After Akshatha started her menstruation, many things in her daily life changed drastically. In their region, it was followed as a traditional practice by elders, especially regarding food, bathing, and care.
She was told not to catch a cold, so she wore a sweater almost throughout the year. Her routine drink was also changed. Instead of simple milk, she was given a dry-fruit milk preparation—like a sweetened dry fruit payasam. Rock sugar was added to sweeten it, and twice a day it was given with two to three spoons of ghee on top.
Interestingly, this drink slowly became her brother Manu's favorite too. He enjoyed having it regularly.
Her diet also included foods meant to strengthen the body—whole black gram (urad dal) cooked with ghee and jaggery, sometimes with coconut. She was also given dry fruit laddus, sweet fenugreek mudde, and chigali unde (sesame and jaggery balls). All these were continued for nearly six months with the intention of making her stronger.
Her parents believed this would help her gain weight and improve her strength. However, instead of visible changes in her, Manu appeared to become even healthier and stronger. It was not that Akshatha did not benefit, but the difference was more clearly visible in her brother.
Her bathing routine was also strictly controlled. She was not allowed to bathe alone due to fear of catching a cold. Her bath time was kept under ten minutes. Her mother would personally wash her hair, and within a few minutes she would finish washing her body. Hot water was poured repeatedly over her, almost like a fixed routine. A large basket of hot water was used each time. For Akshatha, it often felt overwhelming, as she found the water too hot, but the routine was strictly followed.
The elders believed that when a girl reached menstruation, her body entered a delicate phase. And during that time, special care was necessary to make her stronger for the future. Especially for motherhood later in life, they believed these practices would strengthen her back, bones, and overall health.
So, if it happened again in the present, the same routine would still be followed—without question.
Akshatha knew this.
The food plan, the warm drinks, the restrictions, and the extra care were all considered "standard procedure" in household.
Akshatha finished her warm milk slowly while Manu, already full of energy again, ran back outside to play with his friends.
The house became quiet.
She walked toward the storeroom.
It had been one week since they had packed the straw into plastic covers and carefully arranged them in a corner. At that time, it had just looked like simple bundles—ordinary straw sealed and left in stillness.
Now, things had changed.
She stood near them and observed quietly.
At first glance, the plastic covers looked slightly different—no longer empty or dry. A faint moisture had formed inside, like tiny droplets clinging to the inner surface. The air inside the room felt a little warmer around that corner, almost alive in a silent way.
When she leaned closer, she noticed it.
The straw was no longer just straw.
A soft white layer had started spreading through it—thin at some places, thick and cotton-like at others. It looked like threads slowly connecting everything together, binding the straw into one growing body. The smell had also changed slightly—not bad, but earthy, deeper, like wet soil after rain.
Akshatha tilted her head, watching carefully.
This was the beginning of growth.
What had once been dry and lifeless was now slowly becoming something active. The white growth had started spreading from different points, like invisible roots taking control inside the bundle. Some areas looked denser, almost cloud-like, while other parts were still catching up.
She noticed how evenly it was spreading where the straw had been packed tightly. In looser sections, the growth looked slower, uneven, still trying to find its path.
It felt strange to her—how something so simple could quietly transform when left undisturbed.
As she kept watching, she realized this was only the beginning stage. The structure was still forming, still building strength inside before anything visible would come out.
She came out of the storeroom quietly, still thinking about what she had just seen.
Before her father had gone out earlier, she had asked him for money—just to eat some chaat outside. He had handed her a crisp ₹100 note without much thought, trusting her like always.
Now, holding it in her hand, curiosity grew inside her.
She had never really tested her system's copying ability on money before.
Standing alone for a moment, she called it in her mind—like she always did when she wanted to access it.
The system responded.
She focused on the ₹100 note and gave a simple command to copy it.
There was no visible reaction, no sound, no dramatic change. But in that subtle way she had started noticing over time, something shifted.
Now she had ₹200.
She paused.
One note remained in her hand, and the other felt "new" in presence, even though both looked identical.
Carefully, she kept the original ₹100 aside—treating it like savings. The other she kept for herself. Then, as if nothing unusual had happened, she decided to go out.
The thought of snacks brought her focus back to normal life.
She first went to the bakery and bought a paneer puff and a chocolate cream cake. After that, she stopped by a small stall and ordered one plate of masala poori, packed for takeout.
The familiar smell of food, the noise of the street, everything felt ordinary again.
But inside her, the thought of the system still lingered.
After walking a little further, she turned into a narrow alley where there were fewer people. It was quiet there.
She stood still for a moment.
In her mind, she activated the system again—this time with more awareness, more control. She gave a command, careful and precise, as if testing boundaries rather than curiosity alone.
She focused on the items she had just purchased.
The system responded.
For a brief moment, she felt that strange sense of separation—like reality and perception were slightly out of sync. Then it settled.
Now, she had duplicates of everything she had bought.
The paneer puff, the cake, and the masala poori—all existed double.
She held both sets carefully, making sure not to drop anything. Her expression stayed calm, but her mind was quietly processing what this meant.
Nothing around her had changed. No one had noticed anything unusual. The alley remained silent, indifferent.
She stood there for a moment longer, holding both reality and repetition in her hands, understanding more clearly now that this ability wasn't just about having more—it was about control, restraint, and choice.
And then, as if deciding she had seen enough for one day, she slowly turned back toward home.