King for 3 Days
A crown made of words, worn with truth
You wouldn’t believe it if you saw him now — slouched on a rusting bench outside his shuttered shop, sipping lukewarm tea from a paper cup — but three months ago, Ayaan was the name on everyone's lips.
For three days, he was the king of the internet, the neighborhood hero, the “guy who stood up.”
It started with a fight.
Not a loud one, not a viral skit or a dance challenge. A simple argument caught on camera. An elderly rickshaw driver had been wrongly fined and insulted by a corrupt traffic officer. Ayaan had stepped in — not for the attention, not for likes — but because his father used to be a rickshaw driver before the accident.
He didn’t yell. He just stood his ground, demanded fairness, and recorded the incident.
By that evening, the video was on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, and WhatsApp. “Local Hero Exposes Corruption” read the caption. His quiet courage struck a nerve. News channels picked it up. Influencers reposted it. Hashtags exploded.
People showed up at his electronics shop the next morning. Strangers took selfies. Politicians offered “support.” Even a local brand wanted him to appear in an ad campaign.
Ayaan, who once went unnoticed in the same shirt three days in a row, now had to duck paparazzi outside his lane.
On Day 1, he smiled, shyly.
On Day 2, he bought a new phone.
By Day 3, he was wearing shades indoors, giving statements to news anchors like he’d been doing it his whole life.
“Justice is everyone’s right,” he told them, looking straight into the camera. “And I will fight for it, always.”
He believed it too. Until the crowd started thinning.
On Day 4, another video went viral.
On Day 5, the reporters stopped calling.
By Day 6, his story was buried under dance trends and scandal clips.
The world had moved on.
But Ayaan hadn’t.
He still tried to walk with the same authority. Still wore the same sunglasses, even at night. Still expected recognition from strangers who now barely glanced at him. His shop’s sales dropped. His friends noticed the change in tone. His voice was louder, his laughter forced.
He’d tasted power — just a drop — and it had gone straight to his head.
That’s when the real fall began.
One afternoon, an old man came to his shop — the same rickshaw driver from the video. He brought homemade sweets to thank Ayaan again.
“You changed my life, beta,” the old man said, eyes misty. “People are treating me with more respect now.”
Ayaan nodded, distracted, checking his phone. No new notifications.
“Everything okay?” the man asked gently.
Ayaan forced a smile. “Yeah, just… waiting on a call.”
The man smiled, knowingly. “You did a good thing. That’s enough. Don’t wait for the world to keep clapping.”
And just like that, the fog began to lift.
That night, Ayaan went home, took off his sunglasses, and looked at himself in the mirror — really looked.
He saw the same boy who had once sold batteries door-to-door to pay for his father’s medicine. The same boy who used to wrap TVs in plastic with worn-out hands. Where had he gone in those three days?
He sat at his window and scrolled back to the original video — the moment that had changed everything.
He didn’t see a hero. He saw a son.
A son defending another father.
Ayaan closed his phone.
The next morning, he reopened his shop, this time without sunglasses or expectation. He cleaned the counter himself. Greeted customers like he used to. He smiled more, and not because cameras were watching.
Days passed.
Weeks, even.
He wasn’t a king anymore. But something better was happening — people came back, not for the story, but for the person. The one who had always been there.
One evening, as the sun dipped low and shadows stretched across the street, a young boy stood outside his shop, staring.
Ayaan looked up. “Need something?”
The boy hesitated. “You’re… the guy from the video, right?”
Ayaan smiled. “Used to be.”
“You were brave,” the boy said.
Ayaan thought for a moment. “Being brave is easy for three days,” he replied. “Try being kind for thirty.”
The boy nodded slowly, unsure, and walked away. Ayaan watched him go, then went back to stacking boxes.
He was no longer famous.
He was something better — grounded, present, respected.
No throne, no crown.
Just a man who stood up once, and kept standing after the applause faded.
Moral:
Being a king for three days is easy.
Being real every day — that’s the legacy.
About the Creator
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Comments (1)
This story shows how quickly fame can fade. Ayaan's act of courage got him a lot of attention at first, but it didn't last. It makes you wonder if he should have handled it differently. Maybe he could have used that initial fame to keep fighting for justice in a more long - term way. It's a shame that the world moved on so fast. Do you think there's a way he could have made his message more lasting? I've seen similar things happen in tech. New products get hyped up, but then quickly lose their shine. It's important to build something with staying power. Ayaan could have tried to build an organization or a movement around his cause. What do you think would have been the best approach for him?