Chapter 1 – Jai Shri Ram
The evening sky was turning from light orange to deep blue, and the red flag on top of the old Hanuman temple standing in the middle of the hill town of Devdhar was fluttering in the wind.
That same flag, visible from far away, was the highest mark of this small town – and right behind it, a new glass-and-steel power project was coming up, with a big board in bold letters: "Skyline Energy – The City's Future."
"Looking at the future, Bajrangi?"
A bike horn sounded behind him along with the voice.
Aryan turned away from the edge of the bridge and looked back – blue jacket, helmet half on his head, and that usual half-smile on his lips – it was Nikhil.
"How many times have I told you, don't call me 'Bajrangi'."
Aryan shifted his bag higher on his shoulder as he spoke, but there was more irritation than anger in his voice.
Nikhil laughed.
"Come on, you literally grew up on these temple steps. What other nickname should I give you? Now sit, we're getting late for coaching."
As the bike started, the cold wind ran its fingers through their hair.
The narrow river flowing below the bridge, the small houses on both sides, and the steep steps going up the hill to Hanuman ji's temple – it was their everyday view, but today something felt different; there was a yellow JCB parked at the temple gate and a small convoy of two or three white cars.
Aryan's eyes got stuck on the JCB.
"What are these machines doing here?" he asked, frowning.
Nikhil glanced up once and shrugged.
"Maybe they're widening the way. The city has to grow, man. We can't save a temple, a well and a banyan tree in the middle of everything."
Aryan said nothing, he just kept looking at the flag on the temple top a little longer.
He always felt that along with the wind, some heartbeat also moved in that flag – as if someone sitting above knew everything.
The bike took a sharp turn and stopped at the coaching gate.
In the crowd of uniforms, backpacks and chatter, both of them went inside.
As soon as they sat in class, madam started writing questions on the board, and the students bent over their notebooks.
Nikhil's pen was moving fast; physics formulas were like a game for him.
Aryan also started writing, but his eyes kept drifting to the sky outside the window every now and then – where the red flag of the temple was just barely visible.
"Mr. Aryan, if you have some time, please also give the answer to this question."
Madam's voice jolted him.
The whole class tried to hide their laughter.
Nikhil nudged him with his elbow.
"Was your 'Hanuman Chalisa mode' on again?"
Aryan stood up.
"Sorry, madam, please say it again… I didn't hear you properly."
By the time coaching ended, darkness had already settled outside.
The group of kids spilled out of the gate and scattered in different directions.
"Let's go to the temple today?"
Aryan said suddenly.
Putting his phone into his pocket, Nikhil frowned.
"Right now? It's already night. If we climb all the steps up, it'll take at least twenty minutes, then coming back… I'll miss mom's video call."
Aryan stayed quiet for a moment, then said,
"I heard some work is going on up there… I was feeling uneasy, so I thought we should go for darshan once."
Nikhil looked into his eyes for a moment, very carefully.
He knew this much – whenever Aryan said he was feeling uneasy, it meant some deep fear or restlessness was pushing up inside him, something he would never fully say out loud.
"Fine, five minutes then," he said, twirling the helmet. "You really are such an emotional guy."
This time they left the bike below and started climbing the steps.
Every few steps, both of them were breathing hard, but Aryan was used to this climb from childhood.
When they reached the top, they saw that there really were some people standing outside the temple – white shirts, ties, files in hand; along with them two or three municipal officers and the priest.
The JCB was off for now, but there were chalk lines drawn on the ground near it, as if someone had been measuring and marking.
Aryan's heart suddenly started beating faster.
"Ah, you've come, son?"
The priest smiled at them.
"You're not… breaking the temple, right?"
Aryan's question got stuck halfway.
One of the officers adjusted his glasses and said,
"Don't worry, we're not breaking the temple, just widening the way and making parking here. When tourists increase in the city, they need facilities too, right?"
Nikhil gave a small smile and nodded, as if the logic made sense to him.
But Aryan's eyes stayed fixed on the yellow machine that looked like a waiting crocodile, standing just a few steps away from the temple stairs.
Inside the temple, the bell rang.
The aarti had begun.
Both of them went in.
A small sanctum, in the middle the idol of Hanuman ji with shining eyes, vermilion and flowers, and in front a small brass bell; from the walls rose a mixed fragrance of incense and ghee.
Aryan folded his hands and closed his eyes.
Whenever he came here, his mind would start speaking on its own – the words were never clear, just a feeling that said, "Don't leave me alone."
Today he whispered silently,
"If this place is in any kind of danger… then tell me beforehand. I may be an ordinary boy, but I won't run away."
Even he was surprised at the word "run away."
Did he really run?
He felt a few memories from childhood sting inside him – times when he stepped away from a fight, from some senior's bullying, from some accident – and later at home, he had cried into his pillow, full of regret.
"What are you asking for?"
Nikhil's low voice came from beside him.
Without opening his eyes, Aryan said,
"Courage."
Nikhil gave a small laugh.
"You should've asked for marks. We'd crack IIT, and both our lives would be set."
