BLACK

Early in the morning, when Hyderabad was only beginning to wake, a thick cloud of dust hung over an isolated dump yard on the outskirts of the city. The air smelled of burnt plastic, rusted metal, and things that had been forgotten long ago. Through the broken entrance, a black Benz slowly rolled inside, its polished body looking almost unnatural against the mountains of garbage and dirt. The engine fell silent. For a few seconds, nothing moved. The rear door opened. An old man with thick grey hair slowly stepped out of the car. There was no hurry in his movements. A cigar rested between his fingers, its burning tip glowing faintly as smoke curled around his weathered face. He took a slow drag and looked straight ahead, his eyes fixed on something in the distance. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The silence around him suddenly felt heavier. A group of men stood several feet away, surrounding someone who had been tied tightly with ropes. The man wore a black jacket, now covered in dust, with dark blood marks visible across his face and clothes. His head hung slightly forward. He wasn’t moving. From where the old man stood, it was impossible to tell whether he was unconscious—or something worse. The old man released another cloud of smoke and continued staring at him. Then, slowly, he began walking toward the group.

The old man moved slowly through the dust, the smoke from his cigar following him like a shadow. There was something unsettling about the calmness in his walk. Halfway toward the group, he reached inside his coat and pulled out a handgun. It was unlike the weapons the men around him carried—sleek, imported-looking, premium in design, finished in deep matte black with subtle gold detailing. He held it casually, almost carelessly, but everyone there understood exactly what it meant. He stopped behind the man in the black jacket. Without warning, one of the men surrounding him shoved the captive forward. The man stumbled hard and fell toward the old man’s feet. For a moment, it looked as though his exhausted body would finally collapse into the dirt. But he didn’t. His right hand slammed against the ground, catching his weight at the last possible second. Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself back up. His breathing was heavy, and blood marked his face, but there was something strange about the way he refused to stay down. One of the men standing behind him grabbed the black jacket and pulled violently, trying to tear it apart. The fabric stretched under his grip—but it didn’t rip. The old man watched everything in silence. Then he stepped closer and raised the gun. The burning cigar remained between his fingers as his cold eyes locked onto the man’s face. “Where is the pen drive?” he asked quietly. The man in the black jacket said nothing. The silence lasted only a few seconds, but it felt much longer. Then a single gunshot shattered the morning. The men froze. The man’s body dropped heavily to the ground. One of the rowdies behind him grabbed the black jacket, pulled it away from the motionless body, and threw it aside into the dust. But as the jacket landed, something about it made the old man’s eyes shift toward it. For the first time that morning, his expression changed.

The black jacket flew through the air and landed a few feet away in the dust. As it spun, something small slipped from inside it. A pen drive hit the ground. One of the rowdies immediately noticed it, rushed forward, and picked it up. He wiped the dust from it and walked toward the old man. The old man took the pen drive without saying a word. For a few seconds, he simply stared at it. Around him, the dump yard had become silent again. The smoke from his cigar rose slowly into the cold morning air. Whatever was inside that tiny piece of metal had been worth all of this. The old man closed his hand around it. BLACK Fifteen days later, Hyderabad looked completely different. It was an ordinary morning in the middle of a city that never seemed to slow down. Cars pushed through traffic, bikes squeezed through impossible spaces, people rushed toward offices, shops opened their shutters, and phones were already ringing before the day had properly begun. In this world, everything moved fast. People had their own problems, their own responsibilities, and rarely had time to stop for someone else’s. From wires to wireless, from simple machines to artificial intelligence—the world had changed faster than anyone could fully understand. Walking into that fast-moving world was Ajay, a young man from a middle-class family in a small village. He had recently completed his studies and landed his first job at a software company in Hyderabad. This was his first real step into a new life. A new city. A new job. New people. New dreams. He entered the office carrying his bag and looking around for the HR cabin. Spotting a young employee nearby, Ajay walked toward him and asked for directions. The employee looked at Ajay for a moment and noticed his slightly disturbed shirt. “Bro, what happened? Your shirt is all turned around,” he asked. Ajay gave a tired smile. “Nothing, bro. My name is Ajay. I came to Hyderabad for the first time, and on my way here I had an argument with an auto driver. When I got into the auto, he said the fare was ₹200. But after we reached here, he asked for ₹250. I asked him why. He said, ‘Traffic was too much.’” Ajay shook his head, still annoyed by the incident. “I told him, when I got into the auto, there was no traffic, right? Then should I ask you to bring me here for ₹100 because there was no traffic when I boarded?” The employee couldn’t stop himself from laughing. Ajay continued, “We started arguing, bro. He got angry and pulled my shirt.” The employee nodded knowingly. “Yeah, bro… these auto guys can be like that only. Be careful in the city.” Ajay smiled and adjusted his shirt. He had no idea that this small argument would be one of the most normal moments of his life in Hyderabad—and that very soon, nothing about his life would remain normal.

