Chapter 2: Rohan—Finding Meaning in Stillness

An introvert—what some in India might call a hardcore homebody—has lived alone at home for many years, relying entirely on his parents’ pension from the government.

Picture a small flat in a typical middle-class colony—mosquito net on the window, the soft whirr of a ceiling fan, and a faint scent of incense drifting in from the neighbour aunty’s pooja room. Our protagonist is the sort you’ll never spot at the society cricket match or local paan shop. He survives comfortably on his parents’ sarkari pension; some months are tight, but he’s mastered the art of stretching rupees, one Parle-G biscuit at a time. While neighbours gossip (“That boy? Always indoors, na!”), he shrugs it all off. Sometimes, he stands by the window and watches kids play cricket, a faint smile flickering before he returns to his serial. This is his world, and he guards it like a cat guards a patch of sunlight.

Every day, he eats very simple meals—like poha or leftover dal-chawal—binges on TV serials, plays mobile games, and watches anime or old Bollywood movies. He enjoys everything a true homebody would love. His meals are humble—sometimes last night’s rice jazzed up with a spoonful of achar, sometimes just Maggi if he’s feeling fancy. The TV blares with endless reruns of ‘Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi’, punctuated by the shrill whistle of the pressure cooker. His phone is his constant companion: Candy Crush during power cuts, YouTube during chai breaks, and the occasional episode of ‘Shaktimaan’ for nostalgia. In this cozy cocoon, every day feels deliciously predictable.

He also has a bit of OCD, sometimes watching the same Shah Rukh Khan film over a hundred times. Every Sunday, he wipes down his SRK DVD covers with a soft Gamcha, arranging them by release year—never letting dust settle for more than a day. There’s a particular comfort in repetition for him. He’s the sort who can recite dialogues from ‘Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge’ by heart—he’ll rewind and replay Raj’s “Bade bade deshon mein aisi choti choti baatein hoti rehti hai, Senorita” until even the neighbours can mouth along. His room is lined with stacks of DVDs, dearly loved and meticulously ordered.

He hasn't stepped out of the house in years. While everyone else thinks his life is a complete mess, he insists this is the meaning of his life—to stay at home forever. Outside, the city changes—new buildings rise, old shops close—but his world is a bubble. Relatives shake their heads in dismay; “Kuch toh karo, beta!” Yet, he’s unfazed, content with his small routines. He believes there’s dignity—even happiness—in choosing one’s own path, however unconventional. For him, meaning is not in adventure, but in stillness.

The protagonist of this story is Rohan, known as India’s number one homebody, who stayed at home for a full 27 years. Rohan’s story is whispered with a mix of pity and awe by neighbours. “Arrey, you know, 27 saal ho gaye, woh ghar se nikla hi nahi!” Some say he’s eccentric, others say he’s lost. But to Rohan, he’s simply living his truth—unbothered, a legend in his own living room. In a world obsessed with movement, Rohan found his meaning in stillness—and maybe, that was its own kind of adventure.