💫STARS are nothing but a projection of "INFINITE SPACE"...🙄

Guys, I thought of writing something on the show's overall outlook, so creating a fan fiction series. Hope so you all like it and pls do share your reviews what you feel about, what should be the draft of next part anything you wanna cover..this is part one- consider it preface of the entire theme. Thank you!!

Ashok was a man who came from a simple household. He lived an ordinary life—happy, content—with a loving family and a modest but sufficient income that allowed him to earn an honest living. He was well-respected in the village.

But one day, even this easy life was bound to attract misfortune.

A man named Tasalli lived in the neighborhood. For many days now, strange smoke could be seen at night, and groups of people would secretly gather there. Something unusual was definitely going on, and it would continue till late night. Because these incidents kept repeating, Ashok’s family began to feel disturbed.

One day, his wife Vimala said,

“Listen, something strange is going on right in front of our house. I don’t feel it’s safe for the children. You should go and check once. Shiv is also getting scared, and our daughter is very young. This shouldn’t have a bad impact on them.”

Ashok agreed and said,

“I’ve been thinking the same thing for a while now. This is getting out of hand. The rest of the villagers had already driven these people away from their area. Now that they’ve found an empty, deserted house, who knows what kind of activities they’re carrying out under the guise of being decent. Wait, I’ll go ask them.”

Ashok did go, but he started taking a long time to return. Vimala’s worry grew. She didn’t want to leave the children alone, so she left her daughter with an elderly aunt who lived next door to keep an eye on her, and told Shiv to stay inside the house.

Time passed.

Suddenly, a loud noise was heard. Birds flew away, startled, and the villagers became anxious. Shiv, lost in his own playful world—carefree by nature—stepped outside despite being told not to. When he looked around, he saw a huge crowd gathered.

The sound of intense crying filled the air. The doorway was stained red. Two dead bodies were laid out in front. When Shiv reached there, he couldn’t recognize the faces. The villagers tried to console him. He kept asking questions, but no one told him anything.

The villagers performed the last rites.

Shiv began to worry about his mother and father and felt completely shattered. Never in his life had they left him alone like this. Fear gripped him, and now his questions were touching something far deeper and more serious.

He could sense that something had gone terribly wrong, but he was afraid to connect his imagination with the truth.

His sister Vrinda was drinking milk. Shiv went into that room.

Vrinda was Shiv’s favorite—his beloved little doll—always smiling and playful. But today, even that child looked dejected because of being separated from her parents.

With great difficulty, Shiv picked her up in his arms. The moment she came into his hands, she felt a sense of belonging and began to cry. Shiv’s conscience was tearing him apart. At just five to seven years of age, what could a child possibly do—especially when he himself had to take care of an infant still dependent on milk?

With broken, faltering words and quiet sobs, he somehow began singing a lullaby to his sister, just like their mother used to. At first, Vrinda cried a lot, but after some time, she finally fell asleep.

The next day, Shiv began hearing loud shouting. Exhausted, he had fallen asleep on the floor of the same room. Moving quietly, he pressed his ear to listen. A drunken man was beating his wife, shouting,

“Will you raise these two useless brats? Their parents are already gone and have dumped this burden on us. Good, very good! You leave too, along with them. I can’t even afford my daily bottle, and madam here wants to raise everyone’s children. Get out of this house!”

Slowly, Shiv began to understand what was going on. The ground seemed to slip from beneath his feet. The helpless child broke down completely, crying uncontrollably.

Carrying Vrinda in his arms, Shiv ran far away from that place. He walked long distances barefoot under the scorching sun, blisters forming on his feet, yet the fire of self-respect burning inside him refused to die.

He had no idea how the days passed—sometimes surviving on the kindness of others, sometimes doing small labor jobs at tiny shops. Somehow, he managed to keep himself and Vrinda alive. But the poor child was growing weaker. Shiv could see the changes in his sister.

A few months passed.

One day, deep inside the forest, near a small, forgotten temple, Shiv lay asleep on the steps with his sister wrapped in cloth. At night, flies and insects troubled them. Thinking of Vrinda, he removed the cloth from her body and cut a leaf to cover her face.

But today, his sister did not move.

He thought she must be asleep. But while wrapping her feet, he felt a strange coldness. In that very moment, the memory of performing his mother and father’s last rites came rushing back.

His eyes turned red. His hands began to tremble. With a faltering tongue, he started calling out, “Chakuli… Chakuli…”

At first, his voice was barely a whisper. Then, as his panic grew, it grew louder. He cried out in all directions, begging for help—but for miles around, there was no one.

His sister had gone to her parents. He understood it now.

She had been his only reason to love, the only anchor of his life. The poor boy had done everything he could, but a child cannot understand every necessity of survival. A wound opened deep inside him—that if only he had endured knocking on doors, if only he hadn’t run away in fear and pride, even if he had to bear a few insults, if only he had let the village women raise his sister…

But he had fled in pain and fear.

Now everything had turned into if onlys—and his sister, in his hands, was left behind as nothing more than a memory.

This brutal tragedy of life—one that seemed to end his world within just a few days—left behind a deep, indelible imprint on him.

He looked toward the idol of God and remembered his father’s words. His father used to say:

“Son, when the world is moving in the right direction, you should become Ram. Think of everyone’s welfare—good will come of it. People will respect you, love will surround you. Even if fame never comes, it is enough.

But when circumstances, the world, and its principles all corner you into a single dark corner—then do not remain Ram. Awaken the Parshuram within you. The Parshuram who, after his father’s death, unleashed his strength upon the world and destroyed the arrogant kings—those who had oppressed countless sages, saints, and ordinary citizens. Do not think only with emotion, my son—think with total resolve.”

At an age when children cannot even manage their school homework properly, a new dimension was born within this gentle Shiv.

Parshuram had awakened.

Wow! It was both mysterious and emotional. Losing both his parents and then his only reason to live ; his sister. 😢My eyes welled up. I hope the next update will not be so emotional.

Bas kar pagle. Rlayega kya

It was beautiful Ash❤️ waiting for the next part. Long parts aren't easy to read for me. But this one compelled me to. I'm one sitting.