"There was a time when we understood time, and yet now, in the midst of our busyness and distractions, we've forgotten who truly holds the reins of time."
As the flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across the walls of the humble abode, the old grandmother settled herself beside Arsh, her weathered hands cradling the soft glow of the flame. With a gentle smile, she began to weave a tale of wonder and mystery, her voice a soothing melody that echoed through the dimly lit room.
"Long ago," she began, her voice soft yet filled with a sense of awe, "there lived a boy much like yourself, Arsh. He, too, knew the pain of loneliness, for he had no mother or father to guide him through the trials of life."
Arsh listened intently, his eyes wide with wonder as he imagined himself in the shoes of the boy in the story, his heart yearning for the supernatural powers that awaited him in the old grandmother's tale.
"But despite his hardships, this boy possessed a gift—a gift bestowed upon him by the Supreme God himself," the old grandmother continued, her words carrying the weight of ancient wisdom. "He had the power to command the elements, to bend reality to his will, and to protect those in need with his supernatural abilities."
Arsh's eyes sparkled with excitement at the thought of such extraordinary powers, his imagination ignited by the possibilities that lay before him. "Was he a hero?" he asked eagerly, his voice tinged with anticipation.
The old grandmother nodded, her eyes shining with pride. "Indeed, he was a hero—a beacon of hope in a world shrouded in darkness. He used his powers for the greater good, defending the weak and standing up against injustice wherever it reared its ugly head."
As the tale unfolded, Arsh felt a sense of kinship with the boy in the story, his heart swelling with the desire to emulate his bravery and selflessness. "What happened to him?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The old grandmother's expression grew solemn as she recounted the boy's mysterious disappearance. "No one knows for certain," she replied, her voice tinged with sadness. "Some say he ascended to the heavens, while others believe he simply vanished into the ether, his presence felt only in the echoes of his deeds."
With a heavy heart, Arsh listened as the old grandmother concluded her tale, the weight of the boy's fate hanging heavy in the air. As the candle burned low and the shadows danced around them, she reached out and gently extinguished the flame, leaving them bathed in darkness.
"Sleep now, dear Arsh," she whispered, her voice a gentle lullaby that calmed his troubled mind. "For even heroes need their rest, and tomorrow is a new day filled with endless possibilities."
With a contented sigh, Arsh closed his eyes, the echoes of the old grandmother's tale lingering in his dreams as he drifted into a peaceful slumber. And as she curled up beside him, the warmth of her presence enveloping him like a blanket, he knew that he was not alone—that he was surrounded by love, both earthly and divine.
As Arsh drifted into the depths of sleep, his mind became ensnared in the tangled web of dreams. He found himself wandering alone in a dark and foreboding forest, the sounds of unseen creatures echoing through the dense undergrowth. Shadows danced menacingly on the edges of his vision, and the air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and fear.
Amidst the chaos of the forest, a voice whispered on the edge of Arsh's consciousness, urging him to flee from the looming darkness that threatened to consume him. But he pressed on, his curiosity driving him forward, until he stumbled upon a faint glimmer of light piercing the oppressive gloom.
The light, a radiant sky blue hue, beckoned to Arsh like a beacon in the night, drawing him inexorably closer with its ethereal glow. As he approached, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and excitement, he beheld a sight that filled him with wonder and awe.
Before him stood a magnificent statue, bathed in the shimmering light of the crystal emanating from its core. The statue depicted a figure with four hands, each holding a symbol of divine significance—a flower, a peacock-feathered fan, a conch shell, and two formidable weapons.
Intrigued by the mysterious aura that surrounded the statue, Arsh reached out a trembling hand and touched its surface. In that moment, a surge of energy coursed through him, sending him tumbling into darkness as the world around him dissolved into nothingness.
Back in the present, Arsh lay motionless, his body bathed in the soft glow of the sky blue crystal light that emanated from his eyes and mouth. His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and fear as he struggled to make sense of the strange and vivid dream that had seized him.
Unbeknownst to him, the power of the statue had imbued him with a divine energy, For some greater cause that lay dormant within him. Now, as the blue crystal light danced across his skin, Arsh found himself on the precipice of a journey that would take him beyond the confines of the ordinary world, into the realm of myth and legend.
