24/08/2018
The Delgados packed their lives into cardboard boxes. Again. The same motions, the same heartbreak, like déjà vu with a cruel twist. Only this time, something was different.
Rohan.
He stood in the doorway, watching the scene unfold—again—but now armed with knowledge the others didn't have. He knew what was coming. And maybe… just maybe, he could change it.
Arya was mid-battle, her arms stretched wide like a human barricade in front of the dining table. "You can't take this!" she shouted at the movers. "That's where we ate dinner every day!" Her voice cracked with fury and helplessness.
It was the only home she'd ever known. And they were tearing it apart.
She turned to Veena next, eyes blazing. "Why do we have to move? This is insane! We've got everything here—friends, school, our lives! What about the future? You can't just uproot us like this!"
Veena didn't respond right away. She stood in the kitchen doorway, clutching a folder of paperwork to her chest, her face lined with exhaustion and a grief too deep to voice. She opened her mouth—but no words came out.
Arya spun toward Rohan, desperate. "Don't you think so too, Rohan? Tell her! Tell Maa how absurd this is!"
Rohan didn't speak.
Not because he didn't care.
Because this time, he knew what had to be done. And it wasn't shouting.
Arya stared at him, wide-eyed. Waiting.
When he said nothing, the silence hit harder than any argument.
Her face twisted. Betrayal. Abandonment.
"So that's it?" she choked. "Even you're not going to fight for us?"
Rohan looked at her, pained—but resolute.
That made it worse.
"I hate you," Arya snapped, her voice breaking. She turned on Veena, trembling with rage. "I hate all of you. I wish Dad was here. He would've never let us throw everything away like this."
The words landed like knives.
Veena didn't flinch—but her fingers tightened on the folder. Her knuckles went white. She blinked rapidly, swallowing something bitter and raw.
He watched as Arya stormed past the living room, her face red with emotion, heading toward the hallway in a huff. Veena followed her quietly, her steps calm but heavy.
The door to Arya's room slammed before Veena could say anything.
Rohan stepped into the hallway, hesitating. Then, without a word, he walked up to Arya's door and knocked once.
"Arya… can I come in?"
A pause. Then a muffled, "Whatever."
He pushed the door open gently. The room looked like a war zone—half-packed boxes, books thrown on the bed, posters peeled off the walls. Arya sat in the corner by her window, hugging her knees.
"She's ruining everything," Arya said, voice trembling. "I hate her."
"No, you don't," Rohan replied, sitting beside her. "You're angry. I get it."
"You don't get it. You're always trying to act like it's okay. But it's not. Everything is broken." Her eyes welled up with tears, the kind that came from pure helplessness.
Rohan looked out the window for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "You're right. It is broken. But we're still here, Arya. And we're not done. We still get to choose what we build next."
"I don't want to go to India," she whispered. "I won't even understand anyone. I don't know how to live there. It's not home."
"It wasn't home for me either. Not yet," Rohan said softly. "But it was home for her once. And maybe… maybe it can be something for us too. Not today, not even next month. But someday."
Arya wiped her cheek with her sleeve. "Do you really believe that? Or is this just one of your big brother speeches?"
Rohan gave a small smile. "Bit of both. But I know this—there are things waiting for us there. People. Possibilities. And I have a feeling… things might turn out better than we think."
Arya didn't answer, but her body relaxed slightly, the tension in her shoulders easing.
Just then, Veena appeared at the door, hesitant. She looked tired, older than her years, but her eyes were soft.
"I didn't come to fight," she said gently. "Just wanted to check in."
Rohan stood, gave Arya's shoulder a gentle squeeze, then walked past Veena with a knowing glance. She gave him the smallest nod—unspoken gratitude.
Inside, mother and daughter stood in silence for a moment.
"You're not the only one who's scared, Arya," Veena finally said. "But I'm not asking you to stop feeling. I'm just asking you to hold on. Just a little longer. We've lost too much already. I don't want to lose us too."
Arya looked away, blinking hard. "You should've said that before."
"I'm saying it now," Veena replied. "And I'll keep saying it until you believe me."
"We're not abandoning our home," she said, voice low but steady. "We're carrying it with us. And I promise, Arya—we'll build something new. Somewhere your father would be proud of."
For the first time in days, Arya didn't snap back. She simply nodded, almost imperceptibly.
