The bell rang, signaling the start of another class. Himesh Singh, all twelve years and a mop of unkempt hair, darted into the room, sneakers squeaking on the cracked floor. He slid next to his friend Aarav, who was busy doodling mutant monsters with exaggerated fangs on his notebook cover.
"Hey, Aarav," Himesh whispered, grinning like he just pulled off a prank, "imagine if we actually got powers one day… real superhuman stuff. Like, zap! Suddenly I'm blasting fire or jumping over that giant school gate."
Aarav rolled his eyes. "Dude, I'd use my powers to make my homework do itself. Or maybe to freeze time during math tests." He snickered, flipping his pencil like a drumstick. "You'd just use it to skip lines at ration day."
Mira spun around in the seat ahead, brushing away a strand of hair. "If anyone's getting super-speed, it's me. First to the canteen, first out when the mutant rats show up!" She grinned, and the trio dissolved into laughter, voices low but full of that brave twelve-year-old hope that anything was possible.
A stern "Ahem" snapped their attention to the front, where Mr. Verma, their history teacher, stood in his neat shirt and faded tie.
"Let's settle down, class." His voice was calm but carried well, and all the chatter quickly died away. "Today we're reviewing something very important—the rise of the superhuman profession."
Every head turned. Even for young kids like Himesh, this was more than a lesson. It was part of their daily reality.
Mr. Verma paced with purposeful steps. "Superhumans didn't appear in comic books first. They appeared out of necessity—when the Kali Virus erupted in 2026, the world changed for everyone, including children like you. You all know what happened next—cities lost, families torn apart, but also, the discovery of energy. Some of the survivors—many not much older than yourselves—learned to control powers no one thought were possible."
A kid in the back raised his hand, eyes wide. "Sir, do you think kids like us could get powers too?"
Mr. Verma's eyes softened. "It's possible. What matters is not your age, but your heart, your resilience, and your willingness to help others. Remember, children became heroes—but it meant great sacrifice."
Class ended with the usual clatter. As Himesh, Aarav, and Mira filed out, Aarav grinned. "Well, Himesh, you hear that? Maybe being twelve isn't so bad—could still be the first kid with laser eyes."
Himesh puffed out his chest, chin high. "As long as my first job isn't zapping your math homework, I'm good."
Mira giggled. "Let's just survive the next mutant bug raid, superpowers or not."
As the school day ended, Himesh parted ways with Aarav and Mira at the edge of the main street, their laughter fading as each set out toward their own block. The city's once-lively chaos had been replaced with the odd silence of survival—no cars, just patrolling soldiers and neighbors walking in pairs, eyes sharp for the shadow of anything strange.
Himesh wound his way through the alleyways and broken roads of Sector 14, nodding to the familiar faces: Mrs. Jha, standing guard near her reinforced door; Uncle Brijesh, clutching his cricket bat more like a weapon than a toy. Every family had learned to guard what mattered.
He reached his building—a five-story concrete block with painted numbers long faded by dust and rain. At the entrance, two army guards checked everyone who entered. Himesh flashed his ID band, earning a small nod, and squeezed through the narrow stairwell to the third floor.
Inside apartment 312, a comforting, spicy aroma filled the cramped space. His mother, Suhani Singh, was already busy at the burner hob, one eye on the simmering dal and the other on the window's battered iron grate.
"Himesh, wash up and help me with the chapatis," she called, her voice tired but warm. "Your father's shift at the resource depot was extended. He'll be late."
"Okay, Ma." Himesh dropped his school bag—patched and mended too many times to count—and scrubbed his hands with the sliver of soap they carefully rationed. Their home was small: a single room with a curtain for privacy, a folding table, and a corner for sleeping mats. It didn't matter. For Himesh, it was a fortress—safe as anything could be these days.
He rolled dough while his mother shaped the chapatis, the rhythm of their hands familiar and soothing. Outside, the distant shriek of warning alarms sent a chill through the evening air.