But as he grappled with the enormity of his newfound Dream, one question burned brightly in his mind—who was he, and what role did he play in the unfolding tapestry of destiny? Only time would reveal the answers, but for now, Arsh could do nothing but wait, his heart filled with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation for the adventures that lay ahead.
As Arsh blinked away the remnants of sleep, his mind still swimming with the echoes of his dream, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease gnawing at the edges of his consciousness. Rubbing his eyes, he cast a wary glance around the room, half expecting to see traces of the mysterious blue crystal light that had enveloped him in his dream.
"Strange," he muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. "It felt so real."
A sudden gust of wind rustled the curtains by the window, sending them billowing into the room like ethereal specters dancing in the morning light. Arsh shivered involuntarily, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as a chill crept down his spine.
Brushing aside his apprehension, he shook his head and forced himself to focus on the present moment. "Just a dream," he reminded himself, though the words rang hollow in his ears.
Outside, the sky stretched out in an expanse of azure blue, punctuated by the shimmering brilliance of a thousand twinkling stars. Arsh couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the universe spread out before him, the vastness of space stretching out in all directions like an infinite canvas waiting to be explored.
Unbeknownst to him, high above in the heavens, the divine hand of Lord Vishnu hovered over him, his gaze filled with a sense of purpose and determination. With a silent command, he whispered words of guidance and reassurance to Arsh, planting the seeds of destiny within his heart.
Arsh felt a strange sense of warmth wash over him, a feeling of calm and serenity settling over his troubled mind. Though he couldn't quite explain it, he felt as though he were being guided by forces beyond his understanding, towards a destiny that lay shrouded in mystery and wonder.
With a contented sigh, he allowed himself to relax into the embrace of sleep once more, his dreams filled with visions of adventure and discovery. Little did he know that he was on the cusp of a journey that would take him far beyond the confines of his ordinary existence, into the realms of myth and legend.
And as he drifted into the depths of slumber, surrounded by the silent watch of the stars and the gentle caress of the night breeze, Arsh felt a sense of anticipation stirring within him—a sense of anticipation for the destiny that awaited him, and the adventures that lay just beyond the horizon.
As the first rays of morning sunlight streamed through the window, painting the room in a warm golden glow, Arsh slowly roused from his slumber. Stretching his limbs, he yawned and rubbed his eyes, blinking away the remnants of sleep as he took in his surroundings.
With a sigh, he realized that his grandmother had already left for work, leaving behind a hearty breakfast for him on the table. The aroma of freshly cooked food wafted through the air, enticing him with promises of nourishment and comfort.
Arsh wasted no time in freshening up, splashing cool water on his face and rinsing away the traces of sleep from his weary eyes. Feeling revitalized, he made his way to the table and eagerly dug into the delicious spread laid out before him, savoring each mouthful with gusto.
As he ate, his thoughts drifted back to the events of the previous day, and the hurtful words that had been exchanged between him and Raj. Despite the passage of time, the sting of Raj's taunts still lingered, casting a shadow over their friendship.
Lost in his thoughts, Arsh was startled when Raj approached him, his expression contrite as he offered an apology. "Arsh, I'm sorry about yesterday," he said, his voice tinged with sincerity. "I didn't mean to hurt you with my words. Can we forget about it and move on?"
Arsh regarded his friend for a moment, weighing his words carefully. Though he still felt the lingering pain of Raj's insults, he knew that holding onto grudges would only serve to poison their friendship. With a nod, he accepted Raj's apology, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Of course, Raj. Friends forgive and forget, right?"
Raj grinned in relief, relieved that their bond had weathered the storm of their disagreement. "Right," he replied, clapping Arsh on the back. "Now, let's go out and have some fun!"
Together, they made their way outside, the crisp morning air invigorating their spirits as they embarked on a new day filled with endless possibilities. As they played with a worn leather ball, their laughter mingled with the sounds of birdsong and distant chatter, a testament to the enduring strength of their friendship.
Suddenly, their game was interrupted by the arrival of a cart vehicle, its four wheels creaking as it trundled down the dusty street. Pulled by four weary-looking human slaves, the cart was adorned with garish decorations and piled high with goods of all kinds.
