The night was cold, the sky a deep velvet canvas dotted with stars that flickered in the vast expanse like distant memories. Below, the city of Bombay pulsed with life, its streets full of sound, scent, and color. But amidst the noise, there was a quiet dissonance.
Gibreel Farishta, once a towering figure in Bollywood, was no longer the man he had been. His face, usually beaming with the glow of fame and adoration, was now shadowed by grief, his eyes reflecting the endless ache of loss. He had fallen from the highest peaks of fame, the star who once graced the silver screens, the actor adored by millions. But now, he found himself far from the warmth of the spotlight.
He sat on the roof of a crumbling building, his legs dangling over the edge as he stared into the distance. His heart felt heavy, weighed down by something more than just the loss of his career. His soul, too, seemed to be slipping away, lost in the same darkness that seemed to suffocate the city below.
In the air, there was a sense of change, a feeling that something monumental was about to occur. Gibreel could feel it in the pit of his stomach, a strange vibration, an energy in the air that he couldn't quite explain. The world seemed to hum around him, as if the very fabric of reality was about to shift.
And then, as though on cue, the sound of a plane's engines roared above him, a sharp and sudden interruption in the stillness of the night. It was a plane—one that was plummeting toward the earth. For a moment, Gibreel thought he was imagining it. But the noise grew louder, more desperate, until he could feel the vibrations in the ground beneath him. The plane was coming down, and it was coming down fast.
Gibreel stood up, his heart racing, and turned to face the approaching disaster. The city had no idea what was about to happen, but he did. The plane was headed straight for him.
It was at that moment, just as the world seemed to come crashing down, that Gibreel Farishta's life changed forever.