Evil Within - Part 6

 The counselling center looked calm from the outside. Too calm. White walls. Glass doors. Soft music leaking faintly into the corridor. The kind of place meant to make people feel safe.

But the moment he stepped inside, something felt… off.

Raghav spoke to the receptionist and gestured for him to sit. He lowered himself into the chair, fingers interlocked tightly, eyes fixed on the floor. The air-conditioning was cold, but sweat still formed at his temples.

After a few minutes, a man in his late forties appeared.

“Come in,” the consultant said, smiling politely.

They entered a small room. Two chairs. A desk. A notebook. A ticking wall clock that suddenly felt too loud.

The consultant looked at him over his glasses.
“So… tell me what brings you here.”

He stayed silent.

Raghav cleared his throat. “He’s been struggling internally. Anxiety. Isolation. Overthinking. Loss of confidence.”

The consultant nodded as if he’d heard this story a hundred times before. He scribbled something in his notebook.

“And you?” the consultant asked, turning back to him. “What do you feel?”

He hesitated. Words crowded his mind, but none of them felt right. How could he explain something he himself didn’t fully understand?

“I feel… tired,” he finally said. “Not physically. Inside.”

The consultant smiled knowingly.
“That’s common. You just need to change your mindset. Think positively. Socialize more. Reduce screen time.”

He blinked.

That was it?

The consultant continued, “You’re intelligent. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re just overthinking. Try meditation. I’ll prescribe something mild to help you sleep.”

Raghav nodded, satisfied.

But something inside him twisted.

This man didn’t ask about the walk in the heat.
Didn’t ask about the fear that crawled up his spine at night.
Didn’t ask about the thoughts he never spoke aloud.

The evil within wasn’t being seen.

He stood up abruptly.

“This is useless,” he said quietly.

Both men looked at him, surprised.

“You don’t know what I’m dealing with,” he continued, his voice controlled but firm. “You’re treating symptoms, not… whatever this is.”

The consultant frowned. “Young man, you’re overreacting.”

That sentence did it.

He walked out.

---

Outside

The sunlight hit his face again. Raghav followed him, irritated.

“What was that?” Raghav demanded. “You didn’t even give it a chance!”

He stopped near the gate and turned slowly.

“This isn’t about anxiety. Or confidence. Or work,” he said.
“There’s something else. Something darker.”

Raghav stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

Before he could answer, his phone vibrated.

An unknown number.

He froze.

Raghav noticed. “Who is it?”

He didn’t respond. He just stared at the screen.

A message appeared.

UNKNOWN:
You can’t run from it forever.
You felt it yesterday… on the road.
The walk was only the beginning.

His throat went dry.

Raghav leaned closer. “What is it?”

He slowly locked the phone and slipped it back into his pocket.

“Nothing,” he lied.

But his hands were trembling.

The consultant visit hadn’t failed.
It had confirmed something terrifying.

Whatever was breaking him…
wasn’t something that could be fixed by advice, medicine, or mindset.

It knew him.
It watched him.
And it had finally decided to speak.

The evil within was no longer silent.

Evil within - Part 5

 He lay on his bed that night, the fan spinning slowly above him, shadows stretching across the ceiling. But sleep didn’t come. Raghav’s words kept circling in his head:

“Tomorrow… big day.”
“A place where we can fix this… together.”

What did he mean?
Was it some job lead?
A training center?
Something else?

The uncertainty gnawed at him.

Meanwhile, in the hall, his mother finished folding clothes. She stopped for a moment, looking toward his closed door with worry etched on her face.

“God… give him some peace,” she whispered before heading to her room.

The night passed slowly.

---

Morning

He woke up early, surprisingly. His body still ached from yesterday’s long walk, but his mind was sharper today—alert, almost tense.

He walked to the kitchen. His mother was already there, pouring tea.

“Up so soon?” she asked.

He nodded, avoiding her eyes.

“You didn’t sleep properly,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

He smiled weakly. “I’m fine, Amma.”

She didn’t believe it, but she let it go. “Drink this. Raghav is coming, I suppose?”

He froze for a second. “How did you—?”

“He told me last night when he left,” she replied, setting the cup in front of him.
“Said he has some plan for you today. I hope he doesn’t drag you into anything stressful.”

He sipped the tea. His stomach tightened again.

---

Sudden Knock

Around 9:15 AM, the gate clanged. He looked out the window—Raghav was already there, dressed casually but looking unusually serious.

“Come fast!” Raghav shouted from below.

