While the whole world believes Vikram Purohit has gone to Goa, he lies there — wrapped in a towel that barely buried his bareness, and uncertain, if he is dead or alive — over the landing of the staircase in the lone penthouse at the eighteenth level of one of the two towers of “Angelic Lances”. His maid and cook are away, at their homes. His chauffeur and secretary are also on vacation as his whole office celebrates the rarest of rare holidays of their CEO. He has notified the security control room about his week-long absence from the place. A signage, “Away on holiday,” to alert the milk and newspaper vendors, hangs on the doorknob. This is a story, apparently mystical, surreal, but the propositions verily real, whether we accept or not. Journey to one’s truth, and acceptance of the same, is found to be an arduous task, and one is found to run away from it, till, a situation, dire and undesirable, is created in life, revealing the undeniable, even if one has to go into a "blackout", with those truths blinking with immense intensity and clarity - as Vikram, immobile and severed from the external world, encounters the ultimate miracle unveiled by life….