Nirvanpur hummed quietly under the late evening sky—a city alive with ambition, its streets still bathed in the fading glow of neon shop signs and distant traffic. In one of the neat, well-lived apartments on the fourth floor of a modest building, the Rao family's living room was alive with a different kind of tension—the kind born from dreams bigger than the space around them.
I sat cross-legged on the polished tile floor, my back leaning slightly against the sofa that had seen countless conversations, celebrations, and the quiet weight of unspoken worries. The ceiling fan spun lazily overhead, circulating the warm air scented faintly with jasmine incense and the evening's curry simmering in the kitchen.
My father, Srinivas Rao, stood nearby, a sharp crease between his brows, voice steady but edged with frustration.
"Arjun, you're twenty-one. It's time to stop wandering and start building. Your cousins are settling into jobs, buying their first cars. You can't just float on potential forever."
I looked away, tracing the pattern on the rug with my eyes instead of meeting his gaze. I wanted to explain—how my mind was a maze of possibilities, how every path seemed both right and wrong. But the words tangled in my throat.
My mother sat quietly on the armchair, her hands folded tightly in her lap. She wasn't angry—not like my father—but the tired hope in her eyes weighed on me heavier than his words. She believed in me, fiercely, but she didn't know what to say anymore.
I was the "gifted" one—the kid who scored well without trying, who could solve problems effortlessly, who seemed to have it all figured out on paper. But inside, I was anything but certain. My thoughts raced through endless futures: engineer, entrepreneur, artist, athlete... yet none pulled me in deeply enough to commit.
A buzz from my phone startled me. Kabir's message: "Bro, boxing practice tonight? Or still scared to get punched?"
I smiled faintly and typed back, "Only if you don't back out first." With Kabir, I could drop the act. I could curse, joke, and breathe easy.
Here, I was careful. Measured. A shadow hiding behind the expectations that clung to me like a second skin.
I closed my eyes, but not to escape. I wanted to see clearly — to understand the maze tangled inside me. So, let me introduce myself properly, since you're here now, walking these halls with me.
I'm Arjun Rao. The "gifted kid" from a middle-class family in Nirvanpur, the one everyone thinks has it all figured out. But the truth? I don't have a clue. My mind races faster than I can catch, bouncing between dreams, expectations, fears, and the ghost of what I'm supposed to become.
Some days, I feel like I'm drowning in all the voices—my father's hopes, my mother's silent prayers, Kabir's laughter echoing in my ears, and the relentless buzzing of my own doubts. I'm a paradox—sharp and confused, restless and stuck, eager and lost all at once.
And right now? Right now, I'm standing at the edge of something I can't quite name. A spark flickering in the dark corners of my restless mind, waiting to catch fire.
But the maze isn't over yet.
Neither am I.