Ajay walked into the HR cabin, completed the formalities, and received his employee ID card. For the first time, holding that small card in his hand felt like holding proof that his new life had officially begun. He followed the directions to his ODC, where his team lead welcomed him and introduced him to the rest of the team. There were quick smiles, handshakes, and the usual questions that every new employee receives on their first day. After the introductions, the team lead looked at Ajay and said, “You need to get the KT from Swapna. She’ll help you understand the project.” Ajay looked around the ODC, searching for someone named Swapna, but she wasn’t there. “Check the cafeteria once,” his lead suggested. Ajay walked out and headed toward the cafeteria. The atmosphere there was completely different from the quiet seriousness of the office floor. A group of employees sat together, laughing loudly and drinking coffee, enjoying a small break from their busy schedules. And then Ajay saw her. She was sitting among them, dressed in a black ghagra, her loose hair falling naturally around her shoulders. Small rainbow-colored curls rested near her ears, matched with fancy earrings that caught Ajay’s attention. She wore stylish sandals and carried herself with an effortless confidence. Her face was beautiful enough to make Ajay stop for a second. Her lips are sexy and coffee is lucky enough to taste her lips while she is tasting coffee. For a brief moment, Ajay forgot why he had come to the cafeteria at all. But before he could gather the courage to walk toward her, someone else caught his attention. Sitting nearby was a familiar face from a completely different chapter of his life. Ajay stared for a moment, unable to believe what he was seeing. “Swaroop?” he called out. The man turned around—and his expression immediately changed. It was his old school classmate. The surprise of finding someone from his village and school in the middle of Hyderabad completely pushed Swapna out of Ajay’s mind. The two friends greeted each other excitedly and immediately started talking. “What are you doing here, bro?” Swaroop asked. Ajay proudly explained that he had just joined the company and had been sent to get KT from someone named Swapna. Swaroop smiled knowingly. “Wow… Swapna?” he said, before turning toward the girl Ajay had been quietly staring at. He called her over and introduced them. Ajay shook her hand, trying his best to look normal despite the excitement running through him. After a brief introduction, he smiled and said that he needed to get the knowledge transfer and the necessary access to start working. As Ajay walked back toward his new team, he felt strangely happy. He had found an old friend, met a beautiful stranger, and taken his first real step into his new life—all before lunch on his first day.

Swapna took Ajay to her cabin and began giving him the knowledge transfer. Ajay listened carefully, trying his best to understand everything she explained. Coming from a small village and studying in a different environment, he wasn’t very confident speaking English. Swapna, on the other hand, spoke fluent, polished English with complete ease. Ajay answered wherever he could, sometimes searching for words, sometimes simply nodding—but honestly, his biggest problem wasn’t English. It was concentrating on what she was saying. Every few seconds, he found himself staring at her. Maybe it was the first time in his life that he had seen someone he found so beautiful. Swapna patiently completed the KT, raised requests for his system access, and explained what he needed to do next. That night, Ajay returned to his room exhausted from his first day in Hyderabad. He placed his bag aside and lay on his bed, but sleep didn’t come immediately. His mind kept returning to the cafeteria, the black ghagra, the coffee, their handshake, and finally the time they had spent together in her cabin. For a boy who had arrived in the city only yesterday, everything was changing too quickly. Eventually, somewhere between his thoughts and dreams, Ajay fell asleep. The next morning, miles away from Ajay’s new office, another day began at the dump yard. The usual segregation process was underway. Workers separated the waste into different categories—wet waste, dry waste, iron, plastic, cloth, and anything else that could be recovered. Much of what people threw away was not truly useless. It could be cleaned, recycled, repaired, and sold again. It was an ordinary process, happening every day in cities everywhere. As the workers moved through piles of discarded material, the black jacket was picked up along with a collection of clothes meant for recycling. The jacket still looked different from everything around it. It had a premium appearance, a unique design, and the fabric was unusually strong. The worker who picked it up didn’t notice the faint bloodstains hidden beneath the dust and dirt. To him, it was simply another piece of clothing that could be cleaned and sold again. The jacket was packed with other materials and transported through the recycling chain. It was cleaned, processed, and eventually moved toward local vendors. What had been thrown away in a dump yard was slowly finding its way back into the city. At the same time, Ajay woke up with a strange excitement. This wasn’t just another morning anymore. It was his second day at work—and that meant he might see Swapna again. He got ready carefully, checked himself in the mirror, and left for the office with a smile he couldn’t hide. Somewhere in the same city, the black jacket was also moving toward a new destination. Ajay had no idea that the ordinary life he was excited to begin was already moving quietly toward something far more dangerous—and that soon, their paths would somehow cross. Over the next few days, Ajay slowly began settling into his new job. His system access was completed, his work started taking shape, and Swapna continued helping him whenever he got stuck. What had begun as a simple knowledge-transfer session slowly turned into conversations over coffee, small jokes, and friendly moments between work. Ajay was still learning how to survive in the fast-moving city, while Swapna, born and raised in that environment, seemed comfortable with everything around her. She had a natural confidence that Ajay admired. She could speak to anyone, handle any situation, and move through the city without hesitation. For Ajay, she was slowly becoming more than just a colleague—she was becoming his first real friend in Hyderabad. One evening, after finishing a meeting together, Swapna turned toward Ajay. “What are your plans for the evening?” she asked casually. Ajay smiled. “No plans, actually.” Swapna immediately replied, “Then join us. We’re going shopping for my sister’s wedding.” Ajay didn’t even need time to think. “Yeah, sure. I’ll come. I have nothing else planned anyway.” But inside, Ajay knew this was far from an ordinary evening. For someone who had arrived in Hyderabad with a suitcase, a new job, and no idea what his future would look like, this felt like the beginning of something he had secretly dreamed about. As the workday ended and the sun slowly disappeared behind Hyderabad’s buildings, Ajay waited outside the office. He kept checking the road, pretending he wasn’t waiting for anyone in particular. Then Swapna arrived in her Creta. Ajay got in, and they soon picked up Sushma, another colleague from the office who had joined them for the shopping. Their first stop was a large mall, followed by another store as they searched for dresses and wedding-related items. After several hours, most of the major shopping was completed. But for the wedding preparations, one important thing was still left. They headed toward the old city, eventually reaching the crowded lanes near Charminar and Chudi Bazaar. The atmosphere was completely different from the glass buildings and air-conditioned malls Ajay had become familiar with at work. Bright lights reflected from hundreds of bangles, shops were packed with customers, and