I only act vaillain

Chapter 1: The Forgotten Dream

The sun blazed mercilessly over the construction site, the air thick with the smell of cement and sweat. Atharva, a man in his forties with rugged hands and a sunburned face, carried a heavy sack of bricks on his shoulder. His back ached, but he trudged forward, his mind as unyielding as the iron rods stacked beside him.

The sound of metal clanging filled the air, and suddenly, a shadow loomed over him. Atharva looked up just in time to see an iron bar plunging toward him. His breath caught, and in that split second before impact, a thousand memories flooded his mind.

As the world around him blurred, his thoughts pulled him back to a distant time, a time when the world had been full of possibilities.

---

Atharva was just six years old, sitting cross-legged in a dimly lit orphanage hall. The creaking fan overhead barely pushed the humid air around as the children gathered to watch a classic movie, Sholay. While others were mesmerized by the heroes, Atharva's wide eyes were fixed on the villain, Gabbar Singh.

The man's commanding presence, his menacing laugh, and the way he made the audience fear and respect him all at once left an indelible mark on the young boy. "Someday, I'll be like him," Atharva whispered to himself. While everyone else dreamt of being heroes, Atharva wanted to embody the villain's enigmatic aura on the silver screen.

But dreams were fragile things, especially for an orphan. The orphanage warden often scolded Atharva for mimicking Gabbar's dialogues, his deep voice startling the other children during quiet hours. Yet, he didn't stop. Every movie he watched became a lesson, every villain an idol. He practiced their mannerisms in secret, often standing in front of a cracked mirror in the orphanage storeroom.

By the time he turned eighteen, Atharva had saved enough to leave the orphanage and chase his dream. With a duffel bag full of clothes and a heart full of hope, he arrived in Mumbai—the city of dreams.

But reality was far crueler than he had imagined. The glamour of Bollywood hid a dark truth. Opportunities were scarce for those without connections or a famous surname. Atharva auditioned tirelessly, taking on minor roles as an extra or a henchman. Casting directors praised his dedication but never called him back.

"You're good, but you need refinement," they'd say, only to scold him harshly when he tried to improve. Still, Atharva grit his teeth and kept moving forward. He worked part-time jobs to survive, often falling prey to scammers who promised him roles in exchange for money. By the time he realized their schemes, his pockets were empty.

Seven years passed. Atharva was now a shadow of his former self, his youthful optimism replaced by a quiet resignation. Despite his struggles, he never stopped acting, even when his stage was a small audition room and his audience was a disinterested casting agent.

But Bollywood wasn't a meritocracy. It was a world ruled by nepotism and connections. Atharva learned this the hard way when roles he'd auditioned for went to people with influential surnames.

Eventually, his savings ran out, and so did his hope. A friend suggested he try construction work to earn a living. "You've got a strong body, at least put it to use," the friend had said. And so, Atharva traded his dreams for a hard hat and a pair of calloused hands.

---

For the next five years, Atharva toiled under the scorching sun, lifting bricks and mixing cement. He earned a slightly higher wage than most laborers, thanks to his strength and reliability, but the work was never permanent. Every few months, contracts ended, leaving him to search for new opportunities.

"Why don't you get married?" his friend asked one evening as they sat on a pile of bricks, sharing a cup of tea. "Life will feel less empty."

Atharva shook his head, a sad smile on his face. "I can barely manage my own life. How can I take responsibility for someone else's?"

Despite his hardships, Atharva never let go of his kindness. Every month, he donated a small portion of his meager earnings to the orphanage that had raised him. The amount wasn't much, but it was enough to bring a smile to the faces of the children who reminded him of his younger self.

---

Now, as the iron bar crashed onto his head, Atharva collapsed to the ground. Blood pooled beneath him, and his vision faded into a haze. He lay there, unable to move, his breaths shallow.

In his final moments, he whispered to the sky, "At least I didn't leave anyone behind. If I had married, I would've ruined their life too."

But regret weighed heavily on his heart. The dreams he had chased, the life he had envisioned—they felt so distant now, as though they belonged to someone else.

Darkness closed in, but not before a single tear rolled down his cheek. "If only..." he thought, his mind clinging to memories of the stage he never got to stand on.

And then, silence.

---

As his body lay motionless, the world continued, indifferent to the passing of another forgotten dreamer.

___________

Author note:-

:-Support the story with power stones for extra chapters and motivation

:- if their is any issue or confusion please

Report in comments I will read every comment and give response.....👍