What is worship ?
For him his duty, his sense of surrender to the soil he was born was worship .
Location: Kashmir
The sky had turned into orange hues as the faint light of dawn spilled over the white snow.
The air was sharp, cold; the sky was turning into a shade of blue, the mist covering the pine.
The faint earthy scent still lingered in the air. The dews clung to leaves as Captain Atri stood at the edge of the camp, his amber eyes calm, composed, his demeanour strict never wavering for once.
As he watched the officers wrapping up the camouflage tents, a hint of nostalgia lingered in the atmosphere.
The wireless crackled faintly, but enough for him to catch the words,
"Alpha team wrap complete, awaiting transport clearance."
He gave a firm nod, his voice steady, echoed through the wireless,
"Copy that."
The things were loaded into the military jeep as the soldiers moved, their olive-green uniforms having the faint trace of dust and tiredness.
As they moved, their shoes clicked softly, creating a soft thud against the floor though a sense of duty was there.
As the truck rumbled to life, Shivansh's eyes lingered on the mountains once more, his face radiating with confidence, his every step filled with purpose.
It was time to go home.
This place was the witness of their last few months, a testament to their spirit of courage and duty.
As they moved, Shivansh's composure never wavered for once because for him, this was his duty.
Yet, as they moved away, a thought crossed his mind, and his lips curved just slightly.
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What is reverence?
For him reverence was her .
The auditorium buzzed with students moving hastily. The stage there, nervous glances at each other as the anticipation lingered in the air.
Somewhere at the far end of the auditorium sat a girl on the chair, her face soft, glasses tucked on her face giving her a composed look.
Her brown eyes entirely focused on the notebook in her hand beside, as she read through the notebook waiting for the announcement.
A voice fell in her ears soft yet teasing, "Oye, chashmish."
For once, she tried to ignore the voice, yet the way she shifted slightly clearly trying to escape from there told a different story.
Just again, the voice came. This time, the boy moved, his footsteps clicking, yet his eyes still lingered on her, carrying a warmth as if he could see more than just a calm, composed, soft girl.
There was more to it.
"Kya karti rehti hai din bhar?
Kabhi idhar-udhar dekh bhi liya kar."
The girl's eyes snapped to him, her fingers moving just slightly to adjust her glasses.
Her lips parted just slightly, but before the words could tumble out, an announcement echoed through the hallway.
"All the participants for the poetry recitation competition, come up on the stage and take your seats,"
the teacher stood behind the podium as she announced the names, her tone professional.
All the students straightened up slightly, and all the hushed whispers froze their attention now fixed on the teacher's voice.
Just then, a name echoed through the hallway.
"Isha Vyaas, from the junior side."
The girl stood up, placing the notebook down. Her steps were confident, yet the way her fingers trembled told a different story.
Her shoes clicked against the marble floor, creating a soft thud as she moved toward the stage and took her designated position.
Just then, another announcement was made.
"Shivansh Atri, from the senior side."
For once, Isha's shoulders stiffened, her gaze flickering to him.
He stood there his amber eyes gleaming with mischief, his white shirt crisp, tucked neatly as he moved deliberately, every stride filled with purpose. And then, he settled just next to Isha.
Isha shifted just slightly, clearly trying to ignore him because for her, all boys were the same.
They never saw someone's pain.
Maybe it wasn't their fault, or maybe people just never understood her enough.
So she stayed buried in her notebooks, trying to escape the world fighting her loneliness, one page at a time.
For once, Shivansh's eyes softened. His gaze shifted slightly from her to the front, making sure she was comfortable.
Just then, the teacher's voice echoed again calm, professional.
"So, participants, you already know the rules.
The topic will be given on the spot, and the next partner has to continue the poem.
If one partner fails to continue, the group will be disqualified.
And at last, the top three groups will be awarded.
Clear?"
The microphone was passed to them, its metallic surface glinting under the light.
Isha's fingers tightened around it, her grip firm but trembling ever so slightly.
As the competition began, one by one, the teacher announced the topics for each group.
Students' voices floated through the hallway some trembling, some confident, some fumbling midway.
And then, as their turn came, the teacher's voice rose again steady and clear.
For once, Isha shifted just slightly her legs shaking under the table as she tried to steady herself.
Shivansh's eyes lingered on her, watching every tremor, yet he remained silent.
Not once did his gaze waver making sure she felt confident.
The teacher's voice floated again, calm and clear.
"Isha, if you had to describe a girl through poetry…"
For once, Isha's eyes softened, her face flickering with warmth and something deeper, something she'd been fighting alone.
Her fingers tightened around the chair as she inhaled a sharp breath.
Then, her voice floated soft, yet trembling ever so slightly.
"Ek ladki deewani si,
Shayad thodi matwali si,
Na jaane kin sapno ki duniya mein khoi rehti,
Kandhon par sabka bhaar liye chalti rehti,
Ek ladki deewani si…"
Every syllable came from somewhere deep within her heart as if this was her own reflection.
"Logon ne to saath chhod diya,
Logon ke sabdon ka teer laga, par usne has kar taal diya,
Simmat gaye woh sabd kahin,
Ashru ki dhaara aanchal se yun poonch woh,
Hotho par muskaan liye,
Chalti rehti
Ek ladki deewani si,
Shayad thodi matwali si…"
Her lips curled just slightly as she spoke, her eyes glimmering with something unspoken.
"Samajh nahi thi usko duniya ki,
Par logon ne to samjha sab aata hai isko,
Daal diye sab kartavya us par,
Akela chhod diya us ladki ko,
Muskaan kahin dhumil ho gayi,
Reh gayi aankhon mein asru,
Har raat aankhon mein nami liye soyi hai,
Na jaane fir bhi woh har subah muskurayi hai…"
For once, the hallway froze silence lingering in the air.
Isha's voice trembled ever so slightly as the last verse floated as if this was her own story.
"Nahi rahi woh ladki deewani si,
Apne sapno mein khoi si…"
For once, silence lingered in the hall every person focusing on her words, as if this wasn't just poetry; it was something real, something deep.
Just then, a voice floated through the air calm, composed, yet deep.
"Aaj bhi hai wo ladki deewani si,
Wahi matwali,
Bas kahin chup si gayi hai,
Kahin ojhal si hui hai,
Aaj bhi hai wo ladki
Deewani si."
Shivansh's voice carried softly across the room, his amber eyes reflecting a soft, knowing look as he continued his tone now growing more firm, more assured.
"Kahin sambhala khud ko,
Kahin dil mein aaya hai,
Samjhe koi use,
To wo aaj bhi wahi
Ladki deewani si,
Aaj bhi wahi matwali si."
For once, Isha's warm eyes lingered on him as if seeking reassurance.
Shivansh's tone rose with each passing line, yet carried that same quiet warmth.
He knew exactly what these words meant
to her.
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