This is Chapter 1 of my book:
1 Dreams to Reality
So there I was, on the edge of the big 1-6, with my thread ceremony just around the bend. That’s like the superhero origin story for us Indian guys, where we're meant to level up in life. Come of age. It's about flipping the script, not just reading it. Like stepping into the shoes of those legendary warriors from our mythology.
But instead of feeling like I was about to unlock some epic power, I had this gnarly knot in my stomach, my hands all clammy on my skateboard. I didn’t even know exactly why but I had some kind of premonition. All I wanted at that moment was to retreat home, to lose myself in the pages of my Ramayana book. Skating through the streets of San Francisco, I could feel the buzz of the city, but inside, I was like a live wire, zapped with this vibe that something bad was brewing.
My heart was going full drum solo, gearing up for some kind of major battle. And right on cue, there came The Boys, with Elias leading the charge. My personal shadows, always creeping closer.
I was stuck on an endless level in their creepy video game. In my head, they'd morph into Ravana from the Ramayana, this mega beast with ten heads, all gruesome and pimpled with horns and green smoke spewing from its nostrils, like something out of a horror flick. I'd be there on my skateboard, pulling off sick moves, firing arrows at its heads. But it was like playing the world's worst game of whack-a-mole. Every time I'd score a hit, another freaky face would just pop right back up.
In this bizarre game, I'd be weaving and dodging, trying to land the perfect shot, but then Ravana would make a play for my treasured stuff —first my Ramayana book, then my backpack, even my Tupperware filled with Ma’s homemade snacks. Next thing I know, I'd be pelted with kichadi – seriously, who weaponizes homemade Indian grub? And then I'd be tumbling, falling into this endless void, deeper and deeper, with "game over" flashing before my eyes. Every. Single. Time.
In the stark daylight, whether at school or in the park, Elias and his gang transformed from nightmarish demons into your garden-variety school bullies. Turning a corner landed me in a graffiti-covered alley with all of them lined up before me. It was like stepping onto a movie set, except the bad guys were real, and I was the unwilling star.
"Eyyy, Arya!" Elias called out, his voice slicing through the air like a knife. What a fake!
With his crooked, gap-toothed smile, Elias was the ringmaster. Hair like a fireball, all wild and untamed, and those cheeks — all scratched up and pimpled, giving him a rakshasa vibe. A demon just stepped out of Lanka itself. His eyes were narrow, almost sinister, like he was always plotting something. And his build? Dude looked like he'd been lifting in Ravana’s own gym, bulked up and intimidating. Just standing near him was like feeling a cold breeze in the middle of summer.
"Hey, guys, check this out!" he called out, catching my attention as I slowed down, then stopped and grabbed my skateboard. He sported that evil mastermind grin, you know, the kind that screams 'I'm up to no good.’
Zak and Jackson, his ever-faithful sidekicks, were all attention, spinning away from me to catch whatever scheme their leader had in store. Zak, looking like he'd just rolled out of a dumpster, and Jackson, skinny as a rail with beady eyes and spindly fingers. That backward Giants cap, it was always glued to his head. And then there was Alec, trying to play it cool but failing miserably, tripping over himself to see what's up.
"What's up, Elias?" Zak chimed in, all eager like a puppy waiting for a treat.
"I've got something fun planned for Arya here,” Elias announced, his grin stretching wider, Cheshire cat-like, but on steroids. Trust me, in his world, 'fun' was the last thing you wanted to be part of.
Bits of his lunch made an unwanted cameo between Elias’ teeth. The whole group burst into laughter, completely unfazed by those snack remnants in his grin. Seriously, it was a toss-up between which was more cringe-worthy – Elias's dental disaster or their blind adoration for him.
As I tried to hustle through the alley, Zak and Jackson moved in like sharks.
"Where are you rushing to, buddy?" Zak sneered, his words dripping with venom.
"Yeah, we heard you're quite the thrill-seeker," Jackson chimed in.
By then my hands were clammy, and I could feel my confidence shaking. I tried to brush off their jeers, aiming to slip past them. But Elias stood in my way, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Come on, Arya, you wouldn't want to miss out on the fun," he taunted. He leaned in with his hot breath grazing my ear.
"What fun?" I shot back, doing my best to sound chill.
“We're heading to Amoeba Records, that record store on Haight Street. You know the one, right?"
Of course, I knew it! Amoeba Records was the Holy Grail of music stores in San Francisco.
"So come on then," he pressed on. "We’ve got a job for you.”
Great, just what I needed. I could almost guess what this 'job' was about.
"A job?" I played dumb.
"A little business opportunity," Elias clarified. "With a share of the profits.”