Outside, Rohan leaned against the wall, listening, hopeful. DL's voice stirred faintly in the back of his mind.
"Aww. The mortal shows emotional maturity. I'd tear up, but I'm metaphysical."
*****
The afternoon sun bled into the living room through half-closed blinds, casting long shadows across cardboard boxes marked with permanent marker. "Books—Arya," "Kitchen Utensils," "Pooja Items—Handle Carefully." The Delgado household was mid-exodus. Echoes of a life once stable now sounded like the tearing of duct tape and the occasional clink of glass being bubble-wrapped. Veena's voice carried faintly from the kitchen, arranging paperwork, speaking in tired but resilient Hindi to some relative in India.
Rohan sat with his back against a bare bookshelf in what used to be his bedroom—now stripped of color, trophies, and the messy charm that once made it feel alive. The silence was too heavy. His mind, still aching from the funeral, searched desperately for something, anything, that didn't hurt to think about.
"DL," he whispered, almost unsure if the name would trigger anything.
"Ah. You called. I was beginning to wonder if the mortal had finally decided to permanently wallow in grief."
The voice buzzed to life in his mind, smooth and crisp like a sarcastic radio host who knew far more than he let on. It had been hours since Rohan last heard it, last heard at the funeral yesterday, and despite the mockery, he felt a tinge of… relief.
Still skeptical, Rohan looked around the room. His eyes fell on his phone, lying screen-up on the hardwood floor. A thought came to him. "Alright then. Prove it. Tell me something that happens tomorrow. Something I can check."
DL hummed like he was scrolling through a divine database.
"Fine. Tomorrow, around 9:42 a.m. Pacific Time, the CEO of Snap Inc. will tweet about an experimental AR feature called LensWorld, which merges public snaps with 3D geo-tagged filters. It'll be announced for beta testers only in San Francisco. A kid from San Mateo will accidentally exploit the system to create an infinite mirror loop and go viral. It'll be all over tech blogs by noon. Check your feed tomorrow. Try not to faint."
Rohan blinked. That was… oddly specific. Not vague Nostradamus nonsense, not some emotional manipulation. Cold, clean detail. His heartbeat quickened. "If that's true…"
"Then I'm real," DL finished with a smug click in his tone. "Which means your existential crisis just got more complicated."
"Very well, let's see if you really are who you say you are," said Rohan, hoping DL is right and that he is not in some long dream in the afterlife.
25/08/2018
Morning came, Rohan rushed to check the NEWS, and it was as DL said; his feed filled with the stupid video of the kid laughing, watching his infinite reflections.
"I need your help," Rohan said, his voice barely above a breath. "I want to save them—my mom and my sister. I don't care what it takes."
There was a pause. Not of hesitation, but assessment.
"Divine protocols are clear," DL replied. "Any action meant to preserve your bloodline's survival or well-being is exempt from opposition. Even if you're doing it out of fear or self-serving guilt. Lucky for you, emotional bias isn't a disqualification—yet."
"So, you'll help?" Rohan asked, almost disbelieving.
"I just said yes in a more dramatic way, but sure—let's do the mortal-friendly version: 'Yes.'"
Rohan leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. This wasn't just grief-induced madness. This was real. The library. DL. The Dream Space. The karma system. All of it. And suddenly, he wasn't just a boy whose life was torn apart. He was a node in some cosmic web.
"Help me save them," he said again, this time not as a plea but as a command. DL didn't scoff this time.
"We'll need a plan. And no—before you even think about it—stock markets are not the answer. Every time one of you gets 'future knowledge,' you immediately want to play the markets like it's a Monopoly board. Let's not do what every lottery-ticket-fantasizing mortal dreams about. Yes, yes, I know: 'If I had known what Apple was worth in 2018…' Save it. That path is high-risk, highly watched, and fragile. Markets are chaotic, and unless you want to break the global economy just to buy your mom a new car, it's a no from me."
"I thought that'd be smart," Rohan muttered.
"Sure, if by 'smart' you mean drawing SEC attention, messing with volatility indexes, and potentially destabilizing regional economies. One wrong move and you've got agencies sniffing around, or worse, accidentally triggering a cascade crash in 2020. That's not strategy—it's hubris."
