The Lost One: Story of the One who ends it all (Shiva the Destroyer Book 1)

by Aarohan Atwal

  The Lost One

  Aarohan Atwal

  Copyright Aarohan Atwal 2015-16

  Amazon Edition

  Amazon Edition, License Notes

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  Dedicated to,

  The little blue planet and the life it sustains,

  may we live in peace and harmony forever.

  Table of Content

  Prologue

  Identity

  The Day Beckons

  The Girl On The Ledge

  We Met Raul

  Memories Of Tomorrow

  The Turning Point

  An Escape

  Vairagi

  The Call

  The Fightback

  Let Go

  Bonus! Exclusive Preview: Zero Defect

  Along the banks of a mighty river,

  from the land far east,

  will rise a hero,

  who will plunge to darkness,

  the world many times over.

  - Nostradamus 06:66

  Prologue

  the end

  It ends where it begins -

  Ninety nine percent of the population was dead, the planet resembled a colossal graveyard, perched and desolated; the sun looked like a faded moon through the dense of nuclear fog. Americas, Europe, Asia, India, China, Russia, Africa everything that once resembled a civilization had perished in the Great War, inarguably the worst mankind had ever seen. A blend of visible and invisible mantle of nuclear radiations clouded the earth, and though most of the land was barren and unfertile, life still scorched the earth, a colony was established in the far reaches of Russia, planes which once were inhospitable now cradled the life, and it was the only place on the entire face of the planet the rays of sunlight could still kiss the flowering earth.

  The great citadel that stood amidst the ruins was ruled by one man, a man who was determined to restore the balance on the planet, by any means possible. The man ruled with an iron fist covered in a velvet glove, his intentions maybe were noble but his methods were unacceptable, and it wouldn't be entirely wrong if you would compare it with barbarism. He dreamed of a Utopia, a society based on the principles of the great thinker Plato.

  And such was the fate of humanity which rested thinly on the whims of one man, the man who once was a gentle and a caring soul was now revered and feared fiercely. This is the story of that one man who first destroyed and then ruled the world, something which Alexander, Hitler and the great British Empire could only dream of...

  It could have been different if fate had not been so cruel with him -

  They say that you get to know how much you are loved only when you die, for how many people come and mourn at your funeral measures the impact you made and the void you left. But it's not the complete truth though, for they don't talk about the people who die when you die, or people who silently watch from a distance, neither they talk about the people who curl themselves in the dark corner of their bedrooms and sob quietly.

  And how unfortunate I was, to be robbed-off of even the last pyres that one is entitled to, I probably rotted in the deep trenches of west pacific or was feasted upon by the great white sharks or who knows carried to the icy pole by the north current to remain frozen forever. And so there was no official service, nobody gathered, people whoever they were, sniveled in the seclusion of their sanctuaries. I recount as I saw it, there was my mother, who shed a tear, probably for the first time she felt me, my father acted numb, a continuance of his pretentious existence, my sister Mihika lost it all for I was her only family, Ihita broke down, unable to bear any further the atrocities of fate, Vairagi laughed as usual but there was a certain sadness to it, Niyati lived to see the day, only one of us could have survived, but her existence was meaningless, for she failed in her objective, and then there was the world which sighed in peace, for the song of destruction, just fizzled away.

  What about friends? People who masquerade as your well wishers, people who use hypocrisy as a shield and as a sword. He was a good man, that's all the sycophants said. The college had its own special way of mourning, dean declared the holiday, and the students rejoiced. I watched everything, I watched as my life folded into a cube of molecular dimension and I couldn't help but wonder what I would do differently if I had the second chance.

  How much affect does love has on the life of a common fly? Does love has a meaning beyond the shallowness of greed and fear? Selfishness hiding in the charades of love, hatred just wanting an excuse to come out. Would it be any different if I had known?

  If somebody had to take the blame for my death, it would be the institution, for it filled me with the desires and sparked the dream inside. I couldn't see my life lied somewhere else, my ego couldn't see the people who cared, I just saw the empty hope of a shining future that time promised me. With open arms I embraced the shackles, and in no time I found myself enclosed in a shell; with a blanket of cocoon wrapped over me I could move but within the limits of a mould.

  To begin with I was never opposed to the idea of the institution or the society, but nor I had been in favor of it. Is there really such a thing as society outside the barriers of our minds? Does or can a free will exist under such an authoritarian regime? Institution - a self imposed totalitarian government? A set of moral obligations defined by the norms of society that goes against the individual's own happiness. Why to bear unbearable pain and why to go to painful lengths to appease someone we don't know? to get the validation of people who blatantly pass judgments, who are they to say who's worthy and who’s not? Who are they to tell us what is wrong and what is right? Just Who Are They? Who shovel down our throats clumps of fast food? Who makes us think we are beautiful and we are ugly? What is beautiful and ugly anyway? What is aesthetics anyway? Who makes us want something that we don’t need? fancy apparels, a television, a telephone, a motorcar, an apartment? Can't the self-fulfillment be achieved without the ugly toys? Just why? Who is that cloaks us behind the endless layers of consumerism and makes us hate ourselves for not living upto 'his' standards?

