Delhi – Public Hospital
Emergency Ward
Machines hummed softly in the sterile white room. Tubes and wires surrounded the motionless body of Raj Verma, an oxygen mask covering half his face. A ventilator rose and fell steadily, keeping him alive.
Raj was in a coma.
Yet somewhere deep inside his consciousness, he was not asleep.
He felt as if he were standing beside a long, endless river. The water flowed silently, dark and heavy, stretching beyond sight. Raj didn't know where he was—or how he had come here. The place felt unfamiliar, unreal, yet terrifyingly vivid. A pressure built inside his head, rising and falling, as if his mind itself was struggling to breathe.
Suddenly, his eyes opened.
Not in the hospital.
Not in Delhi.
For a brief moment, he saw a different world—blurred shapes, unfamiliar light, something vast and unknown. The sight shocked his mind. Fear surged through him.
And then—
darkness again.
The accident did not remain confined to the road.
By evening, every television screen in Delhi flashed the same images—twisted metal, shattered glass, and a crushed public bus lying helplessly on the road.
"Breaking news from Delhi–MCR Road," a reporter spoke urgently.
"Two heavy trucks collided with a public bus. Five people lost their lives on the spot. Twenty-four injured. One young student remains in critical condition, currently in a coma."
Social media flooded with reactions.
"Public transport safety is a joke."
"Drivers are careless. Who is responsible?"
"That boy could have been anyone's son."
At tea stalls, people argued loudly.
In offices, employees paused their work to watch the news.
In homes, mothers silently pulled their children closer.
For most, it was another tragic headline.
For the Verma family, it was the end of the world.
In the hospital, it was not forgotten.
Aarti Verma sat beside her son's bed, tears silently falling as she watched Raj's unmoving face. Alia stood nearby, trying to stay strong—but even she turned away at times, unable to hide her tears. Aditya Verma remained silent, his expression firm, carrying the weight of fear like a pillar holding the family together.
Night
The room was quiet.
Raj's eyes slowly opened.
Everything felt… strange.
The world moved slower than before, as if time itself had lost its speed. The lights felt too bright. The silence felt heavy. He tried to move, but his body refused to respond. Weakness crushed him back into the bed.
His throat burned.
Water…
Raj tried to lift his hand—but it wouldn't move.
Then something impossible happened.
His eyes darkened, shifting from black to a faint blue glow.
The glass of water on the nearby table trembled.
Slowly—unnaturally—it lifted into the air.
Raj's breath caught. His heart raced.
What… what is this?
Before his mind could process it, his vision blurred. The glow vanished. Darkness swallowed him again.
The glass slipped from the air and shattered on the floor.
Eight Hours Later – Morning
"Raj… beta… wake up…"
His mother's voice pulled him back.
Raj opened his eyes and saw his family standing around him. He smiled weakly.
"Mom… don't cry," he whispered. "See, I'm okay."
Aarti wiped her tears. "Okay, beta. I won't cry."
"Look at him," Alia said with a shaky laugh. "Kumbhkaran finally woke up."
For the first time in days, the room filled with soft laughter.
Aditya nodded quietly. "I'll call the doctor."
Before leaving, Alia added, "Karan came yesterday. He left college notes for you."
Later that afternoon, Karan visited. They talked about college, joked lightly, and avoided mentioning the accident too much—grateful that Raj was alive.
By night, Raj remained alone in the room. He was to be discharged the next day.
The memory returned.
The floating glass.
It was just a dream, Raj told himself.
His eyes fell on the water bottle resting on the table.
Something stirred inside him.
He focused.
His eyes glowed again—black shifting into blue.
The bottle lifted.
This time, it didn't fall.
It moved toward him.
Raj reached out, and the bottle gently settled into his hand.
His entire body trembled.
He tried again—small objects, one by one—each responding to his thoughts. The pressure in his head grew unbearable. Pain stabbed through his mind.
He stopped.
The glow faded.
"What is happening to me?" he whispered.
The door opened.
Alia stepped inside. "Raj? Why are you awake? And why is the water still full?"
"Nothing, sister," Raj said quickly. "I was just… thirsty."
"Sleep," she said firmly. "No excuses."
Raj nodded.
As she left, he stared at the ceiling.
I can't tell anyone, he thought.
They're already worried. If people find out… the government, scientists… they'll turn me into an experiment.
Fear wrapped around him tighter than the hospital sheets.
Raj closed his eyes.
He slept again.
But now, he was no longer just afraid of what had happened—
he was afraid of what he had become.
That night, Raj made a choice.
He would pretend nothing had changed.
He would act normal.
He would hide the truth—even from his family.
Because if the world discovered what he had become,
his life would no longer belong to him.
As Raj closed his eyes Sleep.
Morning, Delhi Public Hospital
Morning sunlight entered the hospital room through the half-open window. Raj sat quietly on the bed as the doctor checked him one last time. His heartbeat, eyes, and body response—everything was normal.
"Nothing to worry about," the doctor said. "He's fine now. Just rest for a few days."
Raj nodded, but inside he felt nervous.
What if they find out?
What if something feels wrong?
But nothing happened.
After the discharge papers were completed, Raj left the hospital with Alia. Their father was waiting outside in a taxi. As the car moved through Delhi's crowded roads, Raj looked outside silently.
People were busy.
Traffic was loud.
Life was normal.
Seven days ago, on these same roads, he almost died.
God really gave me another life, Raj thought.
But why did this power come with it?
When they reached home, his mother Arti rushed toward him and hugged him tightly.
"Thank God you're safe, Raj," she said, tears in her eyes.
"Mom, I'm okay," Raj said softly. "Please don't cry."
Relatives came one after another. Everyone asked about his health. Some smiled, some gave advice. Slowly, the house felt alive again.
At night, after dinner, Raj went to his room.
He closed the door.
Locked it.
Checked the window.
He sat on the bed, his heart beating fast.
Raj focused his mind.
His eyes slowly changed color—dark, then slightly blue.
On the table, a one-rupee coin trembled… and lifted into the air.
Raj froze.
He tried again. This time, a pen moved. Then a book.
"No… this isn't a dream," he whispered.
Fear mixed with shock.
"This power is dangerous," Raj said to himself. "No one can know about this. Not my family. Not anyone."
He shook his head.
"I don't want trouble. I don't want attention. If people find out, the government won't treat me like a human."
The glow in his eyes faded. The objects fell back to their places.
Raj lay down on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
I'll hide this power, he decided.
At least for now.
Outside, the city slept peacefully.
Inside the room, Raj's future had already started changing.