"No river can hold her back."
Radha's eyes lit up as she finally saw the basket coming closer. Her heart leapt with joy. After so many years, her wait was ending. Her child was coming to her.
But her smile disappeared instantly. The river suddenly grew restless, its waters rising with frightening speed. The basket no longer floated gently — it shook and tilted, ready to overturn any moment.
Radha's breath caught. Her knees trembled. No! Not now… not when he is so close!
She grabbed the small yellow dress she had sewn for her son — the dress she had imagined him wearing in her arms — and thrust it into Sumati's hands. Her voice broke, but her words were firm.
"Take care of this. I am going to take my child!"
Without another thought, Radha leapt into the raging river.
For a few moments, Sumati couldn't understand what had just happened. One instant Radha was beside her, and the next there was only the empty space where she had been standing. The yellow dress was still warm from Radha's hand. Sumati stared blankly at it, her mind refusing to register.
Then a scream cut through the air.
"Radha! Come back! Don't die in front of me! If you die, people will say I was glad to see the Chief's wife gone!"
It was Vishakha, her voice breaking with fear as her eyes followed Radha's figure battling the furious river.
Sumati's gaze finally shifted to the water. There—Radha was swimming through the raging current, her arms striking against the waves as the basket floated further away. Sumati wanted to scream too, but no sound left her throat. Her knees gave way, and she sank to the ground, clutching the yellow dress against her chest as tears spilled down her cheeks.
Vishakha's cries grew louder, filled with helplessness. Tears streamed from her eyes as she kept calling Radha's name, her voice nearly lost in the roar of the river.
The river was wild, but Radha pushed forward. The moment she dove in, the water slammed against her, pulling her sideways, dragging at her limbs like invisible hands. But her eyes never left the basket.
Her arms cut through the water, her legs kicked with all their strength. The current shoved her back, again and again, but she refused to yield. Her body hurt, but she did not stop.
This river cannot take my child. I have waited too long. No god, no fate, no storm will stop me now.
A wave crashed over her head, choking her with river water. For a moment the world went dark, but fury surged inside her. She tore upward through the water, gasping, spitting, eyes blazing toward the drifting basket.
Her braid came loose, her body trembling, yet she pushed forward with all her strength. Each step forward was a fight against the river. Still she pressed on, teeth gritted, arms slashing the current.
No matter how the river fought, Radha would not let it keep her from her son.
The basket drifted ahead, bobbing and spinning, always just beyond her reach. Every time Radha pushed forward, the river shoved her back twice as hard. The water lashed against her face and stinging her eyes, but she refused to blink.
Her chest ached for air, her arms heavier with each stroke, yet she forced herself on. No… I will not lose him. Not when he is so close.
The current twisted cruelly, dragging the basket sideways toward a patch of jagged rocks. Radha's heart lurched. One wrong turn, one sudden whirl, and it could overturn. Her breath hitched in panic, but that panic only sharpened into raw rage.
"Not my child!" she shouted hoarsely into the storm, though the river swallowed her voice. Her cry turned into strength in her limbs as she forced herself against the surge.
Her bangles cut into her wrists as she forced her way through the water. A sharp stone beneath the water sliced her foot, but the sting barely registered. But pain meant nothing to her now.
The river howled louder, as if mocking her, sending another violent wave crashing over her head. For a moment she vanished beneath the surface. The cold pressed on her chest, her ears ringing under the water.
But then—her hands pushed upward, breaking the surface again. She coughed and gasped, her heart screaming: You cannot drown me. I am a mother.
The basket was still ahead, tossed helplessly by the waves. She was closer now, but not close enough. Each moment was a fight.
Adhiratha was hurrying toward the riverbank when he heard a loud cry. It was Vishakha, her voice breaking as she screamed Radha's name.
His heart skipped a beat. A chill spread through his chest. He started running, faster and faster, his sandals slipping on the muddy path.
When he reached the riverbank, his eyes darted everywhere. Sumati had collapsed on the ground, clutching something close to her chest, her face pale and wet with tears. Beside her, Vishakha was crying out Radha's name again and again, her hands stretched helplessly toward the river.
