Abhimanyu, a runaway who fled the hellish environment his father created, has spent a decade navigating life's uncertainties through a world of gambling. Alone and drifting through the streets of Lucknow, everything changes when he encounters Roop...
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Huffs and pants could be heard on the streets of Delhi as a young lad in his early 20s ran-running away from his home; a hell of a home. Nope, I'd rather call it a prison made of bricks. Perhaps a royal dungeon with all the facilities, but yes, still a prison. The young lad had been held prisoner there his whole life, ever since he was born. And Dilraaj Raichand was his incarcerator, his own father. But now he had finally freed himself from the shackles-the shackles of his father's relentless abuse, the shackles of having to be perfect, good at everything, the shackles of the Raichand empire; his father's legacy.
He heard the train's horn blaring as he approached the railway station. He looked around to make sure no one was following him before entering the station. He yearned to permanently detach his father's name from his own. He desired to be something on his own, so he boarded the first train to Lucknow and decided never to return. He wanted to vanish into the path of his new life, forever.
~~~
Rebel. Rebellious. Rebellion.
These words perfectly describe Abhimanyu's personality. But, of course, his reputation was far from what one would call "clean". Oh no! In the slightly modest neighborhood where he lived, he had a tarnished reputation. Of course, his neighbors didn't have high-paying jobs; perhaps they were what one would call a lower middle-class area. Yet, Abhimanyu was the only stain in the neighborhood. The infamous gambler who was always seen losing, but somehow never quitting.
When asked, "Why do you gamble when you have such terrible luck?" He simply replies, "I'm rebelling against my father's norms." Not that anyone knows who his father is; not that anyone even bothered to find out.
He stood on his small balcony, his hands gripping the railings, a loosely wrapped blanket around his waist as he inhaled the fresh air (not really) of Chowk. Another sleepless night for Abhimanyu as he once again dreamed of the same woman he had been dreaming about for the past two years. He had no idea who she was; in fact, he had never seen her in person. But if one were to ask Abhimanyu what the woman was like, he would simply reply, "She's so beautiful, it almost feels like a dream," jokingly, of course.
He let out a sigh as he ran his hand through his dark hair, rubbing his forefinger over the scar at the left corner of his lips. Oh yes, the scar has another story, but that is a tale for another time. He walked into his room where he saw a woman sprawled naked on his bed. He rolled his eyes as he watched her sleep peacefully, slightly snoring. He untied the blanket from around his waist and threw it over her naked body while he got dressed. He pocketed the money the woman had left for him before leaving his small, dusty, and rusty apartment.
Another night, another story, and another woman who paid a good price. But no, Abhimanyu was not a sex worker, not at all. Did he demand money for the night? Yes. But he still was not a sex worker. He simply took any job that paid him well so he could gamble it away the following day. He had no goals, no dreams, no passions at all. Abhimanyu is what you would call a person who is truly "living," even though it may be an unconventional way of "living." But at least he was living and not struggling like most of us. He did not fear tomorrow, and he did not dwell on the past. He truly embraced the gift of the present.
