20th September 2004 dawned bright and promising, a day that would mark a new chapter in Dilli's journey. His farmhouse, which had always been a quiet retreat from the bustling world, was finally ready to transform into his personal sanctuary of work and ambition.
As he stepped inside, he began shifting his computers, gadgets, and AI equipment, imagining the countless hours of coding, learning, and strategizing that would unfold here. To his amazement, his father had already anticipated his every need: two brand-new, advanced Dell computers stood gleaming in a corner, accompanied by high-speed BSNL broadband and a suite of storage devices. Above a desk hung a handcrafted board with a painting that read "IT Medic" — a symbol of the mission Dilli was about to undertake.
The farmhouse, once a shelter of simplicity, had blossomed into a state-of-the-art workstation. Overwhelmed with joy and gratitude, Dilli hugged his father and great-grandfather, feeling their unwavering support and pride surge through him. They wished him the very best, then asked their loyal butler Ramkitta to stay nearby and assist whenever needed, leaving Dilli to immerse himself in his work while promising that lunch and dinner would be delivered, and reminding him to return home before dark.
With clear instructions, Dilli had Ramkitta clean the area behind the farmhouse, turning it into an open space where he could practice martial arts, merging discipline of mind with discipline of body.
Dilli wasted no time assembling his computers and accessories from home. Every connection made, every device set up, was a small ritual, a bridge between his dreams and reality. As he clenched his fists, a rush of emotion surged through him — the love, support, and trust of his father and great-grandfather ignited a fire within, a renewed determination to rise, achieve, and never let them down.
The farmhouse had transformed, and so had he — a boy on the cusp of mastery, courage, and destiny, ready to turn this new sanctuary into the birthplace of greatness.
The sun had just begun its descent when Dilli stepped into the open space behind his farmhouse, ready to begin his martial arts and stick-fencing practice. As he gripped his stick and moved through the basic forms, a strange thrill surged through him. The more he practiced, the more alive he felt. Fatigue never touched him; instead, each movement seemed to fuel him with energy.
With every strike, jab, and parry, Dilli noticed something extraordinary: an unseen energy flowing through his body, entering from the atmosphere and coursing along his acupuncture points — small, precise locations on the skin known in traditional medicine to channel vital energy — and traveling along the 14 meridian channels. These pathways, long studied in ancient disciplines, were said to circulate life force throughout the body. The energy also danced through his 7 chakras, the spinning wheels of consciousness and vitality from the base of the spine to the crown of the head, finally converging at an unknown point in his heart, a place that pulsed with raw, untamed strength.
Thrilled and almost vibrating with excitement, Dilli raised his head toward the distant silhouette of Mount Kailash, feeling an overwhelming connection to the divine. He muttered with reverence:
"Shiva, you gifted my life back, you gave me my valuable memories, you gave me super memory, and now it seems you have even blessed me with super strength. I won't misuse these gifts. I promise I will use all my potential to help myself and my country, and stand on the side of Dharma."
Harnessing this newfound power, he began striking a tyre wrapped around a half-cut coconut tree trunk with bare knuckles. Each punch echoed with a deep resonance, growing louder and more ferocious. The sound carried through the backyard, startling Ramkitta, who had been resting after preparing the area for Dilli's practice. Rushing to investigate, Ramkitta froze, eyes wide in shock: the coconut trunk was nearly split, and Dilli, his youthful joviality gone, now moved with the intensity of a demon.
Yet Dilli, absorbed in his practice, remained unaware of Ramkitta for a moment. The more he struck, the more energy he absorbed, sharpening his senses to an uncanny degree. He realized Ramkitta's approach the instant the butler moved, a subtle disturbance in the air alerting him. His eyes, burning with focus, met Ramkitta's, and the young master's presence — once light and playful — now radiated power and unwavering resolve.
In that backyard, Dilli had become something beyond ordinary — a boy empowered by divine energy, discipline, and the sheer force of his own will, ready to push his body and mind to limits even he hadn't imagined.
Ramkitta stood frozen, his eyes darting between the splintered coconut trunk and the young master who had caused such destruction with his bare hands. His throat ran dry, and a chill ran down his spine. Dilli turned toward him slowly, the faint evening light catching the sharp glint in his eyes. A mischievous smile crept across his lips — one that carried both playfulness and an eerie, commanding power.