vendors called out to people passing through the narrow streets. While Swapna and Sushma checked bangles and wedding accessories, Ajay wandered around nearby, quietly looking at things he might be able to buy within his budget. That was when something caught his attention. Among a heap of clothes spread across a roadside table, something dark reflected the light. Most of the clothes were being sold cheaply—₹100, ₹200—and looked like ordinary second-hand or recycled items. But this one piece looked different. It was the black jacket. Ajay began walking toward it, but before he could reach it, an older man picked it up. “Should I buy this?” the man asked his wife while examining the jacket. Their young child stood nearby, distracted by the colorful shops around them. A few moments later, the child was gone. Panic immediately replaced the casual conversation. The couple began blaming each other. “What were you doing? You were supposed to watch the child!” the wife shouted. The man threw the jacket back onto the pile and rushed away with her, searching through the crowded street. Thankfully, they soon spotted their child near a toy shop. Ajay, who had been watching the confusion from a distance, walked back toward the table and picked up the jacket. He slipped it on. For a moment, something felt strange. The jacket fit him almost perfectly, but Ajay suddenly felt an unfamiliar sensation run through him. He quickly removed it and looked at the vendor. “How much for this?” he asked. Before the man could answer, Swapna walked up behind him. “You like it?” she asked. Ajay smiled awkwardly. “Yeah… it’s different.” Swapna immediately took the jacket from his hands and bought it for him. Ajay looked surprised. “Thank you,” he said, genuinely happy. Swapna smiled back, and the three of them eventually finished their evening and returned to their respective rooms. Ajay carried the black jacket with him, unaware that it had travelled from a dump yard, through a recycling factory, across the city—and had finally found its way to him. Days passed quickly, and Ajay slowly stopped feeling like the new boy from the village who had arrived in Hyderabad with uncertainty in his eyes. At work, he was doing surprisingly well. He learned fast, asked questions, and put genuine effort into everything he did. His team began noticing him, and so did Swapna. Their friendship had grown naturally over time. Coffee breaks became longer conversations, work discussions turned into personal stories, and somewhere along the way, they had become genuinely close. One Friday night, Ajay stood outside the office waiting for a Rapido ride. It was getting late, and every time he checked his phone, another ride was either unavailable or cancelled. He was beginning to get irritated when a familiar car slowed down beside him. It was Swapna. She rolled down the window and smiled. “Where are you going? Come, I’ll drop you.” Ajay immediately felt a small wave of happiness. He got into the car and thanked her. As they drove through the night streets of Hyderabad, they spoke about work, the team, and the things Ajay was learning. Swapna glanced at him for a moment and said, “You know, Ajay… you’re doing really well. In such a short time, you’ve picked up so much. You’re a quick learner.” Those simple words meant more to Ajay than she probably realized. He smiled quietly, trying not to look too proud of himself. After driving for around fifteen minutes, Swapna suddenly pulled over near a lively spot where people were enjoying the Friday night. Music could be heard from nearby places, lights reflected across the road, and the city still seemed wide awake. “Get me an ice cream,” she said playfully. “It’s Friday night. I don’t want to go home so quickly.” Ajay laughed and went to buy two ice creams. They sat together, eating slowly and watching the city move around them. Then Swapna asked casually, “Do you have a girlfriend?” Ajay looked at her. “No.” “And you?” he asked. She smiled. “Nope.” For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. They simply looked at each other. The noise of the city seemed distant to Ajay. There was something in the silence that made him nervous, but he didn’t know why. Finally, Swapna broke the moment. “Okay… shall we go?” Ajay nodded, still trying to understand what had just happened. When they finally reached Ajay’s apartment, he opened the door and was about to get out. “Wait,” Swapna said. Ajay turned back. “Close your eyes.” Confused, he did. Before he could ask what was happening, Swapna leaned toward him and kissed him. Ajay froze. It was his first kiss—his first experience of anything like this—and his mind completely stopped working. For a moment, he didn’t know whether to respond, move away, or simply remain still. When she finally pulled back, his face was filled with shock. His heart was racing uncontrollably, and suddenly his entire body felt hot. “I love you, Ajay,” Swapna whispered. “I like you so much.” Ajay couldn’t find the right words. The confident employee everyone was beginning to know at work had disappeared. In his place was the same village boy who had arrived in Hyderabad not long ago, completely lost in a situation he had never imagined. Swapna smiled at his nervousness and pulled him into another affectionate embrace, kissing his cheek and face playfully. Ajay became even more anxious. Sweat began forming across his forehead—not from the weather, but from fear, excitement, confusion, and emotions he didn’t know how to handle. Swapna suddenly noticed how uncomfortable and overwhelmed he had become. She moved back and looked at him carefully. For the first time, Ajay could breathe normally again. He wiped his forehead and smiled awkwardly. “I’ll go,” he said softly. “You drive safely.” Swapna smiled at him, amused by his innocence. “Good night, Ajay.” “Good night,” he replied. Ajay stepped out of the car and watched her drive away. He stood outside his apartment for several seconds without moving. His first kiss. His first real romantic moment. And his first experience of being completely terrified by love. That night, Ajay would lie awake longer than usual. And somewhere inside his room, hanging silently among his clothes, was the black jacket. The next few days passed like a dream Ajay never wanted to wake up from. He and Swapna had become inseparable. To everyone around them, they looked like a real couple deeply in love. They explored Hyderabad, went shopping, tried new restaurants, watched late-night movies, and spent weekends together whenever they could. Ajay, who had once calculated every rupee before spending it, now found himself spending freely whenever he was with her. Shopping bags filled the back seat of the car, dinners became expensive, and small surprises became normal. He didn’t care. Being with Swapna made him feel as if he had finally found the life he had come to Hyderabad searching for. They even took a short trip to Goa. For Ajay, it was another world entirely—beaches, music, late evenings, photographs, laughter, and Swapna beside him through it all. Every moment felt worth remembering. He believed life was finally moving in the right direction. The village boy had found a job, a new city, success, friends, and love. For the first time, Ajay allowed himself to believe that maybe his difficult days were behind him. But after returning from Goa, reality slowly returned. Work increased. Production defects began appearing one after another, and the entire team became busy handling issues and deadlines. Ajay and Swapna spent most of their days focused on work. The romantic conversations became shorter, meetings became longer, and the pressure of the corporate world slowly took over again. A week later, Ajay’s team lead called him into a meeting. Ajay entered the cabin expecting another discussion about production issues, but instead, his lead smiled. “Ajay, you’re doing great. Really great,” he said. “The clients are impressed with your work. They want to consider sending you to the UK as soon as possible.” For a few