HAVOC HORIZON
CHAPTER ONE
Life is complicated; it doesn't take a genius to figure that one out. Complications may arise due to various reasons. Maybe due to love, due to family, due to friends, due to education, due to monetary troubles, due to pets, due to hormones, due to improper bowel movement, due to global warming, you get the idea; there could be any number of reasons, small or big. Most of all, I think, complications arise when something goes wrong, when things don't go according to plan, when you know that that shit should not have happened but still it had happened, no matter how much you had calculated, thought about it, anticipated each and every detour the situation might take and covered all of them, it still plummets down the sudden gaping and spinning portal that had just opened and leads it into the how-the-fuck-did-that-happen-??? - Land. Or maybe complications arise just because you've got a shit load of bad luck. Yeah and guess who's got a shit load of bad luck? Yup, it's yours truly. I haven't had a single fucking day without something going wrong.
Now that may seem like an exaggeration and maybe it is, but I assure you, it's not that far from the truth. I wake up every morning and its like problems are arranging themselves in an assembly line and I'm giving them an all access pass into my life. And when sometimes everything seems to be fine and life finally seems to be on its tracks and an illusion of a glitch free existence is created, the reality express comes out of nowhere and slams into my good day making it fly away into the awaiting land of bad luck.
Now before I continue here's a note to the...uhmm...conservatives. I cuss a lot. I mean a LOT. I know it's a bad habit; hey I was in an English boarding school for ten years. A guy is bound to pick up things here and there. And let me just make it clear that I have no intention of breaking the habit. It's something to fall back on. Almost therapeutic you know.
Maybe I'm getting way ahead of myself. First of all let me make the introductions. The name is Ishan and I am about sixteen years old. Now you might be thinking that since I'm a guy still under the 'teen' classification, it's not abnormal for such a person to think that the whole world is against him and that his karma has dumped him to go on a date with his bad luck and plan his ultimate downfall on their way to the salad bar, and if you too are in the same nomenclature of age, you're probably thinking- "hey, I feel the same, I too think that my life is kicking the shit out of me, so why should I care about this loser's story?" And I won't argue. Maybe you're life is more complicated and intriguing than mine and would probably make a better story. But right now? It's my time and my story, read it or pack your secret Santa gift in it, who gives a shit?
You know the plots of almost every daily soap on prime time television? Like - backstabbing, backbiting, humiliating, jealousy, villainous mother - in- laws, villainous sisters - in- law etc, etc? Closer to the kind that's on the CW? Well these all are also the plot of my life, except of course the plastic surgeries, reincarnations, people coming back from the dead, and murder. Thankfully no one has gone to that extent, yet. To prove my point let me give you guys a brief history lesson. Trust me; it's for the good of the story.
Let me start with my family. My grandparents were simple people. They lived most of their lives in a village, in the southern region of Nepal. They lived there with their two daughters. My father was the only one who got a formal city education, courtesy of my great grandfather. He lived with his grandparents for most part of his teenage life. So through most part of his childhood he did not have much interaction with his parents and his sisters. He went on to college, and don't we all know what happens to guys in college. Yes, he fell in love. Duh! And guess who the girl he fell in love with was? You guessed it! Yes, it was my dear mom. So their love blossomed in the flower generation and after college they decided to take their relationship to the next level. Deciding was actually way easier for them than actually doing it. Because as in all the clichéd romance movies of the eighties and the nineties, the parents played the antagonists (Saw that one coming, didn't ya?) Yes, both the parents from my father's side and my mom's side were against it. But who can defeat true love right? After much argument, shaking of the heads, waterfalls of tears and bottles of 100 pipers they got married, and there wasn't anything much my grandparents could do but nod their heads and give their blessings. That didn't mean they had to actually mean it, cue in the evil theme from 'The Bold and The Beautiful.'
