"Bhai, please take this food with you..." Sita, his elder sister, said, her voice softer than usual, as she handed him the packed lunch.
Dev, who had just finished packing his bag for the day, looked up at her. He noticed her tired eyes, a subtle hint of exhaustion that came from sleepless nights.
"Didi, was it really necessary for you to wake up this early just to make food for me?" Dev asked, his tone a mixture of appreciation and concern.
Sita approached him, shaking her head with a fond yet reprimanding smile. She tapped his head lightly with the food box. "Pagal! If I don't take care of you, then who will?" Her voice, though gentle, held a quiet strength. "Enough of your complaints. Take the food and go. I know ever since Papa's accident at the mine, you've had to take on so many responsibilities. But you're still just a kid, Dev. Don't forget that."
Dev didn't say anything, but Sita saw his shoulders tense. Her heart tightened at the sight of her younger brother carrying so much on his shoulders. After their father's accident, she had tried to step up, but seeing Dev shoulder the weight of their family's struggles at such a young age was tearing her apart.
Their family was large—ten people living under one roof. Their father, severely injured in a mining accident; their mother, too ill to work; two older sisters and Dev, the youngest, who had to care for his two younger siblings. Then there was Jagira, their loyal camel, and a dog that had grown fond of a baby goat. Every day, Sita would think back to when the traditional healer advised her to feed goat's milk to her mother. It was the one thing she could do to try and help, though it never felt enough.
On top of everything, they had the landlord to pay, and Shetty, the moneylender, whose constant demands added pressure to their already strained life.
At just fifteen, Dev had already taken on the burden of an adult. A burden no child his age should ever have to bear.
The clock read 5:40 AM. Dev knew he had to be at Madan General Store by 6:00 AM.
"I'm leaving now," he muttered, taking the food box from her hands.
Sita nodded, though her face remained clouded with concern. "Be careful, Dev. I can't keep doing everything on my own. The weight of it all is crushing, and I feel it more with each passing day. But you... you're still so young. You shouldn't have to carry all of this alone."
Dev adjusted the strap of his bag, his face hardening, the expression of someone forced to grow up too quickly. "I'll be fine, Didi. Just take care of Mama," he replied, his voice steady, though tinged with quiet resolve.
With a final glance, he turned and walked out of the house, leaving Sita standing in the doorway. As he disappeared into the early morning light, her heart swelled with both pride and sorrow. She couldn't help but wonder how much longer Dev could carry the weight of their world on his young shoulders.
The shrill crow of a rooster tore through the morning like an overzealous alarm clock.
"Kukrooo... kukroooo..."
Aarav's eyes snapped open at exactly 7:00 AM. He blinked at the ceiling, half-expecting it to mutter, "Surprise! You're still lost, buddy."
Another morning, another episode of "Who the Hell Am I?" starring... well, whoever he used to be.
His hair looked like it had hosted a rock concert overnight—and forgot the encore.
"Who keeps a rooster in the city?" he grumbled, throwing a glance toward the window. "Is this a farm-themed horror show? Did someone hand this bird a mic and a mission?"
He groaned and sat up, wincing slightly as the discomfort in his rib reminded him of... something.
"Great. Joint pain and sarcasm, the unholy duo," he muttered, half-heartedly rubbing his side.
Then, just to make sure we were all on the same page, Aarav turned to the reader with an expression that screamed "are you serious?"
"Yes, you. The one reading this. In case you're wondering, no—I didn't sign up for rural wildlife screeching into my soul at dawn. And no, snooze buttons don't work on live poultry."
Knock knock.
"Aarav? Wakey-wakey, sunshine boy!" came Kavya's excessively chipper voice, followed by the unmistakable sound of a classic 90s Bollywood track—off-key, of course.
Aarav blinked. "Sunshine boy? Is that my official superhero name now?"
