Arush... Arush, wake up!"
As he opened his eyes, his thoughts faded into the smell of a burning forge cooling down—every sense recovering from the fire to the human world. In the cabin where he slept, the jet engine could be heard—the smell of oxidized air and the blades cutting through turbulence, wind, and air molecules. On Arush's body, a blanket covered his arms and chest; beside him was a saline bottle with "Painkiller" written on it. Arush looked over it, watching the drop of saline falling.
"Dip-dip."
Arush tried to push the blanket off his body, moving his left arm. Every tendon moved within the cavity, a jolt of pain surging in his forearm like a smelt-hammer striking a blade—not to sharpen it, but to crack it. He couldn't move his arm, nor could he tighten his grip, while his nerves tore through his skin as a sleazy film moved through his eyes in the form of tears.
Then a rhythmic knock came on the door.
"Thup-thup-thup."
"Can I come in?" A voice—sweet, melodic, with the sourness of wine and a hint of aconite. Arush looked at the door, staring as if wearing a crown of thorns on his head and a blaze on his tongue.
"No. Ask whatever you want from outside."
The door cracked open with the sound of mechanical leather boots. Sanvi entered with a face of absolute seriousness; her beauty was stripped by the fear of loss, but she carried an aura of coldness conquering the world, taking long, decisive steps towards him. Arush looked at her, staring until his ears became his eyes and his eyes became his heart. His eyes turned crimson with a sun at the center. They were unspoken, framed by dark circles and a heavy voice. With the distaste of his own soul, he spoke words of judgment to be answered by her alone.
"What is your suspicion over a fraud like me?"
He swallowed his saliva, his throat muscles tearing deep. The silence that flowed between them was enough for a blind man to see that something had turned his path toward a darkness of its own—while others could see it, they were not willing to pull him back. The silence pulled Sanvi into a swamp where anyone would be crushed by the weight of their own thoughts.
Arush stared at her and asked again: "So... I have heard that susceptibility cannot survive in this world... but look at me." He exhaled a deep breath of coldness, then inhaled. "Look at me, who has come straight out of hell... alone."
He breathed heavily as he took his left hand, moving it with agonizing pain out from under the blanket. The watch he was wearing was still there; its metal had smelted into his skin, turning it into a deep, embedded red solid. It smelled like burning leather and plaster. As he put his hand on the piece of metal: "Ahhhhh... damn it!!"
He breathed with eyes of pure agony. Putting his nails against the surface, he felt the hot metal and pulled it out with his bare hands. As he pulled, blood rose with it. As the metal piece came out, the white blanket was stained red, and steam rose from the wound. Arush threw the metal piece at Sanvi. The nerves around his neck were visible while tears flamed through his eyes, like oil spilling and burning into a plate.
She looked into the graveyard where he had buried herself, staring into his crimson eyes. A whirlwind moved in the storm of her frost-covered heart. She asked, "You had a chance to liberate yourself in front of everyone... why didn't you do that?"
Arush looked at her with a chuckle as the wound began to stitch the skin. Moving his gaze to the window, he saw the stars twinkling. The watch showed bold lines: 8:34 PM. Arush replied, refusing to meet her gaze.
"Because you didn't deserve to be leached over a reckless decision."
Sanvi sat in the chair beside him, holding a packed bottle of the medicine Arush used to sleep. She read the prescription: The drug contains meline... and hallucinogens with anesthesia... which acts as a serious painkiller... if overdosed, it may cause a severe medical emergency or, in the long term, death.
"I think you took more than 60 tablets a day, which should have killed you, right?"
Arush looked at her, raising his eyebrows. "What happened in the fight after I fell unconscious?" He stared hard into Sanvi's eyes.
Sanvi exhaled, taking a deep breath. "It doesn't matter... how do you feel now?"
Staring back into her eyes as blue sparks flickered over her gaze, Arush replied, gripping his knuckles until the bone turned white. "Survival is the biggest flaw for me in this world. I would be better off playing Rakta Charit with my own life."
"I am not here to conciliate you," Sanvi said.
Arush laughed in her face. "You were never there."
Then came a bang of shoes—a loud, thumping sound. Karma entered the room with a face that held the disbelief of a nightfall. He said, "You need to see this." He took the remote, flashing a news report onto the screen.