Adhiratha's gaze shot to the water. His breath caught. There—through the raging current—he saw Radha. She was almost near the basket, fighting against the furious waves with all her strength.
His breath caught. For a moment, his legs moved on their own. He ran to the edge of the river, ready to leap in. But just as his feet touched the water, he froze.
This was her trial. If he went in now, he would only make it heavier for her.
His body trembled with the effort of stopping himself. Tears welled in his eyes. His fists clenched helplessly. He wanted nothing more than to drag her back to safety — but he knew he must not.
Instead, he cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted with all the strength in his chest.
"Radha! You can do it! Don't stop! Your son is waiting for you!"
His voice cracked, but it carried over the roar of the water.
Then, quieter, he bowed his head toward the river, his tears falling freely.
"Enough," he whispered. "She has already proven herself. She did not hesitate. She is a mother. Do not test her more than this… I beg you."
The words were swallowed by the roar of the river, but he kept his eyes fixed on Radha, his heart beating only for her.
Radha's arms were burning, her body screaming for rest, but she forced herself forward. The river battered her, but her eyes never wavered from the basket.
Then, through the roar of the water, she heard it—his voice.
"Radha! You can do it! Don't stop! Your son is waiting for you!"
Adhiratha.
Her chest clenched. For a moment, she forgot the pain and cold. She wasn't alone. He was with her, even if he couldn't touch the water. His voice gave her strength to move forward.
Radha's arms slashed the current harder. Her legs kicked with renewed strength. She would not lose now. She could not.
And then—something shifted. The river, wild a moment ago, seemed to turn its force not against her but toward her. A powerful current surged, carrying the basket closer, pushing it into her path.
Radha's breath hitched. Her eyes widened. She stretched her arms out, her fingers trembling.
For one terrible instant, the basket spun past her reach. But she lunged again, her hand sweeping through the water—and caught it.
Her fingers closed around the edge of the basket. She clutched it to her chest, gasping, sobbing, half in disbelief, half in joy.
"My child…" she whispered, her tears mixing with the river water.
The basket rocked against her, but she held it firm, as if nothing in the world could pry it from her arms now.
On the riverbank, Adhiratha's knees gave way. His head dropped in gratitude, tears flowing freely down his cheeks.
"She did it," he murmured, his voice breaking.
Radha clutched the basket against her chest, her tears spilling freely as the waves lapped around her. Her body was trembling, her breath ragged, but her arms held firm, unwilling to let go.
On the riverbank, Adhiratha's eyes blurred with tears. His lips moved in a whisper, part prayer, part thanks, his hands folded against his heart. He had never seen his wife so fierce, so unyielding, and in that moment, he knew—no force in the world could deny her the right to be a mother.
Sumati pressed the yellow dress against her chest, her sobs quiet now, her gaze fixed on Radha with awe. Vishakha, still shaking, covered her mouth, her cries fading into silence as relief washed over her.
The river flowed on, calmer now, as if its trial had ended.
Radha closed her eyes and kissed the basket lid. Her voice came out in a broken whisper. "My child… you are mine now."
Everything around her fell silent—Adhiratha, Sumati, Vishakha, even the restless river—all bearing witness to the moment a mother claimed her son.
Author's Note:
Hello everyone! I want to thank you for your patience with the delay in uploading Chapter 8. This chapter was very difficult for me to write, and even now, I feel it's not perfect. I'd love your opinions—if you find any sentences or scenes that feel off or could be improved, please suggest better alternatives. If I use your idea, I'll include your name in the thank-you section for your contribution.
As a little sorry for the delay, here's a sneak peek of Chapter 9:
Radha asks Adhiratha to give a name to their son, knowing he has seen many brave names in his life. Adhiratha smiles, gently touches the baby's head and cheek, and says,
"I've seen many brave people… but I think our son deserves the name of the bravestI've ever known. Radheya—it's perfect for him."
Radha is left stunned.