The night was quiet, and only the soft murmurs of the river Ganga filled the air as the woman rocked her crying infant in her trembling arms.
"Shhh… calm down, my child," she whispered, her voice already breaking.
"Don't cry… your mother is right here."
But as she soothed the baby, her own tears spilled freely.
And the moment the newborn saw her mother cry, she slowly quieted—
as if her tiny heart understood her mother's pain.
The woman smiled weakly through her tears.
For a moment, everything was still between them… tender, fragile.
Then, with a shaking breath, she placed the child gently into a small wicker basket.
She turned toward the river's edge.
Each step felt like she was walking through a nightmare of her own making.
"I'm sorry… forgive me, my love," she choked.
"If you stay with me, you'll never be safe.
If she finds out about you… she will kill you."
Her voice cracked. Tears streamed again.
The baby stared at her mother with wide, knowing eyes—
too calm for a child who should've been oblivious.
As if she understood every trembling word.
A faint smile tugged at the woman's lips despite her pain.
And the baby, seeing that smile, began to giggle softly.
That tiny sound broke her heart all over again.
At the riverbank, she knelt and lowered the basket into the shimmering water.
The baby's laughter danced with the ripples—
and her mother's tears doubled.
"I promise you," she whispered, her voice trembling violently,
"whoever forced me to do this… I will not spare her.
This is a mother's oath."
With one final trembling push… she let the basket drift into the current.
But before she could even breathe—
A blade flashed.
A violent strike landed between her shoulders.
She gasped, stumbling forward.
The chain around her neck snapped, and the pendant fell—
straight into the floating basket.
Darkness swallowed her as the river carried her child away.
---
Haridwar — Same Night
The riverbank bustled with soft devotional chants and glowing diyas.
Sulochana knelt in reverence, performing Kanya Pujan, offering prasad to the little girls seated before her.
"Mother Sulochana, shall we leave now?" someone called out.
"You plan to spend the whole night here?"
"Yes, I'm coming," she replied gently.
Her husband, Nishant, walked up a moment later.
"I was just finishing," she said, smiling faintly.
She touched the girls' feet, took their blessings, and handed out the final offerings.
When the puja ended, Nishant sighed,
"Now that you're done, can we please go? It's quite late."
"Oh, please," she scolded lightly.
"You're always in a hurry. At least meet the priest first."
Nishant was about to protest, but stopped when he saw her sadness—
a sadness he had grown familiar with.
He followed silently.
They bowed before the priest, offering prasad.
The priest smiled warmly.
"May you be blessed with prosperity and children.
May your home be filled with laughter."
Their faces fell instantly.
The priest noticed.
"What troubles you, children? Tell me," he asked gently.
Sulochana forced a sad smile.
"Pandit ji… the Goddess has blessed us with everything—wealth, happiness… except…"
She stopped.
"Except what, daughter?"
"Except a child," she whispered brokenly.
"She took away my ability to become a mother.
If even the Goddess doesn't wish it… how can you help?"
The priest gave her a serene smile.
"If the Goddess has taken something from you,
she must be preparing to give something far more precious."
He walked away, leaving his words hanging in the air.
Sulochana stared at the river, lost.
And Nishant, frustrated at seeing her hurt once again, muttered curses at the priest.
"How can you say that!" she scolded sharply.
"You don't insult a priest! Oh God, forgive him—he doesn't know what he says."
Just then, her eyes fell on the flowing water.
A sudden thought gripped her.
"Come!" she said urgently, grabbing Nishant's hand.
"You will take a dip in the Ganga and ask forgiveness!"
Before he could argue, she dragged him toward the water,
pulled him right in, and forced him to submerge with her.
Reluctantly, he obeyed.
They took one dip.
Then another.
As they rose from the third—
A soft thud.
Something bumped into Nishant's arm.
They turned.
A basket.
A baby.
"Oh God," Sulochana whispered, tears instantly returning,
"It's a baby…"
Nishant nodded, stunned.
Sulochana lifted the child, holding her close as she scanned the area for someone—anyone—who might be looking.
Seeing her shake, Nishant helped her up the steps.
He gently took the child so she could sit.
"We must hand her to the authorities," he said.
"Her family might be looking for her."
But Sulochana's eyes were already drowning in longing.
Nishant didn't notice. He walked away to inform the temple committee.
Left alone, she pressed her trembling hand to her mouth.
"Please," she whispered to the heavens,
"don't bring her mother here.
Don't take her away from me.
Just this once… listen to me."
---
Hours later, Nishant returned.
Her eyes searched his hands immediately—
but they were empty.
She swayed, nearly collapsing, but he caught her.
"Sulochana! Steady!"
Ignoring his concern, she asked,
"Where is the baby?
Did her parents come?
Did they take her?"
Nishant sighed softly.
"No. No one came. We searched… no one claimed her."
Relief washed over her face.
"But then where—"
"Because she is with us, daughter," a calm voice said.