"TOP TIER HUNTERS TAKEN DOWN BY MYSTERIOUS FORCE IN SAMURAI ARMOR. DEALERS SP JUNG OF JAPAN, THE AUTHOR OF USA, AND MARTIEN OF BRAZIL SEVERELY INJURED. WARNER FROM CHINA KILLED IN THE ATTACK. ATTACKER VANISHED INTO THIN AIR. AATD OF JAPAN IS SEARCHING..."
Arush looked at the screen, shocked. He felt like Sisyphus pushing the boulder, but his greed had grown so great that he had pushed the boulder down the hill, cracking it and finally freeing himself. The news broke his vision. He looked at Sanvi.
"When was the last time I took the tablets?"
Confused, Sanvi looked at the sealed pack. "Like eight hours ago."
Arush grabbed the book from her hand, reading the prescription. A voice echoed in his mind: Did Mehung reborn? Or was he never dead? Was that Mehung?
An announcement came from the pilot: "We land in ten minutes. Karma, be ready for the mess you created."
Arush looked at Karma's golden eyes. "Can I have a lobotomy?" He chuckled with the scent of a fading smile. Karma looked back with an awkward expression—his eyes didn't see a boy, but a soldier dragged out of a World War and asked to stay "normal."
At the Indian Headquarters, Arush and Sanvi sat on a bench on the 23rd floor. A machine spread the fragrance of jasmine through the room as they stared at the ceiling. Inside the office, Maya banged on her desk. Veins popped in her hand as she screamed at Karma.
"Do you have any idea what you were up to?"
Karma stayed silent, head bowed toward the ground.
"And who the hell killed that Chinese dealer? Why?"
Karma didn't reply. Maya screamed, her voice cracking. "Karma! Answer me!"
Karma looked into her eyes. "That guy is not a jukebox where we can put money in and get him to go to war. We have done a ravage to him."
Outside, Arush heard every scream. He whispered with the force of a supernova blast: "They hamper the warrior, but the God beyond life and death is making me a jukebox."
Sanvi asked, "Did you say something?"
Arush looked at her and replied, "No. I didn't."
Arush looked toward the source of the voices, his head bowed as a low growl moved within him. "Stop hampering me," he muttered. He stood up, his gaze shifting toward the window. A sudden thought—a "muscat"—entered his mind: he needed a break. He moved toward the fresh air, telling Sanvi, "Cover this up for me."
Outside, claws embedded themselves deep into the wood as the creature watched Arush stepping into the night air. His hair shone golden now, his chest feeling as though it were filled with the arrows of sorrow, loss, and the judgment of his own people. A hawk whispered, a poem to make a discerning strike—disarming with feathers, but possessing the lethal sharpness of claws and words.
"मर्यादा तदैव पतति यदा कश्चित् म्रियते... ते शीतलयोः नेत्रयोः जीवनमरणयोः दूतं पश्यन्ति, किन्तु यमुने! तस्मिन् अन्धकारे एव सा उष्णता अस्ति यां ते अन्विषन्ति। जीवनमरणयोः परतः अगाधशून्यस्य मार्गः अस्ति। त्वं स्वस्य मृत्योः, धर्मस्य, कर्मणः च साक्षित्वं करिष्यसि—यत्र रक्तसिक्ता भूमिः, भग्नाः प्रतिज्ञाः च वक्रखड्ग इव भविष्यन्ति। त्वं न प्रकाशाय न वा अन्धकाराय, अपितु केवलं 'जीविताय' संघर्षं करिष्यसि। हे आरुष! पेक्टिन इव भव—यः सर्वेभ्यः मधुरः न भवति, अपितु लता इव तेषाम् एव कृते भव ye तव मूल्यं जानन्ति... मम सूर्य!"
"Dignity falls only when one dies... they look into the cold eyes of the herald of life and death, but in that darkness lies the very warmth they seek. Beyond life and death, there is a path to the bottomless abyss. You shall bear witness to your own death, your Dharma, and your Karma—where the blood-soaked soil and shattered vows become like a curved sword. You shall struggle neither for light nor for darkness, but only for Survival. O Arush! Be like pectin—which is not sweet to all—but be like a vine, existing only for those who truly know your worth... my Sun."
