The clatter of plates echoed softly in the dimly lit restaurant. Karikalan and Richard sat across from each other, their minds heavy with the events of the day.
Richard sighed, frustration spilling into his words.
"Why are people acting in such an annoying way? India is a cultural country, full of diversity… but when it comes to helping others, when it comes to empathy, people don't show manners. They just turn away."
Karikalan leaned back, his eyes sharp with thought. "It's not about diversity or language, Richard. It's about civic sense… and the lack of honesty in people who only want profit.
India is mostly middle class, tangled in caste cases. People call it a democracy, and yes, the constitution declares it secular. Every person has rights to protect themselves."
He paused, his tone heavy with conviction. "There are more than fourty articles integrated into the fundamental rights. That means even if someone commits a crime — stealing, beating — they still have the right to defend themselves. Sometimes, that protects the innocent. But most of the time… those rights turn the table for the guilty. The ones who exploit the system."
Richard stared at him, silent, absorbing the weight of Karikalan's words. The food on their plates grew cold, but the conversation burned hotter than any flame.
Richard leaned forward, his fork paused mid air, eyes narrowing in confusion. "What are you saying, Karikalan? If people have the right to defend themselves, how can fundamental rights end up favoring the guilty?"
Karikalan set his plate down, his gaze steady, his tone heavy with conviction. "Yeah… that's a great question, Richard. But reality has changed. Everything introduced for the welfare of the people carries both pros and cons. Rights give people the ability to defend themselves — and that's good. But at the same time, comfort and loopholes make some misuse those rights to do wrong."
He leaned closer, his voice lowering, almost like a mentor teaching a painful truth.
"Even if someone files a complaint at the police station, the case of the richer or more 'sensitive' ones will be prioritized. The poor, the voiceless, are often ignored. And sometimes… people are even silenced, put to death, just to hide evidence against the guilty."
Richard leaned forward, his voice hopeful yet naïve. "Why are you thinking that way, Karikalan? If the right government comes to power, then everything will change."
Karikalan burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the quiet restaurant.
"Hahahaha… Richard, you're still an amateur. You can't judge everything in a fair and positive way. Comfort turns even the strongest party into a puppet. They come to power only to earn crores of money, to enrich their status and power."
His eyes narrowed, his tone sharp as steel.
"Of course, they will build some things for the people. But it will lack infrastructure. Bribes and corruption will poison every plan. The poor and middle class will get nothing but freebies — crumbs to keep them quiet. Meanwhile, the people fight over their role models, their actors, their actresses, their political parties… without realizing those idols live in luxury, while they remain trapped in struggle."
Karikalan's voice dropped, heavy with conviction. "This is the reality of India since independence. Sometimes… it's called the Cobra Effect — when a solution meant to fix a problem only makes it worse."
Richard sat stunned, the weight of Karikalan's words pressing down like stone. The food before them was forgotten, replaced by the bitter taste of truth.
Richard leaned back, his eyes fixed on Karikalan as he ate calmly. "He knows everything about the system… about politics, about corruption. If he were a politician instead of a fighter, he could turn the tables on the entire system," Richard thought, admiration flickering in his heart.
But Karikalan suddenly spoke, his tone firm, his eyes burning with resolve. "I don't care about what happens in political systems, Richard. If people are right in their work and their ethics, they will fight when the situation arises. Forget what I just mentioned."
He set down his spoon, his voice rising with confidence. "My aim is to beat that tall guy tomorrow. I made a vow to that brat's brother. I will show what it means to become stronger. I will show what fear truly is — even with Elara standing at his side."
The restaurant's hum faded, replaced by the weight of Karikalan's words. Richard felt a chill — not of fear, but of awe.
The Missed Call
The night was quiet when Elara returned home from the hospital, his body still aching from the battle. He picked up his phone and dialed.
"Hello! Is it Rajan speaking?" Elara asked.
A gentle voice answered. "Hi Elara, how are you? It's been a long time since you came home. I am Rajan's mother."
Elara's tone softened. "Oh, I see. Hello, ma'am. Yes, I'm fine. By the way, is Rajan in his room?"
She replied calmly. "No, he's not in his room. He's currently hanging out with his friends."
Elara's voice sharpened. "Okay… when will he come home?"
"He told me he would be late tonight. He went to a party with his friends."
Elara forced a polite tone. "Oh, okay ma'am. Thank you for the information."
He ended the call, his face twisting with frustration.
"Dammit… that idiot. I sent him the video of Karikalan's punch. I don't even know if he's seen it. This is bad. How dare he hang out with his friends without asking me?"