[EXPLANATION: The SEC (Securities and Exchange Commission) monitors irregularities in market movements. A sudden appearance of advanced financial strategies—like AI-generated stock trading models or ultra-accurate commodity forecasts—would raise suspicion. These strategies can impact the VIX (Volatility Index), which gauges investor fear. Spikes in the VIX signal instability, potentially leading to market selloffs or crashes. Worse, if markets assume insider manipulation, it can cause global ripple effects. DL warns that even a small leak of future knowledge could crash stock markets or lead to regulatory crackdowns.]
DL paused, then his voice took on a tone sharper, colder, and more precise.
"You're moving to India soon. That's your real opportunity. The political landscape has shifted after the government change in 2014," DL said, his voice carrying an edge of urgency. "Their defense and strategic planning agencies are hungry for innovation but skeptical of outsiders. Let me explain why—India's defense sector has been overly reliant on imports for decades. But after the political shift in 2014, the government began prioritizing 'Make in India'—which is all about self-reliance in technology, especially in defense. They want to build their own capabilities, not just buy them from the West.
However, here's the catch: India's defense agencies, like the DRDO (Defense Research and Development Organization), are extremely cautious when it comes to adopting new technologies. They've seen a lot of flashy promises, but they know not every innovation is the real deal. They aren't looking for sci-fi fantasies; they want practical, proven technologies that they can scale for their own needs.
Think of it this way—before they trust you, they need to verify that what you're offering isn't just 'snake oil.' That's why we need to present them with something they are already researching, something that aligns with their ongoing projects. If you offer them something that's too far out of their scope, something they can't validate easily, they might think it's just another hoax, and you'll lose their trust before even gaining it.
But, if you can show them something credible, something they can easily verify and see the potential for, they'll take you seriously. And when they do, they'll reward you—access to resources, influence, and opportunities like no other. They'll be eager to scale what you bring to the table, especially if it helps them become more independent in their defense capabilities."
Rohan absorbed the information, realizing just how much weight his next decisions would carry.
Rohan raised his head. "Reward me how?"
"Money. Contracts. Recognition. More importantly—access. You'll use that capital to start a company. Through that company, you build wealth, yes—but also alliances. Influence. Safety. These are the bricks of protection in a world that doesn't care about righteousness."
"And my family?" Rohan asked. It was the most important thing for him; to ensure the safety of his family.
"Will live comfortably. Securely. Out of reach from vultures. A connected man is a protected man. Especially in a country where bureaucrats sleep on power like dragons on gold. Your wealth will buy comfort. Your connections will buy safety. That's your first mission—ensure their survival and stability. After that… we work on impact. Innovation. Karmic value."
Rohan said, his eyes narrowing, "So I give them tech from the future?"
"Not the future. Tech that exists in the world in 2018—but hasn't reached India yet. Or tech they are researching but are decades away from implementing. If you can give them tech, then they'll listen. That's where you come in. With me feeding you knowledge and calculating what's safe to reveal, you give them what they need when they're ready to believe it."
"But I'm just seventeen. I can't even open a bank account on my own. How am I supposed to do all that?" Rohan said, the weight of reality settling in again.
"You're finally catching on. You're a minor. Any legal contracts, patents, or incorporations will require your mother's involvement. And given her current emotional state, you'd have more luck convincing a cat to invest in AI research let alone have her traumatized teenage son start a defense-tech startup while still in grief counseling. She'll shut you down before you even finish saying 'startup.'"
"Then what do I do until I'm eighteen?"
DL's answer came without hesitation.
"You prepare. You train in the Dream Space. Learn everything I teach you. Engineering, strategy, economics, psychology, diplomacy. Reinvent yourself. Heal your mind. Strengthen your body. Fix strained relationships. And when the time comes—you strike."
There was a quiet undertone in his words. Something beyond the usual sarcasm.
Rohan caught it. "You keep saying that. 'Fix relationships.' What are you hinting at?"
Silence.
Then DL answered—not with mockery, but with restraint.
"I cannot tell you that. Not yet. I am bound BUT if you figure it out by yourself then I will have no reason not to tell you, you know what I mean."
It felt like DL was winking at him. Hinting something.
Rohan's breath hitched. He leaned his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling like it might give him answers. "Then I'll find out. One way or another."
"Spoken like a true cliché.And thus, the hero embarks on his quest. Cue the epic music. Gods help us all."