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.