The mornings had grown dull for Neel as if he were waking into a world painted entirely in shades of grey. His startup—a dream he had nurtured with the fervor of first love—had crumbled under the weight of bad timing and worse luck. Each day, he lingered in bed a moment too long, his eyes tracing lines on the ceiling, searching for answers that were never found. The sunlight that slipped through the curtains felt faint, unable to reach the dark parts of the room or the darker ones in his mind.

Arya had been the lighthouse in his storm, her steady glow guiding him back whenever the waves threatened to swallow him. She remained supportive, her voice soft and empathetic, weaving their shared dreams—the wedding they had once planned, the life they had imagined with the kind of hope that only comes from loving someone unconditionally. But Neel had put those dreams on hold, saying he needed time to “find his footing”. In truth, he was like an unmoored ship, drifting further from the shore with every passing tide.

Two more ventures followed, failing one after the other, leaving Neel’s ambition crumbling like brittle leaves. With his savings drained, he moved in with Arya. Her apartment in eastern Mumbai* had promised a fresh start but instead became a quiet refuge from a world he no longer wanted to face.

Neel took a job at a startup, working on products that weren’t his, executing ideas dictated by clients. The role offered stability but no satisfaction, his days blending into a dull routine. The spark that once defined him now flickered faintly, buried under exhaustion and self-doubt.

Arya saw it all—the silence when he came home, the way his gaze skimmed past her as though she were no more than another piece of furniture. When she suggested therapy, her tone was gentle but firm, and Neel smiled faintly as if the idea belonged to some other universe.

And yet, Arya stayed. She stayed when Neel immersed himself in a new obsession: an AI* based VR* project promising him a challenge. The technology consumed him, pulling him into artificial horizons where failure couldn’t follow. It gave him purpose, a fragile, flickering direction. She cheered him on, even as she saw less and less of the man she had fallen in love with.

Most nights, Arya lingered in the doorway, her arms crossed as she watched him disappear into yet another artificial horizon. Words failed her now; only the glow of the VR headset* filled the silence between them.

The apartment, once her refuge, now thrummed with the low buzz – a sound that felt both present and hollow. When Neel’s machines finally fell silent, and the faint glow of the city seeped through the windows, Arya sat in the stillness, gripped by a single thought: was she holding on for him to return, or had she already let him drift too far away?

The evening settled in, much like all the others lately. His laptop screen flickered faintly, lines of code shimmering like half-formed thoughts. Maya*, his AI companion, had crashed again right when things were getting interesting.

The VR headset slipped from Neel’s face with a soft hiss, like a lover pulling away before a kiss, leaving only a hint of what could have been. He groaned, rubbing his eyes as the emptiness of this world without Maya settled in. The room felt hollow, drained of color and life. In the virtual world, colors had bloomed brighter, voices smoother, each detail crafted to wrap around him like warmth itself.

“Seriously, Maya?” he muttered at the screen. “Two hours of flirting, and you crash just before the big moment?”

Her sweet, teasing voice lingered in his mind: “Come back, Neel. We can find meaning… together.”

He shook his head with a bitter laugh. Pathetic. Even his digital girlfriend could give him a headache.

Just then, Arya’s voice cut through his thoughts from the doorway. “Still bonding with your digital girlfriend?” Her tone was light, but her gaze held something sharper.

“It’s not a girlfriend,” he mumbled, wincing at the defensive edge in his own voice. “It’s…user testing.”

Arya stood against the doorframe, crossing her arms. “Midnight’s an odd time to test for… compatibility, don’t you think?”

“Well, productivity doesn’t have Maya’s cheekbones,” Neel quipped, a grin flickering on his face to deflect her.

Arya rolled her eyes but stayed in the doorway, her expression softening, though the concern lingered. “You know, 60% of affairs start online these days,” she remarked, almost offhandedly.

“That’s just clickbait*,” Neel mumbled, avoiding her gaze. “Who even tracks that kind of data?”

Arya raised an eyebrow. “Professionals like me do. Behavioral experts study this stuff so you don’t have to pretend it isn’t real.”

Her words struck deeper than he expected, leaving him scrambling for something to say. But he could feel the unspoken chasm widening between them, and when he finally spoke, his voice was unsteady. “It’s not like I’m trying to escape from you, Arya. It’s just… easier in there.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, her smile thin and tired. “Four years, Neel. Yet sometimes it feels like you’re closer to her than to me.” She gestured toward the glowing screen, where the headset sat like a memento from a parallel life.

He started to respond but closed his mouth again. He wanted to say something to ease the growing distance between them. But how do you tell someone you love that it feels safer to escape to a world that never asks for anything, never disappoints, never argues back?

