-[Chapter 1 Recap – In a jugaadu (resourceful/hacky) Mumbai 1BHK that doubles as a raccoon's paradise, Yash—a coder with a caffeine addiction and a laptop slower than Mumbai traffic—accidentally turns his life into a desi (homegrown) sci-fi plot. After spilling chai (tea) on his i3 dinosaur (RIP), a bijli ka jhatka (electric shock) blesses him with the ultimate "gift": the power to turn stuff into mitti ka dher (pile of dust) with a touch. Panic ensues as his laptop and phone go phusss (poof), leaving him sweating bullets about explaining this natak (drama) to his maa (mom), who's already planning his shaadi (marriage) via Zoom. Surviving the shock (literally), Yash discovers he's now Mumbai's answer to Magneto—if Magneto snorted nimbu pani (lemonade) and yelled "Ctrl+Z" at dust. ]-
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Chapter 2 – From Dust to Dumbfounded
He had tried everything—chants, gestures, even shouting "Ctrl+Z" at the pile of dust that used to be his laptop—but nothing had worked. If this was some kind of prank by the universe, it was a damn cruel one. With his phone and laptop gone, he was now officially cut off from the digital world. No coding, no entertainment, no food delivery.
After giving up on his failed attempts to control whatever strange power he had, he decided to shift his focus to something more immediate—food. His stomach growled in agreement. With his phone reduced to dust, ordering online was out of the question. That left only one option: cooking.
He walked to the kitchen, hesitating at the light switch. What if it turned into dust the moment he touched it? His pulse quickened as he reached out, fingers hovering over the switch. Taking a deep breath, he finally pressed it.
Click.
The light turned on. The switch remained intact.
A sigh of relief escaped his lips. Maybe his power didn't activate all the time. Maybe it was triggered by something specific. But he wasn't about to test it on purpose, not when he still had no clue how it worked.
Remaining on edge, he went about cooking. Every time he touched a spoon, a pan, or a plate, he flinched slightly, half-expecting them to crumble into dust. But nothing happened. He even held his breath when he took rice and washed it wondering if it would disintegrate.
It didn't.
Gradually, his nerves settled as he finished cooking and sat down to eat. A bowl full of khichdi (rice dish) helped ground him, and for a moment, he almost felt normal again. Almost.
After dinner, he decided to give his mysterious ability one last try before heading to bed. If he could break things by touch, maybe he could undo the damage too. It was a wild guess, but he had nothing to lose.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, he stared at the pile of metallic dust that used to be his laptop. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, trying to recall the exact feeling he had when it first happened—the strange discomfort, the jolt, the static running through his veins.
Slowly, he reached out and touched the dust.
A tingling sensation shot up his arm. The air around him buzzed softly. His eyes snapped open just in time to witness something incredible—the dust was moving. No, it was reconstructing itself.
Right before his eyes, the particles merged, reshaping, reforming, assembling themselves back into a solid structure. Within moments, his laptop sat before him, looking as good as new.
His breath hitched. His hands trembled as he reached out to touch it. It felt… normal. Real. Solid.
Excitement coursed through him. If it worked on the laptop, then—
He scrambled to where his phone had crumbled, repeating the process. The dust twitched and whirled before swiftly assembling back into his phone.
It was completely fine, not a single scratch on it. He booted it up, heart pounding in exhilaration. His laptop, too, worked perfectly—better than before, actually. The sluggishness, the lag—it was all gone. It felt brand new, as if he had just unboxed it.
His face lit up with excitement.
Then his phone rang.
His mother.
He quickly answered.
"Beta, did you have dinner yet?"
He swallowed, still trying to process everything, but managed to respond, "Yeah, Maa, I ate."
"Good," she said, her voice warm. "Now, Yash, sleep on time, okay? Good night."
That was it. A simple, routine conversation. Yet, hearing his name snapped him back to reality. "Good night, Maa," he said before ending the call.
As he put his phone down, the initial thrill settled into something more… grounded. He had an ability. A strange, bizarre ability. But what exactly was it? How did it work? Was it from the electric shock? Was it permanent?
His mind raced with questions as he turned to the only place that might have answers—the internet.
