Chapter 56 - The Chakravyuh

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A tattooed hand reached Sid's shoulder, then clutching him by the nape. If a stranger had done by this, a chill would've trickle down through the boy's spine. But it was Ronit's hand, who was spitting some words of encouragement.

"If we play our cards right, kid, you'll be viral. You'll be big, also earn a heck of money," he said and manifested a pursed-lip smile.

Sid didn't respond quickly, not because he was out of words, but his mind was preoccupied. "You know," he voiced his real intention, arms folded across his chest. "It's not about the money, it's the message I want to get through."

The grin on Ronit's face made his teeth look like bright diamonds (maybe because of his constant habit of having chewing gum). "Hey, hey, hey. Some big words are coming outta ya mouth." The spin doctor winked at Sid and made a thumb and forefinger circle.

Sid set foot ahead and walked up to the participants' corner. He grabbed a seat behind the first row and heaved a sigh of relief to know nobody eyeballed him. The boy shot a glimpse at fellow participants and a sweep of embarrassment plastered on his face. He was the only teenager among these bunch of middle-aged, dowdy, debaters!

A fellow debater pointed his finger at the representation booth. Sid's eyes travelled from the finger to the booth. "You have to register your faith first," he said.

The boy went to the booth to get this thing done. A faint smile curled corner of his lips, how do you register your faith? Although what he follows was not just a simple act of worship for him but the journey of a lifetime, something that he didn't believe blindly, and moved heaven and earth to realize its truth. Maybe this is what he'll try to ingrain in everyone's psyche. If we play our cards right, kid. Ronit's words replayed in his mind.

"Name?" The spiky hair executive at the representation booth asked.

Sid sucked in cold air before speaking. "Siddhant Kothari."

"Religion?"

The question landed him on the horns of a dilemma. He wasn't fond of calling himself a religious person, was he? But at this point, he was representing religion in public's eyes. A lump formed in his throat and it retracted the words to come out. "Hindu, no! Krishna, I mean. Krishna—uh—ism."

The executive, who didn't take an interest in making eye contact with Sid at first, darted a narrowed eyes look at the boy. "A what?" he placed his hands over his mouth, perplexed.

Sid's cheek went pink, he recoiled his torso as if chilled to the bone. "I mean, it's Lord Krishna who I follow."

"Oh!" The executive's eyes widened in realization. "So you're a Hindu, eh? I should've known it better, you know what I mean, I'm registering down hundreds of faiths. Hehe, stupid me." And his fingers went to type it down.

"No, don't!" Sid's raised voiced paused him to go further. "I don't want to affiliate myself with any religion. What I'm going to speak will be..." And he ran out of words. Oh boy! Don't be like this when you debate a scholar.

"My, my." The executive presented Sid with a smile and rocked back in his chair to loosen up. His eyes scanned the boy from top to bottom. "What am I dealing with here? A new religion? So are you a prophet or something?" His eyebrows leaped up in a questioning look, smile expanding into a grin.

Shit, shit. So freaking embarrassing!

"Ah," Sid quickly brushed his sweaty, tumbled hair aside from his brow. "I'd say note down whatever you want." And he walked away before drowning himself in the ocean of awkwardness.

******

Half an hour passed, and finally, the host ambled toward the podium. He was a handsome fella, his face glowed like a diamond when he became the center of attention. The Armani suit distinguished him as an elite personality (which later turned out he was one of the sponsors).

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