After the aarti, they came out.
The city lights below were twinkling.
The air had turned colder; the flag was fluttering even harder.
At that moment, a truck turned onto the road coming from the other side of the hill with a screech of brakes.
Maybe it lost balance on the slope; the truck swayed a little, and an old man, who was standing with a stick at the bottom of the steps thinking of climbing up, froze in panic.
Aryan saw it – for a split second it felt like the truck would go straight over the old man.
His feet felt like they were stuck to the ground.
His mind was screaming,
Run and pull him away!
But his body would not move.
His hands started shaking, the sounds around him went faint, and for a moment it felt like time had stopped.
A shadow flashed past him like lightning.
"Uncle, this way!"
Nikhil had jumped down the steps, reached the old man and pulled him aside.
The truck shot past them with a jolt, throwing up dust and dirt, then stopped some distance away.
All of it happened in just two seconds.
Aryan was still standing on the upper part of the steps, his palms wet with sweat.
His heart was pounding, as if he had done something himself, even though he had done nothing.
The old man, still shaking, put his hand on Nikhil's head.
"Son, may God's grace always be on you. If you hadn't come, I would have been gone today."
Nikhil laughed and said,
"God was taking care of you from above… I just did what he wanted, that's all."
Up above, Aryan's eyes were fixed on his own shoes.
He didn't dare go down; he was scared that if the old man's eyes met his, what would he say?
That "I was scared"?
In truth, the old man had not even seen Aryan, and Aryan hadn't had a single brave thought in his head.
When both of them climbed back up the steps, Aryan only asked,
"How did you jump so fast?"
Nikhil shrugged.
"It wasn't rocket science, man. My mind just went blank and my legs started moving. If I'd kept thinking, maybe I would have frozen too."
Then he gestured lightly towards Aryan.
"You did freeze, yeah.
But it's okay.
Next time maybe you'll run, and I'll be the one who freezes.
That's what friends are for…
To take turns being brave."
He had said it like a joke, but the words sank deep inside Aryan.
By night, a light drizzle had started falling over the city.
The air was filled with the mixed smell of wet earth and incense.
After reaching home, Aryan sat by the window.
Far above, he could see the temple flag faintly; he thought, the crowd must be less today because of the rain.
Just then, a message popped up from Nikhil on his phone –
"Today's heroes –
1) Me
2) God
3) The truck's brakes"
Aryan didn't reply.
He switched off the screen and lay down on the bed, but those same two seconds kept playing in his head – the truck, the old man, and his own frozen body.
He didn't know when he fell asleep.
Suddenly, he felt as if someone was calling his name.
"Aryan…"
The voice was neither too near nor too far – it seemed to be rising from inside his chest.
In his dream, he found himself standing on the temple steps, with deep night all around.
But today the city lights were off; only the red flag and the idol inside were glowing with a faint fire-like light.
"Who…?"
He looked around – no one.
Even so, a strange shiver climbed slowly up his spine.
Inside the sanctum, the bell moved on its own, even though there was no wind at all.
Tun… tun… tun…
With every sound, he felt as if his heart was being pushed a little more out of his chest.
"You were lost in thought today," the same voice echoed.
"And if you stay like this tomorrow too… will you be able to save your friend?"
Aryan blurted out, frightened,
"I'm scared… but I don't want to run."
The light inside the temple suddenly grew brighter, so bright that he couldn't fully open his eyes.
He could only sense a huge figure – like a vanar, but with both mercy and fire in its eyes, and behind it the shadow of the waving flag…
The voice was deeper this time.
"Without fear, there is no courage, son.
But the ones who move forward even while they're afraid… they are the ones who are mine."
Aryan tried to say something, but the words got stuck in his throat.
His knees seemed to touch the ground on their own.
"If I give you a part of my strength…
then will you really be able to protect others?"
The question did not hit his ears, it struck straight at his heart.
In the next instant he saw the same old man…
covered in blood, as if the dream had turned his worst fear into reality.
Gasping, he said,
"I… I don't know how good I am.
Or how much I can do.
But I know this – I'm not a bad person.
And if I leave someone alone… I will never be able to forgive myself."
There was a moment of silence.
Then it felt as if someone had placed a very light hand on his head – warm, heavy, and full of trust.
"Then wake up, Aryan.
This is only the beginning."
With a loud crack of thunder, lightning flashed.
He woke up with a start – and found himself on his own bed, with real rain falling outside the window.
His heart was still beating wildly.
With trembling hands he opened the window.
He looked towards the temple on the distant hill –
the red flag was shining in the moonlight even in the dark of night,
and for a moment he felt… as if right under the flag, near the idol, a very tall, very familiar shadow was standing, looking straight at him.
And then, as if someone spoke directly inside his heart,
"Jai Shri Ram…"
The echo was soft, but so clear that Aryan almost forgot to breathe.
As the words rang in his ears,
Aryan whispered back,
"Jai Bajrangbali…"
The wind answered with a gentle gust,
and the window glass shook on its own for a moment.