[3RD PERSON POV]
As the opening ceremony began, a soft murmur of excitement rippled through the crowd gathered in front of the café. The grand sign of Flute & Foam shimmered under the glow of the moonlight, the peacock feather logo casting an enchanting shadow on the ground. Parth and Nandini moved quickly, tying the vibrant red ribbon across the entrance with precise care. The air buzzed with anticipation as Lavanya handed a pair of ceremonial scissors to Dadasaheb, her movements graceful yet filled with pride.
The cameras clicked incessantly, capturing every moment—the shine in Dadasaheb's eyes, Yamunabai's gentle smile, and the stunning ambiance of the café under the night sky. The soft hum of conversation fell silent as Dadasaheb and Yamunabai stepped forward together. With a warm smile and a slight nod to the crowd, they cut the ribbon in one smooth motion. The crowd erupted into cheerful applause as the red ribbon fell away, symbolizing not just the opening of a café but the beginning of a dream shared by everyone involved.
The café doors swung open, and the interior lights spilled out onto the street, inviting everyone to step inside. Guests eagerly posed for photos, their laughter mingling with the soft strains of instrumental music playing in the background. The atmosphere transformed into something magical—a lively celebration bathed in moonlight. Staff members began serving platters of delicacies, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the scent of warm pastries and savory snacks, adding another layer of warmth to the event.
Swara, glowing with excitement, grabbed Hari's hand and dragged him toward the photographers. "Come on! You can't escape this," she said, her smile mischievous yet endearing.
Hari tried to protest, smiling nervously. "Swara, I don't think—"
But she cut him off, already positioning him in front of the café's logo. "Smile, or I'll make you regret it!" she warned playfully.
Hari sighed but couldn't suppress a small grin. The photographers captured the moment—the shy yet cheerful boy standing beside the determined and radiant girl. Their friends and family joined in for group shots, the joy on their faces shining brighter than the café lights.
As the night deepened, the celebration grew more vibrant. Guests mingled, sharing laughter and heartfelt congratulations. The moonlight continued to illuminate the scene, as if nature itself were celebrating this moment. Hari looked around at the lively atmosphere, the beaming faces of his friends, and the glowing café that had become the center of attention.
For a brief moment, he felt a wave of contentment wash over him. Despite the challenges and mysteries ahead, this was a moment to cherish—a beginning worth celebrating.
After the opening ceremony wrapped up and the photos were done, the café buzzed with activity. Parth and the others were busy attending to guests, ensuring everything ran smoothly. Hari, meanwhile, found a quiet corner to relax, joining Swara, Kartik, and Yash at a cozy table. They sipped their drinks, the warm glow of the café lights creating a soothing atmosphere around them.
Swara held her glass of Frappe Delight with both hands, a satisfied smile spreading across her face as she took another sip. "This drink," she said, her tone brimming with approval, "is absolutely amazing. I really like it."
Hari, seated across from her, chuckled lightly and gave a small, playful bow. "Thank you for the compliment, Miss Swara," he said with a grin.
Swara raised an eyebrow, her expression one of bemusement. "Why are you thanking me? It's not like you came up with the recipe," she teased, her tone light yet curious.
Hari leaned back in his chair, the corner of his lips curling into a mysterious smile. "Is that so?" he replied, his tone equally teasing.
Swara's curiosity deepened. "Wait," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Are you trying to say that you created this recipe?"
Hari tilted his head slightly, his expression playfully smug. "Of course," he said with an air of mock seriousness. "Who else, if not me?"
Kartik and Yash paused mid-sip, their eyes darting between Hari and Swara, clearly intrigued by the sudden revelation. Swara, however, remained skeptical. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "You expect me to believe that? You? A recipe genius?" she said, her voice dripping with doubt.
Hari's smile widened, a playful glint sparkling in his eyes. "If you don't believe me," he said, his voice calm but brimming with confidence, "you can always ask Siddharth. He'll tell you. I'm a MasterChef."
Swara blinked at him, unsure whether he was joking or being serious. "MasterChef?" she repeated, the word hanging in the air as her skepticism battled with the possibility that Hari might actually be telling the truth.
Kartik's eyes widened as he glanced at Hari, an expression of disbelief settling on his face. Hari raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharp. "What are you looking at?" he asked, a hint of amusement mixed with a touch of irritation in his voice.
Kartik, clearly relishing the opportunity to tease, smirked. "If lying were an art, you'd definitely be a master at it, Dada," he said, his tone playful but laced with a bit of mockery.
Hari's eyes narrowed, a small twitch of frustration flickering across his face. "What do you mean? You think I'm lying?" His voice was firm, the playful undertone of earlier replaced with something more serious, though still tinged with humor.
Kartik, sensing the shift in Hari's mood, quickly backed off, his nervousness creeping in. "Oh, I was just joking," he said, laughing awkwardly. "Haha, no need to get all serious, Dada."
Swara and Yash couldn't help but laugh at the exchange, the playful energy between them lightening the moment. Hari sighed, shaking his head. He knew when it was best to drop the subject before things got too complicated.