My mind started racing. They wanted me to pull some heist at the store, didn't they? Typical of The Boys, dragging me into their world of shit.
Stepping back, my voice wavered between fear and defiance. "I'm not doing it, Elias. Count me out.”
Elias's smile turned even more sinister, his eyes shining with a dark thrill. "Oh, come on, Arya. Don't be such a buzzkill. It's just a little adventure. And I said we'll make it worth your while.”
His words hung in the air, thick with unsaid threats and tempting promises. Just another day in their twisted playground.
Trapped in that narrow alley, it felt like the walls were closing in. The Boys were relentless, their mocking words pelting down on me like icy rain on a raw wound. My insides churned with a familiar heat, a volcano ready to blow its top.
“Seriously, Arya?” Elias sneered, making an 'L' for 'loser' sign on his forehead. “Always too scared to take risks."
Zak and Jackson's laughter echoed around, bouncing off the walls plastered with graffiti.
"Yeah, you lack the guts of that curry-munching ten-headed monster from your fairy tales," Zak sneered. "What's his name, Ravana?"
Their comments were poison-tipped darts, but I was determined not to let them see they hit their mark. "I don't lack guts!" I retorted, aiming for a steady tone, yet I could sense the angry quiver in my voice.
"So, you're saying you are like that ten-headed demon, then?" Jackson chimed in. "Show us your 'terrorist' tricks, maybe some fire-breathing for effect!" Smug in their mockery, he and Zak shared a high-five,
My heart hammered, setting a frantic beat as they circled closer.
"Hey, guys, ease up," I managed I kept my voice even, though inside I was a brewing storm, charged and ready to unleash.
Jackson's smirk widened, his eyebrow arching like he'd just heard the funniest joke. "What even is the Ramayana? Some Brownie bedtime story about demons and monkeys?”
My face heated up, bubbles of anger boiling inside me and ready to explode. The ignorance! "It's not just some bedtime story, you clueless idiot. It's an epic mythology, a legacy of tales handed down through generations. And trust me, it's got more in common with you guys than you'd ever admit.”
Elias burst into laughter. "Mythology, huh? Sounds more like a bunch of nonsense. All this demon-monkey foreign stuff is just plain stupid, right?”
Screw you, Elias! I bit back the urge to yell. The Ramayana might not be on everyone's reading list, but it was my thing. To me, Prince Ram was the OG superhero, way cooler than any comic or movie hero these guys worshipped.
"Stories, dude! They're meant to open our minds. Show us different perspectives, explore new cultures. How's it that your pea-sized brain can't wrap around that?”
“How’s it that your pea-sized brain get that these monkey stories aren't our jam?" Out of nowhere, Athena and her minions stepped into the mix. She’d been waiting for her cue.
"They're not monkeys okay, they're vanaras, a mix between a man and an ape,” I corrected, my fists clenched so tight I could feel my nails digging into my palms.
"Whatever!" Athena dismissed with a snort. “It’d make a great TikTok!”
Athena always knew how to make an entrance. Her wavy hair, straightened to perfection, and her makeup, always on point like a viral TikTok beauty tutorial. She had this vibe that made everyone stop and stare. But beneath that stunning exterior, her overconfidence often came off as arrogance, leaving you feeling scorched.
As they all laughed and mocked, I stood there, fuming, yet somehow, amidst their laughter and sneers, I felt a strange sense of pride for my heritage. These stories, my stories, they were part of who I was, and no amount of mockery could take that away.
"Yeah! And Arya, the new demon of Golden Gate High!" Athena laughed, her chuckles spreading like wildfire among her crew.
Her words cut deep. That laughter was like acid, burning every time. But I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of seeing me lose it. I reminded myself, "Stay cool, Arya. Don't let them get to you."
But staying silent was like rolling out the red carpet for Athena. “So where is this epic Ramayana book?”
She dove into my backpack like it was her own treasure chest, rummaging through my stuff.
"Seriously Athena!” I snapped, my words like daggers. "Back off my stuff!"
But it was like talking to a wall. Athena thrived on this, her mean-girl act as predictable as the sunrise.
"What do we have here?" she smirked, yanking out my Ramayana. My heart sank to the bottom of my insides.That book was more than just pages; it was a piece of my heritage A gift from my Ma.
"Give it back!" I blurted out, the heat rising inside me.
"Fat chance!" Athena shot back, her voice low and taunting. "How now, Ravana?”
I looked away, trying to ignore her over-the-top performance and her minions who were eating it up, cheering and clapping like they were at a rock concert.
