward the classroom just as the bell rang.
Inside, the teacher scribbled on the chalkboard — "If a business suffers a net loss, how do we reflect it in capital?"
Hands shot up. A confident voice answered, but it was wrong. Arjun remained quiet, just writing the correct answer in his notebook — silent, composed.
After class, Ravi nudged him.
"Tu correct likha tha, bola kyun nahi?"
("You wrote the correct answer, so why didn't you say it aloud?")
Arjun shrugged. "Unnecessary highlight karke kya fayda? Galti ko bhi samajhna important hota hai."
("What's the point in highlighting unnecessarily? It's important to understand the mistake too.")
That was Arjun — always there, always correct, but never loud. Like an undercurrent — calm, but deep.
---
Back to Present
Arjun stepped away from the window. The sky had grown darker. He packed his bag, wore his rain-soaked helmet, and walked to the parking. His Bullet stood gleaming in the dim light — his recent indulgence after years of saving.
As he started the engine, the first drops of rain tapped his helmet. Within moments, the drizzle turned into a downpour. He pulled over under a tree canopy — no raincoat, no shelter. Just him and the rain.
He watched the water fall — the way it hit the road, danced over leaves, and created miniature rivers beside the footpath. His eyes followed the droplets… and another memory surfaced.
---
Flashback – The First Turn
It was a Monday morning — the kind that smells of wet mud and distant traffic. Arjun had received a sudden assignment — an audit meeting with a major client, SK Real Estate, part of the Kashyap Group.
He wore his best formal shirt, took a cab, and quietly observed the city through the misty windows. The cab halted outside a tall glass building, sleek and modern. Rain tapped lightly on his shoulders as he walked in.
Inside the lobby, chaos unfolded. A janitor lost his footing on the wet floor. A large filing cabinet tipped dangerously toward the receptionist's desk.
Before anyone could react, Arjun dashed forward. With one hand, he balanced the falling cabinet just inches from the receptionist's head. Papers flew in the air, the cabinet rattled, but he held it.
The receptionist gasped. "How did you…?"
Arjun didn't say anything. He simply pushed the cabinet back in place and helped the janitor stand.
Upstairs, on the mezzanine level, a woman watched silently — Sonal Kashyap, Director of SK Real Estate. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she observed the quiet man who just saved her employee without a word.
---
Meeting Room | Later That Day
The audit meeting began. Other executives presented reports filled with buzzwords and technical jargon. But when Arjun spoke, the room grew quiet. His voice was steady, his report structured with surgical clarity — no exaggeration, no sugar-coating.
Sonal listened closely. Unlike others, Arjun wasn't trying to impress anyone. He spoke through data — graphs, numbers, implications. But what struck her most was his silence. A rare kind of silence — not emptiness, but weight.
"He's not just doing a job," she thought. "He understands the silence in numbers."
---
Coffee & Curiosity
Two days later, a message pinged on Arjun's phone:
> "Possible discrepancy in vendor column. Can you drop by?" — SK Real Estate.
He reached the office promptly. But there was no file waiting. Instead, Sonal offered coffee.
"I figured… it's easier to discuss over a cup."
Arjun sat, unsure. Their conversation was simple — work, industry, analysis. Yet beneath the surface, something subtle brewed. Sonal leaned in slightly during certain parts. Arjun remained reserved but attentive. Every word he spoke was deliberate, every silence intentional.
As monsoon progressed, their meetings became more frequent — sometimes genuine work, sometimes just casual reviews. Rain poured outside, but inside those glass walls, something warm stirred.
Love didn't begin with declarations — it grew quietly, in glances and pauses. In the smell of freshly brewed coffee. In shared silences between deadlines.
---
Present – Return Home
The rain had slowed. Arjun started his bike again and drove toward home. The roads gleamed under yellow streetlights. Small puddles splashed as tires ran over them. He reached his apartment building at 6:50 PM, parked his bike, and walked in.
His room was simple — a small 1BHK, organized, minimalistic. He placed his bag down, took out his phone — no calls, no messages.
He stared at the screen for a moment, sighed, and went for a shower.
The steam fogged the bathroom mirror. Arjun stood still under the hot water, eyes closed — the day washing off his shoulders. After changing into his nightwear, he opened his wardrobe and picked his kitchen apron — a habit from his grandfather's military-influenced routines.
---
Flashback – A Morning with Grandfather
Sunlight filtered through the old curtains. The whistling of a pressure cooker filled the air. Vishwanath Rao — a tall, lean man with silver hair and a commanding voice — placed two steel cups of tea on the table. The newspaper was neatly folded beside them.
"Arjun!" he called out. "Chai ready hai."
("Tea is ready.")
A teenage Arjun, sleepy-eyed and calm, emerged from his room in a simple T-shirt and track pants.
He sat across his grandfather, who looked at him with quiet authority.
"Test results aaye?"
("Did your test results come?")
"Haan… average hai. Maths mein thoda kam aaya," Arjun said honestly.
("Yes… they're average. I scored a bit less in Math.")
"Thoda aur mehnat kar," the old man said, sipping his tea. "Zindagi mein average chal jaata hai… bas niyat saaf honi chahiye."
("Work a bit harder. In life, being average is fine… as long as your intentions are honest.")
Those words stayed etched in Arjun's mind more than any textbook lesson.
---
Back to Present – Home Interior
Arjun set the dinner plates on the table — simple sabzi, rice, and two rotis. He sat on the sofa, the television off, the room silent except for the ticking of the wall clock.
Across the room hung a framed photograph — his grandfather, standing tall in his army uniform, stern and proud. His eyes always seemed to watch over the room.
Arjun stared at the photo for a moment.
"Main average ho sakta hoon… par har kadam sirf soch kar hi uthta hoon," he whispered.
He ate slowly, in silence. The world outside was chaotic, loud, distracted. But his life was in rhythm — deliberate, balanced, and calm. He didn't chase noise. He didn't chase spotlight.
But destiny has its own clock… and it was slowly ticking toward something much bigger.
---
To be continued…