seconds, Ajay couldn’t believe what he had heard. The UK. An onsite opportunity. For the boy whose parents were still working in agricultural fields back in the village, this was more than a professional achievement. It felt like proof that he was finally going somewhere in life. That evening, he immediately called his parents to share the happiness. His mother and father answered, but something in their voices felt different. They sounded tired. Quiet. “Are you both okay?” Ajay asked. “Is your health okay? Should I come home and take you for a check-up?” His parents quickly assured him. “We’re perfectly fine, son. You focus on your work. Do well. Grow in life.” Ajay trusted them. He ended the call with a smile, unaware that behind those simple words, something terrible had already begun to grow. That night, tired from work and excited about his future, he fell asleep. The next morning, Ajay came to the office with another plan. He wanted to surprise Swapna. He would take her out for dinner and celebrate the good news together. Before leaving his room, he packed the black jacket into his bag, planning to wear it later that evening. He dressed formally and reached the office with a happiness that felt impossible to hide. But the moment he entered, something felt wrong. People were talking everywhere. “Swapna is going to the UK next week.” Ajay stopped. Someone else repeated it. “She got the onsite opportunity.” His heart suddenly tightened. Confusion rushed through his mind. Swapna is going to the UK? She hadn’t told him anything. He tried to convince himself that there must be some misunderstanding. Maybe she wanted to surprise him. Maybe she had just found out. But Ajay couldn’t wait. He rushed toward the manager’s cabin. Without thinking, he pushed open the door. And everything inside him stopped. Swapna was there. So was the manager. They were standing close together. Too close. Ajay froze at the entrance as he saw them embracing intimately. The world around him disappeared. He couldn’t hear the office anymore. He couldn’t hear the conversations outside. He couldn’t even process what his eyes were seeing. The woman he had spent every day thinking about, the woman who had told him she loved him, was standing in another man’s arms. Ajay slowly closed the door. He didn’t ask a question. He didn’t shout. He simply walked away. Then faster. And faster. Until he was outside the office. His phone began ringing. Once. Twice. Three times. Five times. Six times. Ajay ignored every call. His mind was drowning in anger, humiliation, and disbelief. He walked without knowing where he was going and finally sat down on a footpath beside the road. Cars passed him. People walked around him. Hyderabad continued moving at its usual speed. His phone rang again. He looked at the screen, assuming it was Swapna. But it was his mother. She had called again and again. Ajay picked up the phone and immediately called her back, angry and emotionally exhausted, ready to ask why she had been disturbing him so many times. The call connected. Before Ajay could say anything, he heard his mother crying. Not ordinary crying. The kind of crying that comes when something inside a person has already broken beyond repair. “Ajay…” she struggled to speak. His anger disappeared. “Amma… what happened?” There was silence. Then she said the words that destroyed whatever was left of his world. “Your father is gone.” Ajay didn’t understand. “What?” His mother cried harder. The pressure of agricultural loans had become unbearable. After repeated losses and debts that kept growing, his father had felt trapped. He had hidden the depth of the problem from Ajay and the family. Unable to see a way forward, he had taken his own life. The phone slipped from Ajay’s hand. For a few seconds, he couldn’t breathe. His entire body began shaking. Just yesterday, his father had told him, “Do well, son. Grow in life.” And now he was gone. Swapna. The betrayal. The office. The future he had imagined. His father. Everything had collapsed on the same day. Ajay sat on the footpath surrounded by thousands of people, but he had never felt more alone in his life. Tears rolled down his face, yet he made almost no sound. His hands trembled. His chest felt heavy. Somewhere inside him, something was screaming—but nothing came out. He was still alive. That was the strangest part. Everything inside him had died, but he was still sitting there, breathing. For Ajay, it wasn’t just a bad day. It was the day his world turned completely dark. The first truly BLACK day of his life. Nearly an hour passed before Ajay became fully aware of where he was. The sounds of traffic slowly returned. His body felt weak, his eyes were swollen, and his mind was still struggling to accept everything that had happened. He placed his hands on the ground and tried to stand. As he moved, he felt something pulling at the back of his formal shirt. A rusted iron rod lying behind him had caught the fabric and twisted it awkwardly. Ajay turned around and noticed that the shirt was completely pulled out of shape. With frustration and exhaustion, he removed it and threw it aside. His eyes fell on his bag. For a moment, he remembered the black jacket inside it—the jacket Swapna had bought for him at Chudi Bazaar. Ajay slowly pulled it out and stared at it. He didn’t know why, but at that moment, he felt like wearing it. He put it on, adjusted the collar, picked up his bag, and immediately rushed toward the bus station. He didn’t wait to explain anything to anyone. Hyderabad was behind him now. His village was nearly four hours away, and for the first time since arriving in the city, he desperately wanted to go back home. The journey felt longer than four hours. Ajay barely spoke to anyone. He sat near the window, staring outside as buildings slowly disappeared and the familiar roads of his childhood began returning. Every place reminded him of something. The fields. The small roads. The shops. The people. His father was supposed to be there. Ajay kept imagining that when he reached home, somehow everything would be normal. Somehow, his father would still be sitting there waiting for him. But deep inside, he knew that was impossible. The moment Ajay entered his village, he began running toward his house. He could already see people gathered in the distance. But before he could reach home, a group of men stopped him. Their faces were serious. “Your father took money from us,” one of them said. “He didn’t pay it back. Now he is gone. You have to pay the loan.” Ajay stood there silently for a moment. Then anger began rising inside him. Without him touching it, the collar of the black jacket slowly lifted behind his neck. It happened so subtly that no one around him noticed. Ajay himself didn’t see it either. His eyes were fixed on the men standing in front of him. “I will pay,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Every rupee. We will discuss this later.” The men stepped aside. Ajay didn’t wait another second. He ran toward his house. The moment he saw his mother, everything he had been holding inside finally collapsed. She rushed toward him, crying uncontrollably, and Ajay held her tightly. For a long time, neither of them could say anything meaningful. There were no words powerful enough to explain their loss. Ajay cried like a child in his mother’s arms, and she cried for the husband she had lost and the life that had suddenly fallen apart. The rituals followed over the next few days. Relatives came and went. Prayers were completed. People offered sympathy. Slowly, the crowd disappeared. And then one evening, Ajay sat alone in front of his house. The same house where his father had once lived. The same village where his dreams had begun. He stared into nothing, completely lost inside his thoughts. The future he had imagined was gone. Love had betrayed him. His father was dead. His family was drowning in debt. And somewhere beneath the grief, beneath the anger and helplessness, something else was beginning to wake up. Ajay sat there silently.