Deciding to steer the conversation in a different direction, Hari turned to Yash with a more relaxed expression. "So, Yash," he said with a smile, his tone softer now, "did you think about what I told you about YouTube?"
Yash looked up from his drink, his expression turning thoughtful for a moment. He let out a small sigh and shrugged. "Didn't I tell you already?" he replied, his voice tinged with frustration. "My parents won't even let me use their phone, let alone start a YouTube channel." His tone was a mix of disappointment and resignation, as if the conversation had already gone in circles too many times.
Hari's smile remained steady, his eyes filled with encouragement as he looked at Yash. "Then you should try to convince them," he said with a warm, reassuring tone. "It's a good opportunity for you. YouTube is growing fast in India. You can create your own channel. If your content is right, and you gain enough subscribers, you can even get paid for it."
Yash's eyes flickered with a spark of excitement, his disbelief turning into genuine interest. "Are you telling the truth?" he asked, his voice slightly wavering with a mix of hope and skepticism.
Hari nodded, his expression sincere as he leaned a little closer. "Of course, why would I lie to you?" he replied, his voice carrying the conviction of someone who had seen opportunities open up in ways others hadn't imagined. "If you just sit around and wait to be selected for a music reality show, it's not going to take you anywhere. But this... this is a chance to do something for yourself. You can show your talent, and if it takes off, who knows where it could lead. You could even make money from it."
The word paid seemed to ignite something inside Yash. His eyes widened, a spark of excitement flaring brightly in them as he leaned in slightly. "Really? You're not joking?"
Hari smiled softly, shaking his head. "Why would I joke about something like this? Look, I know the music reality show seems like the dream, but the competition is fierce. People like you... people with real talent... they get overlooked sometimes. YouTube, though? That's different. You can create your own space, your own audience. Whether you're singing, gaming, or making funny videos—it's up to you. And trust me, there's no harm in trying."
Yash's fingers nervously drummed against his cup as he absorbed Hari's words. His mind raced, imagining the possibility of carving out his own niche. He looked up at Hari, a new sense of determination creeping into his features. "You really think I could do it?"
Hari's gaze softened, his smile warm but earnest. "I know you can. And even if it doesn't blow up overnight, you'll gain experience—something that'll help you down the road, no matter what path you take. So give it your best shot, Yash. You have nothing to lose."
Yash stared into his cup, his brows furrowed as he sank deep into thought, clearly weighing Hari's words. Noticing his silence, Swara turned her attention to Hari, tilting her head slightly, her curiosity piqued. "What are you two talking about?" she asked, her tone a mix of suspicion and intrigue.
Hari, ever the playful, leaned back in his chair with a mischievous grin. "Nothing," he replied sweetly, a little too sweetly.
Swara's brows furrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line as she glared at him. "Tell me. I want to know," she demanded, crossing her arms like an irritated schoolteacher.
Hari chuckled softly, unable to resist teasing her further. "Relax, we were just talking about the YouTube app," he said nonchalantly, his tone light as if it were no big deal.
But Swara wasn't so easily convinced. She narrowed her eyes at him, her expression clearly saying, I don't buy it. Seeing her dissatisfaction, Hari let out a small sigh and shook his head, deciding not to push her patience further. "Nothing much," he added, his smile softening. "Just some ideas for Yash to think about."
Before Swara could press further, Yash finally broke his silence, looking up with a determined expression. "Your idea is good, Hari," he said, nodding firmly. "I should give it a try."
Hari's eyes lit up with approval, and he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. "You should," he said warmly, his voice carrying encouragement. "But remember, my friend," he added, his tone taking on a slightly more serious note, "fame comes with a price. Famous people don't have personal lives. If you want to gain something, you'll have to sacrifice something."
Yash nodded again, his face filled with determination as he mulled over Hari's words. Kartik, meanwhile, had been quietly observing the exchange, sipping his drink, the straw making soft slurping sounds as he neared the bottom of his glass. His wide-eyed curiosity betrayed how much he was enjoying this discussion, even if he didn't participate.
Breaking the momentary silence, Swara leaned forward, a playful glint in her eyes. "So, Hari," she began, her smile mischievous, "do you think I could be famous?"
Hari turned his attention to her, his gaze warm but amused. "Of course, you can," he replied smoothly, his voice carrying a teasing edge. "But didn't you hear what I just said? Famous people don't have personal lives. Are you sure you want that?"
Swara paused, her playful demeanor faltering for a moment as she actually considered the question. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the rim of her glass, her brow furrowing slightly. After a moment, her expression shifted—her lips curved into a resolute smile, but there was an underlying nervousness in her eyes.
"No," she said quickly, shaking her head with exaggerated vigor, as if to rid herself of the very idea. "I'm good. I don't want to be famous."
Her dramatic response made Kartik burst into a muffled snicker, his drink almost spilling from his hand. Hari, however, couldn't contain his laughter. A deep, hearty chuckle escaped him, the sound drawing curious glances from nearby tables.
"Smart choice, Swara," he said, still laughing. "I mean, who wants paparazzi outside their house, right?"