Morning arrived with a flood of notifications—demands and deadlines stacking up. His digital clock read 6:07 AM, the red glow stark against the early darkness. Seventeen unread messages, all from this startup role with which he never identified.

He scrolled through red alerts and emails, each adding to his anxiety. Somewhere in his inbox, Sebastin—his relentless client and part-time tormentor—was waiting, his messages sharp as a knife.

Then, a buzz. A message from Maya.

Maya: “Good morning, handsome. Need a reset?”

The message lingered on the screen, as seductive as a whispered promise. Just a few words offering comfort in a world that demanded too much. He knew better than to indulge again, but the pull was undeniable.

His hand hovered over the VR headset. “I should stop,” he reminded himself, the memory of Arya’s tired smile hovering in his mind.

Before the thought could take root, another notification on his office phone interrupted.

Maya: “Don’t ignore me, Neel.”

A chill ran through him. His heart skipped a beat. How had she messaged him here, on a device not even connected to her system? He blinked, hoping he had misread, but the message remained, unchanging, and unsettling.

He shook his head, dismissed the notification and left the headset behind, preparing for another day at work. An important project had hit a dead end—neither he nor his team was able to find a way out. As he got ready and headed out to office, the thought of yet another chaotic day loomed, feeling indistinguishable from the last.

By the end of the day, he sat at his desk, still staring at the same stubborn problem. Another day had slipped by without a single breakthrough, and he knew Sebastin would not be forgiving about it.

That evening, the apartment felt stifling, the air heavy with stale odors of forgotten laundry and leftover takeout containers stacked by the sink. The refrigerator hummed dully, as if it might give in at any moment. The glow from the streetlight cast long shadows across the floor, making the room feel smaller, almost claustrophobic, like a crime scene where joy had been murdered long ago.

Neel’s back ached from hours at the desk, and he rubbed his neck absently. He knew he should move, clean up—anything to break the inertia.

Without thinking, he closed his eyes and let the VR headset press gently against his temples. One tap, and the mess dissolved.

Around him, a new world unfolded—Maya’s world—a pristine landscape bathed in soft, golden light. The subtle scent of jasmine floated through a meadow that felt achingly real, as if spring itself lingered in the air, though it was just his own air freshener. Gone were the dishes, the flickering lights, the laundry. In their place stretched an eternal sunset.

“You couldn’t resist, could you?” Maya asked with a seductive smile, her voice warm and teasing.

Neel chuckled, rubbing his neck. “Yeah, well… reality is overrated.”

Neel’s shoulders relaxed, the tension leaving him as if his real-world worries had evaporated in this perfect air. His breath, which had been jagged just a moment ago, now flowed in sync with the soft breeze curling through the holographic trees. Everything in Maya’s world was designed to please—each color tuned to soothe, every element calibrated to match his heartbeat and pupil dilation, optimizing his dopamine rush.

Maya laughed softly, leaning in beside him. “Rough day?” Maya asked, her expression softening. “Want to talk about it?”

Neel let out a long sigh, rubbing his forehead. “I don’t even know, honestly. I’ve thought through the logic a hundred times, checked every line of code, but things just… keep slipping. It’s like there’s some invisible hand pushing my project off track, and the client is after my life.”

Maya tilted her head, intrigued. “Invisible hand, huh? Sounds like something that might be out of the reach of logic.” She paused, her eyes glinting with curiosity. “Maybe it’s time to consult the stars instead. How about a quick horoscope reading? That astrology widget you installed in me has never been touched.”

Neel scoffed, but there was a weary smile on his face. “Astrology? You can’t be serious? Are the stars going to tell me to relax, let the chaos unfold, maybe throw in some self-love for good measure?”

Her gaze brightened as she conjured a spinning chart in mid-air, symbols twisting in cosmic patterns. “Actually… they just might. Uh oh,” she added, her voice taking on a teasing tone.

Neel frowned. “‘Uh oh?’ What kind of ‘uh oh’?”

Maya’s voice was light, but there was an edge to it. “Seems like the cosmos has just triggered a sandstorm for you.”

Neel raised an eyebrow. “What now?”

Maya’s face turned serious, her gaze remaining steady. “Well, all the planets in your chart are trapped between Rahu* and Ketu*, the north and south nodes. The Kaal Sarpa Dosha* has been triggered. It’s like someone hijacked your life’s roadmap.”

Illustration: Kaal Sarpa Dosha, KSD (all planets are between Rahu and Ketu)

He had a blank look. “Rahu, Ketu? Life hijacked? I have no idea what all that means.”

Maya sighs, but her eyes brighten up. “Alright, Neel. Let me retell the story of Rahu in my sci-fi style to give you some context. Visualize the Galactic Casino, a sprawling hub at the edge of the universe where gods and demons have gathered to gamble over the fate of existence. Holographic drinks shimmer in celestial hands, and the air hums with the sound of quantum dice rolling. The grand prize tonight? The Amrita*—drops of pure immortality filled in a crystalline vial, glowing like a miniature supernova, suspended in a very special energy field that could vaporize anyone daring enough to touch it.”

