The sun had just begun to spill its golden warmth over Ahmedabad when Arjun Mishra boarded a rickety state bus to Gandhinagar.
He wore his signature faded jeans, a blue kurta kind of similar to jacket he saw at Law garden yesterday, and his sneakers.
This wasn't a day for cricket or interviews or even the past that clung like shadows. Today, like yesterday he wanted silence, symmetry, and space. A chance to get himself ready to fight for his dream.
Adalaj Stepwell – 10:00 AM
The moment he stepped through the entrance of Adalaj ni Vav, the world fell quiet.
The ancient stepwell, five stories deep and built in the 15th century, greeted him not just with intricate sandstone carvings but with an embrace of stillness that seemed untouched by time. Columns stood in solemn symmetry, their stone latticework dancing in filtered sunlight.
Arjun walked slowly down each level, fingertips brushing cool stone, reading the stories in the silence. Floral motifs. Elephant carvings. A waterless core that once nourished a whole village.
There was something spiritual about the space—a reverence, not in loud chants or incense, but in how the structure itself whispered endurance.
He sat on the last platform, cross-legged.
"This is what I want," he murmured to himself. "To build something that stands centuries after I'm gone. Not fame. Not trophies. Legacy."
He smiled.
Legacy.
Not just runs scored or wickets taken—but something deeper. A reason to be remembered.
Akshardham Temple – 12:30 PM
A short auto ride later, Arjun found himself at the grand gates of Akshardham in Gandhinagar.
The temple loomed large, a fusion of devotion and engineering. Its domes shone under the sun, pristine against the pale sky.
The crowds were thick—families, pilgrims, schoolchildren—but inside, it felt personal.
Arjun removed his shoes, touched his forehead to the threshold, and entered.
In the main temple hall, the ornate stonework nearly took his breath away. Each pillar carved with gods, saints, and stories of virtue. It wasn't the religion that moved him—it was the discipline. The detail. The dedication that must have taken years to carve every inch.
He sat near the central sanctum, legs folded, watching the diya flames flicker.
For a moment, the past crept in of his previous life
The loneliness of orphanage nights. The echo of leather on concrete rooftops. Hunger—not for food, but for meaning.
But then came something new.
Peace.
A still voice inside, reminding him that greatness was not just in skill, but in how centered he remained through chaos.
After a while he stood up and left
Kankaria Lake – 5:30 PM
By sunset, he had returned to Ahmedabad and made his way to Kankaria Lake.
The place was alive.
Families strolled hand in hand. Young couples took boat rides. Street performers juggled flaming batons while laughter echoed through the lakeside promenade.
Arjun bought roasted corn rubbed in lime and masala and sat on the lake's edge. The reflection of Ferris wheels and carnival lights shimmered on the water. He stared into the ripples, remembering his mother's lullaby—long gone from memory, but still echoing in his bones.
He stood up and went to ticket counter and he took a ticket of a boat ride and then after a ride he sat by the edge of the Lake and look at the beautiful sunset. After a while his stomach growl he stood up and went for his next location.
Manek Chowk – 9:00 PM
The night exploded in colour, aroma, and chaos. Manek Chowk transformed into a food battlefield — rows of carts lit like festival floats, smoke rising from grills, ghee sizzling on iron pans.
Arjun went full local legend mode:
First, Pav Bhaji — spicy, buttery, eaten standing while dodging cows.
Then Jain Pizza — weird, sweet, and surprisingly good.
Gwalior Dosa — stuffed with cheese and chatpata masala.
Chocolate Sandwich — sinful, melted, and sticky with nostalgia.
And finally, the Royal Malai Kulfi Falooda — the kind of dessert that made him moan out loud.
Around him, people bustled — students, families, street musicians.
His food that made no culinary sense but tasted like rebellion.
And that was perfect.
As he finished the last bite, he leaned back in his chair, eyes on the midnight sky.
He had walked through stone silence, divine grace, rippling water, and crackling food stalls—all in one day.
After having his full he left for his home after he reached he fresh himself and called
"System are you there?"
No Voice came " Looks like it will open tomorrow. He went to his bed and ready for unknown tomorrow.