The Sixth Passenger - Chapter 2: Just Another Monday

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📅 20 June 2027

🕒 Wednesday, 3:45 AM

📍 Pangsapuri Sri Penara, Cheras, KL

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I saw a double-storey house. It was night.

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In the blink of an eye, I was inside.

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A diary sat on a wooden table, a pen resting beside it. A small box was placed on top of the open pages, keeping them from turning.

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Something was written there… but before I could read it, a mirror on the wall caught my attention. It was far, but I moved closer.

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Then I saw it.

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A woman’s legs were dangling—shaking. She had hanged herself from the ceiling fan. She wore brown pants and a purple shirt. On her right ankle was a pigeon tattoo.

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I stood frozen.

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Suddenly, arms hugged me from behind. Tight. Unmoving.

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Both arms wore golden bangles.

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I couldn’t breathe.

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And then… I woke up.

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My body was drenched in sweat. My heart pounded like a war drum. My throat felt dry and my entire body weak, as if I hadn’t drunk water for days.

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Luckily, I always kept a jug beside my bed.

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I drank the entire thing in one go.

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Then I washed my face and sat at my small working table. I picked up my sketch pen and notebook, and started drawing what I saw.

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This wasn’t the first time.

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It started when I was 17.

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🌘 The Beginning

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My first dream was about a middle-aged Chinese man—stabbed to death with a knife. I thought it was just a dream… until the next morning.

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I saw him.

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Across the road.

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Then, inside my school bus. He was sitting behind me. Staring.

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I asked my close friend Martin, who sat beside me, “Do you know that guy?”

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He looked confused. “Ha ha ha, nice one bro. But today’s not the day for your pranks.”

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I turned and pointed… but the man vanished.

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That moment broke something inside me.

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I told Martin and our other close friend, Jegan. Neither believed me.

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Jegan thought it was hallucinations, probably caused by fear and lack of sleep. He read about it in a book from the school library. I was almost convinced…

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That evening, my parents had to take my sister to see a doctor. I stayed home to finish schoolwork.

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After dinner, while watching TV, the power suddenly went out.

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I grabbed my phone and turned on the flashlight. I checked the neighbor’s houses — they all had electricity.

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Strange.

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I went to the main switch. It was turned off.

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Even stranger.

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I switched it back on, and power returned. Just as I walked back to my food… the main gate creaked open.

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I rushed to the window. No one.

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I stepped outside, closed the gate, and came back in.

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Still suspicious, I watched from the window.

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The gate lock clicked open again… and the gate slowly swung wide.

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My body froze.

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I felt a presence behind me.

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I turned around…

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It was him.

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The man from my dream. He stared at me with the same lifeless eyes.

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I fainted.

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When I woke up, my parents were beside me.

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I told them everything.

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They didn’t fully believe me, but they felt something strange too.

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The next day, they brought me to Kallumalai Temple. While we were eating ponggal, I noticed a man staring at me.

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An old Siddhar, wearing Rudrakshas, sat meditating in front of Lord Shiva. His eyes were intense, powerful. Unshakable.

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He called me over.

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The priest said he was a powerful Siddhar from Rameshwaram, India. Known for his divine blessings.

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My mother and sister followed me to him. My father stayed back. He never believed in spiritual things.

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The Siddhar placed his palm on my head and chanted a few mantras. Then he gave my mother a Trishula pendant.

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“Let him wear this,” he said. “It will protect him.”

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That night, I had a dream again.

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But this time… it was different.

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🌺 The Sacred Dream

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I was standing in a grassland filled with vibrant flowers. A beautiful pond shimmered nearby, filled with lotus flowers.

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Next to it stood a massive tree with golden leaves.

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Under it, a Siddhar sat, his body glowing with calm energy. His face was a bright light—I couldn’t see it clearly.

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He looked at me and said:

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“You are the Key.”

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I woke up with a peace I’d never felt before. Strong. Healthy. Alive.

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At school, I told Martin and Jegan everything.

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Jegan had an idea.

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“We go see the Siddhar. Let’s ask him ourselves.”

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Martin agreed.

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When we returned to the temple, the Siddhar opened his eyes before we even spoke.

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“I knew you’d come, Yugan. Jegan. Martin.”

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We were stunned.

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“How do you know our names?” Jegan asked.

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He smiled. “I know all. I see all. It is Lord Shiva’s gift. Hara Hara Mahadev.”

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I told him everything.

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He listened silently and then said:

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⚖️ The Truth Unfolds

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> “This world hides many secrets, child.

Some souls cannot rest. Trapped by pain, betrayal, or unspoken wishes.

You have been granted the power to see and hear them.

Some will want revenge.

But your role… is to help them find justice, not vengeance.

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Wear the pendant. It protects you. Bad spirits cannot touch you.

Listen to the good souls.

Help them.

Heal them.

And trust… always trust your heart.”

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He gave each of us a Chrysanthemum flower as a blessing.

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That day, I decided to speak to the spirit.

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I turned and saw the man behind me again.

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This time, I didn’t run.

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“Who are you, sir? What do you want?”

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He stepped forward and gently touched my head.

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A vision hit me instantly—his final moments through his own eyes.

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I saw a woman.

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She stabbed him with a knife. Cleaned off the fingerprints. Took a document file and left.

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It was… his wife.

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The vision ended. The man smiled at me… and vanished.

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Martin’s father was a police officer.

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I drew the man’s face—my sketches had always been good—and we told him everything.

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To our surprise, he believed us.

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The man had been murdered just days earlier. No leads, no evidence.

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But thanks to us… they caught her.

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His second wife.

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She confessed everything. Drunken fight. Greed for wealth. She planned it all.

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The case was closed.

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That night, I saw the man again — but now, he was smiling, bowing to me, his spirit fading into golden light.

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That moment changed everything.

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🎯 My New Mission

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I no longer wanted to be a doctor.

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I knew what I had to do.

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Martin’s father advised me to keep my identity hidden. If word spread, things could get dangerous.

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I trained.

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I went to a Siddha Vaidya temple in India, studied Sanskrit, learned the mystical arts. Built my strength.

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To cover my real work, I took up driving—first a taxi, now a Grab driver.

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My next mission always comes in a dream, usually on a Monday.

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Jegan became a science professor. Martin followed in his father’s footsteps and became a cop. Dr. Agilan and Kayal, two trusted doctors, help us too.

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Together, we’ve helped many souls find peace.

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My mother passed away when I was 21.

My father disapproved of everything I did—he stopped speaking to me.

But my sister… she’s still my bridge to him. She became a bank accountant.

At least he has her.

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I’m glad.

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And now… another Monday has come.

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Another dream.

Another soul.

Another story waiting to be told.

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The mission continues.

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