"Want 'Jungle King' instead? I can do the roar too," she teased, the sound of tea being poured in the background. "Come on, move it! Raghu's halfway through yoga. You're missing all the zen and sweat."
Aarav dragged himself up with the elegance of a dying Wi-Fi connection.
"Didn't realize joint pain and sarcasm went hand in hand," Aarav grumbled under his breath as he shuffled past the table. The yellow-brown city ID card was still there, untouched. It might as well have been a passive-aggressive reminder of everything he couldn't remember. Like everything else in his life, it was waiting for answers—answers he couldn't seem to find.
A sudden twinge in his rib made him wince again. It wasn't sharp—just a dull, persistent ache that felt like an old ghost. No use thinking about it, he told himself. It was an old pain, nothing new. He just couldn't remember where it came from.
Kavya's voice floated in from the kitchen, cheerful and mismatched to the chaos of his mind. "Good morning, sleepyhead! Tea's almost ready!"
Kavya was in full chaiwala mode, pouring with the precision of a caffeine magician. Raghu, outside, was already in yoga warrior pose, looking like a cross between a Bollywood star and a zen master.
"Morning, sleepy legend!" Raghu called. "Hope you dreamed of breakfast—because first, we bow to the sun, then insult our backs!"
"Breakfast comes with a tax now?" Aarav asked, feigning alarm.
"No tax. Just complimentary yoga, push-ups, and humiliation," Raghu replied with a wink.
Kavya chimed in from the kitchen, "And if you survive, I'll throw in an extra paratha. Limited-time offer!"
"Nice. Bribery before 8 AM. What a cultured household," Aarav muttered. "Fine, I'll join the circus. Just know—I'm extremely flexible... in alternate realities."
Outside, Raghu moved like a Bollywood swan. Aarav followed... more like a confused duck on rollerblades.
"Is it just me, or is this giving major school PT trauma?" he muttered mid-wobble.
Raghu looked puzzled. "Huh?"
Aarav turned back to the fourth wall, his tone deadpan. "He didn't get the joke. Don't worry—you did. I knew you were the smarter one."
Then back to Raghu: "I'm guessing they called it 'spiritual aerobics' in Sion or something."
Raghu rolled his eyes. "Push-ups. Now."
Aarav completed exactly two before collapsing like a fainting goat. "I submit to gravity. Please inform the parathas I love them."
From the kitchen, Kavya shouted, "Even Tommy the dog does better squats than that!"
"Tommy has four legs! I'm operating on half the horsepower here!"
By 8:15, yoga was mercifully over. Aarav stumbled back inside looking like a warrior who'd just survived Warrior vs. Yoga: The Final Stretch. But strangely, he was smiling. It felt... good.
At 8:30 AM sharp, breakfast arrived. Idlis soft enough to cause a spiritual awakening, steaming sambhar, crispy parathas, and a halwa that could legally be classified as a sin.
Aarav took a bite, closing his eyes and sighing dramatically, like a hero reuniting with his long-lost love.
"If I ever remember my past and it turns out I was a criminal mastermind... just feed me this breakfast. I'll confess, repent, and even wash the dishes."
Kavya chuckled, topping off his tea. "Let's hope your old self liked carbs—because there's plenty."
And in that moment, amidst memory gaps, rooster alarms, and yoga misfires—there was laughter. There was warmth.
And for a brief while, even without knowing who he truly was... Aarav felt like he belonged.
Raghu stepped into the room, his footsteps purposeful. He walked straight to the wardrobe, flung open the doors, and grunted, "Here's your precious Amanat."
With a dramatic flair, he pulled out a wooden box, small but heavy. He shifted it onto his shoulder as though carrying a treasure chest, then walked over to the table, placing it down with a soft thud.
Aarav squinted at the box. It wasn't much to look at — about five inches in length and six in width, but there was something oddly intriguing about it.
Raghu clicked open the latch with a theatrical flourish. Inside, nestled carefully on a bed of old, worn cloth, was a locket.