They turned.
It was the priest.
And in his arms—the baby.
Sulochana gasped, snatching the child into her arms and hugging her tightly.
"My child… are you hurt? Are you alright?"
The priest smiled knowingly.
"I told you, daughter… the Goddess never leaves a womb empty without purpose.
Perhaps she wanted you to be this child's mother."
Just then, the baby laughed—
a bright, ringing sound.
The pendant around her neck slipped out.
Moonlight struck it—
And it glowed.
A halo of light wrapped the infant like a divine cocoon.
The priest whispered, awestruck:
"This child is no ordinary child.
She was born for a divine purpose,
and destiny has already marked her."
He looked at Sulochana with solemn eyes.
"Her path will be filled with trials.
Until she is ready to protect herself…
you must protect her."
He bowed.
"Jai Maa Bhavani."
And he walked away—
leaving behind a blessing, a warning, and a destiny wrapped in a glowing pendant.
---
Later...
The storm arrived without warning.
Dark clouds rolled over Haridwar as Sulochana and Nishant hurried home, the newborn wrapped securely in Sulochana's trembling arms. The rain had not yet begun, but the wind howled as if something unseen roamed the night—searching.
The baby was quiet now. Too quiet.
She stared up at Sulochana with the same calm, ancient understanding she had shown her birth mother. Her tiny fingers clutched the glowing pendant, as if holding on to something she remembered but could not name.
Sulochana held her closer.
"Don't worry," she whispered, voice soft but firm. "You're safe. No one will take you from me."
Nishant looked at her, a flicker of concern crossing his face. He had seen his wife longing for a child for years… but this sudden attachment terrified him.
"We still need to inform someone," he said cautiously. "The authorities… someone must know she arrived alone."
"No!"
The word burst from Sulochana before she could stop it.
Nishant stared, startled.
She softened her tone. "I mean… not tonight. She's just a baby. Let her sleep. We'll talk in the morning."
Nishant hesitated. Then nodded. Tonight, he didn't have the heart to argue.
---
The moment they stepped inside their home, the wind outside fell eerily silent.
Not a single leaf rustled.
As if the world held its breath.
Sulochana laid the child on a soft blanket, lighting a small diya beside her for warmth. The flame flickered strangely—rising tall, shrinking low, rising again — almost responding to the child's presence.
"Do you see that?" Nishant whispered.
Sulochana didn't answer. Her gaze was fixed on the infant.
The baby cooed softly and stretched her hand toward the flame. The diya's light brightened—golden, almost divine.
A shiver ran down Nishant's spine.
"Sulochana… this is not normal."
She turned sharply.
"So what? She's a blessing! A miracle!"
He didn't argue. Instead, he knelt beside her and watched the baby, a mix of fear and wonder filling his eyes.
"What will we call her?" he asked.
Sulochana smiled faintly—the first real smile in years.
"Arika," she whispered. "A gift of the Goddess."
The moment the name left her lips — Thunder cracked through the sky.
The entire house trembled.
The diya's flame expanded suddenly, then extinguished itself.
The pendant around Arika's neck glowed brighter… brighter… until the room filled with a soft golden light.
Sulochana gasped and shielded her eyes.
Nishant staggered back.
The glow intensified, swirling into a delicate halo around the baby — a lotus-shaped aura, shimmering with ancient symbols neither of them recognized.
Arika didn't cry. She simply watched the light swirl around her as if it was part of her own soul.
Then—
Footsteps.
Slow.
Deliberate.
On the roof.
Sulochana froze.
Nishant's face drained of color.
Someone — or something — was outside.
---
A jagged flash of lightning illuminated a silhouette through the window — tall, wrapped in flowing black cloth, moving with unnatural grace.
Nishant whispered, "Someone's watching the house…"
Sulochana clutched Arika protectively.
"Get away from the windows!" she hissed.
But it was too late.
A thin slit opened in the air — like a tear in reality — and a shadowed hand slipped through it.
It rested against the glass from outside, long fingers tapping once… twice… as if testing a barrier.
Tap.
Tap.
The pendant around Arika's neck pulsed in warning.
The hand recoiled, as if burned.
The shadow hissed — a low, unnatural sound.
Then it vanished.
As if it had never been there.
Nishant's breath shook. "What… what was that?"
Sulochana hugged Arika tightly.
"A sign," she whispered. "A reminder of what the priest said."
Nishant swallowed. "That danger is coming for her."
"No," Sulochana corrected, her grip tightening.
"That danger is looking for her.
And tonight… it couldn't reach her."
Her eyes flicked to the glowing pendant.
"Because the Goddess isn't letting it."
The wind howled again, rattling the windows. But Sulochana didn't flinch.
Her voice was firm. Unwavering.
"Arika stays with us. No matter what comes."
Behind her, the diya flickered back to life on its own.
And the storm outside finally broke — as if acknowledging the beginning of a destiny that would shake heaven and earth.
---