India: The Legend of Aritra

The ride back home was slower, not because Aritra was tired but because the cool evening breeze carried with it the comforting scent of home. The faint glow of streetlights flickered over the dusty roads of Dakshin Barasat, casting long shadows that danced with the rhythm of his pedaling.

As he reached the familiar gate of his house, he rang the old, slightly rusted bell attached to the front door. Within moments, his mother opened the door, her warm smile lighting up the dim porch more effectively than the flickering bulb above.

"Back already?" she teased, noticing the tired yet satisfied look on his face.

"Yes, Ma. The carrom board surrendered to our awesomeness," Aritra replied with a grin, wheeling his cycle into its usual spot.

After parking his cycle, he slipped off his dusty shoes and headed straight to the bathroom. The cold splash of water on his face felt like a reset button, washing away the day's exhaustion. He changed into a simple cotton t-shirt and shorts, the unofficial uniform of relaxation.

Dinner Time:

The dining table was modest—a wooden structure with signs of wear, but it held countless memories of family meals and conversations. Tonight was no different.

His father was already seated, flipping through an old newspaper, and his mother brought out steaming plates of rice, daal, and leftover mutton curry from lunch, its aroma rekindling Aritra's appetite.

"How was tuition?" his father asked, folding the newspaper.

"Survived Ratan Sir's army camp," Aritra replied, scooping rice onto his plate.

His mother chuckled, "Did he scold you today?"

"Nope. In fact, he asked me to explain tension in class."

"Oh, so you're the teacher now?" his father teased.

Aritra laughed, shaking his head.

"Not yet, but maybe someday."

They chatted about mundane things—school gossip, neighborhood news, and even a debate on whether adding ghee to rice was healthy.

After dinner, Aritra helped clear the table, washed his hands, and headed to his room.

Back to Business:

The Legendary System interface flickered to life as soon as he sat at his desk. The cool glow illuminated his small room, filled with textbooks, notes, and a few random trinkets.

Time to check tomorrow's markets, he thought, navigating through the system. The financial data scrolled like magic:

Apple Inc. projected to rise by 3% Gold prices stable with minor fluctuations Oil futures showing a slight dip… potential opportunity?

Aritra analyzed the trends, made a few strategic decisions, and logged out with a satisfied nod.

But the real battle awaited.

Ratan Sir's Homework.

He opened his notebook, flipping to the assigned pages. The title glared back at him: Work, Energy, and Power.

Alright, let's get this over with, he sighed, picking up his pen.

The first few problems were straightforward, but as the night deepened, so did the complexity. He solved equations, drew diagrams, and occasionally muttered sarcastic remarks about Newton and his obsession with falling apples.

At 11:45 PM, after filling pages with neatly written solutions, he finally put down his pen.

Done.

Leaning back, he stretched, feeling both accomplished and exhausted. The room was silent, the world outside asleep, but Aritra's mind buzzed with equations, dreams, and the quiet thrill of having conquered another day.

He switched off the light, closed his eyes, and drifted into sleep, ready to face whatever tomorrow had in store.