On a bright day in Harippad, the imposing figure of Kochukunj channar III, the patriarch of a grand ancestral family, stepped into the bustling court premises. His car—a gleaming, rare masterpiece of luxury—stood proudly in the courtyard, drawing curious glances from all who passed by. It wasn’t just a car; it was a symbol of status, wealth, and power.

Nearby, a group of children had gathered, their laughter and chatter filling the air. Among them was ten-year-old AP Sreedharan Channar (Kochu Sreedharan), a lively and curious boy with bright eyes and an eager spirit. His gaze fell on the car, and he felt a surge of pride. This wasn’t just any car—it belonged to his family. Driven by excitement and a desire to impress his friends, he climbed into the car, settling into the driver’s seat with an air of triumph.

“Look at this! Isn’t it amazing?” Kochu Sreedharan beamed, his small hands gripping the steering wheel as if he were the master of the vehicle.

His friends crowded around, wide-eyed and whispering in awe. They ran their fingers along the polished surface, peered through the windows, and gawked at the leather seats. To them, the car was a thing of wonder, and Kochu Sreedharan basked in the glow of their admiration.

Unbeknownst to them, Kochukunj channar had finished his court business and was heading toward the car. His eyes narrowed as he spotted the young boy sitting inside. The patriarch’s face darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. Without a word, he marched over, his presence casting a long shadow over the group.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice thundered, slicing through the children’s laughter like a whip.

Kochu Sreedharan froze. Before he could respond, the patriarch’s strong hand grabbed his arm and yanked him out of the car. The boy stumbled, his pride crumbling under the weight of the public humiliation.

“Get out of here, you little rascal!” the patriarch barked. “And listen to me carefully—don’t you ever touch this car again, let alone set foot in it.”

The words stung, but what followed was even worse. As Kochu Sreedharan stood to the side, his friends watching in awkward silence, Kochukunj channar turned to them with an almost mocking smile.

“You boys, hop in!” he said, gesturing toward the car. “Let me show you what it’s like.”

The children hesitated, glancing nervously at Kochu Sreedharan. But the patriarch’s invitation was not one to refuse. One by one, they climbed into the car, their earlier awe giving way to excitement as the engine roared to life.

Kochu Sreedharan watched in stunned silence as the car rolled away, his friends cheering and laughing as they were driven around the courtyard. The boy’s heart burned with a mix of shame, anger, and betrayal. He clenched his fists, his gaze fixed on the car as it returned and his friends tumbled out, chattering about the ride.

The patriarch, satisfied with his lesson, walked away, leaving the boy standing alone. Kochu Sreedharan’s young mind churned with emotions he couldn’t yet fully understand. All he knew was that the man he once admired had turned into the source of his deepest humiliation.

That day, a tiny ember of resentment was lit in Kochu Sreedharan’s heart. It was a quiet flame, but it smoldered and grew, feeding on the memory of that cruel moment. Little did anyone know, that flicker of anger would one day spark a series of events that would unravel the family’s future.