"Daaaamn, Athena!" Elias joined in, his voice thick with mock admiration. He turned to me, eyes twinkling with malice. “Looks like you're outta luck, Arya!"
I scanned our surroundings to spot a figure lingering at a distance. Saara, her chestnut-highlighted hair catching the sun's rays, and her porcelain face etched with worry. She always seemed to be around when things went south. Her expression was full of disdain, especially for Athena and The Boys. She had this x-ray vision for their fakeness.
Earlier at school, just that afternoon, Saara’s dismissive eye catching Athena’s display of histrionics in history class, had whispered over to me, "Seriously, what's the deal with her?" Her annoyance was obvious as she watched Athena bask in her circle of admirers.
I could only shrug. "I don't get it either. It's like they're under some kind of spell or something."
Saara gave me this look, a mix of sympathy and frustration. "Every girl wants to be Athena, every guy wants to date her. But honestly, it's like they're following a script she wrote herself.”
Glancing back at Athena, who was soaking up the attention like a star, I muttered, "Yeah, some people will do anything for the spotlight.”
Saara and I shared a look of mutual understanding. Athena's thirst for attention was no secret to us, but confronting it was a battle for another day.
And speaking of attention, I turned mine back to Athena.
"Give it back!" I said, fighting the urge to launch my phone at her.
Athena, in her usual style, flipped through my Ramayana book, oozing arrogance. Her smirk was nothing but a neon sign, flashing delight in my discomfort.
"Give it back, or I'll..." I started.
"Or you'll what, dude?" Athena cut me off, her voice thick with sarcasm.
Elias joined in, "Hey, if you want it back, you gotta play our game.”
Confused and angry, I asked, “What game?"
Elias smirked, "You don't want to be a loser, do you?”
I looked at Athena, but she just shrugged indifferently.
"What he said, dude!" Zak and Jackson snickered, their laughter goading me on. They were challenging me, daring me to break their mold of the shy, easy target they thought I was.
I glanced at Saara, who shook her head from afar, mouthing, "Don't do it, Arya! It's not worth it.”
But they had my prized epic. My Ramayana, my connection to my roots. And I had to get it back, no matter what.
My fists tightened, a fiery resolve building up inside me. No more being the punchline of their jokes. It was time to show them what I was made of.
Staring down Elias, I asked through gritted teeth, "You want to see me take risks? Fine. What's your challenge?”
"A vinyl," Elias replied, his grin all smug and sly.
"Which one?”
"Carmen. The opera one. Fetch it, and we'll flip it for a quick buck.”
Without waiting for another word, I took off, leaving them in shock. My heart pounded as I raced through the busy streets of San Francisco, dodging people until I burst into Amoeba Records.
I was on a mission, barely noticing the genres of music passing me by. My goal was clear: snag a copy of the coveted Carmen vinyl, a collector's dream. It shone under the neon lights, my ticket to shutting up Elias and his gang.
My heart thumping in my ears, I grabbed the vinyl, ready to make my bold escape. But just as I was about to scoot over to the exit, a loud voice boomed, “Gotcha!"
Caught in the act, my plan crumbling, I turned to face the music. Both literally and figuratively. Someone loomed over me, the security guard probably, his expression stern. My mind raced with thoughts of how to explain this, how to get out of this mess. It was one thing to stand up to bullies, but another to cross the line into something that could change my life forever.
But then as I looked closer, I recognized that ‘someone’. This was no security guard. It was Niklas, the janitor from our school, peeking at me from the adjacent aisle. I froze. What were the odds of running into him at Amoeba Records? My luck, it seemed, had a weird sense of timing. Niklas looked like he'd just hit the jackpot, finding a high school kid moonlighting as an opera enthusiast.
"He performed it at San Francisco's symphony hall," Niklas said with a kind of excitement that was almost too much. But why was he here, in this record store? I nodded along, trying to act interested. Then, with my brain in overdrive, I planned my next move.
"Niklas, I need your help," I cut in. I seized a moment of pause in his enthusiastic ramble.
"Anything, boy," he replied, something odd flickering in his eyes. 'Boy'? That seemed off.
"I thought your only job was at school. Since when do you work here?" I asked. My curiosity piqued but I was more focused on leveraging this unexpected encounter.
"We've all got jobs to do. Mine is to help folks like you," Niklas said, cryptically. What the heck did he mean by that? But I didn't have time to figure it out.
So I spun this wild tale, hoping to grab his attention.
"I'm on the hunt for this epic music piece—a mix of Italian opera and classical Indian beats. It's a total banger! Saw it in the World Music section before, but it vanished.” Niklas bit the bait, eager to assist.
