The door creaked as Dhruv and Gorgo stepped out into the morning light, their figures casting long shadows on the ground. The house stood silent behind them, bathed in the warm golden hue of the rising sun. Dhruv paused at the gate, his hand resting on the rusty latch. His gaze lingered on the house—a place filled with memories, warmth, and the echo of his grandmother's voice.
The once-familiar walls now seemed distant, as if the house itself was bidding him farewell. The cracked windows reflected a faint image of the boy he used to be, lost and searching. His heart ached, knowing that this was not just a departure from a building but from an era of his life.
He turned fully to face the house, his eyes tracing every detail—the chipped paint, the crooked wind chime his grandmother had loved, the garden overrun with weeds yet still holding the essence of her care. He felt as though he was taking a snapshot of it in his mind, preserving it forever in the depths of his heart.
"This is it," he thought. A final goodbye.
He didn't say a word, but his eyes brimmed with unshed tears. He drew in a deep breath, the air heavy with the scent of earth and memories. Slowly, he bowed his head, as if paying silent homage to everything the house had given him—his childhood, his grandmother's love, and now, the clarity to move forward.
Gorgo, standing a few steps ahead, didn't interrupt. He watched Dhruv with a rare understanding in his usually stoic gaze. The demon-turned-companion stayed silent, sensing the gravity of the moment.
Finally, Dhruv straightened and turned away from the house. He didn't look back again. The gate clicked shut behind them, the sound echoing like the closing of a chapter. The road stretched ahead, bathed in sunlight, as if the universe itself was urging him forward.
As they walked away, Dhruv felt lighter. The weight of regret, of the past, seemed to lift ever so slightly. For the first time in a long while, he felt the faint stirrings of hope. The journey wasn't over, but he had taken the first step towards something new.
The two of them walked side by side through the narrow streets, the golden sunlight casting long shadows as the world around them slowly woke up. The chirping of birds filled the air, but the atmosphere between them remained heavy, almost suffocating in its awkwardness. Gorgo, uncharacteristically unsure of how to break the silence, cleared his throat.
"I know I shouldn't ask," he began hesitantly, glancing at Dhruv out of the corner of his eye. "It's not my job to dig into souls' past traumas or family issues—that's Chitragupta's department, not mine." He scratched his head awkwardly. "But... I can't help my curiosity this time. What happened here? Why were you at that old hut, all alone, in such a remote village? Why did you..." He hesitated, almost unsure of how to word it delicately. "Why did you die? And... weren't there any family members for you? No one to be there when—"
He stopped himself, realizing he might've gone too far. The question lingered in the air like a heavy cloud.
Dhruv didn't respond immediately. He kept walking, his face unreadable, but his hands clenched into fists by his sides. Gorgo opened his mouth to apologize, but Dhruv interrupted.
"I wasn't always alone," Dhruv said quietly, his voice calm but carrying an edge of raw pain. He didn't turn to look at Gorgo; instead, his eyes remained fixed ahead. "I had a family. A father, a mother, a brother, and... my dadi. She was the only one who really... saw me, you know?" His voice faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered.
"For a while, everything was fine. Or at least, it seemed fine on the surface. My parents were always busy. Too busy. My dad was consumed by work, and my mom... well, she was caught up in the endless social expectations. They didn't have time for me. They never noticed when I fell behind in school or when I'd sit quietly in the corner, wondering if I even mattered."
He paused, his voice growing heavier. "When I was eight, they decided it would be best if I lived with Dadi. She could take care of me while they continued their busy lives. It wasn't a choice—they didn't even ask me. They just... left me there. I still remember watching them drive away without even looking back."
Dhruv's steps slowed as he spoke. "Dadi tried her best. She gave me all the love she could, and for a while, I thought it was enough. She told me stories, fed me my favorite meals, and made sure I never felt like a burden. But even then... it wasn't the same. I was just a kid. I wanted my parents. I wanted my family."
He stopped walking for a moment, staring at the ground. "For company, I only had Shivaii and my brothers, who were kind enough to look after me whenever they could. But they had their own lives too. I was always the outsider. The one who didn't belong anywhere."
He resumed walking, his voice quieter now. "When Dadi passed away... everything fell apart. I was fourteen. Too young to handle that kind of loss. My parents didn't even come to see me right away. They were 'too busy.' I had to handle everything alone. From that point on, I stopped hoping for anything. I stopped believing that anyone cared."
The memory seemed to choke him for a moment, but he pushed through. "I tried to stay in the city after that, but I couldn't. It felt... suffocating. Like I was drowning in a place where I didn't belong. So I went back to Dadi's house. The only place that ever felt like home. And I stayed there, alone."
Gorgo frowned, his tail twitching uncomfortably. "But... how did you—"
Dhruv cut him off. "I stopped eating. Stopped trying. Stopped caring. One day, my body just... gave out." He finally turned to look at Gorgo, his eyes dark with pain but also strangely resolute. "You asked why I died. That's why. Because I didn't know how to live anymore."
There was a long silence between them, broken only by the sound of their footsteps on the dusty road.
Gorgo, for once, didn't know what to say. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "That's... heavy," he muttered.
