Mukul Sharma opened his eyes to the bright, harsh sunlight reflecting off the sand. The sea stretched endlessly in front of him, waves gently lapping at the shore. The five-year-old rubbed his eyes and tried to stand, but his tiny legs trembled. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, and his throat felt parched. The world felt strange, silent, and lonely.
He had been on the island for what seemed like hours, wandering aimlessly, searching for any signs of life. The trees were dense, the terrain uneven, and no matter where he looked, nothing seemed familiar. His sketchbook lay nearby, the seven stars drawn over and over again. They were comforting reminders of his home, his family, and his destiny, but right now, they couldn't fill his empty stomach or quench his thirst.
Mukul walked cautiously along the shore, scanning the horizon. Then, far away, he saw movement—tiny figures on a hilltop. Hope flared inside him. "People!" he whispered, his small voice trembling with excitement.
He ran toward them as fast as he could, but the sun, the thirst, and the hunger began to weigh him down. His steps grew slower, his breaths came in short gasps, and his vision blurred. The last thing he remembered before darkness overtook him was the sight of figures standing together, watching him from a distance.
When Mukul opened his eyes again, the world looked different. He was lying on soft sand, and above him, the bright sun still shone. But this time, he wasn't alone. Twenty people surrounded him, forming a circle. Some looked curious, others cautious, but none seemed immediately hostile.
Mukul's heart pounded. He tried to stand, but weakness made him stumble. "I… I'm… Mukul," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Please… I'm lost…"
An elder stepped forward, a tall figure with kind eyes and a gentle smile. "You're safe now, child," he said calmly. "Don't be afraid. We found you unconscious and brought you here."
Mukul blinked, trying to understand. His stomach growled loudly, reminding him of the days of hunger and thirst he had endured. The people handed him a small pouch of dried fruits and water. He drank eagerly, feeling the strength slowly return to his limbs.
As he ate, Mukul looked around at the group. There were men and women, older and younger, all with different expressions—some protective, some intrigued, and some assessing him quietly. They wore clothes made of simple materials, suited for island life. Despite their rough appearances, Mukul felt a strange sense of calm.
The elder crouched beside him. "Who are you? Where do you come from?"
Mukul hesitated. How could he explain his family, his destiny, the Seven Stars, and the strange journey that had brought him here? Instead, he simply said, "I… I was separated from my family. I need to… find them."
The elder nodded slowly, as if understanding more than Mukul could explain. "Then you must regain your strength," he said. "The island is large, and there is much to learn. You will need courage, patience, and wisdom to survive here—and perhaps, to find what you seek."
Mukul felt a mix of fear and determination. The world beyond the island seemed impossibly far away, but he knew he couldn't give up. He glanced at his sketchbook. The seven stars he had drawn so many times felt like a beacon, reminding him of those who were waiting for him, and the companions he would meet one day.
As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, casting golden light across the sand, Mukul realized something important. The people around him weren't just strangers—they could hold the first keys to surviving this mysterious island. And maybe, just maybe, they would help him take the first steps toward returning home.
Even at five years old, Mukul felt a spark of courage ignite inside him. He might be lost, hungry, and alone in the world… but he was not defeated. With determination in his eyes and the memory of his family and the Seven Stars guiding him, Mukul Sharma was ready to explore the island—and face whatever mysteries awaited.