Arush moved through the streets of Marine Drive. His jacket hid the Makar logo on his chest—the golden logo which didn't just symbolize Arush, but symbolized the Karna within him, the hero he had admired since he was a child. The neon lights and the club life all felt weird; he had never seen an area like this before. Arush whispered in his head, asking questions that bruised his skin like sandpaper: "Do I need to be that bad guy in everyone's life?" He took steps over the concrete. "Do people even see me as human?"
Then, the voice of dance music was torn apart by screams of light. Arush exhaled. "God never stops testing me," he said, as he ran toward the source.
"Thup-thup-thup."
It was a Sinner shaped like a bull. As the backup squad arrived, people's lives were still in danger. Arush looked at the beast and said, "Let's go, man... I'll take you back to hell."
He transformed into his Inferno form, but this time his flames were shorter, flickering with fear. His tail didn't swing with its usual power. Arush moved into the Sinner's defense, breaking through and grabbing its horns. The Sinner jolted its head with a violent tremble, then suddenly started running, slamming Arush into parked cars. With sheer strength, Arush tried his best to maintain control with his bare hands, but his grip failed. He fell to the ground, gasping for air.
The bull charged forward, its six tails stripping the metal from cars and bikes. Then, a ball came rolling across the street. Behind it, a small child appeared to grab it—innocent eyes staring into the face of death. The bull charged. Arush moved, but in seconds he realized he couldn't close the gap in time.
Then, a sword came slicing through the bull from the middle. Within a blink of a second, the Sinner was turned to dust. A red-armored samurai emerged from the dark. Arush froze, his teeth bared, his face embedded with fear and the smelting fire of the steel that popped in his wide-open eyes. It was Mehung in his dark armor, with red thread wrapped around him. On his chest was the Makar logo. He looked at Arush, kneeled before him, and spoke.
"My lord... not here."
Arush couldn't even move. As he prepared to attack, Mehung grabbed his shoulder, and the sword vanished into thin air.
"जीवनेन तुभ्यं मह्यं स्वसेवकस्य आनयनस्य अवसरः दत्तः। यः श्याममृदः रजसि सदा मिलति स्म, सः अधुना तव पार्श्वे तिष्ठति; यतः अहं तद् अचिन्त्यं द्रष्टुं इच्छामि। मम प्रेम अकल्पनीयस्य साक्षित्वे अस्ति।"
"Life has granted you the opportunity to bring my servant to me. He who was always one with the dust of the Shyamamrd now stands by your side; for I long to behold the unthinkable. My love lies in witnessing that which cannot be imagined."
Seven centuries ago, in a small Wada, a child was born. His mother made him sleep on her thighs, tapping his head and singing a song.
"निज... निज माझ्या बाळा. चंद्र स्वतः तुझ्याजवळ येईल... आणि आपला चेहरा पाहून, तुला जपण्याची आणि तुझं रक्षण करण्याची शपथ घेईल."
"Sleep... sleep, my child. The moon itself will descend to you... and beholding our faces, it shall take a vow to guard and protect you."
As the bark of the tree bent toward the child, blood dripped over the diya. Avkasham looked up at the sky, his eyes entirely black, a golden crown on his head engraved with "Indraprastha." He spoke the starts of the future:
"श्येनात् मम न्यायः आगतः... अहं त्वां तस्य सत्यस्य अभिमुखं नेष्यामि यस्मिन् मानवाः पतिताः। न तु करुणामय्या, अपितु तादृश्या क्रूरतया येन करुणा अपि लज्जिता भवेत्। सूर्यः असीमः अस्ति, अहं त्वां पुनः ज्वालामुकुटं धारयिष्यामि—न तु युद्धात्, अपितु तव रक्तेन तव अ कथितकथाभिः च। मर्त्यशरीरस्य अनित्यतायाः तथा च तव कीर्तेः अमरत्वस्य प्रश्नाय लेखनीं धारय। अहं 'अवकाशम्' अस्मि, तव अन्वेषणाय आगतः—सूर्यस्य प्रथमं किरणम्!"
"The hawk's judgment has reached me... I shall thrust you toward the truth in which all men have fallen. Not with pity, but with a force that shall make pity itself feel ashamed. The sun is limitless, and I shall make you wear the crown of flames once more—not won from battle, but forged from your own blood and the folk tales I never told. Hold your pen for the question of the mortal body's end and the immortality of your legacy. I am Avkasham, the first ray of the sun, and I have come for you."
-Arush salunke