Utopia: The Perfect World

Admitting how weak he truly was, in less than two hours of being awake, his entire day had already turned upside down—all because of a mere ankle sprain. He chuckled dryly, glancing at the clock:

6:25 AM

. With a sigh, he stood up, looking at himself in the mirror, disappointment settling deep in his chest.

Shaking off the thought, he carefully wrapped his swollen ankle with a strip of cloth. His bruised face was a mess, so he pulled on a black disposable mask and threw on a cap, making him look almost sinister—like someone up to no good. But he didn't care. He just needed to leave before anyone in his family saw him like this.

With a limp barely noticeable under the weight of his frustration, he stepped out, leaving earlier than usual. In his haste, he didn't realize the door behind him remained slightly open.

Inside, his little cat, Gurro, sat near the entrance, golden eyes locked onto the small gap. The morning breeze made the door sway just a little, a faint creak breaking the silence. Yet Gurro didn't move. She only stared.

Limping like a wounded grasshopper—no, more like a one-legged flamingo—Arav somehow made it to the bus stop. Normally, he would offer a silent prayer, seven times over, for being born in this quiet, hilly part of India. It was always so peaceful, never too crowded, and the sky stretched endlessly above, filling him with a deep sense of joy.

But today?

"Damn it! These damn mountain slopes! I'm already limping, and if this keeps up, my right calf's gonna turn into a damn boulder while my left stays a twig!" he grumbled, nearly tripping over a loose stone.

Then it hit him.

"Shit! I forgot my gym bag! Today was supposed to be shoulder and legs... but I guess I gotta skip legs," he muttered to himself. But as he turned to head back, a thought flashed through his mind—Wait, I can still train my quads and hamstrings...

Determined, he hobbled his way down the slope, making his way back home. Just as he reached the door, he nearly ran into a family member.

"Hey! Why are you walking like a lame chicken?!"

Arav didn't even glance back. Pretending not to hear, he pushed forward and finally made it to his room. He grabbed his gym bag, about to head out again—until something felt off.

A nagging feeling tugged at his chest.

He looked around.

Something was missing.

His eyes darted across the room. The bed, the study table, the open door...

Then it hit him.

"Gurro...? Where's Gurro?"

His pupils widened as he muttered to himself, "I'm not really responsible for that little kitten. It's not like I domesticated her in the first place. I never imprisoned her—she just stays around, follows me, sneaks into my bed when I don't realize it... She'll come back!"

With that thought, he resumed his climb, a newfound determination in his eyes. But just as he was making his way up again, a voice called out—

"Hey, Aarru! Can you go fetch some grass for the cows?"

He groaned. "Mom, tell that good-for-nothing fat pig to do it! I'm going to college!"

"What?! You can't call my dear daughter a pig! What kind of brother are you? And why are you leaving for college so early? Are you planning to open the gates yourself?"

Before he could respond, a sudden noise cut through the air—a frantic meow, followed by the deep woof of a dog chasing after it.

Aarav's expression shifted as a strange feeling twisted in his gut. He mumbled, "It... it can't be..."

His eyes darted toward the noise, only for his worst fear to unfold before him. Gurro was running for her life, her tiny legs pushing with everything they had. A tree stood ahead—a glimmer of hope sparked in Aarav's chest. She'll make it!

But fate was cruel.

Her underdeveloped paws failed her. She slipped.

Aarav tried to run, but his injured ankle gave out, sending him crashing to the ground.

"Shit! Shit! Shit! STOP!" he screamed.

But the beast of a dog had already caught her. Its jaws clamped down, lifting the tiny kitten like a lifeless rag.

Aarav's hand clenched around a stone, his grip shaking with rage. With all his strength, he hurled it. The rock struck the dog's leg, but it was too late.

The damage was done.

Gurro's small body was torn in half, her lower half barely clinging to the rest. The dog, still gripping his prey, tried to adjust its hold.

Another rock. This time, Aarav's aim was dead on.

The stone crashed into the dog's skull with a sickening crack. The beast collapsed instantly.

But Aarav could barely breathe as his gaze fell on the little cat—her tiny body twitching, clinging desperately to life.

A painful sight.

For an instant, Aarav was totally devoid of all his emotions—he felt nothing but a void. Dragging his body to the kitten's corpse, he held it as the blood dripped all over his hoodie. Suffering with his leg, he somehow got a shovel, took the body to a spot, dug a hole, and buried it.

"Nothing I can do! It's just how the world works. I'm too old to not know that—the survival of the fittest! The stronger devour the weaker!"

He was heading to college, and just as he was about to leave the house, his mother said, "What about the dog? It's still rotting there—poor thing, you killed it! And that kitten... I told you countless times, you committed a paap (sin). It was a wild kitten, it could've taken care of itself. You separated it from its mother!"