Elara clenched his fist, his mind racing. The arrogance in his voice masked the truth: fear. He knew Karikalan's power was real, and Rajan's carelessness could cost them dearly.
Elara's calls went unanswered, each decline fueling his rage.
"This is a waste of time… I have to warn that idiot about the video. I have to hurry now."
He stormed toward his car, but his father's voice stopped him. "Where are you going, brat?"
Elara snapped back, his tone sharp. "It's none of your business, Dad."
"Wait, Elara!" his father called, but Elara was already gone, roaring down the street on his Harley Davidson. The night wind whipped against his face, his injuries aching, but his mind was fixed. "It's time. I have to send a warning to him. Raj, don't do the same careless stuff before the match. This is serious."
He reached the bar, neon lights flashing, music pounding. Inside, Rajan was lost in the chaos of his birthday party — dancing wildly, drunk, unconscious of the world, surrounded by friends and laughter.
Elara pushed through the crowd, his fury boiling. Despite his wounds, he grabbed Rajan and knocked him down. "You idiot! How many times did I call you? Why didn't you answer? Did you see the video I sent today?"
Rajan, half conscious, smirked. "Don't bother about that stuff, Elara. I'm already strong. I trained with you, remember? Did you forget?"
Elara's voice thundered, his eyes burning. "I'm asking about the video. Did you see it or not? Tell me!"
Rajan waved him off. "Yeah, I watched it. It was AI, right? Why are you so obsessed with it? Relax, Elara. Enjoy the party."
Elara's fists clenched, his voice cutting through the noise. "No. That was not AI. That was real. Karikalan punched the wall without even touching it."
The room fell silent. For a moment, everyone stared. Then laughter erupted. "What are you saying, Elara? I didn't know you could make jokes. I've seen one side of you, but now I see another," one of Rajan's friends mocked.
The music thumped, lights flashing across the bar as Rajan laughed with his friends. But Elara's fury cut through the chaos. He grabbed Rajan's hand, his grip iron tight.
"I have no choice. Come on, Raj — we're leaving now."
Rajan stumbled, his voice slurred with disbelief. "What are you doing, Elara? Everyone's watching!"
Elara's eyes burned, his tone sharp and commanding. "Just put a sock in it."
The crowd froze, whispers rippling through the party. Friends exchanged glances, some smirking, others shocked. Rajan's pride clashed with Elara's authority, but Elara didn't care. His injuries throbbed, his anger flared — all that mattered was the warning, the fight, and the truth about Karikalan's power.
Rajan pulled back, embarrassed, but Elara's grip didn't loosen. The tension between them was no longer hidden. Tomorrow's match wasn't just about strength — it was about trust, arrogance, and fear colliding under the spotlight.
The bar's music cut for a moment as Rajan ripped his hand free from Elara's grip. His frustration boiled over, and with a sudden swing, his fist connected with Elara's jaw.
Gasps filled the room. Friends froze mid dance, bottles clinked to the floor. Two men who had trained together, fought side by side, were now enemies in front of everyone.
Rajan's voice thundered, raw with defiance: "Leave me alone, Elara! This is enough. I'm not your puppet toy. I won't follow your orders every time. I know I have a match tomorrow — and I'll beat that brat. I'll never forget the words he said to me. I'll win the match within five rounds!"
Elara staggered back, shocked by the punch — but unfazed. His eyes narrowed, his pride wounded more than his body. The crowd whispered, stunned by Rajan's rebellion.
Elara's voice cut through the silence, cold and sharp: "Well… it's up to you. I don't care anymore. Do whatever you want, idiot. But remember — the match will not end in five rounds. I'll see you tomorrow."
With that, Elara turned and walked away, his shoulders heavy with embarrassment. The laughter of Rajan's friends echoed behind him, but his mind was already on the battlefield.
The sun rose, casting golden light across the training hall. Karikalan stood firm, sweat dripping as he sparred with Richard. Each strike was sharp, each movement precise — his body and mind aligned for the battle ahead.
On the other side of the room, Rajan trained alone, his fists pounding against the bag with raw frustration. His thoughts echoed louder than the strikes. "Yesterday was one hell of a night. I won't forget it. I punched Elara because he embarrassed me in front of everyone. It shook my pride. But… something felt strange. When I hit him, there was no feeling. He didn't flinch at all. Was that real… or was I unconscious?"
He clenched his fists tighter, forcing the doubt away. "No matter. I will beat that brat today."
Meanwhile, Karikalan's voice carried steady conviction as he paused between drills. "I have confidence that I will reach the final. I will show him what fear truly means."
The two men, separated by distance but bound by rivalry, spoke the same words to themselves: "I will beat you."