Seated atop the cart, a fat-bellied man snored loudly, oblivious to the world around him as he slumbered in the morning sun. Beside him, a young girl with downcast eyes sang softly, her voice a haunting melody that echoed through the quiet street.
As the cart drew nearer, Arsh's heart sank at the sight of the girl, her humble attire and downtrodden demeanor marking her as one of the low-caste workers who toiled tirelessly in the service of others. He felt a surge of anger rise within him at the injustice of her situation, the indignity of her treatment by the fat-bellied man.
As the cart drew closer, Arsh's heart clenched with a mixture of sorrow and indignation at the sight of the downtrodden girl and the fat-bellied man who treated her with such cruelty. With a determined glint in his eyes, he turned to Raj, his voice firm with resolve.
"Raj, we can't let this continue," Arsh declared, his words echoing with conviction. "We have to do something to help that girl."
Raj nodded in agreement, his own sense of outrage mirrored in his expression. "You're right, Arsh. Let's put an end to this injustice once and for all."
Together, they approached the cart, their footsteps resolute as they confronted the fat-bellied man who sat atop it, his snores mingling with the soft strains of the girl's song.
"Stop!" Arsh shouted, his voice ringing out with authority as he stepped forward to intervene. "You have no right to treat her like this. Let her go."
But the fat-bellied man merely laughed, his eyes glinting with malice as he waved off Arsh's protests. "Mind your own business, boy," he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "This girl is mine to do with as I please."
With a defiant glare, Arsh reached out to stop the man's hand as it descended to strike the girl once more. But before he could make contact, a searing pain shot through his body as the man's hand connected with his cheek, sending him staggering backward.
Raj rushed to Arsh's side, concern etched on his face as he helped his friend regain his footing. "Are you okay, Arsh?" he asked, his voice filled with worry.
Arsh winced as he rubbed his cheek, the sting of the blow fading into the background as a surge of determination filled his veins. "I'm fine, Raj," he replied, his gaze never leaving the fat-bellied man who stood before him. "But we can't let him get away with this."
With renewed resolve, Arsh stepped forward once more, his eyes flashing with defiance as he confronted the man who sought to oppress the girl before him. "You may think you can do whatever you want because of your wealth and power," he declared, his voice ringing out with conviction. "But you're wrong. No one has the right to mistreat another human being."
The fat-bellied man's face contorted with rage at Arsh's words, his fists clenched in fury as he prepared to strike once more. But before he could make a move, a strange phenomenon occurred—the air around them began to shimmer and distort, as if the very fabric of reality was warping before their eyes.
And then, from out of the swirling vortex of smoke and haze, emerged a figure—a being of pure energy and light, its form shifting and morphing with every passing moment. With a thunderous roar, it lunged at the fat-bellied man, its fists raining down upon him with the force of a hurricane.
Caught off guard by the sudden attack, the man stumbled backward, his cries of pain drowned out by the cacophony of the commotion. And then, in an instant, the figure disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, leaving behind only a stunned silence in its wake.
Arsh and Raj stared in awe at the scene before them, their minds struggling to comprehend the events that had just unfolded. But one thing was clear—the mysterious figure had come to their aid, vanquishing their oppressor with a display of otherworldly power.
As the dust settled and the echoes of the encounter faded into the distance, Arsh turned to Raj, a sense of wonderment shining in his eyes. "Did you see that, Raj?" he asked, his voice filled with awe. "Who was that?"
Raj shook his head in disbelief, his own sense of wonder mirroring Arsh's. "I don't know, Arsh," he replied, his voice tinged with reverence. "But whoever they were, they saved us—and that girl—from a fate worse than death."
With a shared glance, Arsh and Raj turned to the girl, who stood before them with tears of gratitude streaming down her cheeks. In that moment, they knew that their lives would never be the same—that they had been touched by something far greater than themselves, something beyond the realm of human understanding.
And as they stood together, united in their triumph over adversity, Arsh couldn't help but feel a sense of hope stirring within him—a hope that, no matter how dark the world may seem, there would always be a light to guide them through the shadows.
Who is that Smoke Guy?
[End of Chapter 2]