Year: 2025. Date: June 25. Time: Afternoon.
The scene opens in the quiet, rustic village of Janakpur, where clusters of humble houses stand close together. Amidst them is a small, worn-down home—inside, a 17-year-old boy named Shubhas Jhindal lay sprawled across his bed, fast asleep.
Just then, the door creaked open, and his mother stepped in. She gently shook him awake.
"Shubhas, get up! Go to Ramesh uncle's house and bring some rice."
Still half-dreaming, Shubhas groaned, stretching lazily.
"Aaah... I was having such a good dream... and you just had to wake me up," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Alright, alright, give me the bag. And if there's anything else you want me to bring, tell me now! I'm not making another trip. Don't come blaming me later, saying 'you didn't tell me'."
His mother chuckled softly.
"No, nothing else. I already bought the vegetables from the market this morning. Just... be careful, alright? Don't get into trouble with the landlord's sons again. I don't want another fight."
Shubhas sighed, brushing his messy hair back.
"Yeah, yeah, I got it. I'm going now. And don't open the door for anyone till I get back, okay?" He slung the bag over his shoulder and stepped out.
As the present fades, the scene shifts—colors dim, and the past begins to play like an old memory…
Some time ago, Shubhas had learned the cruel truth: his father, Pankaj Jhindal, was murdered over a petty property dispute by Atul Thakur, the arrogant elder son of the village's powerful landlord. The day Shubhas found out, rage had consumed him. Without hesitation, he dragged Atul to a desolate area on the edge of the village... and beat him mercilessly.
But the very next day, hell came knocking at his door.
The landlord's men—brutal, merciless—stormed into their house. Right in front of his mother's terrified eyes, they beat Shubhas savagely, leaving him barely able to stand. When his mother tried to seek justice, the police—bought and corrupted—threatened her into silence, forcing her to run without lodging a complaint.
Now, back in the present…
The summer sun glinted off the metal frame of Shubhas's old cycle as he pedaled down the narrow village path. The bruises and wounds from that brutal day had long since healed. But something within him... hadn't.
A storm was quietly brewing behind those calm eyes.