Chapter 1: A Cry in the Rain
The skies opened with a torrential downpour that seemed to drench the entire town of Bhairavpur. Thunder cracked like a whip through the night, and lightning lit up the sleepy streets of the small, dusty town tucked away in central India. The monsoon had arrived early that year, as if in anticipation of a special moment.
Inside a modest two-room home at the edge of the town, a young woman cried out in pain. Her screams were nearly drowned by the thunder, but within those walls, they echoed with urgency. Meera Sharma, barely twenty-two, gripped the bedsheet beneath her with trembling hands. Her husband, Ramesh, sat beside her, panic in his eyes, wiping her forehead with a wet cloth as their neighbor Kamla aunty gave instructions to the local midwife.
"Bas thoda aur, Meera. Himmat rakh. Bachcha kisi bhi waqt aayega," Kamla said, her voice unusually firm for someone her age.
Meera gritted her teeth, her mind foggy with pain but heart determined. Outside, the rain roared harder. And then, amidst the thunder and chaos, a wail pierced the room — sharp, innocent, and full of life.
The midwife lifted the baby, still glistening with afterbirth, and announced, "Ladka hua hai! Bahut hi tandurust ladka."
Ramesh broke into tears. The tension in the room melted into quiet joy. Meera looked at the baby with wide, teary eyes and whispered, "Aditya... mera beta."
---
Aditya's arrival brought new energy to the small household. Though the Sharmas lived modestly — Ramesh worked as a clerk in the municipal office and Meera stitched clothes from home — they poured all their love into their newborn.
His first months were filled with lullabies, the hum of sewing machines, and the distant clatter of Bhairavpur's streets. Meera would often carry him outside after the rains to let him see the world glistening in water droplets. Aditya, even as an infant, seemed curious — wide-eyed and always looking around, as if taking mental notes.
Neighbors would often say, "Yeh bachcha kuch khaas hai, Meera. Dekhna, bada hoke kuch bada karega."
By the time Aditya was a year old, he was already walking with a wobbly gait, clutching to the furniture and grinning toothlessly. His first word wasn't "ma" or "papa" but "babu," his name for the stray dog that often napped outside their door.
Ramesh had big dreams. He would stare at Aditya as he slept and whisper stories of great men — engineers, scientists, and freedom fighters. "Tu kuch banega, beta. Ek din log tere naam se tere baap ko pehchanenge."
---
Aditya's early childhood was marked by simplicity. They didn't have a TV for years, but Meera made sure he never missed out on stories. She'd tell him tales of kings and birds, of clever foxes and honest farmers. Sometimes, she'd make up her own stories when he asked for more.
When he turned five, he was admitted to the government school nearby. His uniform was a bit too big, and the water bottle too heavy for his small frame. Still, he walked with pride, holding Ramesh's hand. On the first day, he came back crying — a bigger boy had pushed him.
"Mujhe nahi jaana school!" he cried.
Meera held him close. "Par beta, agar padhega nahi, toh bada kaise banega? Duniya mein sabse zaroori cheez kya hai?"
Aditya sniffled. "Padhna."
And so, began his journey through school. He wasn't a topper, but he was consistent. He liked drawing, enjoyed math puzzles, and was always asking questions. The teachers appreciated his curiosity. He'd often sit quietly after class, lost in thought.
At home, he helped his mother wind threads and fold fabric. During festivals, he'd help Ramesh decorate their tiny living room with handmade paper lanterns. They didn't have much, but they had each other. And in their world, that was enough.
---
The monsoon always held special meaning for the Sharmas. Every year, on Aditya's birthday, it would rain. Even if just a drizzle. Meera believed it was God's way of blessing her son.
"Barish ke saath aaya tha mera Aditya. Har saal usi din asmaan ro padta hai khushi mein," she'd say.
Aditya loved those rainy days. He'd stand near the window, watching droplets race each other down the glass pane. Sometimes, he'd step out and dance in the rain, much to Meera's frustration.
"Bimar pad jayega! Andar aa ja jaldi!"
But Aditya would laugh and say, "Main baarish se dosti kar raha hoon, maa."
---
One evening, when Aditya was nine, he asked Ramesh, "Papa, engineer kya hota hai?"
Ramesh, taken aback by the question, smiled. "Engineer woh hota hai jo naye naye cheezein banata hai. Pul, building, machine... sab kuch."
Aditya thought for a while and said, "Main bhi engineer banunga. Bahut bada wala."
Ramesh patted his head. "Tu zaroor banega. Par mehnat karni padegi. Har din. Har waqt. Taiyaar hai?"
Aditya nodded seriously.
---
And so, a boy born in the humblest of homes, under a weeping sky, began his quiet, determined journey towards becoming something more. He didn't have privilege. He didn't have shortcuts. But he had dreams. And sometimes, that's enough.
The rain that night had been fierce. But it had washed the earth clean for a new seed to sprout.
His name was Aditya.
And this was only the beginning.