The night before her Science exam, Banni should have been revising chemical equations and biological terms. But her heart wasn't only in her books anymore.
The Magical Space had given her focus.
But now… she wanted to use it for something deeper.
Something that had been weighing on her all week.
Her uncle's family.
---
She sat by the window, staring at the quiet street. In the distance, the noise of a late-closing hotel echoed faintly — ladles clanging, someone shouting an order, a scooter revving and leaving.
That hotel.
One of many in the street.
All selling the same things.
Crowded menus. Non-veg dishes. Offers and combos.
But Banni saw what others didn't.
The future wasn't here.
Too many similar hotels.
Too much competition.
And fewer people eating out as the world changed — health, money, trust — everything was shifting.
Her father's brother, Ramesh Appa, wanted to restart again.
Another non-veg hotel?
No.
Banni knew — her father would never say no, even if it meant burning through their savings again.
She couldn't let that happen.
Not this time.
She closed her eyes and whispered:
> "Activate Magical Space."
A soft hum, a golden glow.
She entered the room of thought, the center of her mind and memory.
"Can I warn them… through a dream?" she asked softly.
The system responded immediately, the voice smooth and sure:
> "Yes, Host. A guided dream vision can be delivered to both your father and his brother. Emotional tone will be kept calm. Fear will not be used. Only clarity and visual foresight."
> "What do you want them to see?"
Banni replied without pause:
> "A street full of hotels. Empty chairs. High rent, low income. One hotel shutting down. Another losing staff. A silent morning where the bills pile up and no customers walk in. But also… show a simple shop. A grocery store, or a tiffin center — something small but steady. Show that as an alternative."
> "Let them wake up with a quiet thought — not fear. Just a strong instinct to rethink."
> "Deliver it tonight."
> "Softly."
> "Affirmed."
While Banni calmly revised diagrams and definitions for her Science exam that night, another storm was rising—far from her, but because of her.
Her cousin tossed and turned in his sleep, uneasy. Restless.
And then, the Magical Space Dream began.
But this time, it wasn't just flashes of memory.
He stood on a college campus, wearing the same old denim shirt, a cigarette in hand. He was laughing, careless, bunking lectures, picking fights. Friends surrounded him—faces full of mischief and shallow praise.
But slowly, those faces faded.
And so did his future.
He watched himself lose track of time. Of ambition. His degree slipped through his fingers like sand.
And all the while, his uncle's business was collapsing. Like a leaking boat no one cared to patch. His younger cousin—the boy who should've been studying—was instead carrying the family on his back.
While he did nothing.
Next came his sister's wedding.
It should have been a time of celebration.
But there was no joy in that memory. Only pressure. Debt. And shame.
He had no savings, no job, nothing to offer. So his uncle sold the only land he had to cover the marriage costs.
And it didn't stop there.
The girl—his sister—was once the bright light of the house. Kind, intelligent, graceful.
But marriage to Mama's son—a cold, calculating match—changed everything. The groom's side demanded a heavy mangalsutra which shouldhave been given by them in name of they just built house it will be difficultfor them to do that. That demand came directly from his mama's wife (Atte).
And what did that chain buy?
Chains of suffering.
He watched, helpless, as his sister transformed.
No love. No space. No kindness.
For 1 year and 8 months, she lived like a ghost. Her in-laws broke her piece by piece. Her husband ignored her presence. She cried behind locked bathroom doors but still made breakfast the next morning with a smile that wasn't real.
When she finally filed for divorce, it wasn't rebellion—it was self-rescue.
By the time she got her legal freedom, she was thirty-five.
Not because she had waited too long.
But because they made it that hard.
His own brain tumor.
No degree. No career. No savings.
Nothing but silence and shame.
And yet—she took care of him. That same sister. The one he had failed.
She gave him medicine. She sat beside him. She smiled when he didn't deserve it.
She never blamed him. Not once.
Then the dream shifted.
He stood in front of a mirror.
A pale, dull face stared back.
No light. No name. No respect.
Not a man. Not a leader. Just… a burden.
He fell to his knees in the dream.
Broken.
"Why are you showing me this?"
"Am I really this useless?"
And then—
He woke up. Gasping. Drenched in sweat.
The ceiling fan creaked softly.
The room was unchanged.
But he wasn't.
He sat on the edge of the bed, holding his chest, breathing hard. That dream wasn't fading.
It was carved into him now.
He didn't know where to begin.
Didn't know how to fix everything.
But for the first time in years…
He wanted to.
The sun rose slow and gold that morning, brushing across rooftops and drying the dew.
In the narrow hall of their home, Banni's father sat sipping tea beside the window, staring into nothing in particular. His eyes weren't tired — they were still. Thoughtful.
A few streets away, in a rented room behind another aging house, Ramesh Appa sat on a folded mat, tying his towel absentmindedly around his shoulder. He hadn't even looked at his phone yet.
Both men had woken from dreams that didn't feel like dreams.
They were too sharp. Too clear.
They hadn't seen gods or omens.
They had seen truth — visions of hotels failing, unpaid rent, stacked losses. And beside it, a quieter path. A better one.
Later that morning, without drama, Ramesh Appa arrived.
No excuses. No long explanations.
Just two cups of coffee on the table, and the sound of a ceiling fan slicing the heat.
After a few minutes, he spoke first.
> "What if… I give up the hotel?"
Banni's father looked at him silently, waiting.
> "Not abandon it. Sell it. Hand it over properly. Use the amount to open something else. Small. A grocery shop. I've already seen two possible spots. One near the government quarters."