Swara pouted, crossing her arms in mock offense. "Don't laugh at me, Hari! I'm being practical," she said, though her tone carried no real anger. A moment later, her pout cracked into a small smile, her playful nature winning out.
"Practicality suits you," Hari said with a grin, leaning back in his chair. "You've got your priorities straight."
As Swara rolled her eyes, Yash and Kartik exchanged amused glances. The atmosphere at the table felt light and easy, the kind of camaraderie that made moments like this unforgettable.
As the laughter at the table subsided, a shadow loomed over them. Turning their heads, they saw Dadasaheb approaching, his posture commanding yet calm. His presence immediately shifted the atmosphere. Swara, Kartik, and Yash sat up straighter, their earlier carefree expressions replaced with nervousness.
Hari, however, remained unfazed, his trademark smile firmly in place.
When Dadasaheb reached the table, he stopped, his sharp eyes scanning the group before settling on Hari. "I want to talk with you privately," he said, his voice low but firm.
Swara blinked, her gaze darting between Dadasaheb and Hari. "Bu-but, Ajoba," she began hesitantly, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to protest.
Dadasaheb's gaze shifted to her, gentle yet resolute, silencing her mid-sentence. Swara swallowed hard, glancing at Hari for reassurance. Hari gave her a subtle nod, his calm demeanor steadying her nerves. Reluctantly, she stood, motioning for Kartik and Yash to follow her.
As the three of them walked away, Swara kept glancing back, her worry evident. Kartik whispered something to her, but she didn't respond, her attention lingering on Hari and her grandfather.
Once they were out of earshot, Dadasaheb took the chair opposite Hari and sat down silently. His expression was unreadable, his eyes studying Hari with an intensity that would make most people squirm. But Hari, unbothered, leaned back casually, his smile unwavering.
"You just scared them, you know that," Hari remarked, his tone light and teasing.
Dadasaheb's sharp gaze remained fixed on him, but his lips twitched, almost imperceptibly, as if amused by the boy's audacity. "You're an interesting kid," he finally said, his voice carrying a weight of curiosity and authority.
Hari's smile widened. "You're an interesting person yourself, Old man," he replied smoothly, his tone respectful yet cheeky.
For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence stretching between them. The distant hum of the café's lively atmosphere served as the only backdrop. It was as though they were sizing each other up, testing the waters in a quiet duel of wits and willpower.
Dadasaheb leaned back in his chair, the corners of his lips lifting in a faint smile. "When I heard about you from Siddharth, I was surprised," he began, his deep voice carrying a mix of curiosity and intrigue. "So, I looked into your background. Everything seemed normal...but you? You're far from ordinary. If I had to describe you, I'd say you're...extraordinary."
Hari's eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand. "Well, that's quite the coincidence," he replied playfully. "I've heard a little about you too, Old man. A man whose very name could shake the government of Maharashtra once upon a time. And yet here you are now, a simple family man."
Dadasaheb's expression softened, his sharp gaze shifting to something more reflective. "As expected, you know about that," he said, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "Those were the good old days."
A sigh escaped him, and for a moment, the weight of his past seemed to settle visibly on his shoulders. Hari watched him closely, his smile unwavering yet tinged with understanding.
"Can I ask you something, old man?" Hari broke the silence, his tone casual yet curious.
Dadasaheb's eyebrows rose slightly, and he straightened in his seat, his gaze returning to Hari. "What is it?"
Hari's grin widened, but his eyes held a glimmer of sincerity. "If you had that much influence and power back then, why didn't you become Chief Minister?"
The question hung in the air like a challenge, but Hari's tone was light, almost teasing.
Dadasaheb let out a deep sigh, his expression a blend of reflection and weariness. "It's not that easy, kid," he said, his voice steady but tinged with the weight of experience. "Even with power and influence, becoming Chief Minister isn't simple. It's not just about ambition; it's about strategy, alliances, timing, and sometimes...sacrifices."
Hari leaned back, laughing softly. "Hahaha, you old man, you really are something else," he said, his playful tone bringing a small smile to Dadasaheb's face. Then, with a glint of mischief in his eyes, Hari added, "But what about now?"
Dadasaheb frowned slightly, his brows knitting together as he studied Hari's expression. The playful tone was still there, but beneath it lay a spark of seriousness. "Are you serious, kid?" he asked, leaning forward slightly, his voice low.
Hari's smile widened, and he leaned in closer, resting his chin on his hand. "Of course, I'm serious," he said, his tone playful yet deliberate. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves. I wasn't talking about you, old man. The candidate I'm thinking of...well, you know what I mean."
Dadasaheb raised an eyebrow, his mind already piecing together the puzzle. "You mean...Aditya?"
Hari's grin turned sly, and he nodded, his voice light as he replied, "Bingo. My dear future father-in-law."
For a moment, there was silence. Dadasaheb stared at Hari, his face a mix of disbelief and amusement. "You...kid," he muttered, shaking his head as a small chuckle escaped him.