“A real banger, huh? I'll find it for you," he said, winking as he walked away to search. That wink made me uneasy, but I had bigger fish to fry. I quickly hid the Carmen vinyl under my jacket and made a beeline for the exit. The alarm beeped as I dashed out, but I was already on my skateboard, speeding towards Golden Gate Park.
Breathless, I slowed down ten minutes later. No one was chasing me – no angry store clerks, no cops. I pulled out the vinyl, a mix of triumph and disbelief in my chest. Niklas, the janitor, had unwittingly become my accomplice. He wouldn't rat me out; he seemed to understand my need to fit in. "My job is to help folks like you," he had said. I wasn't sure what he meant, but right now, I was just grateful for the escape.
***
Rolling up to the entrance of the park, The Boys were all there, waiting for me. It was a scene straight out of a movie. Elias in front, with Jackson and Zak right by his side. Alec looking disheveled as ever, and the Mission twins, Jet and Mitch, waved their studded bracelets.
They all had this menacing look, rubbing their hands together as if they were about to witness something big. But I wasn't about to let them see any hint of fear in me. I stepped off my skateboard, gripped it and the stolen vinyl like they were shields.
Athena and her crew were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Saara. Right now, it was just The Boys and me with that vinyl, a symbol of my defiance.
Their usual jeers turned to silence, their faces a mix of shock and something like respect. Elias just couldn't believe it.
"No freaking way!" He said. “You actually jacked this from Amoeba Records?”
“Who’s this fat dude with a beard?” Jackson wondered, eyeing the cover.
But it wasn't about the vinyl or the music.Or even who was on the cover. It was the act, the boldness of stealing something from the most iconic record store in the city. I was proving myself, showing them I wasn't just some pushover. Proving I wasn't a dumbass LOSER!
"There, I took a risk. Now, who's the wimp?" I challenged, holding up the vinyl.
Elias, Zak, and Jackson looked at each other, their egos bruised by my daring move. This was my showdown, a moment that might just change everything.
A rush of pride swelled my insides, as I stood up to them, stepping out of the box they had put me in.
I handed over the vinyl, expecting them to give me my book back. Quid pro quo. But Elias just took it with a smirk.
"Smart choice, Arya," he said, though his tone hinted at a hidden agenda. He brandished the record with a victorious flourish. "Check out what he snagged for us!” He swept his gaze over his crew, eyes alight with what had to be silent schemes.
“My book?” I asked.
"Show him," Elias commanded with a snap of his fingers, directing Alec to dangle it tantalizingly over my head.
I reached out, frustration bubbling up inside. This was supposed to be a simple trade, but they had turned it into another game.
Elias held onto the vinyl, pulling my book away as I tried to grab it. "Not so fast, Young Arya. First, we want to see if you're really one of us.”
I stood there, caught in their trap, realizing this was more than just a trade. It was a test, another hurdle to prove myself to them. And I had walked right into it.
The anger that had been simmering within me finally erupted. "Enough freaking games," I shouted, making another grab for my book. But Elias and his gang were quicker, dodging my attempts. In the scuffle, they snatched the book away from me, and I could only watch as its pages scattered on the ground.
Elias approached me with an eerie calm, while Zak and Jackson encircled me with malice in their eyes. Their taunts and jeers intensified, filling the park with their bitter chorus.
“Leave me alone,” I said, trying to keep my composure, but my blood was boiling.
“What? Missing your story date with demons and monkeys?” Elias sneered, his grin infuriating me further.
I couldn't hold back any longer. “Dumb shit!" I yelled, clutching my skateboard hard.
"I'll show you who's the dumb shit," Zak shot back, grabbing for my skateboard and catching me off guard.
“Piss off!” I lunged at him in frustration.
“What’d you say?” Jackson bellowed, his voice booming through the park.
Trapped against the mural-covered wall by the four of them, I felt their threatening presence weighing down on me. “Arrr-yaaa insulting me?” Zak mocked.
Damn my name! It followed me wherever I went, an unshakable reminder of expectations and heritage. Ma insisted that "Arya" was a name steeped in privilege, tracing its roots back to India's ancient Sun Dynasty. Sure, at home, it might be a symbol of honor, but to The Boys, it was merely a tool they used to constantly belittle me.
"You need to uphold your deal. Give me back my book and my skateboard," I demanded, trying to maintain a shred of dignity.
"Yeah?" Elias sneered. "You don't know anything!”
Jet, with a cruel laugh, threw my book bag against the wall. Alec, flipping through my Ramayana, looked at me with pure disdain. Zak and Mitch grabbed me, their grips like iron.
A pressure cooker ready to explode, I'd endured their torment for too long.
