The room was dimly lit, casting soft shadows on the worn furniture. A young woman in her thirties sat on the old, creaky armchair, holding two infant toddlers in her arms. The weight of the world seemed to rest on her delicate shoulders. Her gaze was distant, lost in memories that were both beautiful and haunting.
As she rocked the infants gently, the door creaked open. A young boy, stepped inside, clutching a tricolor flag in his small hands. His eyes met hers for a fleeting moment before he quickly averted them, a mix of pride and sorrow etched on his face.She looked at him, her heart aching with a blend of emotions. Her mind echoed with the words her husband had once told their Son, "Hote hai duniya mein mehboob kai, watan se khubsoorat sanam nahi hota. Sone chandi mein lipat kar marte gai kai... tricolor se khubsoorat kafaan nahi hota." (There are many beloveds in this world, but no lover is more beautiful than one's country. Many have died wrapped in gold and silver... but no shroud is more beautiful than the tricolor flag.)
Her eyes welled up with tears, each drop a testament to the love and loss she had endured. She was just nineteen when her uncle married her off. Orphaned and vulnerable, She had been seen as a burden, and her marriage to a well-to-do family was more a transaction than a union. The man she married was an officer in training at the Indian Military Academy. He was a gentleman in every sense of the word, and under his affectionate care, the timid girl she once was began to bloom. He had loved her with a depth and sincerity that transformed her world. His gentle demeanor and unwavering support became the foundation of her happiness. With him, she felt cherished and secure, her entire world revolving around his presence. Their love was a quiet, steadfast force that grew stronger with each passing day.But fate had other plans. Duty called him to serve his country, and with a heavy heart, she watched him leave, his uniform crisp and his resolve unwavering. He left behind a promise to return, a promise she clung to through the long, lonely nights.Now, as she sat holding their children, the symbols of their love, she felt the weight of his absence more acutely than ever. The young boy with the flag was a poignant reminder of the legacy her husband had left behind—a legacy of honor, sacrifice, and undying love for his country.
*******
Once ''aap aur hum'' wrap up this will update... its a new plot Yet to write.
posted prologue so that. ... koi yeh na bole... copy kiya copy kiya.
keep smiling.
Adtdwvd :-)
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LOST CHILDHOOD
General FictionAmrit,a happy-go-lucky Gen-Z teenager, finds his world turned upside down after the sudden departure of his father and his mother stepping up to be the breadwinner. Overnight, Amrit's carefree life is replaced with the weight of responsibility, as h...
