Author's POV

A boy was sleeping peacefully.

Suddenly

An ambulance siren echoed through the darkness.

Heavy rain.

Loud thunder.

An eleven-year-old boy stood in the middle of the deserted road, completely drenched, tears mixing with the rainwater on his face.

He ran after the ambulance.

"Maa... Maa... Humari maa ko mat le jao... Maa!"

(Mom... Mom... Don't take our mother away... Mom!)

His heartbreaking screams disappeared beneath the roar of the storm.

A four-year-old little boy stood a few steps behind him, crying uncontrollably while tightly clutching the elder boy's shirt, unable to understand what was happening.

Another deafening clap of thunder split the sky.

Thud!

The man woke up abruptly.

His chest rose and fell rapidly as he struggled to catch his breath.

Sweat covered his forehead despite the cold weather.

Without saying a single word, he placed a trembling hand over his heart and closed his eyes for a moment.

After taking a few deep breaths, he slowly got out of bed.

He was wearing a plain white vest and black lowers.

Walking towards the window, he pulled the curtain aside.

It was four in the morning.

The rain was falling relentlessly.

For a few silent seconds, he simply stared outside before whispering in a tired voice,

"Phir yahi baarish... phir wahi mausam... phir wahi yaadein..."

(The same rain... the same weather... the same memories...)

His eyes held years of pain.

Without another glance, he shut the window a little harder than necessary.

He stepped out of his room.

It wasn't a luxurious bungalow.

Just a small house.

Two bedrooms.

One bathroom.

A tiny kitchen.

A modest drawing room.

The furniture was old but neatly arranged.

Everything looked clean...

Yet something was missing.

Not furniture.

Not money.

It felt as if the house had forgotten how to smile.

The warmth...

The laughter...

The presence of someone...

It all seemed lost long ago.

Just then, faint sounds of utensils came from the kitchen.

He walked inside.

There stood his father, Mr. Akshat Agnihotri, forty-seven years old, preparing tea while occasionally placing a bucket beneath the ceiling where rainwater was dripping.

Triyaksh frowned.

"Papa... kya kar rahe hain itni subah?"

(Dad... what are you doing so early in the morning?)

Akshat looked back with a gentle smile.

"Arey beta, jaag gaye tum? Baarish bahut tez thi. Chhat se phir paani tapakne laga tha yaha bhi aur kamre me bhi. Socha balti bhi rakh doon aur saath mein chai bhi bana loon. Waise bhi itni barish mein chai peene ka mann kar gaya."

(Oh, son, you're awake? The rain was very heavy. The roof started leaking again, both here and in the room. I thought I'd place a bucket and make some tea as well. Besides, I felt like having tea in such rainy weather.)

Triyaksh glanced at the leaking ceiling.

"Haan... lagta hai is baar repair karwana hi padega. Aaj din mein kisi ko bula lete hai."

(Yeah... it looks like we'll have to get it repaired this time. Let's call someone during the day.)

Akshat nodded.

"Theek rahega."

(That would be good.)

Then he lifted another cup.

"Tum bhi piyoge?"

(Will you have some too?)

A faint smile finally appeared on Triyaksh's face.

"Haan, zaroor. Hum fresh hokar aate hain."

(Yes, of course. I'll freshen up and come back.)

He went to take a bath while Akshat quietly poured the tea into two steel cups.

A few minutes later, Triyaksh returned, his wet hair neatly combed back.

Both father and son sat on the old wooden chairs in the small drawing room.

Outside, the rain continued.

Inside...

Silence sat between them like an old companion.

Akshat took a sip of his tea before speaking softly,

"Phir koi sapna aaya?"

(Did you have that dream again?)

Triyaksh's fingers tightened around the cup.

For a moment, he didn't answer.

Then he looked outside at the rain and smiled bitterly.

"Kuch sapne... kabhi peecha nahi chhodte, Papa."

(Some dreams... never stop haunting you, Dad.)

Akshat lowered his eyes.

Because he knew...

It wasn't just a dream.

It was a memory of something.

Akshat looked at Triyaksh for a few moments before changing the topic.

A soft smile appeared on his face.

"Waise... Kittu aaj hi wapas aa raha hai na Prayagraj? School trip khatam ho gayi uski?"

(By the way... Kittu is coming back Prayagraj today, right? His school trip is over?)

Triyaksh nodded while finishing the last sip of his tea.

"Haan, Papa. Aaj dopahar tak aa jayega. Hum khud jaakar le aayenge. Aap bilkul chinta mat kijiye."

(Yes, Dad. He'll be back by this afternoon. I'll go and bring him home myself. Please don't worry at all.)

Akshat smiled with relief.

"Theek hai. Pata nahi kyun... jab tak woh ghar nahi aa jata na, mann laga hi nahi rehta."

(Alright. I don't know why... but until he comes home safely, I just can't feel at peace.)

Triyaksh chuckled lightly.

"Aap bhi na, Papa... Bas do hi din ki to baat thi."

(Oh, Dad... it was only a matter of two days.)

He stood up and glanced at thewall clock.

"Aur haan... aaj humara ek aur interview bhi hai. Is baar umeed hai sab theek hoga."

(And yes... I have another interview today. I hope everything goes well this time.)

Akshat looked at him with pride.

"Is baar bhi nahi hua to koi baat nahi, beta. Zindagi ek interview se nahi rukti. Lekin mujhe yakeen hai... iss baar Bhagwan tumhari mehnat zaroor dekhenge."

(Even if it doesn't work out this time, it's alright, son. Life doesn't stop because of one interview. But I'm sure... this time God will surely recognize your hard work.)

Triyaksh smiled faintly.

"Bas aapki prarthna chahiye."

(I just need your prayers.)

He bent down and respectfully touched his father's feet.

Akshat immediately placed his hand on his son's head.

"Khush raho... hamesha safal raho."

(Stay happy... and may you always be successful.)

Triyaksh picked up his wallet and bike keys from the table.

"Hum pehle mandir hokar aate hain... phir interview ke liye nikalenge."

(I'll visit the temple first... then leave for the interview.)

"Sambhal kar jaana."

(Drive safely.)

"Ji, Papa."

(Yes, Dad.)

With that, he stepped outside.

The rainy morning breeze of Prayagraj welcomed him.

The rain had slowed to a light drizzle.

Tiny droplets still clung to the leaves, and the narrow lanes smelled of wet earth.

Triyaksh unlocked his old black motorcycle.

For a moment, he looked up at the cloudy sky.

His eyes reflected determination.

"Chahe kitni bhi mushkilein aayein... iss baar haar nahi maanenge hum."

(No matter how many difficulties come our way... this time, I won't give up.)

He wore his helmet, started the bike, and rode toward the ancient Shiva temple of Prayagraj, while the rising sun struggled to peek through the thick rain clouds.

Little did he know...

The day that had begun with old nightmares...

Was about to change his life forever.