A week later, Ajay made the difficult decision to return to Hyderabad. Staying in the village forever wasn’t an option. His mother needed him, the debts needed to be handled, and somehow, he had to rebuild the life that had collapsed around him. But one thing was clear in his mind—he didn’t want to return to the same company. The memories of betrayal were still too fresh. He would find another job, start again, and build a new life for himself and his mother. This time, he decided, she would come with him. He couldn’t leave her alone in the village anymore. They packed only what they truly needed and boarded an evening bus to Hyderabad. Ajay hadn’t brought many clothes with him, and among the few things he carried was the black jacket. He wore it again without giving it much thought. The bus left the village around six in the evening, carrying tired passengers, families, workers, and students toward the city. Ajay’s mother sat beside him quietly while the familiar roads slowly disappeared behind them. For nearly twenty minutes, the journey was peaceful. Then the bus reached a toll plaza. The vehicle slowed down and stopped briefly for scanning. The toll barrier lifted, and the driver moved the bus forward. Suddenly, just before the bus could properly cross, a black Innova came rushing from the side and violently crashed into the bus before speeding away into the darkness. Inside, passengers screamed. People stood from their seats in confusion, trying to understand what had happened. The driver and conductor checked the bus, spoke to the toll staff, and after ensuring that it could continue, the bus was moved aside and eventually started again. Thirty minutes later, the clock was approaching seven. The road ahead was unusually crowded. Vehicles were piled up, and traffic had completely slowed down. A group of men stood in the middle of the road, forcing vehicles to stop and move aside. Something about them immediately made the passengers uncomfortable. Some were carrying hockey sticks. Others held dangerous-looking weapons. The bus slowly came to a halt as the men approached. Fear spread through the passengers when the group entered the bus and began looking around. Within seconds, they found someone. An elderly man sitting quietly with a bundle of files in his hands. They grabbed him and dragged him out of the bus. Ajay watched in disbelief as the men surrounded the old man on the road and began attacking him. The passengers inside the bus remained frozen. Nobody moved. Nobody wanted to become the next target. The old man tried to protect himself while the files scattered across the road. Ajay’s mother held his arm tightly. “Don’t get involved,” she whispered desperately. But Ajay couldn’t sit there. He stepped down from the bus along with the driver and looked toward the group. “What is happening, bro?” Ajay asked. “Why did you stop the bus? Why are you hitting him?” One of the men turned toward him. “This is none of your business,” he said. “Don’t come in between.” The driver tried to speak, but one of the men suddenly struck him. He fell hard onto the road. Ajay immediately rushed forward and helped the driver up. Anger began building inside him again. “What you’re doing is wrong,” Ajay said firmly. Two men turned toward him. They walked closer. One of them grabbed Ajay by the collar of his black jacket. “Who are you to tell us what is right and wrong?” he growled. They shoved him backward. Ajay’s body crashed against the side of the bus. And then— WHOOSH. A powerful gust of wind suddenly swept across the road. Dust rose into the air. The lights inside the bus began flickering. On. Off. On. Off. The passengers went silent. For a moment, the entire scene looked less like a highway and more like something from a nightmare. Ajay slowly lifted his head. The men holding his jacket took one step back. Because something had changed. Something was happening. And this time… BLACK was awake.