Aarav didn't say a word and headed toward the college. Sitting in the bus, memories of Gurro flashed in his mind.

"It wasn't too long ago—just two weeks back—I was taking a walk, watching the night sky from the roof. There was a sense of loneliness in the air, and then I heard a little meow. A tiny kitten, barely bigger than my shoe. I tried to pet it

—'No way, its fur is so soft for something this small!'

I walked again, but it kept following me. It was getting irritating—I almost stepped on it so many times! Then, when I sat in the chair, it climbed up and somehow found its way into my warm coat. I don't know if the kitten was lonely or if it was just chasing warmth..."

(Scenes of the kitten sneaking into his bed flashed in his memories.)

"But it was there when I felt alone!"

Maybe it was my fault to give it that warmth. I should've never brought it into my room. Maybe it would've survived...

Tears surged through his eyes as he hid his face in the bus.

Finally, Aarav made it to college—15 minutes late. As he entered, the entire class, along with the students standing near the front, looked at him, taken aback.

His eyes were bloodshot from crying too much, a streak of dried blood marked his right cheek from the fall, and his lip bore a fresh cut. But it was the blood on his face that stood out the most.

The professor paused and asked, "Aarav, are you… alright?"

Aarav remained silent for a moment.

"Aarav?" the professor called again, concern evident in his voice.

Aarav had already stepped into the classroom. Usually, he was late to class—nothing unusual, considering he had to travel 30 kilometers by bus. He would nonchalantly enter, merely gesturing at the professor before taking his seat. But today… he looked like he had stepped straight out of a crime scene, as if he'd been hit by a truck.

"Aarav!" The professor's voice was louder this time. "What happened to you? Are you alright?"

Snapped back to reality, Aarav responded, "Yes, sir! I'm alright."

"Then what happened to your face? And why are you walking like that, son?"

"Oh… I'm really sorry to interrupt the class, sir, but it's nothing—just a scratch from a fall. You can continue the lecture."

Still numb with emotions, Aarav sat down at a random, unfamiliar bench.

As Aarav sat down, a chubby guy next to him turned to look at him, his eyes shining with excitement.

"You are crazy, dude! How can you act like that? You really are a SIGMA!"

Aarav, still lost in the void, turned his dead eyes toward him—eyes devoid of any light, any emotion.

"What?" His voice carried a slight edge of rudeness. "What are you talking about?"

Usually, Aarav was the type to smile a lot, to joke around with the people around him. But today was different. He had been through something far beyond a mere moment of introspection.

The chubby guy shifted nervously. "I'm sorry… but really, what happened to you? You don't look fine."

Aarav replied, his voice hollow, robotic. "Nothing, really. As I said… I had a bad fall."

Rohan instantly regretted his decision to talk to Arav, but there was no backing out now. He forced a smile and said, "I'm Rohan. I know you're Arav—you're kinda popular!"

Arav, still lost in his own thoughts, barely registered the words at first. Then, with a slow turn of his head, he looked at Rohan with dead, empty eyes.

"Popular?"

A twisted grin crept onto his face—one that sent a shiver down Rohan's spine. Popular? The word echoed in Arav's mind like a bad joke. His routine flashed before his eyes.

Wake up. Run. Eat. Attend class. Eat. Gym. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.

Where in all of that did "popularity" fit?

He leaned in slightly, his voice lower now. "How the hell am I popular?" His grin widened, but there was no humor in it—just something unsettling.

Rohan gulped. He waved his hands frantically, trying to backpedal. "N-no, I mean, people talk about you a lot! Just—just listen for yourself!"

Arav frowned, his senses sharpening. He focused on the murmurs around him.

"Hey, did you see that weirdo again?"

"Yeah, he's always late and walks like a robot."

"And today, he looked like a serial killer. We need to stay away from that guy."

His smirk faded. A dull, heavy emptiness settled in his chest. Of course. This was what he was known for. Not strength. Not discipline. Just another oddity to be mocked.

His fingers twitched slightly before he let out a slow breath and leaned back in his seat, eyes dull once again.

"...Right."

He thought, "Others' opinions are what make us weak—only those who take them seriously suffer. But I'm free from them."

Memories of his past surfaced—being mocked, being pushed around, the laughter that followed. "They don't really care. They're just there for a moment, but in the end, you're always alone. And you will be... till the very end."

But even as he reassured himself, a bitter thought crept in. "I don't think I'm special. I'm nothing. Would it even make a difference if I existed?"

Then—Gurro.

A flash of its tiny body, torn and lifeless.

His chest tightened. "No... I'm worse than nothing. I'm trash. I take responsibility for things I have no strength to protect. I make things worse."

His mind replayed the moment he had fallen, the uselessness of his struggle, the helplessness in his eyes as he reached out but failed.

A deep sadness wrapped around him like chains. He gritted his teeth. Weak. Worthless. Powerless.

That was who I Am!