The Boy's Journey

Lost In Darkness ( Part 1)

In the depths of a village, where shadows danced with despair, a young soul struggled to find his place. He was a mere pawn in the game of life, working under the iron grip of two bosses - a mid-boss and a main boss. The main boss, a towering figure with eyes that pierced like daggers, held the reins of power.

The young boy's days blurred into an endless cycle of drudgery. He toiled, sweat-drenched and exhausted, yet his efforts were met with scorn. His mid-boss, a master of manipulation, reveled in the boy's misery.

One fateful evening, as the sun dipped into the horizon, the boy's thoughts turned to his humble abode. 'I'll go home, wash away the grime, and surrender to the allure of slumber,' he whispered to himself. But fate had other plans.

The mid-boss's call shattered the silence, like a razor's edge cutting through the night. 'Come to my house, we need some items.' The boy's heart sank, weighed down by the anchors of obligation.

He embarked on a perilous journey, navigating the treacherous landscape of his bosses' demands. Each item, a tiny dagger, pierced his soul. The hours ticked by, like grains of sand slipping through an hourglass.

As the clock struck ten, the mid-boss's voice dripped with venom. 'That's all, go home, rest. Tomorrow's busy.' The boy's eyes met the wife's, her gaze a mixture of indifference and malice.

She uttered the fateful words, 'Brother, forgot the 200ml water bottle, please get it.' The boy's thoughts swirled, a maelstrom of confusion. 'What sorcery is this? Why must I suffer thus?'

He walked, a lonely figure, through the deserted streets. The wind howled, a mournful cry, as he searched for the elusive bottle. Time, a relentless foe, ticked away.

Finally, he found a shop, a beacon in the darkness. But alas! His wallet lay empty, a hollow shell. He called his main boss, a plea for salvation.

The main boss's voice, a gentle breeze, soothed his frayed nerves. 'I'll send the money.' The boy's heart swelled with gratitude.

As he handed the water bottle to the mid-boss's wife, she unleashed her fury. 'This isn't the right one!' The boy's world crumbled, like a house of cards.

The mid-boss's wrath descended upon him, a tidal wave of abuse. 'You're worthless! Unless you're scourged, you'll never learn!' The boy's soul trembled, a leaf in a hurricane.

In the aftermath, the boy's thoughts unraveled, a tangled skein. 'Why must I endure this?' He laughed, a sound tinged with madness, as he stumbled through the darkness.

The next day, at Bhumi Pujan, he dispensed water from the same 200ml bottle, a symbol of his unbroken spirit. The mid-boss and his wife received it, their faces masks of deception.

Whose fault was it? The boy's? Or was it the cruel hand of fate?