Hari's laughter rang out, carefree and warm, as Dadasaheb leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief. "I can't believe I'm about to trust a kid with something like this," he said, his voice laced with a mix of skepticism and reluctant admiration. He let out a deep sigh, fixing Hari with a pointed look. "But fine. What's your plan, then?"
Hari stopped laughing, his expression softening into something more composed. The playful spark in his eyes remained, but his tone turned serious. "For now," he began, leaning forward slightly, "focus on building a name. Keep doing the social work—real, visible change that people can see and appreciate. I can promise you one thing: in this election, the Kothrud MLA seat will be ours."
Dadasaheb's sharp eyes narrowed slightly, scrutinizing the boy's calm confidence. "And then?" he asked, his tone low and deliberate.
Hari smiled, the corners of his lips curling up in a way that made him seem older than his years. "I'll take care of the rest. I'll meet my future father-in-law soon, and we'll talk about the next steps. Trust me, old man—this is just the beginning."
The two locked eyes for a moment, the silence between them heavy with unspoken understanding. Despite the age and experience gap, there was an unshakable conviction in Hari's words that seemed to reach Dadasaheb.
Finally, Dadasaheb gave a curt nod and stood, straightening his kurta with practiced ease. As he turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder, his voice firm yet tinged with something that almost sounded like hope. "You've given me your word, kid. Don't forget that."
Hari's laughter bubbled up again, light and carefree. "I never go back on my word, old man," he said, his tone playful yet reassuring.
Dadasaheb walked away, his figure tall and imposing, yet there was a noticeable spring in his step. Hari watched him go, his smile lingering as he leaned back in his chair.
As the ceremony drew to a close, the crowd began to thin, with guests slowly making their way out, chatting and laughing as they departed. Hari and Kartik stood near the entrance, their energy slightly drained but their spirits high after the successful event. Just then, the faint sound of a bike engine cut through the chatter. Hari turned instinctively as the vehicle came to a halt, and from it, his father, Vasudeva, stepped down, scanning the area.
"Hari!" Vasudeva called out, his deep voice carrying across the bustling street. Hari immediately perked up and turned towards the sound, a smile spreading across his face. Spotting his father, he quickly made his way to him, his steps light but purposeful.
As Hari approached, Vasudeva greeted him with a warm smile. "How's everything going? Did you have fun?" he asked, his tone filled with genuine curiosity and affection.
Hari grinned, slipping effortlessly into the role of a carefree child. "Of course, Papa! We had a great time. We ate so much food—probably more than we should have!" he said, chuckling. His playful tone made Vasudeva laugh, his hearty voice blending with the calm night air.
"Good, good," Vasudeva replied, patting Hari's shoulder affectionately. "Now let's head home. Your Aai has been worrying about you two. She insisted I come and bring you and Kartik back quickly."
Hari nodded, but a thought crossed his mind. "Actually, Papa," he said, his voice softening, "Yash is here too. Can you take Kartik and Yash home first? Yash lives on the way, and it would be easier for you to drop him."
Vasudeva raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly. "And what about you?" he asked, his tone curious but calm.
Hearing his father's concern, Hari smiled and said, "Don't worry, Papa. Parth or Siddharth can drop me—"
Before he could finish, a familiar, commanding voice interrupted from behind. "Hey, kid, what's going on here?"
Hari turned to see Dadasaheb and Yamunabai approaching, their presence drawing immediate attention. Dadasaheb's sharp yet warm eyes fixed on the small group as he walked toward them, exuding the authority and grace of someone used to being in charge.
Hari's smile widened as he gestured towards his father. "This is my father, Vasudeva. He—"
But before Hari could complete the introduction, Dadasaheb waved his hand dismissively, a small, knowing grin on his face. "I heard your conversation, kid," he said casually, cutting Hari off.
His gaze shifted to Vasudeva, who immediately straightened, his expression a mix of nervousness and respect. Clearly, Vasudeva recognized Dadasaheb and the weight his name carried. Quickly, Vasudeva folded his hands and greeted him with a warm, "Namaskar, Dadasaheb."
Dadasaheb returned the gesture with a smile. "Namaskar," he said warmly. Then, turning to Vasudeva, he added, "Don't worry about Hari. I'll drop him home personally."
Vasudeva hesitated, his protective instincts clashing with his deference to the older man. "Oh no, Dadasaheb, we couldn't trouble you like that. I'll—"
But Dadasaheb waved his hand again, cutting him off with an air of finality. "No trouble at all. Your son's a good kid. I've taken a liking to him. Trust me, he's in safe hands."
Hari's father opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Yamunabai stepped forward, her kind eyes meeting his. "Don't worry, really," she said with a gentle yet firm tone. "It's no trouble at all."
Her reassuring words seemed to put Vasudeva slightly at ease. He nodded, though his protective instincts still flickered in his expression.
As the conversation continued, Yamunabai's gaze wandered, scanning the area until it settled on Swara, who stood at a distance with Kartik and Yash. The three of them were clearly observing the exchange with curiosity and a touch of nervousness.
Yamunabai's lips curled into a playful smile as she called out, "Swara, come here."
