And far from here in the hills of Nepal in a small house made of stone, a figure of a man and a woman was standing near a window laughing, the woman was laughing and the man was just smiling alongside, but the woman still can see the little tension in his eyes.
" Still thinking about Basra?" And Krishna's smile became a little sad.
" Maybe." and he leaned over the window, and seeing this she suggested.
" Why don't we walk near the lake where we first met, meet your friends."
" You mean snakes?" And she laughed remembering the embarrassing past.
" I was so scared, who wouldn't be, it was a bloody snake." And Krishna laughed, a true laugh.
And while they were laughing, Krishna's Daadee came, and saw them smiling and loving each other.
A faint motherly smile appeared on his face, and she cleared her throat, trying to get their attention, which she succeeded. Both Krishna and Priya separated, and tried to look modest, at least Priya tried to.
" Daadee." Said priya lowering her head.
" Priya, no need to worry, it's your room anyway. When lunch is ready, come down the stairs." She said and left.
Priya nudged Krishna and they both enter the hall downstairs, and saw Daadee placing the utensils there, Priya offered to help, and Daadee didn't deny, they started to eat slowly, when Daadee asked about their jobs, and Priya's response was very formalistic and she said something about Dr Rohit and his problems, and then she shifted her eyes to Krishna, and asked.
" What's you doing?" And Krishna paused.
" Ahh, I'm a chef, making food." And Daadee didn't look convinced.
" You and cooking?" She wasn't convinced, and Priya came to mediate.
" Daadee he cooks very well, you should try his food sometimes."
" Really, I never saw him cooking before?" And Priya explained he learned it. Daadee after hearing this, becomes silent, and looks at him again and asks about his second job.
" It's fine." Said Krishna.
" It's not been good recently." Priya tells the truth trying another way to comfort him, maybe Daadee could solve some problems that she couldn't. But she didn't know Daadee, her mistake.
" Not good? I said it's not a job that humans do." And Priya looked at her ingradually.
" Daadee." She said in amazement.
" What, Daadee, I've said it, being a super hero is not a good thing, you have to be careful in what you do, what you say and even what you eat. See how thin he has become" And she roamed her hand over his face.
" See, how thin he has become." And even Krishna was confused by this, he looked at himself, and then at Priya, they both were confused.
" Krishna, being a hero is not easy, being anything that's not in your control is not easy." And this time she said with care, there wasn't anything awkward like before.
" Your father asked me a question when he was young." And they both looked at him, watching intently.
"He asked, 'How do you carry power that could destroy everything?' I didn't have an answer then, but I remembered something from the. Lord Krishna told Arjuna, 'Perform your duty without attachment to success or failure. Power is a tool, not your master. Your dharm, your duty is to act for the good, for the better place, not for praise or blame.'"
Krishna's eyes glowed, the words sinking in.
"My duty… but I didn't save anyone? Basra burned, and I stood there."
"You didn't cause it," Priya said.
"The Gita says power demands discipline, not guilt. You have the strength of a god, Krishna, but your duty is human—to protect, not to control. Your father knew that struggle. He'd say you're not failing by questioning, but by letting fear stop you." And seeing him understanding, she continued.
"You stopped Arya. You saved millions more than you lost. Basra wasn't your fault." And she grabbed his hand.
" I believe in you." she said reassuringly.Car
In the heart of New York City, under the dusky sky that mirrored the world's mood, a massive protest parade snaked through Times Square, swelling to thousands. Banners waved like angry waves.
"Truth for Basra!"
"Who Lit the Fuse?"
"Where Was Krish?"
The crowd, a mix of office workers, students, and families, chanted in unison, their voices echoing off the skyscrapers. This wasn't just grief, it was fury, born from the Basra explosion that had claimed over Two million lives just days ago.
The GJF's chemical bomb had turned a city into a pyre, igniting oil refineries and leaving a scar on the globe. But the protesters weren't just mourning; they were demanding answers.
The new US government, only months into office after a contentious election, bore the brunt of the blame.
"This administration promised security—look what happened!" shouted a middle-aged woman with a sign reading."New Gov't, Same Failures."
Whispers rippled through the crowd: faulty intelligence, delayed response, arms shipments traced back to shadowy allies.
"They let the terrorists arm up,"
a man in a business suit muttered to his companion.
" Thousands died in Arya's war last year—did they learn nothing?"
Most of all, the questions circled Krish.
"Where was Krish when Basra burned?" a young protester yelled, holding a poster of Krish's silhouetted back over the flames. They weren't outright blaming him—the hero who stopped Dr. Arya's rampage and saved millions, but the disappointment was palpable.
"He could've stopped it," a teenager said to her friend.
"Why didn't he? Is he done being our savior?"
A news van from CNN idled at the edge, its camera crew capturing the chaos. A reporter, microphone in hand, stopped a burly man in his 50s carrying a "Demand Answers" banner.
"Sir, can you tell us why you're out here today?" The man paused, his face flushed.