His mother came to the door. “Where are you taking him?”

“Just somewhere,” Raghav replied quickly. “Don’t worry, Aunty. I’ll bring him back.”

But there was a sharpness in his tone. A hidden urgency.

His mother didn’t like it. Her eyes narrowed a little.

“Be careful,” she told her son quietly.
He nodded.

He stepped out with Raghav, the sling bag hanging loosely on his shoulder again.

---

Walking with Raghav

They walked towards the main road. Raghav kept a fast pace, almost too fast, and didn’t speak for a few minutes.

Finally, he asked, “Where are we going?”

Raghav glanced at him. “A place where people change their lives. A place that might change yours too.”

He frowned. “What place?”

Raghav took a deep breath.

“A counselling center,” Raghav said finally. “Professional help. I’ve watched you struggle for months… withdrawing… losing confidence. Yesterday you walked home in that heat because you didn’t even ask for help. You keep everything inside. You’re fighting something alone… something dark.”

He stopped walking and looked straight into Raghav’s eyes.

Raghav continued, his voice softer:

“I know you won’t ask for help. So I brought it to you.”

Silence stretched between them.

He felt exposed.
Seen.
Almost embarrassed.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he asked quietly.

“Because you would’ve refused,” Raghav answered. “Now you can’t.”

He wanted to argue, but he couldn’t. Because… Raghav was right.

The evil within—the thoughts, the fear, the crushing self-doubt—had been eating him slowly. And yesterday, during that long walk under the punishing sun, he had felt it almost break him.

He swallowed hard.

“Is this really necessary?” he whispered.

Raghav placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Necessary? Brother… it’s overdue.”

For the first time in months, he didn’t hide behind excuses. He just nodded.

They continued walking—towards a place he didn’t want to go, but desperately needed.

He didn’t know what waited inside the center.
He didn’t know if it would help.
But for the first time… he wasn’t walking alone

Evil within - Part 4

 

The night grew quieter as he ate the warm upma his mother had lovingly prepared. The exhaustion of the day still clung to his shoulders, but the comfort of home softened the edges of his tired thoughts.

His mother watched over him for a while, making sure he ate enough. When he finished, she took the plate away without a word, sensing he didn’t have the energy to talk.

He got up after a moment.
“Amma… I’ll just sit outside for some air,” he said softly.

She nodded. “Don’t be long. The night air is getting cold.”

He stepped out into the balcony again, this time with the street lights flickering in the distance. The darkness felt calmer than the blazing afternoon sun. He took a deep breath.

But his mind wasn’t calm.
Something inside him kept twisting—anxiety, fear, self-doubt.
The evil within, as he used to call it.
The silent enemy that attacked when he was already weak.

He stared at the sky, battling the thoughts rising again.

Just then, the gate creaked.

He looked down.

A man stepped in—tall, lean, carrying a backpack slung over one shoulder. His cousin, Raghav, who stayed in the next street. He often visited late evenings, but tonight his timing felt strange… almost too perfect.

Raghav looked up and saw him seated in the balcony.

“Hey,” he called out, walking towards the steps. “Aunty said you came home tired. Thought I’d drop by.”

He forced a small smile and nodded.

Raghav climbed the stairs and joined him on the balcony.

“Interview didn’t go well?” Raghav asked, settling into the plastic chair beside him.

He shook his head.

Raghav exhaled sharply. “These people don’t know how to judge real talent. You’re smart, you just… you overthink.”

The words stung—not because they were wrong, but because they were too true.

Raghav continued, “But you know what? Sitting and worrying won’t help. Tomorrow, I’m taking you somewhere. A place where we can fix this… together.”

He frowned a little.
“Where?”

Raghav smiled mysteriously. “You’ll see. Trust me.”

There was something in Raghav’s eyes—confidence, determination… and something else. A hint of secrecy.

Before he could ask more, his mother called from inside.

“Both of you come and sleep! Enough talking.”

Raghav got up. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Big day.”

He nodded slowly, unsure yet curious.

As he closed the balcony door behind him, a strange chill slid down his spine.

Something was coming.
Something that would change everything.

And he wasn’t sure if it was good…
or another challenge waiting to break him.

The Purest Love

A love so precious, the purest of pure
untouched by desire, untouched by need.
No measure can hold it, no heart can compare,
for it stands second only to a mother’s love.

Unconditional as breath,
quiet as a prayer,
it lives not in the body
but in the soul that never fades.

It knows no ending,
only the miracle of being born
again and again
in the deepest chambers of the heart.