Startled, Swara's eyes widened slightly, and she hesitated for a moment before replying, "Ye-yes, Aajji." Her voice carried a mix of respect and apprehension. Slowly, she began walking toward them, her movements measured and cautious, as though she was unsure of what awaited her.
As Swara approached, she seemed even more nervous, her shy demeanor becoming apparent. She glanced at Hari's father quickly, then looked down, her hands fidgeting slightly behind her back.
Yamunabai placed a hand on Swara's shoulder, gently drawing her closer. "This is my granddaughter, Swara," she said warmly, her smile deepening. Turning to Vasudeva, she continued, "She's in the same class as Hari and a good friend of his."
Swara lifted her eyes just enough to meet Vasudeva's gaze briefly. "Namaskar," she said softly.
Hari's father blinked in surprise, his eyebrows rising slightly. "What? I didn't know about this," he said with a warm smile, glancing at Hari.
Yamunabai chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the moment. She shifted her gaze to Swara, her eyes conveying an unspoken message. Swara, understanding her grandmother's intentions, hesitated for a brief second before stepping forward. With a quick, respectful motion, she bent down to touch Hari's father's feet.
Caught slightly off guard, Vasudeva quickly waved his hands as if to stop her. "It's okay, it's okay," he said with a gentle laugh. "What a sweet and sanskari girl. God bless you," he added, his voice filled with genuine affection.
Swara straightened, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush, and offered a shy smile. Hari watched the interaction, his usual playful demeanor softening as he observed the exchange with quiet amusement.
After a few more polite exchanges and reassurances from Yamunabai, Vasudeva finally took Kartik and Yash, leaving with a parting wave. "Be home soon, Hari," he called out, his tone both affectionate and firm.
Once they disappeared into the crowd, Dadasaheb turned his attention back to Hari, his expression sharpening slightly. "I assume your parents don't know about…anything?"
Hari met his gaze, his lips curling into his characteristic mischievous smile. "Not much," he admitted, his voice light. "They just think Siddharth and the others are my friends teaching me about business and stuff. Nothing out of the ordinary."
Dadasaheb nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "Smart," he said simply, his tone carrying a hint of approval. "Best to keep it that way for now."
Hari nodded in agreement, slipping his hands into his pockets casually. "Shall we go, then?"
Dadasaheb looked at him for a moment, his sharp gaze lingering as though assessing something, before he finally nodded. "Let's go."
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The car rumbled softly as it glided along the dimly lit road, its headlights cutting through the quiet night. Inside, the atmosphere was peaceful yet charged, a peculiar mix of serenity and tension. Yamunabai and Swara had drifted off almost as soon as the journey began, their heads gently bobbing with the rhythm of the car. Swara's head had found its resting place on Hari's shoulder, her soft breathing breaking the silence. Hari glanced at her briefly, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips.
The road stretched out ahead, but Hari's gaze shifted to the man behind the wheel. Dadasaheb's hands gripped the steering wheel firmly, his eyes fixed on the road but distant, as though he was seeing something far beyond the winding path. His brow furrowed slightly, betraying the thoughts swirling in his mind.
Hari leaned back against the seat, his demeanor relaxed yet attentive. His smile turned playful as he tilted his head slightly and broke the silence. "Hey, old man, what's got you thinking so hard?" His voice was soft but carried a teasing edge, enough to break through the stillness.
Dadasaheb's gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, meeting Hari's sharp eyes. He hesitated for a moment before replying, his tone deliberately nonchalant. "Nothing."
But Hari wasn't fooled. He chuckled lightly, a sound that was both warm and knowing. "Come on, old man," he said, his voice low enough not to disturb the sleeping women beside him. "Don't worry—I'm not here to judge you. Whatever you did in the past, the crimes you committed, the people you killed…it's got nothing to do with me."
Dadasaheb's grip on the wheel tightened slightly, and his jaw set. The faint hum of the car engine seemed louder in the silence that followed.
Hari's smile softened, and his voice took on a contemplative tone. "Everyone has their reasons, their free will. You made your choices, and I can't stop people from being who they are. That's not my job, and it's certainly not my place."
The car continued its smooth journey through the night, the faint hum of the engine blending with the soft breaths of Yamunabai and Swara. The tension in the air, however, was palpable. Dadasaheb's stoic demeanor remained intact, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, but it was clear Hari's earlier words lingered in his mind.
Hari leaned forward slightly, his eyes glinting with mischief and purpose as he spoke. "Hey, old man," he began, his tone light but deliberate, "can you help me with something?"
Dadasaheb glanced at him through the rearview mirror. "What is it, kid?" he asked, his voice gruff but not unkind.
Hari's playful smile deepened. "I have a plan," he said, his voice dropping conspiratorially. Without waiting for a response, he began outlining his idea, his words flowing with a strange mix of youthful enthusiasm and calculated determination.
As Hari spoke, Dadasaheb's brows furrowed. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead, glistening under the soft glow of the dashboard lights. By the time Hari finished, Dadasaheb's hands tightened on the steering wheel, and he pulled the car over to the side of the road, the tires crunching softly against gravel.
