Jwala Vayu
Chapter 4
As the storm settled, Sanju and Samarth arrived at Narendra Goel’s ruined house. They sifted through the debris, finding his shattered trophies and awards.
“He was underrated,” Samarth muttered. “No political rewards like some others.”
Sanju sighed. “No wonder Roy chose him.”
Days later, PA Kartik and his colleagues arrived to meet Sanju and his team. The meeting was short, tense, and abrupt.
As they left, Sanju turned to Rahul. "This should be interesting."
A new representative, Yuvraj Gaikwad, was appointed. A towering, charismatic man, Yuvraj wasted no time organizing a massive campaign rally. Eighty thousand people gathered to hear him speak.
Sanju, monitoring from the AIR station, tried reaching Kartik.
“Kartik, what the hell are you doing?!”
Kartik smirked. “This is Yuvraj sir’s campaign. He’s Pune’s new leader. He will defeat this ‘so-called death storm.’”
Sanju clenched his jaw. “I told you—don’t gather people in large numbers! Do it online!”
“It wouldn’t have worked,” Kartik scoffed. “I told you the same in our meeting.”
Sanju fumed. “You call that a meeting? You had your headphones on, ignoring us while your team pretended to listen!”
“Whatever,” Kartik dismissed.
Rahul stepped in. “Give me the phone.”
Kartik was confused. “What?”
Rahul smirked. “We warned you about the 3-hour and 50-minute storm gap, right? In 20 seconds, you’ll understand why.”
Twenty seconds later, alarms blared from the AIR station.
Panic set in. Yuvraj’s confident stance shattered. He turned to Kartik, eyes wide. “Oh no…”
As the crowd realized what was happening, chaos erupted.
People screamed, pushing and trampling each other to escape. A deadly stampede began.
The storm descended violently. Yuvraj was disintegrated in an instant. Kartik barely managed to dive under the stage, frantically calling Rahul.
“Stay put! Save whoever you can!” Rahul ordered.
When the storm ended, Kartik emerged, shaken and in tears. Holding his daughter close, he whispered, “What have I done…?” before heading to the nearest shelter.
Back at the AIR station, Sanju sighed. “We’ll never find a competent representative.”
Rahul leaned back. “This is the third one. Each ignored the warnings. Each gathered crowds. Each died. Pune’s population is down to 50%.”
Samarth placed a hand on Sanju’s shoulder. “You care about people. That’s why we need you.”
Rahul nodded. “But there are still those trying to bring you down. Let’s focus on those willing to help.”
That night, as they watched TV, an emergency message interrupted the broadcast. The Prime Minister appeared on the screen.
“Sanju, I’ve heard of your efforts. You belong to neither political factions nor power struggles—you belong to humanity. You have saved lives. That’s why we’re making you Pune’s leader.”
Rahul stared at the screen, shocked. Samarth whispered, “Did you do something?”
Rahul grinned. “I messaged Roy. He made sure the PM knew.”
Sanju hesitated. “Sir, but—”
The PM interrupted. “Pune needs stability. It needs someone who thinks for the people. Be their leader, son.”
As the broadcast ended, Sanju’s phone exploded with calls and messages of appreciation.
Later, at the AIR station, Sanju took the microphone. “I haven’t done much—I’ve just done what was necessary. We’re smart. We survived a pandemic. Now we face something far deadlier. Pune is at 50%. No more deaths. No more rule-breaking. When the alarms sound, stay inside. We are rebuilding the city as we speak. Help us, and we will help YOU!”
The streets filled with applause. People flashed their phone lights, showing support.
Empty houses became shelters. Volunteers were assigned across Pune. Rahul and Samarth became co-representatives.
Two days later, Sanju and his team arrived at Pune Airport.
“We’re lucky,” Sanju said. “No flights arrived during a storm.”
Suddenly, an emergency transmission crackled through.
“Mayday! Mayday! This is Flight A304—Delhi to Pune!”
Sanju’s face paled. “Why now?”
Rahul listened to the pilot. “You need to land NOW! If you get caught in the storm, you’ll be disintegrated.”
The pilot desperately maneuvered the aircraft onto the runway. Sanju sprinted, signaling directions.
Rahul checked his watch. “Storm in one minute!”
The plane landed just in time.
“Pilot, DO NOT OPEN THE DOORS!” Rahul yelled.
As the storm passed, the delegation inside finally emerged. They assessed the city, offering advice and support. Among them was Pratap Shirke, a wealthy businessman.
Rahul scowled. “Rich brat.”
Pratap smirked. “Rahul, I funded your company when you needed help. I’m here again to save Pune.”
Rahul crossed his arms. “You funded me and stole my company, making me work for you as a consultant. And now you act like this is your city?”
Pratap smirked. “I have the money Pune needs for its future.”
Sanju stepped forward. “Pratap, I don’t care about your history with Rahul. We don’t need money or power. We need genuine help. We need humanity.”
Pratap sighed. “Fine.”
As he walked away, Samarth muttered, “He doesn’t sound fine.”
That night, Sanju studied storm data.
Kiara entered. “You haven’t slept?”
Sanju rubbed his eyes. “There has to be a way to stop this.”
Kiara smiled. “You always find a way.”
Sanju exhaled. “This isn’t like CA problems. This is… bigger.”
Kiara sat beside him. “You figured out the timings. You saved lives—including mine.”
Sanju forced a smile. “I couldn’t save mine.”
Kiara hugged him. “I know you don’t want pity—you want support. You have it.”
Samarth and Rahul peeked in. “NICE!” they teased.
A military convoy from Mumbai entered Pune.
The storm intensified. One jeep overturned, crashing into another. Soldiers scrambled for survival.
Meanwhile, a fighter jet soared overhead.
A voice crackled through. “Entering Pune. Requesting authorization for bomb drop.”