A boy, grappling with the profound loss of his mother, embarks on a quest for vengeance against a corporation he believes is responsible for her death, using his writing skills to seek justice in a world filled with secrets and betrayals.
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As the first light of dawn broke over Portsmouth City at 6:00 AM, a gentle warmth began to spill across the streets, casting soft shadows on the ground. The city stirred to life, gradually shaking off the remnants of night as its usual activities resumed.
Along the sidewalks, joggers were out in their vibrant attire, their rhythmic footsteps echoing in the quiet morning. As they passed by, smiles and cheerful greetings filled the air, creating a sense of community that was palpable. Nearby, the melodious chirping of birds punctuated the morning symphony. A group of small birds flitted about the base of a sturdy mill, their beaks grasping tiny twigs of neem to line their nests.
The streets began to fill with the hustle and bustle of daily routines. The librarian, an elderly gentleman with grey hair and glasses perched on his nose, turned the closed sign to 'open' as excited customers rushed in, eager to receive autographs from a renowned writer visiting that day. Just a short walk away, students, backpacks slung over their shoulders, made their way to Portsmouth University, their laughter and chatter mingling with the crisp morning air.
In a heartwarming scene, the mayor of the city exhaled a sigh of relief when he spotted his beloved puppy bounding toward him, tail wagging with uncontainable joy. The pup had been lost for an entire week, and their reunion brought a spark of tenderness to the busy morning.
In Mr. Hudson’s cottage, the plumber was in the midst of a chaotic scene as he dealt with a gushing pipe. Mr. Hudson, his face flushed with frustration, shouted instructions that mingled with the clanging of tools. Meanwhile, at a nearby garage, a mechanic was showcasing his expertise. With a swift movement, he unscrewed his wrench and deftly repaired an old radio that had seen better days, salvaging it from the garbage pile.
Artistry was alive as well, with local artists transporting their large, intricate pieces to the municipal museum, where they would be displayed and signed for collectors eager to secure authentic works. Alongside them, the city's revered beggar, who had his own unique role in the vibrant tapestry of Portsmouth, settled in a familiar spot, his presence adding depth to the morning's narrative.
In the athletic field just beyond, athletes poured their energy into morning training sessions, sprinting with determination to impress their coaches and refine their skills. Across the street, a couple of police officers huddled at a bustling café, cups of steaming coffee in hand, savouring the warmth as they prepared for another day of service.
At the city's borders, military soldiers stood vigilant, assisting local authorities in monitoring the area between Portsmouth and the neighbouring city of Eleanor. The collaboration showcased the commitment to safety and order in both cities.
In Portsmouth, life thrived amid dynamic interactions and industrious spirits, where the livelihoods of its residents were paramount. In contrast, in Eleanor, the pursuit of jobs was held in the highest regard, showcasing a different side of ambition and aspiration. Both cities, vibrant in their own right, created a rich mosaic that reflected the diverse human experience.
An elderly man entered a quaint little shop on a bustling street, seeking to purchase some bread—a simple task that belied the profound impact he had on the world around him. His name was Janeshwa, and he was the devoted owner of an establishment known as Portsmouth Serenity Home (PSH). This was not merely a residence; it served as a vibrant sanctuary where orphans could explore and hone their writing talents, offering them a rare opportunity to express themselves creatively.
Janeshwa, a figure of mystery to many, had an enigmatic past. Local lore suggested that he had emigrated from another country at the tender age of 18. After spending time abroad, he arrived in Portsmouth at the age of 30, where he felt an undeniable calling to make a difference. Just a year later, at 31, he established the PSH, driven by a desire to provide a nurturing and supportive environment for those in need. Now, at 57, his vision had blossomed into a thriving community.
Accompanying Janeshwa on his journey was his close friend, Clarke, a charismatic and resourceful man who was two years younger. Clarke managed an extensive network of over twenty clubs, all interconnected with a bustling local casino, which contributed to his wealth and influence in the city. His keen business acumen and connections provided the crucial support Janeshwa needed to launch the PSH.
The PSH was strategically situated near a restricted area, at the foot of a looming mountain that was notorious for its landslide risks. Adjacent to this precarious location lay a large landfill, which created a stark contrast to the serene beauty of the PSH. The home itself stood out with its charming facade, drawing visitors who travelled along a raised highway, beside which a dedicated pavement catered specifically to those visiting the PSH.
As time passed, Janeshwa expanded his team, hiring fellow orphans, each with their own unique stories of resilience. Among his staff were Malik and Nitya, who arrived at the PSH when they were just 9 and 5 years old, respectively. Janeshwa was 36 at that time, and he welcomed them into the fold, providing a sense of family that they had long lacked.
Tito, a man with varied experiences, joined the PSH after being recommended by Clarke when he was 30, making Janeshwa 45. Filler also came on board as the security personnel, courtesy of Clarke's influence, marking a significant addition to the team when Filler was just 27 and Janeshwa 31.
Karthicka’s journey was particularly heart-wrenching; she was discovered by Janeshwa when she was only 2 years old, abandoned by her parents. Janeshwa, who was 32 at the time, took her in, providing her with the love and care she desperately needed.
Another poignant story was that of Afrah, a fragile child found in a garbage heap by Clarke. Remarkably, Afrah displayed an unusual calmness, not shedding a tear when lifted from her dire situation. Clarke’s keen observation—a dog barking at the dumpster—had led him to her. Janeshwa decided to bring Afrah into the PSH when she was just 2 years old, and he was 41 at the time, recognizing her potential and unique spirit.
Despite his deep commitment to the orphans and the PSH, Janeshwa’s personal life held its own complexities. He had a wife who lived in a distant land, and though they remained separated by miles, the bond they shared was evident. Together, they had no children, but his wife often provided him with guidance from afar.
Recognizing the potential for both financial stability and creative growth, his wife encouraged him to enter a script offer deal with movie directors. This initiative was intended not only to alleviate their financial burdens but also to showcase the budding talent among the young scriptwriters at PSH, offering them a chance to shine in a competitive industry. In this way, Janeshwa not only nurtured the orphans’ creativity but also paved the way for their futures, proving that dreams could take flight even in the most challenging circumstances.
Now starts the real story! Janeshwa wanted to start a script offer deal, and he discussed it with his staff on November 3, 2024.
"Hey, staff! We need to start a script offer deal" Said Janeshwa.
"Why a sudden decision? Is it for any financial boost?" Asked Clarke.
"One of the objectives. But the main part is we need to have the youngsters emerge as bright scriptwriters" Said Janeshwa.
"That's a nice motive, Jan. We can take a move in this. It is a nice thing" Said Afrah.
"Yeah, girl. What about your opinion, Karthicka?" Asked Malik.
"Why don't you ask me, brother? I am sitting right beside you" Nitya indirectly mocked Malik, who is showing his love on Karthicka.
"Ah, stop it, Nitya! Let her answer first, I will ask you next" Said Malik.
"Not at all needed, brother. My opinion is that it is a great thing to start" Said Nitya.
"I also accept that," Said Karthicka.
"So everybody's involved in this chapter, right? Then let's start the PSH Script Company!" Said Janeshwa.