Turning to face Hari, his expression was deadly serious. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice low but firm, as though trying to gauge if the boy truly understood the gravity of his words.
Hari leaned back against the seat, letting out a soft laugh. His eyes, however, reflected none of his earlier playfulness. Instead, they burned with quiet intensity. "Tell me something, old man," he began, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable weight. "Where is God when people are being oppressed? When crimes like rape and murder are committed? When natural disasters strike, destroying lives? When children die of hunger, their cries unheard?"
Dadasaheb stared at Hari, stunned into silence. The question hung in the air, heavy and unanswerable.
Hari's smile faded into something somber, his tone now laced with a quiet urgency. "Isn't that a fair question? If God exists, why doesn't He intervene? Why doesn't He help?"
The car stood still on the gravel road, its headlights casting long beams into the darkness. The quiet hum of the engine filled the silence, broken only by the rhythmic breathing of Yamunabai and Swara, still fast asleep in the backseat. Dadasaheb didn't respond immediately. Instead, he turned his gaze toward Hari through the rearview mirror, his eyes searching for an answer in the boy's face—an answer he himself could not provide.
Hari didn't wait for a reply. He leaned forward slightly, his voice calm but imbued with a quiet conviction. "The truth is," he began, "God stands exactly where we abandon the values and principles He has given us. When we let go of truth, compassion, and justice, and instead embrace deceit, hatred, and cruelty, God doesn't leave us—He simply becomes a witness. A silent observer."
Dadasaheb tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his expression unreadable. The boy's words seemed to echo louder in the confines of the car, resonating with an undeniable weight.
Hari continued, his tone thoughtful yet resolute. "Was this Earth created just for us humans? How many species of animals have we driven to extinction, or pushed to the brink, just to satisfy our greed? Birds, creatures, trees—all disappearing, slowly but surely. And yet, we call this progress." He paused, his gaze turning toward the window, watching the endless night pass by.
"In this universe," he said, his voice soft but steady, "no one has ever escaped the consequences of their actions. No one. Whether it's a single person or an entire community, everyone must face the results of what they've done. It's inevitable, like the sunrise or the tides."
Hari's gaze lingered outside the window, his reflection merging with the faint outlines of the world outside. His voice was steady yet contemplative, carrying a depth that belied his age. "Humanity is witnessing disasters not because of some divine curse, but because of its own choices," he began, his tone somber. "We've destroyed countless species, uprooted forests that stood for centuries, and called it progress. And now, we're paying the price."
Dadasaheb remained silent, his grip on the steering wheel firm as he absorbed Hari's words.
Hari turned his gaze to the old man, his eyes glinting with a mix of resolve and something deeper—an understanding born of thought and observation. "We live in a society that idolizes Ravan instead of Ram, and sees Karna as a hero instead of Arjun. But people fail to understand the reasons behind their fates. Why was Ravan killed by Ram, despite being a master of arts, a great Brahman, and a devout Shiva bhakt? Because of his actions, old man. His downfall was his own doing—he saw someone else's wife with bad intentions. That alone nullified all his greatness."
Dadasaheb's jaw tightened slightly, his silence signaling his acknowledgment.
"And Karna," Hari continued, his voice unwavering, "society may have wronged him, but the path he chose was his alone. Even knowing the people he supported were wrong, he still decided to stand by them. That was his choice, and he had to face the consequences of it. People don't understand that if God chose Arjun, there was a reason. Arjun walked a path of balance, of responsibility, even when it demanded sacrifice."
Hari paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "If you want to serve this world, you have to accept that light cannot exist without darkness. To walk in the light, you sometimes have to face the shadows. I've already found my light. Now, I seek my darkness. Because without understanding both, you can't bring true change."
His gaze locked onto Dadasaheb's through the rearview mirror. "You've lived long enough and walked this path before, haven't you, old man? You should understand this better than I do."
For a long moment, there was silence in the car. Even the hum of the engine seemed to fade into the background. Dadasaheb's face remained unreadable, but his eyes betrayed the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind.
After what felt like an eternity, he exhaled deeply and nodded, his voice low and gravelly as he finally spoke. "You're right, boy. It seems I've grown too old… forgotten too much. But you've reminded me." He paused, glancing at the road ahead as though searching for something in the darkness. "I'll find you your darkness soon enough."
With that, Dadasaheb fell silent, his words hanging in the air like an unresolved chord. Hari leaned back against the seat, his gaze drifting to the sleeping Swara beside him. A faint smile tugged at his lips, though his eyes remained distant, lost in thought.
The car resumed its journey, moving forward into the endless night, the silence inside now layered with unspoken understanding.
The car finally came to a smooth halt in front of Hari's apartment building, its headlights illuminating the entrance as the soft hum of the engine faded into the night. The city was quiet, the evening breeze gently swaying the trees and rustling the leaves. Inside the car, the silence hung heavy, broken only by the soft breathing of Yamunabai and Swara, who were still deep in sleep.