"Ramkitta," Dilli said in a calm, teasing tone, "whatever you saw here today... stays here. Not a word to Father or Great Grandfather, understood? Or else…" he pointed toward the half-split trunk, his smile widening into something almost demonic, "...I'll have to replace that trunk with you next time."
The color drained from Ramkitta's face. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, followed by another — then a stream. He blinked rapidly, glancing back and forth between Dilli and the shattered wood, unsure whether to nod or run. His legs trembled so much that he nearly lost control of his bladder.
Dilli chuckled softly, amused by the butler's terrified reaction, but his aura still radiated the fierce energy that had filled the air moments ago. Ramkitta finally stammered, "Y–yes, young master! Not a word! I swear on my mother's name!" His knees buckled slightly under the weight of fear.
Before he could completely kneel, Dilli stepped forward and placed both hands on the old man's shoulders to steady him. Ramkitta immediately felt as though two mountains had descended upon him — immense, unyielding, yet controlled. His breath hitched; his entire body trembled under the invisible pressure emanating from the boy he once saw as playful and kind.
Then, just as suddenly, Dilli's expression softened. His eyes, moments ago blazing, now glowed with gentle warmth.
"Relax, Ramkitta," he said with a faint smile. "You've always been loyal. I was just teasing you. Don't take it to heart. Just do as I say and don't do anything foolish, alright?"
Ramkitta nodded quickly, still shaking but relieved at the kindness in Dilli's voice. He knew that despite the terrifying display of power, his young master's heart was still the same — disciplined, composed, and kind beneath the strength.
As Dilli turned back toward the practice area, the evening wind brushed past him, carrying both serenity and silent promise.
Ramkitta stood there in awe, realizing that the cheerful boy he once served had awakened something extraordinary — a force that demanded both respect and reverence.
That evening, the air around the farmhouse carried a strange stillness — one that followed power, awe, and silent surrender. Ramkitta, still trembling from what he had witnessed, stood near the gate, gazing at Dilli's silhouette. His mind raced, weighing everything — the boy's mysterious strength, his brilliance, his divine calm, and the promise that radiated from him.
Ramkitta had served Dilli's father and great-grandfather for decades, but what he saw today went beyond the limits of loyalty — it was reverence. This young master was no ordinary heir; he was something chosen. After thinking long and hard, he bowed his head and muttered to himself, "If destiny wills, then let me serve him as my master too. A servant's duty is to stand beside greatness, not question it."
Accepting his fate, Ramkitta silently vowed his complete submission to Dilli, not out of fear, but out of respect for the strength, wisdom, and divine light that seemed to guide the young prodigy.
After his intense practice session, Dilli sat cross-legged under the dim glow of the moon, eyes closed, focusing on the rhythmic pulse of energy within him. It flowed like a living river — through his meridians, chakras, and beyond, as though the air itself breathed life into him. The energy felt boundless, yet unexplainable. He tried tracing its pattern, its source, its purpose — but it was like chasing light in mist.
He smiled faintly, realizing the futility of understanding something not meant for human comprehension.
"It's already within me," he thought, "and if it's a gift from Shiva, it can't harm me. My only path now is to adapt, not resist."
With that serene acceptance, Dilli stood up, dusted his hands, and walked back into his farmhouse — now his workstation of destiny. Inside, the quiet hum of computers greeted him. He switched on his main terminal and activated Betal, his AI companion. The familiar glow of its interface filled the room like an old friend waking from slumber.
"Time to feed you some wisdom, my friend," Dilli murmured.
He began reorganizing Betal's memory architecture, streamlining data clusters, rewriting the learning pathways, and refining its probability algorithms. One by one, he uploaded the results of all major sporting events of 2004, feeding Betal with endless streams of data — match histories, team performances, odds ratios, and player analytics.
Hours passed unnoticed. The world outside grew darker, but inside that farmhouse, a new light was born — the blend of divine strength and artificial intelligence, human intuition and machine precision.
By the time he leaned back in his chair, the moon was high above Mount Kailash's direction, casting a silver glow over the field. Dilli smiled softly and whispered,
"The body learns through discipline, the mind through data, and the soul through faith. One day, all three will unite."
And as Betal's processors quietly hummed beside him, Dilli had truly begun his evolution — not just as a prodigy, but as a force of destiny.