The train screeched as it pulled into kairos, it's wheels grinding against rusted tracks like a beast resisting capture.
Iraaya moved from her slumped position against the window, her body stiff and cold from a night without sleep.
The shawl, Manaly's shawl, was still wrapped tightly around her.
It's scent had faded, but the memory clung to the fabric like dried blood: her sister's laughter, her fire, her unfinished dreams.
Iraaya blinked at the morning light pouring into the train.
Her stomach twisted with hunger, but there was no time to dwell.
She rubbed her eyes, pulled her worn slippers closer with her toes, and stood up before the other passengers even began to stir.
As she stepped out onto the platform, a wave of noise, colour, and chaos hit her like a gust of wind. Vendors shouting over each other.
Crows squawking from the station roof.
Porters in red uniforms weaving through people with practiced ease.
Blaring train whistles and the acrid smell of fried oil and engine grease. Kairos was alive.
It was nothing like Jhirkala, quiet, dusty, stuck in time like an old clock with broken hands.
Kairos moved , Fast, Unapologetic, different, and Iraaya was here, standing still in the middle of it all, with nothing but a jute bag, a few hundred bucks, and a fire she wasn't sure she could keep burning. "I don't even know where to go," she whispered under her breath.
A couple brushed past her, too busy to notice the scared girl standing like a statue. Iraaya glanced up at a signboard: "Platform 6- Exit"
She followed the arrow like it was fate's handwriting.
Her slippers slapped awkwardly against the marble floor as she walked through the station's belly. Beggars lined the exit stairs, flies circling their wounds.
A child with hollow eyes and an empty steel bowl reached toward her.
Iraaya avoided eye contact and kept walking, guilt tugging at her spine.
Outside, Kairos was an eruption.
Traffic roared.
Horns blared like battle cries.
Buses wheezed smoke into the sky.
And the people, flowed in every direction, their feet seemingly knowing where to go even if their minds didn't.
Iraaya stood at the edge of the pavement, blinking at the expanse ahead.
Towering buildings kissed the clouds.
Billboards advertised coaching classes, fairness creams, diamond jewellery.
Between them ran wires like veins, tangled and humming.
Her eyes landed on one that read: "DARE TO DREAM:- KAIROS SCHOOL OF BUSINESS AND ARTS. ADMISSIONS OPEN."
She exhaled through her nose "Dare to dream." Manaly would've smiled.
9:45 AM
Her stomach growled louder now, demanding attention.
Iraaya spotted a roadside vendor selling sandwiches and tea.
She reached into her jute bag and pulled out a crumpled note.
50 bucks.
That's it for the day.
She bought one sandwich and a cup of sugary tea. As she sat on a broken bench near the stall, she savoured every bite, not just for the taste, but because she didn't know when she'd eat again. She watched the vendor with interest.
He moved with practiced rhythm, shouting orders, tossing ingredients, handling four customers at once.
Work,Movement, Survival,Her fingers itched.
She couldn't sit still.
She needed to do something.
"brother," she asked softly, "do you need any sort of help?"
He glanced at her for a second, then laughed, "help? And you? This work isn't for people who get the privilege to study.
Just eat it, and go.
" He wasn't wrong, she looked like she didn't belong.
But he was also wrong, she needed this.
She left without a word.
Her pride was not worth more than her survival.
10:30 AM
Iraaya walked past an alleys that smelled like urine and broken dreams.
She past designer boutiques she couldn't afford to look into, past job vacancy signs that either demanded experience she didn't have or qualification she couldn't afford.
A factory gate stood open in the distance.
A crowd of men were hauling wooden crates. Iraaya approached the security guard.
"sir am looking for work."
He scanned her from top to bottom. "this place isn't for girls like you."
Iraaya clenched her jaw.
The rejection stung, not because she was too proud to be turned away, but because of how easily people assumed she had no strength.
12:45 PM
Her legs ached, her skin under the shawl was sweaty and sunburnt.
But her heart;her heart still knocked against her ribs with a kind of mad defiance.
On a quieter lane, she spotted a tailor shop with a handwritten sign: "helper needed, stitching and cleaning."
It was run by an old woman with thick glasses and silver hair tied in a bun.
"greetings aunty, i am looking for work, i am ready to do any sort of chore."
The woman looked up from her sewing machine. She stared for a moment, then said, "can you sweep the floor and fold suit pieces?"
Iraaya nodded.
The woman didn't smile, but she gestured toward a bucket.
"lets test you for the day, i will decide tomorrow whether to keep you or not."
3:00 PM
Iraaya scrubbed the floor.
Bent over a rag, sweat dripping from her nose.
Her palms burned,Her stomach begged,Her body ached.
But something about the action, steadied her.
She was earning, It wasn't much, but it was honest. When she finished folding the cloths, she looked up to see the old woman offering her a steel glass of buttermilk.
"what's your name?"
"Iraaya, Iraaya Zala."
The woman said nothing but didn't ask her to leave.
"you can come from 10 o'clock tomorrow. You'll get 200 bucks every day."
Two hundred, Enough for food,A little saved. Hope.
"thank you aunty, thankyou so much"
6:00 PM
With coins in her hand and sore feet, Iraaya searched for a place to sleep.
A boys' hostel gatekeeper laughed when she asked about beds.
The municipal night shelter didn't open until 9 PM
So she sat under a banyan tree outside a small temple and waited, Watching,Breathing.
She pulled Manaly's shawl around her once more.
The world didn't know her yet, not Kairos not anyone, but someday, it will.
Someday, the same city that refused her a place would print her name across its billboards.
9:45 PM
She was finally given a floor space in the women's shelter.
No pillow, just a mat and an iron roof above her.
Still, safer than the streets.
She curled up with her bag under her arm, the shawl covering her from nose to toe.
She didn't cry, not yet.
Because today, she hadn't just survived.
She had begun.