Dhruv gave a small, bitter laugh. "Yeah. It is."
The silence returned, but this time it felt different—less awkward, more understanding. As they continued walking, the sunlight seemed a little warmer, the world a little less cruel. Dhruv didn't know what lay ahead, but for the first time in a long time, he felt like maybe, just maybe, there was something worth walking towards.
The two continued walking, the awkwardness between them replaced by a somber quiet. Gorgo's curiosity, however, refused to be silenced. After a moment, he glanced sideways at Dhruv and hesitated before speaking.
"So," Gorgo began slowly, choosing his words carefully, "who is this Shivai and his brothers you're talking about?"
Dhruv's steps faltered slightly, and for a brief second, his expression softened—a flicker of something bittersweet crossing his face. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before responding.
As they continued walking through the streets, Gorgo noticed Dhruv's expression darken slightly. The boy's earlier nostalgia had given way to a quiet sadness, as if some old wound had been reopened. Despite his usual reluctance to pry, Gorgo couldn't resist the urge to satisfy his curiosity.
"So," Gorgo began cautiously, "who is this Shivai and his brothers you're talking about?"
Dhruv's steps slowed, and for a moment, he didn't respond. His gaze was fixed ahead, but his mind was clearly somewhere else. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and measured.
"Shivai... and his brothers," Dhruv began, "they were my best friends—no, more than that. They were like family to me. When I moved in with Dadi, I was just eight years old. My parents were too busy—work, business trips, whatever—to really look after me. So, I ended up with her."
He glanced at Gorgo briefly, as if gauging his reaction, then looked away again. "It wasn't easy at first. I mean, I loved Dadi, but being away from my parents... it was lonely.
"You know, Gorgo," Dhruv started, his voice soft and reflective, "Shivai wasn't just any friend. He and his brothers were like the family I didn't know I needed back then."
Dhruv's steps faltered slightly as he corrected himself. "I mean, Shivai and his brothers weren't kids like me back then. They were adults—young men, probably in their early twenties. They had this air about them, like they'd seen the world for what it was and still managed to laugh at it. I looked up to them."
He glanced at Gorgo, trying to find the right words to explain. "When I first met Shivai in that park, I didn't realize he had brothers at all. He just seemed... alone. We talked for a while, and when the sun started setting, I offered to walk him home. That's when I met them—his six older brothers. They were sitting around a small fire in an abandoned lot, joking and teasing each other like they didn't have a care in the world. But when Shivai introduced me, they turned serious."
Dhruv chuckled softly at the memory. "They didn't trust me at first. They thought I was just another random kid who'd leave Shivai once I got bored. But I proved them wrong. Shivai vouched for me, and over time, I became one of them. They taught me everything—how to fix a bike, how to stand up for myself, how to find joy in the simplest things. They weren't just my friends; they were my family."
Gorgo tilted his head slightly, genuinely intrigued. "So, you all lived together?"
"Yeah," Dhruv said, nodding. "When I moved in with Dadi, my parents were too busy to check in on me much. But Shivai and his brothers? They made sure I wasn't alone. They practically moved into Dadi's house with me. We'd spend hours doing everything together. Playing cricket in the yard, climbing trees, watching Shaktimaan on the old TV. God, those were the days. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, shouting at the screen, pretending we were superheroes too.It was funny to watch them we laughed together for that things".
Gorgo tilted his head curiously. "What made them stay with you and your grandmother?"
Dhruv's eyes softened. "I think it was Dadi. She had this way of making everyone feel at home. Shivai and his brothers had been drifters for a long time, moving from one place to another, never really settling down. But when they met her, something changed. She treated them like her own sons, scolding them when they made a mess, feeding them like they hadn't eaten in weeks. They adored her. And I think... I think they saw her house as the first real home they'd ever had.Dadi would always make extra parathas because she knew they'd come over. And they loved her too, like she was their own grandmother. Shivai especially. I think she reminded him of someone he'd lost—though he never talked about it. He'd always help her with chores, and in return, she'd ruffle his hair and call him her 'My naughty demon'."
Gorgo stayed quiet, sensing there was more to come.
"But then, everything changed," Dhruv said, his tone dropping. "When Dadi passed away, it was like the ground was pulled out from under me. Shivai and his brothers... they disappeared. No warning, no explanation. One day they were there, and the next, they were just... gone. I waited for them, searched for them, but it was like they'd vanished into thin air.I've been trying to find them."
Gorgo was silent for a moment, then asked, "Do you think they're still out there?"
Dhruv's gaze turned resolute. "I don't know. But if they are, I'll find them. I owe that to Dadi. I owe that to them. Shivai wasn't just a friend—he was my anchor. And his brothers... they were the only ones who truly understood what it meant to belong nowhere, and yet, belong together."
The air grew heavy with unspoken emotions, and for once, even Gorgo didn't try to break the silence with a snarky comment. He simply walked beside Dhruv, his respect for the young man growing with every word.
"They must have been important," Gorgo finally said, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
"They were," Dhruv replied simply, his gaze distant. "They still are...."
-TO BE CONTINUED