Hari's gaze softened as he watched Swara, her head resting on his shoulder, her peaceful expression a stark contrast to the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. He let out a quiet breath, then gently leaned forward, his voice tender as he spoke her name. "Swara, my house is here. I have to go now."
There was no immediate response, just the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest as she remained still, lost in her dreams. Hari gave her a moment, letting the quiet of the night settle around them. He didn't want to disturb her, but he couldn't help himself. Slowly, he reached over and lightly touched her face, his voice softer now. "Swara, it's time to wake up."
The sound of his voice finally broke through the haze of sleep, and Swara stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, momentarily confused, before she realized where they were. She blinked, groggily rubbing her eyes, her face still carrying the remnants of sleep.
"Mm... Hari?" she murmured, her voice thick with drowsiness.
Hari smiled, watching her as she slowly came to her senses. He couldn't help but find the moment oddly endearing, the way she tried to shake off the last traces of sleep. Once she was awake, he gestured toward the door.
Swara blinked a few times, still half in a daze. She followed Hari out of the car, and as they stood together in front of the building, the quiet street around them seemed to deepen, the night air cooler now.
Hari turned to face her, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips. There was something calming about her presence, something innocent yet curious, that made him want to protect her from the harshness of the world. He studied her for a moment, the words that had been swirling in his mind now finding their way to his lips.
"I know you have a lot of questions," he said quietly, his eyes softening as he spoke. His hand reached up, slowly brushing a strand of hair away from her face before his fingers gently cupped her cheek. The touch was so tender that it felt as though time itself had stopped.
Swara, who had been gazing at him with a mixture of curiosity and confusion, suddenly felt the heat rise in her cheeks at his unexpected gesture. Her face flushed a deep shade of red as she stiffened, not knowing what to do with the warmth flooding her. Her heart began to race, a strange feeling stirring within her.
"W-What are you...?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Hari's smile deepened, though it was laced with an unspoken understanding. "Don't worry," he said gently, his voice a little more serious now, but still warm. "I'll answer your questions when the time is right. But for now, I can tell you one thing." He paused, his eyes meeting hers. "You were right all along. I am that singer, Shri."
Swara froze, her breath catching in her throat. She blinked a few times, her mind racing as she processed his words. Her heart skipped a beat, and she opened her mouth to speak but couldn't find the right words. She had known it, somehow—had sensed it all along—but hearing him say it out loud, so openly, left her feeling disoriented.
"I... I knew," she finally stammered, her voice tinged with a mix of awe and surprise. Her cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red, her embarrassment now fully evident.
As Hari stood there, smiling gently at Swara, his words hanging in the air, something unexpected happened. The soft glow of his peacock feather locket flickered for a moment, its light shimmering with an almost mystical energy. Before he could say another word, a sudden, delicate movement caught his eye. His fingers instinctively reached out, and in a flash, a beautiful pendant materialized in his hand.
It was a snowflake, intricate and elegant, almost like something from a dream. The crystal-like structure of the snowflake glimmered in the moonlight, each facet catching the light in a mesmerizing dance. Its reflective surface was so pure, it almost seemed alive, as though it could change with the seasons. Framed in a delicate metallic setting—gold, perhaps rose gold—it was a masterpiece of design, a perfect blend of nature's cold beauty and luxurious craftsmanship. At the base of the snowflake, a dangling crystal caught the light, adding an extra touch of sophistication, as if the pendant held an elegance that went beyond just its appearance. The pendant hung from a twisted chain, completing its otherworldly, yet luxurious, appearance.
Swara blinked in surprise, her gaze drawn to the pendant, her expression a mixture of confusion and awe. "What is this?" she asked, her voice soft but laced with curiosity, her eyes wide as they traced the pendant's every curve and shimmer.
Hari, ever the composed figure, quickly caught himself. A faint chuckle escaped his lips as he smiled, a little more awkwardly now than before. He didn't want to overwhelm her. "It's a gift," he said, the words flowing easily but with a sense of mystery that only seemed to add to the pendant's enchantment.
"A gift?" Swara repeated, her voice soft but tinged with disbelief. She glanced from the pendant to his face, searching for any clue that might explain this unexpected moment. The quiet night around them seemed to hold its breath as the two of them stood there, the air charged with the strange energy of the pendant's sudden appearance.
Hari's smile softened, his eyes glinting with warmth as he held out the snowflake pendant to Swara. "Yes, a gift for you," he said, his voice sweet and genuine.
Swara's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink at his words. She glanced down at the pendant in his hand, then back up at him, a slight stutter in her words. "B-but how did it suddenly appear in your hand?" Her confusion was palpable, her brow furrowing slightly as she tried to make sense of it.
Hari chuckled softly, a playful light in his eyes. "I know a few little magic tricks," he said, his tone lighthearted, though there was a subtle depth to his words. "But I forgot about them. Can I?"
Swara, still blushing, nodded shyly, her gaze dropping to the ground for a brief moment. Then, without a word, she turned her back toward him. As she did, her long hair cascaded down her back, and with a quiet, delicate gesture, she moved it to the side, exposing the back of her neck.