Suhani noticed his distracted gaze. "Anything happen in school today?"
He hesitated, then nodded. "We talked about the superhumans. How people found powers after the virus… Some kids wondered if we could ever get abilities like them. Mr. Verma said it's about more than fighting monsters—it's about helping everyone."
His mother offered a small smile. "It's a hard world, beta. Power is a gift, but it can be a burden. If you ever feel anything—different—promise me you'll tell us first. We need to stick together."
Himesh nodded, feeling the weight of her words. He glanced at the small photo on the wall—his family before the outbreak, smiling in a park long claimed by wild grass and mutant crows.
Later, as dusk fell and they waited for his father, Shiva Singh, to return, Himesh sat by the window, listening to the distant city sounds and tracing patterns on the frosted glass. Hope and fear mingled in his chest.
As dusk deepened over Indore and he finished his chores, Himesh retreated to his quiet corner by the window—his favorite spot in apartment 312. The city beyond the glass was restless, but he was lost in thought, remembering snippets from class and the conversations with Aarav and Mira.
He rolled out a thin mat and sat cross-legged, closing his eyes. This was not just a habit—it was a hope. Ever since word supernatural profession had spread across all survivor settlements, meditation had become a daily ritual for anyone dreaming of awakening powers. The rumors said the first step was always the same: you had to steady your mind and quiet your heart, no matter how much chaos raged outside.
Every school, and nearly every home, encouraged a daily meditation hour. Some scoffed, others claimed to have felt strange tingles or seen shimmering lights behind their eyes. Himesh had heard the stories: if you did it seriously—really opened yourself up—one day you might glimpse something extraordinary. The elders called it seeing your "astral body," the secret reflection of the energy every living thing held inside.
He inhaled, counted his breath, and let the worrying thoughts slip away. Soon, the rush of anxious sounds faded, replaced by a soft buzzing silence. For a moment, he saw it: the faint shimmer of something—the outline of himself, but brighter, shifting at the edge of his mind. His heart thudded, half in fear, half in wonder. Was this what the others meant? Was this the first sign?
A shout snapped him back to the present—his father's voice at the door. Himesh blinked, the strange glow gone, replaced by the harsh fluorescent bulb overhead.
Certainly! Here's how you can continue Chapter One, with Himesh reflecting on his meditation experience, then going to sleep, and finally discussing his experience with his teacher the next day at school:
That night, after his meditation, Himesh lay awake for a while, staring at the patchwork patterns on the ceiling cast by streetlights and army patrols flickering below. The image of the shimmering form—his astral body—lingered on the edge of his mind like a half-remembered dream. Was it real? Or just his imagination running wild after a long, tense day?
Eventually, exhaustion pulled him under, and he slept deeply, dreaming of light and shadows intertwined.
The next morning, as Indore's battered streets stirred to cautious life, Himesh hurried to school, his mind abuzz with questions. The first chance he got, he approached Mr. Verma as the teacher organized his notes before class.
"Sir?" Himesh asked, a little shy but unable to hide his curiosity. "Can I ask you something? Last night, during meditation... I think I saw something. Like a glowing outline—almost like another me. Is that—" he hesitated, searching for the right words, "—is that normal?"
Mr. Verma's expression softened, and he leaned closer so the rest of the class wouldn't overhear. "That's an important question, Himesh. What you described sounds like the beginning of seeing your astral body—a sign that the energy within you is starting to respond."
He glanced around, making sure no one was listening in. "Many people who sincerely practice meditation have reported similar experiences. But remember, this is only the first step. With patience and guidance, you might learn to interact with that energy—perhaps even awaken a true ability one day. Don't rush it. And don't be afraid," he added with a gentle smile. "The most important thing is to stay calm and share what you feel. If you notice anything else, tell me or someone you trust."
Himesh nodded, feeling both nervous and excited. Maybe he wasn't imagining things after all. Maybe, just maybe, he was beginning a journey toward something he'd only ever dreamed of.