Friday, 11:42 p.m.
Eastern Metropolitan Bypass, Kolkata
The night air was thick with dust and exhaust, the hum of engines fading into the distance.
Amal Ghosh lay on the asphalt, his body twisted, his shirt dark with blood. The faint orange glow of streetlights flickered over his face. Around him, a small crowd had begun to form. Strangers murmuring in half-curious, half-fearful tones, their phone screens glowing like fireflies in the dark.
He couldn't hear their words. The world was dimming, sound draining away like water through cracks. His lips moved once, but no sound came out.
"What... happened to me?"
His thoughts came in broken fragments. "Why... can't I... breathe?"
A sharp, searing pain tore through his chest. He tried to lift his head and saw the black hilt of a knife lodged deep between his ribs. The sight barely registered. His fingers twitched near the wound, then fell limp.
He felt cold.
Then warm.
Then cold again.
The crowd was growing larger, faces bending over him, distant and distorted. Someone was shouting for help; another was filming. None of it reached him.
"My son..."
The words echoed faintly inside his skull. "I should have given him more time... I should have been there for him... Should have spent more time with him..."
His breathing hitched. The ache in his chest wasn't just from the knife anymore; it was heavier, deeper. The kind that comes with all the things left unsaid.
Images flickered: his son's laughter, his small hands stained with birthday cake, and the smell of rain when they used to walk home together. How long had it been since he'd really looked at that boy's face? Since he'd told him he was proud?
The lights above him blurred into one long streak. He blinked slowly, once, twice.
Then, nothing.
After that, silence.
Outside, far beyond the quiet road, the night suddenly became day. A blinding flash tore through the horizon! An eruption of orange and white swallowing the distant skyline.
Kolkata had lit on fire!
Saturday, 12:58 a.m.
Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose International Airport, Kolkata
The airport buzzed with quiet energy, rolling suitcases, sleepy announcements, and the soft hiss of espresso machines.
At a corner table near Gate 7, Soham Dutta stirred his coffee absently. The foam had long since disappeared, leaving faint rings on the white porcelain.
His ticket to London lay on the table beside his passport. Flight AI 268 boards in an hour.
It still didn't feel real.
He'd grown up in a small apartment in Shyambazar, the kind where the ceiling fan rattled louder than the TV. His parents had scraped through every expense to keep him in school, to buy him books, and to make sure his dreams didn't stop at the tram line. And now, he'd done it! A full scholarship to King's College, London.
He smiled to himself, imagining his mother's tears when he called her from England. His father had hugged him silently before leaving for the night shift. His little sister had slipped a folded note into his bag, telling him to "call everyday and eat well."
He took another sip of coffee. The bitter yet sweet warmth settled in his throat.
Then, a tremor.
So faint, he thought he imagined it. The coffee rippled in his cup. A low, distant thud echoed through the terminal.
Soham frowned, glancing around. A few people had noticed too. Murmurs rising, heads turning toward the far end of the hall.
Another tremor, stronger this time. The ceiling lights flickered. Someone shouted, then another.
The ground shook beneath his feet. The tiled floor vibrated like a living thing.
And then came the sound.
A single, deafening roar, metal, glass, and flame colliding in an instant.
The far side of the terminal erupted into orange. A wave of fire tore through the crowd. The glass walls shattered, a storm of light and smoke swallowing everything in its path.
Soham tried to stand, but the blast hit before he could move.
The air itself turned against him, a wall of heat and pressure that slammed into his chest and threw him backward. His head cracked against the floor. The sound vanished; everything went silent except for the ringing inside his skull.
A moment later, the pain came. Sharp, searing, unbearable. His clothes had caught fire. The skin on his arm blistered, curling and blackening before his eyes. He tried to move, to smother the flames, but his body refused to obey. Every breath dragged smoke and ash into his lungs. His throat felt like sandpaper.
He could taste blood, metal, and burning flesh. He screamed, or thought he did, but he couldn't hear it.
The world blurred. The ceiling above was a storm of fire and falling glass. And amid that endless noise, Soham's mind slipped.
Through all the pain, through the smoke, through the fire clawing at his skin, one thought rose above everything else.
"Ma... Baba..."
His mother's hands rubbing oil into his hair before school. Her soft voice calling him "Babu."
His father was fixing the broken fan in the summer heat.
His little sister asleep beside his old textbooks.
The smell of home-cooked rice, the sound of rain on the window, and the comfort of voices that would never reach him again.
A single tear, mingled with ash, tried to roll down his cheek but vaporized midway.
The fire consumed the rest.
In less than a heartbeat, the terminal erupted, glass, steel, and flesh melting into one.
Within moments, the entire airport was ablaze, a roaring inferno tearing through the night. And above it all, the sky of Kolkata burned red!
Then came the sound, a deep, distant rumble that rolled through the night, through streets and rooftops, and through the quiet hearts of sleeping souls.
Saturday, 1:10 a.m.
He stirred in his bed, the vibration faint beneath the hum of the ceiling fan. For a moment, he thought it was thunder until the light came. A strange orange glare slipping through the curtains, dancing against the wall.
Slowly, he sat up, confusion still heavy in his half-awake mind. The streetlights weren't that bright.
He moved to the window, pushed the curtain aside, and froze.
The horizon glowed like molten metal. Distant flames licked the sky, painting the clouds a violent red.
Arnab's heart seemed to stop, his reflection swallowed in the glow.
The city was in flames!