  I want to change, I want to correct what has been wronged and that too who has been doing the wrong, if only I had a second chance...

  the death

  The tremor intensifies. I am shaken-off my sleep with a repetitious cry. “Sir, Sir” the lady repeats as politely as she could. “Sir, please wear the seat-belt, sir, we are experiencing minor turbulence.” She says shaking my arms. I look at her wearily, coming out of the slumber.

  “Don’t worry sir, this is absolutely normal” Stewardess adds, hiding her anxiety. This was not normal, this was in-fact far from normal. One more jerk, the oxygen masks drops-off, and with that comes a disturbance on the speakers, announces the co-pilot in a voice balanced and monotone, “Hello passengers this is your captain speaking, we are having little trouble on-board, please hold your air masks to your mouth, and be patient, we will be back to normalcy very soon.” Several minutes pass-by, the situation only deteriorates, and many anxious breaths later, co-pilot enters the passenger cabin. He announces, as he struggles to remain calm:

  “There is a bad news we have” Pauses. “The plane has lost on
e engine, and is losing altitude. I advice everyone not to panic, we are trying our best to land safely, please be alert and follow the instructions carefully that we announce.” He tries to sound as calm as possible but the hidden despair is evident. I get up from my seat, in a moment of impulsiveness I lose myself, without prudence I proceed. From where I am seated I could see strands of her hair, flowing, toward the back of the seat and glistening red in the dim light. I stare her, eye to eye, for a moment I am silent. She stares me back with an equal intensity. And I begin, sounding as serious (and crazy) as I could:

  “I lived a large part of my life in greed and fear, and in ambition and in vanity. Even though I was surrounded by plenty, I was alone. I laughed but to please someone, I cried but for pretentious empathy. There was no one I could turn to in sorrow; there was no one I could share the joy with. I never experienced the inner happiness, I never experienced love my whole life, even though I met many, I had been devoid of such an emotional bliss. And though we barely know each other-“

  “I feel a certain pull like I have always known you.” She completes.

  “I don’t understand my feeling toward you, perhaps its love, perhaps it’s just a momentous attraction. But whatever you choose to call it, or you deny it wholeheartedly, for me its elation. Probably, in few minutes we are going to die; but when we die, I want to go down with the feeling of being loved, being lived - contentedly, and joyously. And if I had a choice and if I were to live my life over I’d always want to be with you”

  I pause for a moment for her reaction. And before I could say anything further, she extends her hand toward me,

  “It’s too late now, you had the chance but you let it slip away, remember this is the choice you made and you now have to bear the consequences”

  What governs the course of history, free will or fate? Do we make our choices or is it already written?

  She pulls back her hand out of my grip, and the plane wobbles, a big jerk thrusts me sideways, pushing away, I topple on my feet and my head hits against the metal of the passenger seat. I look at her for one last time, as my eyes closes down - slowly she dissolves in the air, atom by atom. Did I know her? What was she? I feel an eerie thought encompassing me over. A star falls out of the deep blue sky, the plain nosedives toward the boundless oceans; and I begin my descent down the dark, hopeless abyss.

  Trap

  In the hazy grey twilight, I look back, dried lands, dead soldiers, purple horizons; the day has ended, and the darkness falls. I remember how it all began when I got suspended from the university and the unusual circumstances that led to it, just in the matter of ten days my life turned upside down; and this is how it happened -

  Chapter 1: Identity

  There was only one letter in the mailbox - a long brown envelope addressed to certain gentleman - Shiva. The boy looked at the envelope curiously; it didn’t say who it was from. He tore open the envelope and a white rule-less paper came out, he hesitated for a moment but then he unfolded - it had only three words written on it, right across the middle; he read it aloud:

  Who are you?

  The chalk hits me on the head. I wake up in the midst of unknown faces, dazed and confused, async with the reality. The old professor decides to make an example of me. Trembling with anger, he shouts. “Get out of my class” I look into his eyes and he confirms “Now!”

  I pick up my notebook, a conglomeration of loose sheets bound together in the middle with a big staple, I turn to look at the saggy faces, I have been sitting among dead beings; I walk out in pity, slamming the door behind me.

  "What? Are you out of your goddamn mind?" Raul shouts.

  "I am confident, I have a feeling about it" I reply.

  We are standing in JJ's, a snooker club, with neck deep in debt. Well, we have been losing for past three days, I guess that's got to amount to something.

  "You just took one shot" Raul shouts.

  "He is playing us" Siddhant replies calmly.

  "Don't support him, it's all you fault to begin with" Raul says.

  "Who's idea was it?" Siddhant hits back.

  "Guys, guys. Calm down, I can feel the game inside me, let me just play now" I bend down to take the strike.