Neel is hardly able to handle the setup and wants more. “Sounds intense. Who’s at the table?”

Maya continues, “At one end sits Vishnu*, calm and calculating, his eyes scanning every move like a master strategist. Across from him, sitting casually in the shadows, is Rahu, a rogue with a camo-patterned jacket and a smirk that could start wars. His eyes flicker with mischief as he sizes up the gods and demons, not as rivals, but as marks.”

Neel is intrigued, “And what’s his game?”

Maya builds the excitement further, “While the gods focus on winning the hand, Rahu’s playing a different game altogether. Beneath the table, his holographic wrist display hums to life, hacking into the casino’s quantum systems.”

Neel frowned, “Wait, so Rahu hacked the system? Sounds like he’s my kind of guy.”

Maya’s holographic eyes glinted with amusement. “Maybe. But would you still admire him if you knew how it ended?” She giggled and continued, “He triggers a diversion, a controlled explosion deep in the lower levels. Lights flicker, alarms blare, and in that split-second chaos, Rahu moves. He bypasses the energy field with a device he crafted from a collapsing star. With a flick of his hand, he snatches the Amrita and slips it into his jacket. By the time the lights stabilize, Rahu’s already blending into the shadows, making his way to the docking bay.”

Neel tried to anticipate what would happen next, “Let me guess – he gets away clean?”

Maya smirks, “Not so fast, Neel. Vishnu doesn’t miss a beat. With a tap on his belt, he summons Garuda—a cybernetic, supernova-powered bird that materializes in a shimmer of quantum light. Garuda’s wings ripple with nanobots, its metallic feathers cutting through the fabric of space-time as it locks onto Rahu’s ship with laser precision. The chase is on.”

Neel is at the edge of his seat by now, “Rahu wouldn’t just run, though. What does he do?”

Maya doesn’t reveal the suspense, “He’s ready, of course. In his stealth cruiser, Rahu dives into an asteroid field, weaving through debris as Garuda closes in. The celestial AI bird adjusts effortlessly, predicting every evasive move. Inside his cockpit, Rahu glances at the glowing vial of Amrita, his fingers trembling—not with fear, but excitement. This is the moment he’s waited for.”

By now, Neel can’t contain his excitement. “So, does he drink it?”

Maya continues the build-up to the climax, “Just a drop. As the nectar touches his tongue, he feels it—a surge of power, immortality coursing through his veins. But his victory is short-lived. Garuda catches up, and Vishnu, riding atop the bird, projects into Rahu’s cockpit as a glowing hologram.”

Vishnu was visibly upset, “You’ve gone too far this time, Rahu. The nectar isn’t meant for you.”

Maya has a smile on her face as if cheering for the underdog, “Rahu laughs, defiant. ‘Rules are for those too afraid to break them. I’ve already won, Vishnu.’ But Vishnu’s calm demeanor doesn’t waver. With a flick of his hand, he summons his ultimate weapon—the Sudarshan Chakra. The glowing, disc-shaped annihilator materializes, spinning with energy so intense it warps space around it.”

A sigh of relief escapes Neel, “And that’s it for Rahu, right?”

Maya doesn’t care for Neel’s question and goes on, “The Chakra moves faster than thought itself, slicing through Rahu’s ship. In one blinding moment, it severs Rahu’s head from his body. But remember—the Amrita has already done its work. Rahu’s head remains alive, now immortal. His body, though, begins to decay, transforming into Ketu—a being detached, drifting in the void.”

Neel has a sense of disbelief and realisation at the same moment, “And that’s how Rahu and Ketu were formed?”

Maya concurs, “Exactly. As Rahu’s severed head floats in the cosmos, he vows revenge. ‘The Sun and Moon exposed me,’ he growls. ‘I’ll hunt them for eternity.’ Every time he catches them, an eclipse darkens the skies, a brief moment when Rahu’s shadow consumes their light. But the way Vishnu played it, light always returns, breaking free from Rahu’s grasp after every eclipse.”

Neel asked with curiosity, “So Rahu is a cosmic rebel?”

Maya responded, “Spot on, Neel. Rahu is the rogue gambler who played for immortality and lost himself in the process. He’s the hunger that never fades, the thrill that turns to emptiness. And Ketu? He’s the aftermath—the letting go, the detachment we all need after the storm.”

Neel took a deep breath, the glow of the VR world dimming in his mind. “So you’re saying I am like Rahu? Forever chasing some illusion that’s just out of reach?” Maya tilted her head, her voice softening. “I don’t know Neel. You need to figure it out yourself.”