This wasn't just about the book or the skateboard anymore. It was a physical showdown of all the bullying I'd endured for weeks. I wasn't going to back down. Not this time.
"Get off me!" I roared, struggling against their grip with every ounce of my might. Their clasp bit into my skin, but it only stoked my fury. I was determined not to be broken, not now, not ever.
Yet, the harder I fought, the firmer their grasp grew, relentless and unyielding. Elias, fueled by fury, crushed my skateboard underfoot, splintering it, as Jackson captured the moment, mockingly urging me to "say cheese."
Seeing my skateboard shattered tore at my heart. It wasn't just a board; it was an extension of myself, a gift from my Pa, embodying freedom and happiness. The anticipation of riding it with fresh wheels had been a beacon of joy.
Inspired by the indomitable spirits of the Ramayana's heroes, I summoned my resolve. Channeling their bravery, I slipped out of Zak and Mitch's grasp, catching them off guard as I dodged away.
Alec, holding my book, was visibly startled. "What's so special about this dusty old book anyway?" he scoffed.
"It's more than you'll ever understand," I retorted. "It's my heritage, my family's legacy. You wouldn't get it.”
Out of nohwere, Athena emerged, her arrogance on full display. "Aw, it looks like little Arya has finally found his backbone," she sneered, dripping with condescension. But her words no longer had power over me. "Laugh all you want," I shot back, "You don't define me.”
Zak, spurred on by the camera, made a grab for me, but I was faster, landing a kick that allowed me to break away.
Adrenaline pumping, I bolted from the park, the shouts and jeers of The Boys fading behind me. I dashed through Golden Gate Park, my breathing heavy, vowing not to let them catch up.
As I navigated San Francisco's streets, I didn't dare glance back. The resolve to preserve my dignity drove me onward, each step a testament to my refusal to be broken.
Reaching our home, I was breathless. I fumbled for my keys, rushed inside, and slammed the door. Leaning against it, my body shook from the weight of the confrontation.
In that moment, standing in the safety of my home, I realized something important. No matter what they said or did, they couldn't take away who I am. My heritage, my stories, my name - they were parts of me that no one could destroy. I had stood up for myself, and that had to a victory in its own right.
—-
Wiped out from the epic showdown with The Boys and the insane escape that followed, I just crashed on my bed. My breathing was all over the place, heart still doing the 100-meter dash. The craziness of the day weighed on me like a ton of bricks, but I couldn't let it mess with my head too much.
Shutting my eyes, I was desperate for some zen moments to scrub away the day’s chaos. But no luck. Sleep wrapped its grip around me, pulling me straight into the replay of that nightmare I knew all too well.
Once more, I found myself skating through a vast, haunting rendition of Golden Gate Park. The sky all painted in these spooky shades of crimson and gold, it was a scene from some apocalyptic movie. And who should appear? The big bad Ravana himself, right out of the Ramayana, clutching my beloved book.
Next, it was like round two of a knock-down-drag-out battle in a video game. Me on my trusty board, zipping around, shooting arrows at his monstrous heads. Each one a nightmare – zits, gnarly teeth, the works. But it was like playing a game where you can't win. Knock one head off, and another one's right there, laughing in your face.
"Dreams to reality," Ravana's voice boomed, hurling his shadow like some kind of weapon. It was a full-on collision, sending me spiraling into another bottomless pit.
Waking up with a jolt, I found myself back in my room, drenched in sweat, staring at the posters of Hanuman on my wall. It felt like I'd just returned from a trip to some alternate universe.
Was all that just a dream, or did I somehow step into something way beyond normal? Ravana's cryptic “Dreams to reality” echoed in my head, leaving me with more questions than answers.
Why was I thrust back into that nightmarish abyss? That fear of an endless fall had been my shadow since I was a very young child. And now Ravana seemed to be weaving it back into my reality. Glancing at my phone – it read 5 PM, but it felt like a lifetime had passed. Was this merely a bizarre dream, or had Ravana yanked me into his domain?
Every childhood fear of being lost and winding up alone came crashing back in. I'd been battling those insecurities, trying to prove to myself and everyone else that I was the main character of my own story. Strong, in command, invincible. Yet, this face-off with Ravana shattered that illusion. Suddenly, I was some orphaned kid, feeling all kinds of small and solo. Like I'd lost my way back home.
"Dreams to reality?" I muttered, puzzled by the cryptic words.
Seriously, Why was this mythological villain messing with me? And why did I feel like a pawn in his bizarre game of torment?
I had no idea what any of it meant, but one thing was clear – this was no ordinary nightmare.