  Few days earlier, on an idle Monday evening at Tehri, in Raul's dorm room -

  It's a small room packed with books and CDs. Siddhant and Raul are lying on a single bed, which as a matter of fact can barely take the combined weight of two, it's not their fault though, the bed is weak. I am browsing through his CD collection, looking for something interesting.

  "You have to put an end to it"

  "I just can't-" Siddhant says squeezing his teeth hard "can't stop myself"

  "It's like taking cigarette or doing pot" "Once you are in, it's difficult to get out"

  "Difficult! Certainly, but not impossible" I quip.

  Siddhant Kukreti, more and more I look at his physical characteristics more and more I am convinced he is molded out from an entirely different mold. He has long elongated fluffy face as if someone has filled in moist air from inside, big poky nose, a square jaw, and he is tall, tall like 5'8'' feet tall. His hair are charcoal dark with small curls. His mannerism though not awkward but still borders on funniness. He usually wears his light grey trousers, both on and off campus, even on weekends he wouldn't wear casuals, just the same uniform, I am afraid he is afraid of looking casual.

  "What do I do? How do I get rid of this?" "I just can't stop thinking about snookers"

  "Do you realize how much time you are wasting in there?" "and not to mention the money"

  Siddhant shrugs at his helpless. "Then do something, help me" An uneasy silence envelopes the room. I put the CD labeled Purple Death in the CD-ROM of the system, but the only music that comes out is of the CD whirling inside the ROM. "Hold on" Raul says, and gets up from the bed.

  He slides out the side cover of the system and connects a wire, "now it will play" He says. A soft music begins to play. 'What is this? Shakespeare’s missing sonnet?' I mumble.

  "There is a way" Raul says, "Do you remember the law of diminishing return?"

  "Organization Behavior?" I reply.

  "Yes, essentially it means we love doing something because we derive a value out of it, and so inversely, no value means no interest" "And after a certain point, say breaking point, the value starts decreasing" "Clearly this is not yet happened with Siddhant"

  "We have to hit the breaking point" Siddhant concludes.

  "Yes, the breaking point, we have to saturate you" Raul says excitedly, rising up from the bed. "So-" Raul adds, Siddhant and I look at each other, "let's play pool, till he gets completely over it"

  Play pool to stop pool, it seemed logical, but there was one catch -

  "What is the guarantee that you guys will not end up falling into the same trap? and become one like me?"

  "That's the risk we have to take" Raul replies dramatically.

  Back at JJ’s, but earlier -

  "What are the rules?" I ask.

  "Huh?" Siddhant asks.

  "Rules?" I repeat. "I want to play" He briefs me in short, what and how to stick it in, it was nothing that I didn't observe myself. "That's what I already saw" I say.

  "That's about it" Siddhant replies. What I understood about game of pool is, it is like a carrom played on a table with sticks"

  "What’s the bet?" The guy in black leather pants ask. "The usual five hundred?"

  Siddhant hesitates. "Hundr-" He begins to say, but I interrupt.

  "I say double or nothing"

  "Don't fool around" Siddhant says.

  I repeat with an open arm gesture , "Double or nothing, simple"

  The guy gives me a stern look and replies, "Let's play"

  "What? Are you out of your goddamn mind?” Raul shouts.

  Now -

  "If you pull it off, I swear I'll not touch the sticks again"

  I position myself at the table and strike! Two solids find their way in the pocket, "So we take
out the solid" Siddhant says.

  We played best of three, and in exact fifteen minutes the game is over, and we walk out debt free, and Siddhant pool free.

  "How did you do you it?" Siddhant asks.

  "He obviously was a state champion, he just didn’t tell us" Raul replies.

  "No, God swear, I played for the first time"

  "What do you think we are, jokers, idiots?" Raul snaps.

  "Well, believe it or not I am telling you the truth" I reply dryly.

  It indeed was the first time I played the game, but it was not the first time I excelled at something in the very first attempt, I guess it's just in my genes, not from my father surely, but it's just there.

  ~’~’~’

  I pick up my notebook, stuck between the other-side of the bed and the wall. Dusting it off, putting it under my arm, I pick up the pen from the study table and put it in my shirt pocket. I leave for the college. My mom is not home, cold and insipid breakfast is left on the table, my father is busy watching hockey reruns, my sister still sleeping. She excuses herself from school time to time, pressure is too much she says. I run my fingers through her entwined hair, and mash them gently. Often I'd sneak up on her when she's sleeping, her face fresh like a rose petal in the mornings, and her body curled up like an embryo in a mother's womb. I touch her soft fingers and a zest of life runs through my body, my beautiful little sister, Mihika, whom I lovingly call - Dewdrop, which actually is just a straight English translation.

  Sometimes I think God didn’t do us justice, my parents have never been an ideal parent, they never bothered about us. They can probably be best described as the perfect examples of self-obsessed, self-centered people who keep their own interests beyond anyone’s even their children’s; classic examples of narcissistic personality disorder if I may have to go that far to label them. Even their interest in us, whatever miniscule amount there is, often hinges around making us meet theirs.