Evil within - Part 3

 He entered his room and closed the door gently—not to shut her out, but to keep his emotions from spilling over. The quiet inside the room felt different from the outside. This was the silence he usually loved… but today it felt heavy. Suffocating.

He dropped his sling bag on the floor and sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, face in his palms.
Everything hit him at once.

The long walk.
The scorching heat.
The interview disaster.
The disappointment in himself.
The fear of failing again.

He let out a long breath, the kind that made his chest feel hollow. He wished he could hide inside himself, disappear for a while. Life felt too loud even in silence.

Outside, his mother moved quietly, not wanting to disturb him but unable to settle. She opened the kitchen cupboard, closed it, then opened it again without reason. She paced a little. She waited, listening for any sign from his room.

After a few minutes, she couldn’t resist. She walked to his door. She didn’t knock. She just placed her hand softly on the wood, as if that alone could reach him.

Inside, he lay down slowly, curling up on one side. His eyes stung, not from tears, but from exhaustion. His body felt drained. His mind felt bruised.

He wasn’t crying.
But he wasn’t okay either.

A mother senses things without being told.

She walked back to the kitchen and started preparing something light—upma, his favourite comfort food. She worked quietly, with small prayers whispered in between.

“Let him get good news soon…”
“Give him strength…”
“Don’t test him more, God… please.”

By the time the food was ready, she checked the clock. Almost an hour had passed.

She went back to his door and knocked gently this time.

“Kanna… you want to eat something? I made upma for you. Just a little, come.”

Inside, he heard her voice—soft, concerned, steady. The kind of voice that could lift anyone from the deepest pit.

He wiped his face, breathed out, and got up slowly. He opened the door.

She looked at him with the same love she had carried since he was a child.

“Tired?” she asked softly.

He nodded.

She didn’t say anything else. She just guided him to the kitchen, placed the plate in front of him, and sat beside him like she used to when he was a little boy.

“Eat slowly,” she said, brushing his hair gently with her fingers.

That moment—her presence, her concern, her touch—felt like medicine. Stronger than anything else in the world.

He took a bite.
Warm. Soft. Familiar.
The kind of food that wrapped comfort around the heart.

She watched him, not rushing, not questioning further. Just being there.

And for the first time since morning, he felt a little lighter.

Not cured.
Not confident.
But supported.
Loved.
Not alone.

Sometimes, that was enough to survive another day.

Evil within - Part 2

 He waited a little longer on the balcony, the metal armrest warm under his hand. He shifted in the chair, exhausted but refusing to move. The house felt too empty without her. Too silent. Too unfamiliar.

And then… he heard it.

Her voice.

Faint, coming from the neighbour’s house—laughing, talking, probably discussing something as she always did. He closed his eyes for a moment. That sound alone eased something tight inside him. But still, he didn’t get up. He didn’t call out. He just waited… wanting to see her walk through the gate.

A few minutes later, the latch clicked. The gate opened. She stepped in, adjusting the edge of her saree, still speaking something to herself. She looked up—and froze for a second when she saw him sitting there.

“Aiyo! Why are you sitting out here?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.
“Did you eat anything? Aren’t you hungry? Look at you… you’re so tired. Why didn’t you go inside and rest on the bed for a while?”

He didn’t say anything immediately. Just smiled. A small, tired smile—but a real one. Seeing her was like someone had poured cool water over a burning day. The weight on his chest lifted, even if just a little.

They went inside together.
She walked ahead, fussing, switching on the fan, removing her slippers hurriedly. He followed slowly.

“Sit,” she said, almost ordering him.

She went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of chilled juice. She handed it to him with that motherly stare that was half-love, half-scolding.

“What happened? Why do you look like you walked through a desert?” she asked.
“Didn’t you come by bus or taxi?”

He took a sip before answering, and then gave a half-embarrassed smile.

“I… ran out of money,” he said softly. “Couldn’t afford a bus or auto. So… I walked.”

She put her hand on her forehead dramatically.
“Ayyo! So far? Oh god…”
She shook her head. “How many times should I tell you? Always keep extra money when you go out. We never know what will happen. I’ll give you some, keep it safely.”

He didn’t argue. Just kept sipping the juice.

“And what about the interview?” she asked cautiously.

He hesitated, his eyes dropping to the floor.

“It didn’t go well,” he said. “Feels like I’ll fail again… this time too. Let me rest a bit. I’ll… go to my room.”

His voice cracked a little—not enough for her to comment, but enough for her to notice.