Ajay didn’t notice the flickering lights. He didn’t notice the wind growing stronger around him. His mind was focused on only one thing—the old man lying helplessly on the road. He pushed himself away from the bus and started running toward him. “Don’t worry, uncle!” Ajay shouted. “I’ll save you!” For a second, the rowdies simply stared at him. Then they started laughing. The sound of their laughter spread across the dark highway. To them, Ajay was just another foolish man trying to act like a hero. A village boy in a black jacket, standing alone against a group of armed men. One of them reached behind his back and pulled out a gun. Another followed. The metallic clicks of the weapons being loaded cut through the air. Within seconds, the guns were pointed directly at Ajay. “Hero avthunnava?” one of them mocked. Before Ajay could react, another man came from behind and kicked him hard in the back. Right on the black jacket. Ajay fell forward onto the road. His hands hit the rough surface. Pain shot through his body. For a moment, everything inside him went silent. Then anger returned. Ajay clenched his fists and slowly tried to get up. But before he could stand properly, the old man—the same man who had been attacked—came closer and helped him to his feet. “Come, son,” the old man said. But suddenly, the old man’s hands stopped. His eyes widened. He was staring behind Ajay. Ajay noticed the expression on his face. “What happened, uncle?” he asked. The old man didn’t answer. He looked terrified. Ajay turned toward the rowdies. And something was wrong with them too. Their laughter was gone. The guns were still in their hands, but their faces had completely changed. Fear had replaced arrogance. One of them slowly stepped backward. Ajay became confused. Why are they looking at me like that? Then he heard it. The sound of the wind. Not ordinary wind. A deep, violent roar. WHOOOOOOOOSH! Ajay slowly turned around. And his body froze. For nearly five hundred meters across the highway, everything had risen into the air. Cars. Motorcycles. Auto-rickshaws. Trucks. Even buses. Dozens of vehicles were floating above the road as if gravity itself had suddenly disappeared. Headlights shone through the dust-filled air. Horns began blaring uncontrollably. People inside some of the vehicles screamed in terror. Ajay stared upward. His anger disappeared. Now there was only confusion. His breathing slowed. “What… is happening?” he whispered. The old man beside him looked at Ajay. Then at the black jacket. Then back at Ajay. He had lived long enough to know that some things could not be explained easily. The wind continued roaring. The entire highway seemed frozen in time. Ajay stood in the middle of it all, wearing the black jacket, looking like the most confused person on the road. And then— Everything stopped. For one terrifying second, the world became completely silent. The vehicles hung in the air. Then gravity returned. BOOOOOOM! Cars crashed onto the road. Motorcycles slammed against the ground. Buses landed with massive force. Metal twisted. Glass shattered. The highway shook under the impact. A cloud of dust rose into the night sky. The rowdies stood frozen. Nobody spoke. Nobody laughed anymore. One of them looked at Ajay. Then another. Fear spread through the group. “Get in the cars!” someone shouted. Within seconds, they ran. The same men who had entered the highway carrying weapons now jumped into their vehicles and sped away into the darkness. Ajay stood there without moving. He looked at the destruction around him. Then he looked at his own hands. His fingers were shaking. He hadn’t touched anything. He hadn’t lifted a single vehicle. At least… not knowingly. The old man slowly placed his hand on Ajay’s shoulder. “Come,” he said quietly. Ajay helped the injured man back onto the bus. His mother immediately rushed toward him, terrified and confused about what had happened outside. Ajay didn’t know what to tell her. What could he possibly say? That hundreds of vehicles had just floated in the air? That armed criminals had run away from him? That the wind itself had seemed to respond to his anger? The bus finally started moving again toward Hyderabad. Inside, passengers spoke in whispers. Ajay sat silently near the window. His mind replayed every second. The wind. The floating vehicles. The fear on the old man’s face. And the strange expression on the rowdies. Ajay slowly looked down at the black jacket covering his body. For the first time, a terrifying question entered his mind. Was it the jacket? Or… was it him? The bus disappeared into the darkness, moving toward Hyderabad. And somewhere in the city, something connected to the past was waiting. Because the jacket had finally found the person it was meant to find. BLACK had taken its first breath.

Ajay finally reached Hyderabad with his mother, and life slowly began moving forward again. The terrifying incident on the highway became something neither of them wanted to discuss too often. Days turned into weeks, and Ajay tried to convince himself that whatever happened that night was impossible to understand—and perhaps better forgotten. He changed his company, determined never to let his personal life and professional life become mixed again. After what happened with Swapna, Ajay had built an invisible wall around himself. He didn’t want another relationship. He didn’t want another heartbreak. He wanted only one thing now—focus on himself, his mother, and his work. The new company gave him a fresh beginning. Ajay worked hard, kept mostly to himself, and slowly earned respect from his new team. One weekend, after completing a demanding stretch of work, his colleagues invited him to a late-night party. Ajay decided to join them. He enjoyed the music, conversations, and atmosphere, but unlike most of his friends, he didn’t drink. By midnight, several of them were heavily intoxicated and ready to return home. They stepped outside and began booking rides. After waiting for some time, an auto arrived. The driver looked at their destination and demanded ₹500 for a journey of around ten kilometres—far more than they expected. Ajay’s friends immediately began arguing with him. “Why are you asking for so much?” one of them said. “It’s already showing the fare.” The driver became rude. “If you want to come, come. Otherwise leave it.” Just then, another auto approached from the opposite side. Ajay’s friends tried to stop it, hoping they could get a better ride. But the first driver shouted toward the other auto driver, speaking quickly and aggressively. Within seconds, the second driver simply moved on without stopping. Ajay’s friends became frustrated. Ajay became angry. He stared at the first auto driver. There was something different about his expression now. He wasn’t shouting. He wasn’t arguing. He simply looked at the man. The auto driver noticed. “What are you looking at?” he snapped. He stepped closer and suddenly pushed Ajay. Ajay took one step back. Then he looked directly into the driver’s eyes. For a second, nothing happened. Then— CRAAAAAASH! A violent metallic sound exploded behind them. Everyone turned. The auto was gone. Or at least, the auto they had seen seconds earlier was no longer an auto. Its metal body had been crushed and compressed into a twisted, compact ball of metal, as if some unimaginable force had squeezed it from every direction. Pieces of glass and metal lay scattered around it. The driver stared at it. His face lost all colour. He