Hero – Arjun

The morning sun in the village didn’t gently wake people—it claimed them.

For Arjun, mornings began before the sky even decided what color it wanted to be. The faint chill of dawn clung to the air as he stepped barefoot onto the damp soil, the earth greeting him like an old friend. The scent of wet mud, fresh grass, and distant cattle was his perfume, his reality, his comfort.He stretched his arms, glancing at the small house behind him—a house that had long stopped feeling empty, even though no one waited inside.

Because Arjun had learned something early in life:

Loneliness doesn’t come from being alone—it comes from expecting someone to stay.

An orphan since childhood, he didn’t remember his parents clearly. Just fragments. A lullaby. A warm hand. A voice calling his name.

Now, the only voice that called him was his own determination.

“Arjun!” shouted Ramu kaka from across the field. “If you stare at the sky any longer, crops won’t grow by your dreams!”

Arjun laughed softly and picked up his tools.

“Coming, kaka! Let the sun rise first—it’s shy today.”

Humor was his shield. Lightness was his survival.

He worked tirelessly—not just because he had to, but because the land gave him something people never could: consistency. If he cared for it, it gave back. No betrayal. No neglect.

Yet, deep inside, somewhere he never dared to explore fully, lived a quiet wish—

To belong to someone… the way this land belonged to him.

He shook his head as if dismissing the thought.

“Dreams are expensive,” he muttered, getting back to work. “And I’ve got crops to grow.”

But fate had its own plans—plans that didn’t ask for permission.