"We want the truth. Who's responsible for this horrific incident? The government says it's the terrorists, but how did they get that bomb? And why didn't Krish step in? He saved us from Arya back then, and now what happened. We're not blaming him, but... where was he? The new administration must know something. They're hiding intel, letting this happen on their watch."
The reporter nodded, pressing on.
"Do you think the government could have prevented it?"
"Absolutely," the man replied, his voice rising.
"They promised better security after Arya. Instead, we get excuses. Arms shipments slipped through, intelligence failed. And Krish maybe they pushed him away. But we deserve answers, not silence!"
The reporter turned to the camera.
"Strong words here in Times Square, where protesters blame the new government for Basra's tragedy. But this sentiment isn't isolated."
Indeed, it wasn't just New York. Across the US, protests erupted in several states. In Washington, D.C., crowds gathered outside the White House, chanting.
"Reveal the Truth!" A D.C. resident told a local reporter,
"The new president's team botched this. Why no preemptive strike? And Krish—did they block him? We're not turning on him, but he could've ended it."
In California, Los Angeles streets filled with demonstrators waving flags from Iraq and the US.
"Government negligence killed Basra," a protester said in an interview.
"They let the terrorists arm up. Krish tried to help, but where was the support? We need accountability, not more wars."
Chicago and Boston saw similar scenes—rallies blaming the administration's foreign policy lapses.
"After Arya's 2 million deaths, they should've been ready," a Boston activist said.
"Krish isn't the problem; the government's inaction is."
Beyond the US, the outrage spread to other developed countries. In London, UK, protesters marched through Trafalgar Square, signs reading
"Solidarity with Basra—Demand Justice." A British office worker told BBC cameras,
"Our government is allied with the US—why no better intelligence? And Krish, the global hero—did politics keep him out? We're not blaming him, but the new US admin must explain."
In Toronto, Canada, crowds blocked streets, chanting against "failed alliances." A protester said to CBC,
"Basra's dead are on the new government's watch. They promised change after Arya's war. Krish could've stopped it if they'd let him." Similar protests flared in Berlin, Germany; Paris, France; and Tokyo, Japan—developed nations where news of Basra had hit hard, fueling demands for transparency. In Berlin, a student told reporters,
"The government here supports US policy—why no action? Krish isn't at fault, but why didn't he intervene?"
In Paris, a rally near the Eiffel Tower echoed the sentiment.
"After Arya's incident, we can't ignore this," a French activist said.
"The new US leaders failed. Krish—hero or not—left too soon."
Tokyo's protesters, more orderly but no less passionate, waved signs questioning global security.
"Why didn't Krish save Basra?" one said in an interview.
"Not his fault, but the government's mistakes let it happen."
Back in New York, as the parade wound down, the CNN reporter wrapped up.
"From New York to Tokyo, the world asks: Who failed Basra? The new government faces mounting pressure, and Krish's silence only amplifies the calls for truth."
And with Richard Flare, his face was as ugly as a pot, his face a little dishevelled and tie loosen.
He was receiving a call from Mr President, and he was on a line, and by the looks of it, he wasn't happy. He was looking at the reports of protests and some small riots around the world and America, and the pot of blame was shifting in the direction he did want.
Soon the phone call with the president ended, and he looked at the people around him, most of them were bodyguards, and airplane staff. He was on a plane to DC when he received this call.
"Mr. President, the protests are escalating. We've got riots in three states, and it's spreading to Europe. The public wants heads to roll."
The conversation dragged on, the President's tone frustrated, demanding updates on containment. Flare assured him they were handling it, but his face darkened as the call ended. He sank into his seat, rubbing his temples.
"Damn it." he muttered to no one in particular. One of his bodyguards, a stoic man named Harris, glanced up.
"Sir?"
"Nothing," Flare snapped, waving him off. He scrolled through the tablet: statistics on Basra's oil output halted, economic ripples hitting global markets, and data on the explosion's chemical residue, sarin mixed with accelerants, designed for maximum carnage, these guys even destroyed the oil pipeline.
He'd expected a big impact from the incident, but not this massive. The world was on fire, figuratively and literally. He'd made preparations media spins, scapegoats, alliances, but now he double-checked them, firing off encrypted emails to his team.
The phone rang again this time, the call he'd been waiting for. Flare answered immediately.
" Report." Said Richard in a commanding tone, and on the other side a group of US military personnel was covering what looked like a newly built tunnel near a mountain area.
" Sir, we found the exit of the tunnel that leads to Basra."
" Any news of the terrorist that built it?"
" No sir, but we found the machine that was used." And the soldier who called was looking at a huge tunneling machine in front of him.
" Any details, or finds."
" Nothing of much worth, but…" and he paused.
" But what?"
" There are dead bodies." And Richard asked.
" What's a big deal? It's a group of terrorists?"
" No sir, they are the fifteen US soldiers that where taken hostage." And Richard become silent.
" Anything else?" He asked his face becoming serious and emotionless.
" There are two survivors."
" ohh!" And he hung up the phone. And after dialling, he called someone.
" Mr President, there is something you should know."