As Ariyan's name was announced in the corridor of the PSC (Public Service Commission) building, a wave of unknown apprehension washed over him. Today was the ultimate test of his life—the BCS Viva. Dressed in a crisp white shirt, a navy blue tie, and carrying a laptop filled with essential documents, he stood before the door. Turjo's last-minute warning echoed in his mind: "Ariyan, Sharif and Shahed have planted a toxic sabotage case in your police verification report. The file is already on the board's table. They've rigged everything to stop you."
Ariyan took a deep breath. He looked at his reflection in the glass door and whispered to himself, "Ariyan, you are the son of Motaleb Hossain from Shantipur, the boy who studied under streetlights on an empty stomach. A web of lies won't stop you today."
"Come in, Ariyan Hossain. Please take a seat," the Chairman's grave voice resonated through the room.
As Ariyan sat down, he noticed the member sitting in the middle of the three interviewers was repeatedly glancing at a paper marked with red ink on his file. It was the controversial police report.
"Ariyan," the Chairman said, lowering his glasses to the tip of his nose, "your academic career is astounding. But there is a serious allegation in your background verification. It claims you were involved in subversive activities during a period of student unrest? There is even a case number listed against your name."
Ariyan's jaw tightened. He knew this question was inevitable. He spoke in a calm, steady voice. "Sir, the brightness of light is best understood when compared to darkness. The allegation you see is a well-planned conspiracy. May I have permission to prove the hollowness of this charge?"
The board members were slightly surprised. Usually, candidates stammer or panic when faced with such questions, but Ariyan's eyes held a cold, unshakable confidence. He pulled a folder from his bag containing copies of laboratory registers and screenshots of CCTV footage that Turjo had painstakingly retrieved.
"Sir, on the day the incident is alleged to have occurred, I was conducting an experiment in the Physics Department lab. Here is the lab attendance and the CCTV evidence. As for the case mentioned, the plaintiff is linked to a land-grabber in my village, a matter currently pending in the High Court."
The Chairman scrutinized the documents. Another interviewer sitting beside him smiled faintly. "Your presence of mind and preparation are commendable, Ariyan. However, running an administration requires more than just papers; it requires the ability to handle extreme psychological pressure."
For the next 45 minutes, Ariyan was bombarded with complex questions about historical turning points, constitutional clauses, and international geopolitics. He answered every question as if he were a seasoned debater. As he walked out of the room, he felt beads of sweat on his forehead.
Outside, Raisa was waiting, her face etched with intense anxiety. "How was it, Ariyan? Did they bring up the police report?"
Ariyan let out a long sigh. "Yes, Raisa. But I gave it my best. The rest is in the hands of the Almighty."
But the danger was not over yet. As Ariyan and Raisa walked out of the campus, they noticed a black car tailing them. Inside was Sharif, wearing his signature demonic smile. He stepped out of the car and blocked their path.
"Well, well, Mr. Magistrate! You gave the interview," Sharif mocked. "But do you know I have people inside the PSC too? Your CCTV footage and lab reports won't work. The verification report has already been submitted as 'Unsatisfactory'."
Ariyan's blood boiled, but Raisa squeezed his hand firmly. "Let's go, Ariyan. There's no point talking to people from the gutter."
Raisa took Ariyan to her father. Mr. Ashfaq Ahmed turned grave upon hearing everything. He picked up his phone and made several calls to the Secretariat.
"Ariyan, Sharif's reach is long. They've sent an anonymous complaint to the Ministry against you. Your appointment might get stalled," Mr. Ashfaq said, his tone worried.
That night, Ariyan took out his diary. He wrote:
"Today I realize that achieving success is difficult, but protecting it is a thousand times harder. Sharif and Shahed are no longer just personal enemies; they are a massive wall in the path of my career. But I will not lose. If my pen could bring me this far, this same pen will place me in the seat of power."
The next day, news reached Ariyan that an investigation committee had been formed to look into the allegations. This meant that before the final results were published, he had to prove his innocence once again.
At that very moment, his younger sister Milli called from the village. Her voice was trembling.
"Bhaiya, Abbu is sick again. Hashem Ali has planted a red flag on our last piece of land. He says you should forget your dream of becoming a big officer and come to the village to beg for his mercy."
Ariyan stood frozen. On one side was this royal conspiracy in Dhaka; on the other, the battle for survival in his village. He realized he had to fight on two fronts simultaneously. He decided he wouldn't rely on the charity of influential people anymore. He would fight legally.
That afternoon, he met Raisa. "Raisa, I need to go to the village for a few days. I can't stay here thinking about my career while my father is in this state."
Raisa gripped his hand tightly. "I'm coming with you, Ariyan. Why should you fight alone? We promised to make history together."
Tears welled up in Ariyan's eyes. Raisa's selfless love gave him a new reason to live.
The chapter ends with gripping tension. As Ariyan and Raisa board the bus to the village, Sharif's men follow them unnoticed. This time, the battle isn't just about the pen; it's about life itself. On the soil of Shantipur, Ariyan is about to face the toughest exam of his life.