looked at Ajay. Ajay looked back. Neither of them said a word. Then the driver ran. He disappeared into the darkness without looking back. Ajay stood completely still. His heart began racing. His friends were too drunk to properly understand what had happened. Some laughed nervously. One of them thought it was an accident. Another barely looked at it before continuing to search for a ride. But Ajay remembered the highway. The wind. The vehicles floating in the air. And now this. He slowly looked down at his hands. This cannot be happening again. For the first time, Ajay began to suspect something terrifying. Maybe the incident on the highway hadn’t been an accident. Maybe it wasn’t the wind. Maybe it wasn’t the jacket. Maybe… it was him. After that night, Ajay was no longer able to live normally. Something had changed inside his mind. He kept replaying every strange incident—the highway, the vehicles floating in the air, the terrified faces of the rowdies, and now the auto that had been crushed into a ball of metal. Two impossible things had happened around him, and both times, anger had been burning inside him. Ajay began asking himself a question he was almost afraid to think about seriously. Did I get some kind of power? The thought sounded ridiculous. Superpowers belonged in movies, comics, and stories—not in the life of a software engineer from a small village. Yet Ajay had seen things with his own eyes. The more he tried to ignore it, the more disturbed he became. He started watching himself carefully. His emotions. His heartbeat. His anger. Every small change inside his body. One afternoon, the office was celebrating someone’s birthday. People gathered around, laughing and recording videos while a celebration began. Someone set off a loud paper blast. The sudden POP! echoed through the office. Ajay immediately flinched. The sound hit him harder than it should have. His body became tense. His mind felt disturbed. A strange irritation began growing inside him, and then came an unexpected thought. He wanted the black jacket. Not just casually. He suddenly felt that he needed it. Ajay was sitting in the office, but the jacket was at home. The more time passed, the more uncomfortable he became. His heart was beating faster. He felt restless, unable to concentrate on work. It was as if something inside him was searching for the jacket. He immediately called his mother. “Amma, where is my black jacket?” His mother answered casually, “I’m about to put it for washing.” Ajay suddenly became serious. “Don’t wash it.” There was a pause. “Why?” his mother asked. “Just don’t wash it, Amma. Keep it safely in the rack. Please.” Something in his voice made her stop asking questions. “Okay,” she said quietly. Ajay looked at the clock again. Every minute felt longer than the previous one. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t sit properly. His anxiety continued increasing, and he kept waiting for the office hours to end. For the first time, Ajay understood that this wasn’t simply attachment to a piece of clothing. Something was happening between him and that jacket. Finally, the time came. Ajay grabbed his things and rushed out of the office. He didn’t wait for anyone. He ran toward home as if someone were chasing him. By the time he reached his apartment, his breathing was heavy and sweat covered his forehead. He opened the door. “Amma!” His mother looked toward him in surprise. Ajay rushed to the rack, pulled out the black jacket, and immediately wore it. The moment the fabric touched his body, something changed. His breathing slowed. The anxiety began disappearing. His heartbeat returned to normal. The strange pressure inside his head slowly faded away. Ajay stood silently. His mother watched him with confusion. Ajay closed his eyes. For the first time all day, he felt calm. Almost unnaturally calm. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at himself in the mirror. The black jacket wasn’t simply giving him comfort anymore. It was controlling something. Or perhaps… it was controlling him. Ajay stood in front of the mirror, wearing the black jacket, trying to understand the strange connection between his emotions and the world around him. For a few minutes, everything was calm. Then suddenly— CRASH! A plate fell from the kitchen and shattered on the floor. The unexpected sound hit Ajay like an electric shock. His anxiety immediately rose. His breathing changed. His muscles tightened. The lights inside the house began flickering. On. Off. On. Off. Ajay stared at the ceiling. “Amma…” he whispered. Before either of them could understand what was happening, one of the tube lights suddenly exploded with a sharp POP! Glass pieces scattered across the floor. Ajay stepped back in shock. His mother froze in fear. Ajay looked around the room, his mind racing faster than ever before. That night, Ajay barely slept. He kept connecting everything that had happened since the highway. Slowly, a pattern began forming in his mind. Whenever he became extremely angry, something impossible happened. Whenever he heard a sudden, unexpected loud sound, his anxiety increased—and the environment around him seemed to react. The wind. The lights. The metal. The vehicles. It wasn’t random anymore. Something inside him was responding. And somehow… the world around him was responding too. The next morning, Ajay woke up with those thoughts still trapped inside his head. He got ready and automatically reached for the black jacket. Wearing it had become almost like breathing now. It gave him calm, control, and a strange sense of balance. Later that day, he met his friends at the railway station. They were travelling to Vizag to attend a friend’s wedding. The station was crowded. Families rushed toward platforms, vendors shouted for customers, trains arrived with thunderous sounds, and announcements echoed through the air. In the middle of the rush, Ajay realized something. He hadn’t taken his physical ticket. His friend had booked his ticket online and sent the confirmation to Ajay’s phone. The others had physical tickets, but Ajay only had the digital confirmation. “Don’t worry,” his friend said. “It’s genuine. I booked it online.” Ajay nodded and boarded the train. A few minutes later, the ticket collector arrived. He checked everyone’s tickets. Then he reached Ajay. Ajay showed the ticket on his phone. The TC looked at it. Then looked at Ajay. “This is not valid,” he said. Ajay frowned. “Sir, it’s a genuine ticket. My friend booked it online. I can call him. I can show you the payment details and transaction.” But the TC refused to listen. “This is not valid.” Ajay tried again. “Sir, please check properly.” The TC repeated himself. “Invalid ticket.” Ajay’s jaw tightened. The TC said it again. “Invalid.” For the fourth time, the word hit Ajay’s ears. Invalid. Something inside him began changing. The same pressure. The same heat. The same rising anxiety. “Sir, please understand,” Ajay said, trying to control himself. But the TC had already made up his mind. “This is fraud. You have to pay a fine of one thousand rupees.” Ajay stared at him. The TC stepped closer. “Get down from the train.” Ajay’s eyes became still. For a moment, he said nothing. Then he picked up his bag and got down. He walked toward a bench on the platform and sat alone. His friends immediately began arguing with the TC. “Sir, it’s an online ticket!” “We can show you the booking!” “Why aren’t you checking properly?” But the TC refused to change