The glowing potion vial in Vicky's pocket felt like a mini tandoor.Every time his mother shifted slightly in her seat during dinner, pressing her palm against her lower back with a small wince, the vial burned hotter against his thigh.
Vicky gulped.
How was he supposed to give this to her?
"Mom, drink this. It's a glowing red liquid I obtained by putting my hand into a video game."Yeah. Perfect way to get admitted to a mental hospital.
He needed proof.A test.A guinea pig.
And fate, as always, had one ready.
Operation: Healing the Dog
Later that night, with the excuse of "trash leke aa raha hoon," Vicky slipped out into the narrow lane behind the houses.
Behind a pipe and under a fortress of cardboard lived the stray dog the kids called Lucky.Ironic name today — Lucky was limping badly. His front left leg was swollen, bruised, and he winced every time he put weight on it.
"Hey buddy…" Vicky whispered, crouching down.
Lucky looked up, tail wagging weakly.
"You got into a fight, huh?"Vicky pulled out a piece of leftover roti he had smuggled from dinner.
Lucky limped closer instantly.
"Good. At least you're still motivated by carbs," Vicky murmured.
Time for the plan.
Heart smashing against his ribs, Vicky took out the glowing vial.Even the ground looked red for a second from the light.
Lucky whimpered and backed up slightly.
"It's okay… it's okay…"Vicky said, calming both the dog and himself.
He tore a small piece of roti, uncorked the potion carefully, and let one single glowing drop fall on the bread.
The bread shone pink for a second and then went back to normal.
"H-here…"He held it out.
Lucky sniffed.Sniffed again.Then gently took the bread and gulped it down.
Vicky waited.
Two seconds.Three.Five.
Nothing.
"Oh great. It failed. It's fake. Or worse—poison. Oh god, I killed a dog—"
Lucky suddenly barked happily, spun around in a hyper little circle, and then ran — RAN — to Vicky and rubbed against his hand like he'd found his long-lost owner.
The limp?Gone.ZERO sign of pain.
Vicky let out a shocked laugh."It worked… it actually worked!"
He scratched Lucky behind the ears while the dog vibrated with joy.
The Reality Check
Vicky walked home floating on cloud nine.
He had just performed a miracle.
But as soon as he entered the compound — the normal noises, the smell of sabzi, the sight of his mother folding clothes — reality slapped him.
Hard.
He imagined the future:
He gives his mom the potion disguised as "special balm."Her pain vanishes instantly.Next morning she goes to Sarita Aunty:
"Arey Sunita, kal raat mere beta ne ek cream diya. Ek second mein dard gayab. Batao kahan milega??"
Sarita aunty → "Kya? Miracle cream?"Alka aunty → "Company kaunsi?"Munshi uncle → "Doctor ko dikhaya? Ingredients kya hain?"Mom: "Beta Vicky ne diya…? Vicky… where did you get this?"
Vicky felt his soul leave his body.
He wasn't in a superhero movie.He lived in a colony.A close-knit Indian neighborhood where gossip spreads faster than WiFi.
He lay in bed later, staring at the empty vial glowing faintly on the table.
Journal Entry #4, he thought grimly.
The potion works.But using it directly on Mom?Dead end. Too obvious. Too powerful. Too… risky.
Her back pain wasn't some curse.She was 36, she worked like five people, of course she got tired.
He wasn't supposed to slay a dragon.He needed to quietly make the road smoother.
A different idea took shape.
What if…instead of one big, dramatic miracle…
he gave her tiny boosts?So subtle she'd never notice?Not curing pain — just preventing it?A diluted drop in her morning chai?Just enough to rejuvenate her.Make her shoulders hurt less.Make her day lighter.
Not a miracle.A nudge.
A secret nudge.
Not a hero.A guardian.
The type of help no one sees.
He picked up the empty vial.
A single drop healed Lucky's entire leg.If diluted…If micro-dosed…
He needed to test dilution.Ratios.Effects.Limits.
He didn't need to be a wizard.
He needed to become a pharmacist.
A secret one.
And for that…
He needed more potions.
The journey wasn't toward one dramatic act.
It was toward mastering a gentle, invisible art —helping without ever being seen.