Arjun Malhotra sat on the edge of his one-bedroom apartment in South Delhi, staring at the flickering streetlights outside. The city never truly slept, but unlike the bustling streets of Connaught Place or the luxury of Lutyens' Delhi, his neighborhood had a different energy—one of quiet struggle.
The ceiling fan whirred above him, barely making a difference in the humid summer night. His laptop screen glowed with spreadsheets, business proposals, and an inbox filled with rejection emails. Arjun leaned back, rubbing his temples. Another failed pitch, another investor unwilling to take a chance on his startup, NextGen Solutions. He had envisioned it as a revolutionary tech firm, blending AI-driven automation with consumer products, but vision alone wasn't enough. He needed capital, and no one was willing to bet on a young entrepreneur with no financial backing.
"Damn it," he muttered, closing his laptop.
His phone buzzed. A message from his college friend, Rajiv.
Rajiv: Bhai, did you see? Vikas just got funded—5 crores. He's launching his fintech app.
Arjun exhaled sharply. He had been in the same college incubator as Vikas, competing for the same investors, but now Vikas had cracked the code while Arjun was still struggling to pay rent. He typed a quick reply.
Arjun: Congrats to him. Good for the ecosystem.
The response was diplomatic, but his gut twisted with frustration. He wasn't jealous—at least, not exactly. He just couldn't understand why, despite his hard work, he kept hitting dead ends.
A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. He opened it to find his landlord, Mr. Sharma, a balding man in his fifties with the perpetually annoyed expression of someone tired of late payments.
"Arjun beta," Sharma began, his tone more forceful than friendly. "It's been three months. You know I can't keep waiting. You said last time you'd get the funds."
"I know, Uncle. I just need a little more time. I have some meetings lined up—"
Sharma sighed. "Beta, I like you, but I run a business too. One more month. No excuses."
Arjun nodded, forcing a smile. "Understood, Uncle. I'll figure it out."
As Sharma walked away, Arjun felt the walls closing in. His parents in West Delhi had already done more than enough, sending what little savings they could spare. He had maxed out his credit cards, cut every unnecessary expense, and was now living off instant noodles and optimism.
Sinking into his chair, he stared at the ceiling. Is this it? Is this where I break?
The Tipping Point
Two days later, Arjun sat across from a potential investor at an upscale café in Cyber Hub, Gurgaon. The man, Mr. Mehta, a mid-40s venture capitalist with a sharp suit and sharper gaze, sipped his espresso as Arjun pitched passionately.
"Our AI-integrated home automation system isn't just another smart assistant," Arjun explained, animated. "It learns behavioral patterns, optimizes energy use, and can be integrated across devices seamlessly. We already have a working prototype."
Mehta smirked. "Interesting. But tell me, how do you plan to compete with giants like Google and Amazon?"
Arjun leaned forward. "Customization. Unlike them, our system doesn't just work on their ecosystem—it adapts to the user. It can be tailored for personal, business, and even medical needs."
Mehta tapped his fingers on the table. "You have drive, I'll give you that. But your financials are weak. You need at least five crores to scale. Why should I risk that on you?"
Arjun swallowed his frustration. "Because innovation starts with belief. We have the idea, the prototype, and the determination. We just need someone to believe in us."
Mehta chuckled. "Belief doesn't pay bills."
He slid the business plan back to Arjun. "I like your energy, but I don't invest in passion alone. If you get traction, come back. Otherwise, consider joining an established firm."
Arjun felt the rejection settle in his bones. He nodded, forcing a polite handshake, and walked out. As soon as he hit the pavement, his hands clenched into fists.
"Damn it!" he muttered under his breath.
He had given everything, but in the eyes of investors, he was still just another struggling entrepreneur.
A Night of Change
That evening, back in his apartment, Arjun sat in the dim glow of his screen. He had exhausted all options. His rent deadline loomed, and his bank balance barely covered necessities. He shut his laptop, feeling the weight of defeat.
Then, everything changed.
The air in the room grew heavy, charged with an unseen energy. The temperature dropped slightly. A low, melodic hum filled his ears. He sat up, alarmed.
A deep voice, neither threatening nor familiar, spoke.
"You have entertained me."
Arjun's breath hitched. "Who's there?"
Light filled the room, soft yet radiant, forming into a figure—not human, not entirely divine, but something beyond comprehension. The being had no defined face, just shifting patterns of energy in the shape of a person.
Arjun stumbled back. "What the—"
"Do not be afraid." The voice resonated in his mind more than in his ears. "I am merely an observer. I have watched your struggles, your resilience, and I find them... entertaining."
Arjun's rational mind screamed hallucination, but something deep within him told him this was real.
"What do you want?" he asked cautiously.
The being chuckled—a sound like distant thunder and soft whispers. "I want nothing. I give. To those who amuse me."
A surge of warmth flowed through Arjun's body. Symbols he couldn't understand flickered before his eyes. His mind felt... expanded.
"You are now gifted. A power unlike any other. Use it as you will."
Arjun gasped as knowledge flooded his thoughts. He saw words, concepts forming in his mind:
Creation: The ability to craft anything except life itself, using matter or energy.
World Travel: The ability to step into movie and TV worlds.
Infinite System: A space beyond reality, storing anything he desired.
His head spun. "This—this is impossible."
The being merely smiled—if a shifting form of energy could smile. "Is it?"
Before Arjun could ask more, the light faded. The presence was gone. The room returned to normal, but he felt different.
His hand trembled as he raised it, instinctively willing something into existence. A small, golden coin materialized in his palm. He gasped, dropping it. It hit the floor with a real, metallic clink.
Heart pounding, he stared at the coin. He had created something from nothing.
Arjun's struggle wasn't over. No, it had just begun.
And this time, the rules of reality no longer applied.