Hari took the opportunity to gently place the pendant around her neck, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin. The pendant settled delicately against her, its shimmering surface catching the moonlight, casting soft reflections on her skin. It was a perfect fit, as though it had always been meant for her. The beauty of the pendant only seemed to enhance her own, its delicate design complementing the elegance of her features.
Dadasaheb, who had been quietly watching from the front seat, observed the interaction with silent understanding but didn't say a word. The moment felt almost sacred, an unspoken connection between the two of them.
Once the pendant was secured, Swara turned to face Hari, her hand instinctively reaching up to touch the pendant. A soft smile tugged at her lips, and her eyes lit up with genuine appreciation. "Thank you," she said, her voice sweet and sincere. "This is such a beautiful gift."
Hari's smile deepened, his heart lifting at her words. "I'm glad you like it," he replied softly, his voice filled with warmth.
Swara climbed into the car, and with one last glance at Hari, she waved a shy goodbye. The car slowly pulled away, disappearing into the night. Hari stood there for a moment, watching as the taillights faded into the distance. He felt a strange mix of emotions stirring inside him—something between contentment and anticipation.
As the car vanished from his sight, he turned and began to walk toward his apartment. But as his feet carried him down the familiar path, his mind couldn't shake the image of Krishna's playful grin. The memory resurfaced, vivid as if it had just happened: Krishna's teasing words, his knowing smile when he'd asked Hari about love. Hari remembered how Krishna had winked, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, and how he'd said, "Love, huh? You'll see."
Now, looking back at what had just happened with Swara, Hari was certain that Krishna had a hand in this. He couldn't shake the feeling that everything—his interactions with Swara, the pendant, the timing—was all part of a larger plan that he couldn't quite grasp. It felt like destiny had woven this moment for him, and he was simply following along.
A deep sigh escaped his lips as he walked, the cool night air brushing against his skin. 'I just hope my love life goes smoothly, he thought with a wry smile.'
{A/N: hahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAREM!}
The thought, however, was barely finished when a sudden chill crept down his spine, a cold shiver that made him pause for a moment. He glanced around, feeling the air shift slightly, but when nothing seemed out of place, he shook his head.
It was just his imagination, he told himself. But deep down, he knew that whatever was coming, it wasn't going to be as simple as he hoped. With that thought lingering in the back of his mind, he continued walking, the silence of the night accompanying him, his heart both light and heavy with anticipation for whatever the future held.
{A/N: Before anyone says this is supposed to be a realistic and grounded story and questions why there's a harem, let me make one thing clear: NOTHING IS REAL HERE. Hari literally has a locket that can grant any wish as long as his desire is strong and good. If he wanted, he could get a lottery ticket and be rich in a minute. SO DON'T SAY THIS IS A REALISTIC STORY. I myself have no idea where this story is going. And as I said, don't use your brain while reading this. I do the same as long as it's not MTL, Pokémon Harem, useless R18 scenes, stupid mind control, or novels where the MC meets a female character one moment, and suddenly she's in his bed. I HATE THOSE NOVELS. My other novel is also a harem, but after so many chapters, my main character is still a virgin. I know, I know, I said before that this novel wouldn't be a harem, but now I'm changing things a bit because it's necessary. And don't worry, Hari is only 14, so the harem stuff will take time. Even after explaining all this, if you still want to complain, then I DIDN'T FREAKING CARE. Sorry for my words, but you know why I'm this frustrated — because my enemy, my exams, are coming on December 16th, and I have to face them. So after that, there will likely be a little break, so please understand. But I will try to update as much as I can.}
{A/N: I read a comment asking why Lord Krishna in this novel looks like a minor god. I don't remember the comment fully, but let me clarify. When I was writing that scene, I had two things in my mind that I've heard. First, we live in a cycle of Yugas: Satyayuga, Tretayuga, Dwaparyuga, and Kaliyuga. Satyayuga is first, Tretayuga is third, Dwaparyuga is second, and Kaliyuga is last. But if you look at the current cycle of Yugas, you'll find that Tretayuga, the era of Ram, comes before Dwaparyuga, the era of Krishna. Even though Dwaparyuga should logically come before Tretayuga. So what I've heard is that when the sequence of Yugas is Satyayuga, Dwaparyuga, Tretayuga, and Kaliyuga, then Krishna, who is born, is the Avatar of Vishnu. But when the sequence is Satyayuga, Tretayuga, Dwaparyuga, and Kaliyuga, Krishna who is born is Parabrahma Krishna Himself. I hope that makes sense. Now, the second point is that every universe depends on the number of heads their Brahma has. For our universe, Brahma has four heads, but other universes might have more or fewer, which defines the power level of that universe. I'm not sure if these two things are really true or not, but when I wrote that chapter, I went with those two theories of truth. Please send me your best wishes and blessings so I can face my enemy.}
{A/N: If you'd like to support me, please use this UPI: omgadekar29@oksbi "Om Gadekar". If you do, please let me know your webnovel name so I can recognize you.}
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