Opening his laptop, he started searching. 'Superpowers like destruction and reconstruction.' 'Characters with touch-based abilities.' 'Fictional powers similar to mine.'
He scrolled through results, clicking links, diving deep into forums, analyzing characters from various fandoms. If there were others—fictional or otherwise—with powers like his, maybe he could figure out how to control it.
As he read, a new realization crept into his mind.
If he could break things and rebuild them… what else could he do?
The next afternoon, Yash groggily opened his eyes to the glaring numbers on his phone screen—1:00 PM. He had spent the entire night diving deep into forums, wikis, and articles, scouring every corner of the internet for fictional characters with similar powers. His search had led him to a handful of names, and after much deliberation, he had even asked CloseAI, "If I had a power to deconstruct and reconstruct things by touch, how should I train it?"
The AI had provided him with several insights—meditation to improve focus, controlled experiments to understand the mechanics, and gradually increasing complexity in his tests. Now, it was time to put theory into practice.
Dragging himself out of bed, Yash freshened up and made himself a quick brunch—some poha and chai, nothing fancy, but enough to give him the energy he needed. As he ate, he reviewed his plan. He had a handful of tests in mind, and today was the perfect day to start.
After washing up, he hurried to the living room and started moving furniture around, clearing up space. He then gathered a few useless items—an old alarm clock, a cracked mug, a remote that hadn't worked in ages. These would be his test subjects.
Taking a deep breath, he sat cross-legged on the floor, placing the alarm clock in front of him. He reached out, fingers grazing its surface. A familiar static coursed through him, and before he could react, the clock crumbled into dust. His pulse quickened, but he steadied himself and focused. If he could destroy, he could rebuild.
He placed his hand on the pile of dust and concentrated. Slowly, the particles shifted, coming together like a reversed explosion. The clock reassembled perfectly. Encouraged, Yash repeated the process, moving on to the other objects. Some reconstructions were instant, others took effort, but he was getting the hang of it.
Days passed in this cycle of practice. His parents weren't due back for a while, giving him uninterrupted time to train. Throughout this period, he noticed something crucial—his power was tied to his emotions. If he got too excited or frustrated, things around him would start to deteriorate without him even touching them. This realization forced him to practice restraint, learning to keep himself composed to prevent accidental destruction.
To ensure he could return to normal life without causing chaos, he spent hours meditating. It helped to an extent—he no longer turned things to dust on reflex. However, precise control still eluded him. He couldn't yet deconstruct only a small part of an object; it was all or nothing.
Somewhere in between his training, he decided to call his best friend, Abhishek—the same bastard who had sent him the cursed reel that started this mess.
"Oi, Madarchhod, what the hell did you send me?" Yash barked the moment Abhishek picked up.
"Oh ho, gaali pe utar aaya? What did I do now?" Abhishek laughed.
"That damn reel. I blacked out right after watching it, you piece of shit."
"Hah! Serves you right for having Wi-Fi slower than a bullock cart. Lagged and glitched your brain, didn't it?"
"You chutiy— I swear, I'm cursing your nine generations. Bsdk."
"Arre, arre, relax, baba. Tell me, what happened? Did you see some ghost or some shit?"
Yash exhaled. "Nothing serious, just weird shit. I'll tell you later." He wasn't ready to reveal his powers yet—not until he had full control and confirmed they weren't temporary.
"Fine, fine. Anyway, let's talk about something actually important—sauces, check out [562476, 460136, 436804, 505793]."
"That's some nice stuff, I Man of Culture approve," Yash added with a smirk.
The conversation derailed into their usual nonsensical debates—why certain biryanis were overrated, whether mayonnaise counted as a real condiment, and why Bollywood never made good horror movies.
By the end, they had decided to meet at Abhishek's house over the weekend. It was a safe space, and if he had to tell anyone first, it would be him.
The rest of the week was a mix of training, meditation, and eating—because using his powers drained a surprising amount of stamina. By the time his parents' return was imminent, Yash had made significant progress. He could now prevent accidental destruction as long as he kept his emotions in check, but finer control—like breaking off just a small piece of something—remained out of reach.
Still, this was only the beginning. The real challenge would be figuring out how far his power could go.
-[End]-