Divyansh Ananthar woke up drooling over his half-eaten oatmeal bowl while the warm ring light still blasted at his face. He had forgotten to turn off his camera while shooting one of his weekly rants, and could only look at his hollow dark brown eyes staring back at him from the monitor.

Divyansh had grown accustomed to the influencer life. He could sleep when he wanted, wherever he wanted. And for him … sleep was the most important part of life. He always had vivid dreams. He would see and feel things that he couldn’t in his ordinary life. Dreams allowed him to fly out of his cosy Mumbai bachelor pad and escape his study that was surrounded by thick dusty books, strange art, unopened hampers and a peculiar musky scent that lingered in the air.

Not a night passed by where he didn’t get vivid dreams. He got to his feet while shaking his arm that had fallen asleep. One look at him and you wouldn’t have believed that he was in the middle of an internet storm. For someone who was being abused left, right and centre for almost a week, ever since he posted the honest rant about his date with a pretentious influencer, he was as calm as the sea after a hurricane.

Divyansh lingered in the kitchen for a while, gobbled two bananas, and strutted across his messy living room to grab his gym bag and boxing gloves. The only thing he loved other than sleeping were his evening boxing sessions. Putting on an old HMT Kohinoor watch on his wrist, which was broken and stuck at 4.54, he walked out of his apartment and took the stairs, while plugging in his earphones and turning on to the comfort playlist he had been listening to for over five years.

Divyansh was pumped up as he rushed down seven storeys – he helped an aunty throw her garbage bags in the bin, smiled at the girl on the second floor who flirted with him sometimes, caught the tennis ball and disturbed the highly contested cricket match between the kids from A and B wings – and was almost dancing as he emerged on the messy street outside. His gym was hardly a five-minute walk away. In fact, everything he needed was at a five-minute walking distance – his favourite cafe, grocery store, library and animal shelter. He loved animals. Dogs, cats, crocodiles – he didn’t differentiate. Humans, not so much. He never got along with people.

And he didn’t really care.

After walking for some distance, he stopped to tie his shoelaces, which had come undone. But when he looked up, his heart skipped a beat. A black Thar was parked in the middle of the street, halting the traffic behind. Seven burly men were sitting inside listening to the latest Punjabi pop, while its owner walked out and stood with crossed arms. He was easily over six-foot-five; strong, bulked up on steroids, and sporting a patchy, uneven beard and a thick wavy moustache that did not compliment his balding head. His punchable face immediately surprised Divyansh.

“Bunty! Hey. Long time no see,” he spoke, carefully taking a step back. “How’re you doing, buddy? How’s the new place? Interiors done?”

Four men got out of the car wielding baseball bats, cricket bats and even a hockey stick.

“Out to play, bro? There are no turfs around here.” Divyansh took a few more steps back. The others zeroed in. “How about I take you out and we sort whatever this is over drinks?”

“Like you took my Aditi out?” Bunty grunted.

“Well … technically she isn’t yours. Women aren’t property anymore, bro. I mean … I was shipping you guys …”

“You insulted her!”

“It was just a rant. C’mon brother, we do this all the time. No harm intended.” Divyansh held on to his gym bag and planted his feet firmly on the ground. The sharks were sniffing blood.

“The harm … will begin now,” Bunty fumed.

“Bro, we don’t want to do anything stupid and end up in jail, right?”

“I don’t care. My father will bail me out. Who will take care of you when you don’t even have one?”

“Ouch. So creative … never heard that one before,” Divyansh said while looking around, his mind conjuring up routes he could take to get to safety before the onslaught began. “This following you flaunt … this internet fame … they don’t like you …”

“Like Aditi never liked you?”

“Funny. Remember this … because it will be too late by the time you realise it yourself. They follow you … because they want to see you fall.”

With that, Bunty and his boys lunged at him. Divyansh bolted instinctively and took a narrow lane. He ran as fast as his feet could carry him, jumping over the metal buckets and litter boxes and rusty pipes running across. The lane restricted his enemies as they had to chase him one by one. He was quick – genuinely quick, seasoned by a lifetime of running away from responsibilities.

Bunty instructed two men to take another alley and converge ahead as the street dogs barked and chased after them. Meanwhile, Divyansh was almost floating through. Not only was he lightning fast, he could sense the obstacles coming and navigate around them easily. His dark, wavy, tousled hair bounced from the constant movement. His intense brown eyes darted from side to side. It helped that he was muscular and lean, tall and athletic. Speed … had always been his only ally.

But then he emerged from the other side and found two of Bunty’s men charging at him. He ducked to miss the bat swing of the first one, while the other held on to his gym bag and pulled him. His fist cracked Divyansh’s ribs the very next second, sending a surge of pain throughout his body.

Excerpted with permission from Mahabharat 2025: The Secrets of Shunya, Divyansh Mundra, Penguin India.