Year 2120
In an age where flying cars soared through neon-lit skies, robots ran households, and artificial intelligence pulsed through every facet of life, one hunger remained eternal history.
Inside a quiet room nestled in a sleek tower of glass and steel, 18-year-old Vasudev Yadav sat immersed in the yellowed pages of a history book. His eyes, wide with curiosity, danced across the lines that spoke of a forgotten Indian monarch an unsung hero who once tore down the walls of corruption and rebuilt the very soul of a broken nation.
He was seconds away from reading the legendary ruler's name when
THUD!
A loud crash broke the silence. His pet dog had fallen through a loose ceiling tile, landing with a startled yelp but thankfully unharmed. Along with the dust and debris came something far more peculiar: an old, timeworn diary, its cracked leather cover whispering secrets long buried.
Vasudev's curiosity blazed. Gently setting the history book aside, he picked up the mysterious diary and opened the first page.
The handwriting was simple yet powerful. It read:
"This is my story. I was born in 1981. The journey you're about to read began in 2001. My name is Vikram Yadav."
And thus, a forgotten tale returned to life...
The Diary of Vikram Yadav
My name is Vikram Yadav, and this is the story of how I changed the world.
I was born into poverty. My family consisted of five my father, a tailor at a local textile company earning barely ₹20,000 a month; my mother, stitching clothes from home to add ₹5,000 more; my younger brother, Hari Yadav; and my little sister, Isha Yadav.
Together, we scraped through life. Every rupee counted rent, groceries, EMIs by month's end, we were left with nothing but the will to survive. Luxury was a distant dream. Survival itself was a daily triumph.
I was a college student an outcast. Friendless. Mocked.
My skin was too dark, my clothes too faded, and my lunch too humble. Ninety-five percent of the college was dominated by rich kids; the rest were from middle-class homes. I was the sole representative of the lowest rung.
You might ask - how did someone like me even get into such a prestigious college?
The answer is simple: hard work and divine grace. I fought tooth and nail through the entrance exams and earned my place.
I had made a silent vow: "No matter how hard life hits, I will fight it alone."
So I never complained. Not to my parents. Not to my teachers. Even as they watched me being bullied, they turned away. Indifference was their answer.
But fate had other plans.
One day, I finally found a friend. He too was from a humble background, and though he was bullied like me, he never let it crush him. His resilience gave me strength. For a while, life seemed tolerable... until that cursed day.
The worst day of my life.
It happened in a heartbeat.
I was walking with my father when a speeding truck came out of nowhere and slammed into him right in front of my eyes. He crashed to the ground, blood pooling beneath him. People gathered but did nothing. Some even recorded videos instead of helping.
As my world crumbled, an angel appeared.
A young woman rushed through the crowd, helped me lift my father, and got him to the nearest hospital. I tried to thank her, but she slipped away before I could.
Soon, my mother and sister arrived at the hospital, faces pale with fear. After an emergency operation, the doctor stepped out of the O.T., grim-faced.
"He's critical," he said. "Severe head trauma and a fractured leg. We need ₹10 lakh immediately. Without surgery in the next 24 hours, he won't survive."
It was like the ground gave way beneath us. We begged. Pleaded. Cried. Then, a lifeline a call from my father's employer.
"Come collect the money," he said.
Hope surged through me. I rushed to his office and collected the cash. But destiny had something far darker planned.
On my way back, a gang ambushed me. They beat me, snatched the bag, and vanished into the alleyways. Driven by desperation, I chased them, but in the chaos I tripped, fell, and broke my leg. Pain exploded through me, and the world went dark.
When I awoke, I was lying in the dirt, broken and bleeding.
Still, I didn't give up.
With a shattered leg and burning determination, I dragged myself yes, dragged on my old bicycle and somehow reached the hospital. What awaited me there shattered me more than any injury.
My mother and sister were crying in the lobby.
The moment my sister saw me, she ran to me and then
SLAP!
"Where were you?! Why didn't you come back in time? Dad's dead! He died waiting for you!"
Tears poured from my eyes as I gasped out the truth the ambush, the stolen money, my broken leg. Her fury turned to guilt. She hugged me, sobbing apologies.
But it didn't matter.
He was gone.
As we prepared his body for the final rites, I noticed someone missing it was Hari.
I searched everywhere. Finally, I found him in the parking lot... talking to one of the robbers.
Rage surged through me.
"Hari! That's the man who robbed me!" I shouted.
He turned, his expression cold.
"I know," he said. "I told him to. I gave him your location."
His words pierced deeper than any wound. My own brother ,my blood had betrayed us.
I lunged at him, but before I could land a blow, the thug punched me hard. I crashed to the ground, my broken leg screaming in agony. I couldn't move. Couldn't chase them.
I lay there, helpless, staring at the sky.
"Why, God? Why only us? Why must the poor always suffer? What did we do to deserve this?"
But no answer came.
As I limped toward the van carrying my father's body, something caught my eye.
An old man was crossing the road, unaware of a truck hurtling toward him. The driver screamed, "Brakes failed! Get out of the way!"
But the old man didn't hear.
Despite my broken leg, I ran.
I ran.
I pushed him away just in time. The truck missed us both. The old man, trembling, thanked me and walked away. I returned to my path my father's final journey.
We performed the last rites in silence, sorrow burning in our chests.
When we returned home, I revealed the truth about Hari's betrayal. My mother and sister were stunned. Shocked. But the truth was undeniable.
As we sat in silence, trying to process everything, someone knocked on our door.
I opened it and froze.
To be continued...