In the span of my 15 years, everything has transformed—my life, my perspective, my very essence. Until yesterday, the purpose of my existence was a mystery. Living or dying seemed inconsequential. But now, an irresistible urge compels me to revisit the moment where it all began, 11 years ago, when I was just 4 years old.
---
"Hey, Uncle, are we there yet?" I asked, my small hands gripping the edge of the car seat as I peered out the window.
"Almost, Parvat," my uncle replied, his eyes crinkling with a reassuring smile. "Just a little longer."
The journey felt interminable to my young mind. Five days prior, my parents had sat me down, their faces a mix of sorrow and determination. They explained that I would be living with my uncle and aunt for a while. At four, I didn't grasp the complexities, but I sensed the finality in their tone. I didn't protest; deep down, I knew that voicing my confusion wouldn't alter their decision.
From an early age, I was labeled a prodigy. While other children struggled with the alphabet, I was reading fluently, devouring stories far beyond my years. My parents reveled in my abilities, showcasing me like a trophy. Yet, their pride felt conditional, tied solely to my intellect. I often wondered—if I were ordinary, would their affection wane?
"Parvat, we're here." My uncle's voice broke through my reverie.
I blinked, realizing the car had stopped in front of a modest, two-story house. The garden was a riot of colors, with flowers I couldn't name swaying gently in the breeze.
"Welcome, little one!" My Aunt Mina's voice was warm, enveloping me in a sense of belonging I hadn't anticipated. She crouched to my level, her eyes sparkling. "Do you remember me?"
"Aunt Mina," I nodded, a shy smile tugging at my lips.
Inside, the house exuded coziness. The walls were adorned with family photos, capturing moments of joy and togetherness. My cousins, Hunni and Sumit, eyed me curiously. Hunni, the elder at 10, had an air of mischief, while 8-year-old Sumit radiated a quiet intensity.
"You'll be sharing a room with the boys," Aunt Mina said, leading me to a room filled with bunk beds, posters, and scattered toys.
That evening, over a dinner of aloo parathas and tangy pickle, conversations flowed easily. Stories were exchanged, laughter echoed, and for the first time in days, I felt a semblance of normalcy.
As night descended, a playful argument erupted between Hunni and Sumit.
"I want Parvat to sleep on my bunk," Hunni declared, puffing out his chest.
"No way! He should sleep on mine," Sumit retorted, crossing his arms defiantly.
Sensing potential discord, I interjected softly, "How about I sleep on Hunni's bunk tonight and Sumit's tomorrow?"
They exchanged glances before nodding in agreement.
---
The next morning, I awoke to the soft chirping of birds. The clock read 4:00 AM.
Remembering my father's emphasis on discipline, I decided to maintain my routine. Quietly, I slipped out of bed and performed a series of simple exercises, feeling the familiar burn in my muscles.
By the time the household stirred, I was dressed and ready. Over breakfast, Uncle remarked, "You're up early, Parvat."
I shrugged lightly. "I'm used to it."
The drive to my new school was filled with anticipation. The building loomed large, its façade imposing yet inviting.
"Remember, Parvat," Uncle said as he parked the car, "be yourself. You'll make friends in no time."
I nodded, clutching my backpack a little tighter.
Inside the classroom, curious eyes followed me. The teacher, Mrs. Kapoor, introduced me, and I took a seat near the window.
After my brief exchange with the tall kid, I continued eating my paratha, trying to ignore the whispers swirling around me. The stares weren't subtle, but I kept my focus on the food.
It wasn't long before the tall kid returned, his footsteps heavy as he walked toward my table. I didn't look up this time, choosing instead to finish my meal in peace.
"You think you're some kind of genius or something?" he muttered, standing over me now. The mockery in his voice was unmistakable.
I glanced up, finally meeting his gaze. "I think I'm just eating lunch."
He sneered, his lips curling into a smug smile. "You think you're better than me, don't you?"
I shrugged, unbothered by the question. "I don't think anything about you."
That was the moment it all changed. Without warning, his hand shot out, slamming into my shoulder, the impact knocking me slightly off balance. My breath caught for a second, but I quickly regained my composure.
"You better watch your mouth," he growled.
The cafeteria had gone quiet, and I could feel the eyes of my classmates on us. Everyone was watching now, waiting for the first move, the first sign of weakness.
"I'm just eating," I repeated, though I could sense the tension thickening in the air. My mind was clear, my body poised, but I didn't want to escalate things further—at least, not yet.
But then he stepped forward, leaning down toward me with a glare that could freeze a person in place. "You don't get it, do you?" he hissed. "You're new here. And you're not welcome."
I could feel my heartbeat quicken. The silence of the room felt suffocating. Everything was closing in—his breath on my face, the stares from the others, the tension building, snapping into place.
The tall kid raised his fist, and for a split second, it felt like time slowed down. The world was quiet, too quiet. The faces of the other kids were a blur, their expressions a mix of excitement and anticipation.
And then—
I moved.
One swift motion. A sharp impact.
His body hit the ground.
The cafeteria erupted in gasps. He wasn't getting up.
I didn't move. I didn't react.
But the others did.
I heard footsteps behind him. Another kid was approaching.
Then another.
I turned my head slightly and saw them. Two older boys. Taller. Broader. Meaner.
They weren't just random classmates.
They were his brothers.
Their eyes locked onto their unconscious sibling, then snapped back to me.
"You're dead," one of them muttered.
The circle around me tightened, and I could feel the weight of their eyes, the judgment, the thirst for confrontation.
Just as they were about to lunge—
The bell rang.
A sharp sound, a sudden shift in atmosphere. The chaos paused for a moment, a brief interruption in the storm of tension that had been building.
But I could see it in their eyes—they weren't backing down. This wasn't over.
And as the students scattered to their next class, I stood there, still, trying to keep the calm that had settled inside me, even though I knew the worst was yet to come.
Chapter 1 ends.