Mrityunjaya Arc
Death usually arrives quietly.
Sometimes it comes screaming.
For a one-year-old child lying motionless on a hospital bed, death had already arrived—or so everyone believed.
The room smelled of antiseptic and despair. Machines blinked, hummed, then slowly fell silent. Doctors stood still, their expressions heavy. One of them finally removed his gloves and shook his head.
"I'm sorry," he said softly.
Kalpana felt the world collapse beneath her feet.
Her son—her only child—lay lifeless. His tiny chest did not rise. His fingers were cold. No cry. No movement. Nothing.
Pratik stood frozen beside the bed. He didn't scream. He didn't cry. His eyes were fixed on his son's face, as if staring long enough could pull life back into that fragile body.
Minutes passed.
No one spoke.
Then—
A sound.
A sharp, desperate cry pierced the room.
The baby wailed.
The machines screamed back to life.
Doctors rushed forward in panic, disbelief etched across their faces.
"He's breathing—!"
"How is this possible?!"
Kalpana collapsed to her knees, sobbing, laughing, praying all at once. Pratik felt his legs give way as reality returned in a violent rush.
Their son was alive.
The doctors had no explanation.
But outside that hospital room, far beyond human hearing, a sacred chant echoed briefly through existence—
a mantra older than time.( Mrityunjay Mantra )
Years Later
"Mom!"
A cheerful voice echoed through a large, well-furnished house.
A ten-year-old boy ran through the living room, nearly tripping over his own feet. His eyes were full of curiosity—too much curiosity for someone his age.
Kalpana looked up from her prayer mat and smiled. "What are you doing now, Mrityunjaya?"
The boy stopped in front of her, tilting his head. "I was thinking."
Kalpana raised an eyebrow. "That's dangerous."
Mrityunjaya grinned, then suddenly grew serious. "Mom… my name means death, right?"
Kalpana paused.
"Mrityu means death," the boy continued, his voice thoughtful. "So does that mean I will die sooner than others?"
Kalpana stood and gently pulled him close. "No, my child."
"Then why did you name me that?" he asked.
Before she could answer, Pratik entered the room.
"That name," Pratik said calmly, "means victory over death."
Mrityunjaya's eyes widened. "Victory… over death?"
Pratik nodded. "Because you defeated death once."
The boy frowned. "That's impossible. People don't come back after dying."
Pratik met his gaze. "Yet you did."
Kalpana knelt beside them. "Your name is one of Lord Shiva's sacred names. And I am a devotee of Shiva."
Mrityunjaya looked at her. "So… I'm special?"
Pratik smiled faintly. "You are."
Kalpana placed a hand on her son's head. "Promise me something."
"What?"
"Pray to Lord Shiva every day. Offer water. Remember him."
"Why?"
"Because that name protects you from places no one can escape."
Mrityunjaya nodded seriously. "I promise."
None of them noticed the faint chill that passed through the room at that moment—as if something unseen had listened.
The Journey
"Dad, where are we going?" Mrityunjaya asked from the back seat of the car.
"To our new home," Pratik replied, his eyes fixed on the road.
"Why so suddenly?"
Pratik didn't answer.
The journey was long. Hours passed. Night fell.
At one point, Mrityunjaya asked to stop. As he stepped out of the car with Amit—the family assistant—something happened that would forever scar his soul.
A truck appeared out of nowhere.
Metal screamed.
Glass shattered.
The car was hit and hurled off the road.
Mrityunjaya turned in horror as the vehicle carrying his parents plunged into a deep ravine.
"Mom—! Dad—!"
He ran forward, screaming, but strong arms held him back.
He watched helplessly.
He watched his world die.
Aftermath
Mrityunjaya did not cry.
Not that day. Not the next.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months.
He stopped speaking.
Stopped smiling.
He stared at the sky every night, whispering words only the dead could hear.
Amit stayed by his side, watching over him, guarding a secret that could cost them both their lives.
One night, under a sky full of stars, Amit finally spoke.
"Your parents are watching you."
Mrityunjaya closed his eyes.
And for the first time since the accident—
he smiled.
A New Name
"You can't go back," Amit said firmly. "Dangerous people have taken everything."
"Then who am I now?" the boy asked.
Amit thought for a moment.
"From today," he said, "your name is Arjun."
The boy nodded.
But deep within him, something ancient stirred.
Death had failed once.
And one day—
it would fail again.