He placed the half-empty glass on the table and stood up. His shoulders drooped; the exhaustion of the day, the disappointment of the interview, and the weight of his own thoughts pressed into him all at once.

Slowly, he walked to his room.

As he disappeared inside, his mother stood in the hall, watching him with worry filling her eyes. She whispered a quiet prayer under her breath, taking God’s name, asking for strength for her son… asking for something good to finally come his way.

Because a mother can hide her fears from the world—
but never from herself.

Evil within - part 1

The sun was unforgiving, hitting the street like a blowtorch. Heat waves rose from the road, twisting the air and making everything look distorted. Vehicles crawled, honked, squeezed for space—but none of that mattered to him. He wasn’t part of their rush. He was just walking… alone, on the side, where no one bothered to glance.

The sling bag on his shoulder kept slipping, dragging him down. He shrugged it up again, irritated. The strap bit into his skin, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to get home. That was the only thought that kept him moving through the burning afternoon.

He wasn’t built for this chaos. The noise. The crowd. The unwanted eyes.
Being outside drained him faster than the sun ever could.

Why did I come out today? he muttered internally, frustrated with himself.

Every two-wheeler that whizzed past startled him a little. Every honk made him flinch on the inside. He tried to blend into the wall as he walked, keeping his head down, hoping no one would stop him, talk to him, ask him anything. The world out here demanded too much energy. Too much presence.

He just wanted silence.

He imagined his house—quiet, cool, dimly lit. No questions, no noise, no strangers brushing by. Just his room, his sofa, his cup of tea. That thought alone felt like a cold breeze in this furnace-like heat.

In his mind, he was already there.
Home.
His dream land.
A place where the world softened and he didn’t have to pretend to be strong or social or “fine.”

But reality dragged behind him like the heavy sling bag he couldn’t escape from. His thoughts raced as fast as the traffic around him—
Will I make it before the headache starts? Did I lock the balcony door this morning? Why can’t I just teleport home? Why does everything outside feel so exhausting?

He walked faster now, desperate, almost anxious. The sun burned his skin, sweat blurred his vision, but none of that mattered. Home was getting closer with every step. The only place where he didn’t feel judged. The only place where he could breathe without thinking.

And in his mind, he could already hear the quiet—
no horns, no engines, no people.
Just peace.

He finally reached his gate, sweat rolling down his forehead, shoulders aching, breath unsteady. But the moment he stepped inside the compound, he felt that familiar drop in tension. Home. Safe zone. The world outside could roar as much as it wanted—none of it could reach him here.

He pushed open the door.

Silence.

Not the comforting silence he was craving, but a strange, empty one. The kind that made the hairs on his arms rise. He looked around.

“Amma?” he called out, expecting her usual answer—sometimes a soft “ha…” from the kitchen, sometimes her footsteps, sometimes just her warm smile appearing from the hallway.

Nothing.

The stillness felt heavier than his sling bag ever did.

He stepped farther inside. The cushions were untouched. The steel tumbler on the dining table sat exactly where it had been in the morning. Her slippers were still by the door.

Where did she go?
She never left without telling him. Never.

He checked her room, pushing the curtain aside. Empty.
He checked the backyard. No one.

A flicker of worry ran through his chest. Not panic… but a kind of uneasiness only an introverted mind can create—a quiet fear that grows when things don’t match expectations.

He climbed the stairs slowly. Each step creaked softly under his tired feet. Maybe she had gone to the terrace to dry clothes. Maybe she was just enjoying the breeze.

He reached the top.

Nothing.
Just the hot afternoon wind and an empty terrace staring back at him.

He stood there for a few seconds, swallowing the dryness in his throat. The sun felt even harsher now. The world felt strangely quiet again, but not the peaceful kind he wanted.

He came back downstairs, feeling the weight of the empty house wrap around him. He walked to the set-out area—the small balcony near the front door where his mother often sat in the evenings.

He lowered himself onto the chair, leaning back, letting the sling bag slide to the floor with a soft thud. He stared at the gate through the grill, waiting… listening for footsteps… a key sound… anything.

This was the place he always felt closest to her—the spot where she would ask him if he’d eaten, why he was late, or simply smile at him without a single word.

He missed that look now. The warmth only a mother’s eyes could give. The comfort, the assurance, the silent love that made even the hardest day feel bearable.

So he waited.
Tired. Sweaty. A little anxious.
He sat there quietly, staring at the entrance as if willing her to appear.

Because for him, home wasn’t truly “home” until she walked in.