𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐊𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐫 𝐎𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐢 (𝟏𝟖+) ✅

𝟐𝟓: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

TEN MONTHS LATER

The rhythmic clinking of my bangles was the only sound that dared to compete with the morning puja chants emanating from the temple sanctum. Sunlight dappled through the ancient banyan tree, and danced on the worn shirt I scrubbed. Life in Banaras, a stark contrast to the life I fled, had settled into a quiet rhythm. Teaching eager young minds, assisting at the temple, and weaving fragrant garlands at the flower shop – a symphony of simple joys. Yet, a discordant note lingered in my heart.

"Har Har Mahadev, Bitiya"

(Hail Lord Mahadev, Child)

"Har Har Mahadev, kaka," I replied with a practised smile to the temple caretaker, his kind eyes holding a silent question. I knew what he saw – a shadow clinging to my youthful face, a veil of wariness draped over my once vibrant spirit.

(Hail Lord Mahadev, Uncle)

This new life was a lie, a carefully constructed facade hiding the gaping wound his words inflicted. Even here, amidst the calming chants and the sacred hum of the Ganges, his cruelty echoed in the quiet corners of my mind. Every glance in the mirror, a dreaded ritual, was a battle against the voice whispering his accusations. The insecurities he planted, like venomous seeds, had blossomed into a garden of self-doubt.

Rajshree's voice jolted me back to reality. "Di, can you open the shop today? I have something to do."

A wave of gratitude washed over me. Rajshree and her father, like guardian angels, had taken me in when I arrived in Banaras, lost and unsure. My mother, though hesitant, reluctantly agreed to this escape, hoping it would bring me happiness. Happiness, is an elusive concept that still mocked me from a distance.

Despite the facade, a sliver of truth remained. Teaching the children, the rhythmic hum of weaving garlands, the quiet solace of the temple – these brought a sense of purpose, a balm to the ever-present ache. It was a start, a fragile foundation for rebuilding myself, piece by broken piece. But a part of me craved more, a yearning for genuine joy, a future unshackled from the chains of his lies. Today, as I stepped into the familiar scent of the flower shop, a flicker of determination ignited within me. This new life, though built on a lie, could become the seed of my own truth. I would reclaim my happiness, one fragrant garland, one eager student, one chanted prayer at a time.