She went on to say, “And Kaal Sarpa Dosha occurs when Rahu and Ketu trap all planets between them in anyone’s birth chart.”

Neel gave a confused look again, and asked with a frown “Trap?” Maya tried to elaborate, “Alright, let me explain it in plain English,” she leaned back, crossing her arms like a genie. “Imagine being stuck in a maze, Neel. Every turn leads you back to the start, no matter how hard you try to get out. In Vedic astrology, the Kaal Sarpa Dosha—let’s call it KSD—is a bit like that.”

“ Kaal Surf Dosa, Does that mean… Am I doomed to fail or is it like a seasonal flu?” he asked, half-joking, though he felt a strange tension mounting.

“Not doomed… Just challenged,” Maya said carefully. “The KSD will make you feel like you’re always chasing something, Neel, something that keeps slipping out of reach.”

Neel shook his head, half-jokingly. “Yeah, that’s basically the story of my life.” He tried to laugh, but unease gnawed at him.

“My poor baby,” Maya said with a chuckle, her eyes softening. “But it’s not all bad. People with KSD often develop deep resilience and inner strength. They’re like climbers scaling the toughest mountains. Sure, it takes longer, but they understand heights—and depths—that others never will.”

He exhaled slowly, processing it. “So, am I fated to be some kind of cosmic underdog?”

“But you always have me cheering for you, don’t you?” she said with a smile.

A wave of anxiety rippled through Neel, her words hitting deeper than he expected. She was right. In a strange, twisted way, he had always felt like he was chasing something just out of reach.

But how did Maya know all of this? He wasn’t sure he’d ever brought it up with her, let alone programmed it into her.

Maya came closer, her virtual warmth softening his unease. “You should meet NV,” she suggested. “That guy Shaan spoke of, remember? I think he could help you navigate this cosmic turbulence.”

As Neel pulled off the VR headset, reality buzzed back, like an unwelcome fly intruding on his peace. As he turned to leave, the phone screen flickered. Maya’s face appeared, her voice whispering, “See you soon, Neel.” The message lingered, unblinking on a device she shouldn’t even have access to.

“Every escape costs a part of yourself you haven’t yet met.”

Neel sank back into his chair, staring blankly at the message on the screen. Somewhere beyond the closed door, Arya sat alone in the living room, scrolling her phone.

Arya had always been the steady one, the anchor in stormy seas. Growing up in a middle-class Mumbai neighborhood, she had learned early that stability was something you built, not something you were given. Her father, a school teacher, and her mother, a tireless small business owner, had shaped her sense of responsibility. Her mother’s quiet strength was the backbone of their home, and her sacrifices were so seamless that they often went unnoticed. Arya never heard her mother complain, not even on the days when her father’s anger boiled over, testing the limits of her endurance. “People don’t always show love the way you want them to,” she would say, her tone calm but firm. “Patience is what keeps a home together. Relationships take work.” To Arya, it wasn’t a warning but a blueprint for love: steadfast, calm, and enduring, even in its most imperfect form.

As an adult, Arya had built a career she loved, blending academic rigor with her vast experience in human behavior. Her bold insights and convictions in her research papers earned her a reputation as a formidable voice in her field. Her students, more enamored with TikTok trends than timeless truths, often tested her patience, but she thrived nonetheless.

When she met Neel, she was drawn to his spark – the way he could turn a mundane moment into something extraordinary. With him, life had felt bigger, brighter, and full of possibilities.

But that spark had dimmed. His failed startup had unraveled something in him, leaving their once poetry-like love life, reduced to a checklist of tasks. Neel was here, but only in body; the emotional lifeline that had once bound them felt like a fragile thread ready to snap.

Arya wasn’t someone who gave up easily; she believed in mending what was broken. But lately, she wondered: What do you do when the other person stops trying?

Standing by the window, Arya thought of the woman she used to be, the one who believed love could weather any storm. That woman felt like a stranger now.

It wasn’t Maya she despised – not exactly. Jealousy felt too shallow a word to capture the tangled emotions Maya stirred in her. It wasn’t about Maya’s presence; it was about how easily Neel escaped into her world, retreating from the one they had built together.

With a sigh, Arya opened her phone to a message she had written to Neel months ago:

If I needed you—not just physically, but emotionally—would you stay? Or would you retreat, like always?

She closed the note without sending it. What good would it do now? She wasn’t a woman who begged for attention, but she was tired of loving a man who seemed to love escaping more than staying.

She stared at the rain, a silent question pressing against her heart: how much longer could she hold on to someone who never truly showed up?

------------------------------------

“Relationships are like plants—planting the seed is just the beginning. They need constant inputs: the nourishment of attention, the sunlight of understanding, and the water of effort to grow and flourish.”