his decision. Ajay sat silently. His hands slowly tightened around the handle of his bag. The anger inside him continued growing. The train’s departure time arrived. Nothing happened. The train remained still. One minute passed. Then five. Then ten. Passengers began looking outside their windows. Fifteen minutes passed. Still nothing. The driver checked the engine. Everything appeared normal. He checked the systems. No problem. The signals were clear. The train should have been moving. Confused, the driver climbed down. He walked along the track, checking underneath the coaches. Then he stopped. His entire body froze. The wheels were no longer touching the tracks. The coaches were rising. Slowly. Silently. One after another, the entire train had lifted nearly five metres above the railway line. The massive wheels were spinning in the air. Passengers began screaming. People jumped away from the windows. The driver stumbled backward in terror. This was not a car. Not a motorcycle. Not an auto. This was an entire train. Thousands of tonnes of metal. A machine that would normally require cranes, industrial equipment, and enormous engineering power to lift even a small portion of it. But now… the entire train was floating. Ajay sat on the bench. His head lowered. His breathing heavy. His anger burning quietly inside him. His friends slowly stopped arguing. The TC turned around. And saw the train in the air. His face went pale. Nobody understood what was happening. Nobody except Ajay was beginning to understand the possibility. One man. One emotion. And something beyond human understanding. Ajay slowly looked toward the floating train. For the first time, he didn’t feel only fear. He felt something else. A terrifying realization. This wasn’t an accident. The highway wasn’t an accident. The crushed auto wasn’t an accident. The exploding lights weren’t accidents. And now… an entire train was hanging above the earth. Ajay slowly stood up from the bench. The black jacket moved gently in the wind. His eyes were fixed on the train. And somewhere inside him, the truth was becoming impossible to ignore. His anger had weight. And the world around him… was beginning to carry it. After leaving the railway station, Ajay didn’t speak to anyone. His friends were still trying to understand what had happened, but Ajay walked away before they could stop him. His mind was louder than the station itself. The image of the massive train floating above the tracks kept returning to him again and again. By the time he reached home, he had only one thought in his head. Something is happening to me. Ajay entered his room and locked the door. For hours, he sat alone on his bed, staring into nothing. The black jacket was still on his body. He remembered every incident from the past few weeks—the highway, the vehicles rising into the air, the crushed auto, the flickering lights, and now the train. It was no longer possible to call these coincidences. Something was connected to him. Or more specifically, something was connected to the jacket. His eyes slowly moved toward the study table. A water bottle was sitting there. Ajay looked at it for a few seconds. Then, almost nervously, he stretched his hand toward it. “Come,” he whispered. Nothing happened. Ajay felt stupid for even trying. Then suddenly— The bottle moved. Ajay’s eyes widened. It slid across the table. Slowly at first. Then faster. And in the next second, the bottle lifted slightly and flew directly into his outstretched hand. Ajay jumped back in shock. For several seconds, he couldn’t even breathe. Then something completely different appeared on his face. Excitement. For the first time, Ajay wasn’t just afraid of what was happening. He wanted to understand it. He immediately removed the black jacket and threw it beside him. His heart was racing as he looked toward his mobile phone on the table. Once again, he stretched his hand. “Come on,” he said. Nothing. Ajay tried again. Nothing. The phone didn’t move even a millimetre. He slowly looked toward the jacket. Then back at the phone. A thousand questions entered his mind at once. It’s the jacket. But what is inside it? Why does it work only when I wear it? Why did it come to me? Ajay began mentally travelling backward through every event that had brought the jacket into his life. Suddenly, he remembered. Chudi Bazaar. Near Charminar. The street vendor. Swapna. That evening. The jacket. The next morning, Ajay went back to the old city. He walked through the crowded streets near Charminar, searching through vendors, clothing stalls, and narrow lanes. But the man who had sold the jacket wasn’t there. Ajay returned again the next day. And then again. Days passed. Finally, he saw him. The same street vendor. Ajay immediately walked toward him and placed the black jacket in front of him. “Where did you get this?” Ajay asked. The vendor looked at the jacket. Then at Ajay. “Why, sir?” he asked cautiously. “I need to know.” The vendor hesitated. “It’s difficult to say. We buy clothes in bulk. Mostly from recycling factories. We get them for cheap prices and sell them here.” Ajay leaned closer. “Can you give me the factory address?” The vendor immediately shook his head. “No, sir. We don’t usually give that information.” Ajay’s patience was disappearing. He took out cash. “Five thousand.” The vendor looked at the money. His expression changed. A few moments later, he quietly wrote down an address. Ajay took it and left immediately. The recycling factory was located away from the busy streets of the city. Huge trucks entered and left the compound carrying waste materials and bundles of discarded clothes. Machines produced constant noise from inside. Ajay walked toward the security gate. “I want to speak to your manager,” he said. “I want to place a bulk order.” The security guard looked at him for a moment, then eventually allowed him inside. Ajay was taken to the manager’s office. The moment they were alone, Ajay placed the black jacket on the manager’s desk. “I need information,” Ajay said. “I want to know exactly where this jacket came from.” The manager examined it carefully. Then he slowly shook his head. “That will be very difficult.” Ajay’s face became serious. “Why?” The manager leaned back. “We receive materials from different dump yards across the city. Everything comes mixed together—clothes, plastics, metal, waste materials. Most of it goes directly into processing machines.” Ajay listened carefully. “The clothes are cleaned and processed by equipment. After that, they’re sorted and sent forward for resale. Human workers only do the final checks. And Hyderabad has multiple recycling facilities. Thousands of items come through this process every week.” Ajay looked at the jacket. “So you can’t trace it?” The manager was silent for a moment. “Honestly? It is almost impossible.” Ajay felt disappointment spreading through him. But the manager continued. “Still… give me some time. One month. I’ll check whatever records I can. Maybe we can trace which batch this jacket came from.” Ajay nodded slowly. One month. For Ajay, it felt like an eternity. He picked up the black jacket and walked out of the factory. Outside, the machines continued roaring. Trucks continued arriving. Thousands of discarded objects continued moving through the system. Somewhere inside that enormous chain of waste, recycling, and forgotten things… was the beginning of BLACK. Ajay stood outside the factory gates, disappointed that he had no immediate answers.