In a small, dimly lit room engulfed in darkness,
a middle-aged man sat silently at his gaming desk, the only light coming from his laptop screen.
The time: 4:00 PM.
flashed in bold red letters across the screen.
"Fuck... Fuck... Fuck... Fuck...
Shit...!"
"I've been playing this game for over a year... I've never reached the end. Not just me—no one ever has. Because the moment you die... you start again from the beginning.
I was so close this time... almost at the end. Damn it!"
Frustrated, he shoved his chair back and stormed outside to catch some fresh air.
Chanakya's life was nothing but a string of tragedies.
His parents had died when he was still a child. Though his relatives were willing to take him in, he rejected their help—choosing instead to grow up in an orphanage, determined to live life on his own terms.
He studied relentlessly, earned a scholarship, and got into a good college.
He had no friends. No girlfriend.
But that was fine—because he believed in his path.
After graduation, he secured a decent job. For a brief moment, life seemed perfect.
Then it all fell apart.
He was falsely framed in an illegal business deal.
He lost his job.
His name was smeared in the media.
His degree was revoked.
Everything he had built—gone in an instant.
He thought about ending it all...
But decided to postpone it.
He drifted from game to game, novel to novel, wasting the little savings he had left.
"Life has never been fair to me."
Eventually, he walked to a nearby medical store.
He bought 3 to 4 strips of tablets—all that he could afford.
Bank balance: ₹0.
Back in his room, he crushed the tablets, mixed them in water with honey, and drank it all.
He left a short message for the apartment owner:
His final words, whispered into the emptiness of the room:
"At last... maybe if there's a next life—God, if you're listening—
Don't let me be born into this world again.
Send me to hell if you must. Anywhere but here."