Aarav stared at it, the glimmer of curiosity sparking in his eyes.
The locket was round, its edges etched with delicate silver filigree that shimmered like moonlight. Its design resembled a radiant sun, with a ruby at the center that pulsed with a faint, mysterious light. The gem seemed to breathe, radiating an almost otherworldly energy, as though it held secrets too ancient for the human mind to comprehend.
Aarav reached out slowly, his fingers brushing against the cool metal, and picked up the locket. The ruby glistened brightly in his palm, casting a faint crimson glow across his face.
"Wow... How beautiful..." Kavya murmured, her voice soft with awe.
Aarav's attention didn't shift from the locket as he turned it over, his thoughts swirling. "What is this... thing?"
Kavya leaned in, trying to get a closer look. "It's gorgeous. What's it for?"
Before he could respond, Raghu broke the silence. "This locket... is more than just a trinket. It's a symbol of something bigger. You remember the desert, right?"
Aarav looked up, confused for a moment, before the memory hit him.
"The desert?" he repeated, his voice low. "You mean... when we found it?"
Raghu nodded. "Exactly. The same locket was in your hand when we found you, buried in that pit."
Kavya's face fell as she nodded, recalling the moment with vivid clarity.
The pit was deep—four feet down and ten meters wide, a hole in the earth that seemed to swallow anything unlucky enough to fall into it. They had found Aarav there, unconscious and covered in blood, his clothes torn and stained. That day felt like a lifetime ago.
Raghu continued, "We found you in that hole, covered in blood. You were barely alive. You didn't remember anything... not even your own name. But the locket was there, clutched tightly in your hand. It was the only thing that didn't belong."
Aarav's hand tightened around the locket, its cool surface a stark contrast to the warmth that slowly spread through his fingers. The ruby's pulse was almost soothing now, a silent rhythm in sync with his heartbeat.
He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to recall that day—what had happened, how he had ended up in that pit. But like so many other memories, it slipped through his grasp, like sand between his fingers.
"You couldn't even remember who you were," Kavya said softly. "We brought you back here, took care of you, and waited for you to wake up. But when you did, all you knew was your name. Nothing else."
Raghu frowned. "The traditional healer tried everything—herbal remedies, chants, even old spells—but nothing worked. She said your memory was locked, that it was like a door that couldn't be opened. But maybe this locket has the key."
Aarav's gaze shifted to the intricate design on the locket, the symbols carved beneath the ruby. "Could this... could this be the reason I don't remember anything?"
Raghu raised an eyebrow. "Maybe. This locket belongs to you, and only you. It's your connection to whatever past you've lost. If there's a way to find out who you really are, it might be in here."
Aarav turned the locket over in his hand, examining the delicate engravings. The symbols were familiar yet strange, as though they spoke to him in a language that was almost forgotten. Sanskrit. He had seen it in old books, in dusty school texts he'd barely skimmed over.
"Sanskrit... I recognize this," he murmured, running a finger over the symbols. "But I don't understand it."
Kavya looked at him thoughtfully. "Maybe you don't need to understand it. Maybe it's just waiting for you to remember."
Aarav was silent for a long moment, lost in the mystery of the locket. The ruby seemed to glow brighter, as if urging him to unlock the secrets hidden within.
But he couldn't. Not yet. His memories were a puzzle with missing pieces, and this locket might be the key. He just didn't know how to use it.
Suddenly, a memory surfaced. It was faint, like a whisper from the past.
"When we found you..." he began slowly, "you had this locket in your hand. And now it's the only thing I have from before. Maybe it's the only clue to who I am... what I was."
Raghu placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're not alone, Aarav. We're in this together. We'll figure this out, piece by piece."
Aarav smiled faintly, the weight of his situation settling on him again. He wasn't just searching for his past. He was searching for himself.
But this locket... it felt like it was calling to him. And for the first time, something inside him stirred—a faint sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this locket would unlock the answers he desperately needed.