"आरम्भः यत्र कथा जीवनस्य प्रारभते।"
("Ārambhaḥ — where the journey of life finds its first dawn.")
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The atmosphere was serene. The sky had turned into shades of orange and grey.
The chants of the priests lingered in the air, making the evening feel divine almost sacred. Devotees stood in long rows as the Ganga aarti began.
As the aarti reached its peak, the sound of drums and bells echoed, wrapping the Dashashwamedh Ghat in a holy rhythm.
At the far end of the ghat stood a girl small, still, her dupatta framing her head.
She faced the river, eyes closed, lips moving softly as her words slipped into the wind.
She bowed down, her forehead touching the cold marble.
The sound of the conch rose and faded behind her, but her voice was barely more than a breath.
"Hey Mata Rani... please keep everything fine."
("O Mother Goddess… please let everything go well.")
Before she could open her eyes, a voice firm yet gentle came from behind.
"Isha..."
Her brown eyes fluttered open. Her fingers moved just slightly as she adjusted her white dupatta, around her head once again her hand touching the floor and placing it on her head her eyes lingering on the holy water of Ganga for a bit long,
after which she finally stood up her steps hurried with each step her payal created a rhythmic chim mingling with echo of arti
As Isha's footsteps faded into the temple, the figure standing nearby turned his gaze just for a moment in the direction she had gone.
His amber eyes caught the flicker of diyas, the golden light reflecting softly against his calm face.
He breathed in the scent of incense, his gaze lingering on the sacred waters.
The aarti was ending, yet a sense of peace still floated in the air.
Then, a voice broke the quiet soft, amused, and full of wonder.
"This is so beautiful. I never knew the Ganga aarti looked like this…
The people, the way they pray it's all so different from Lucknow, isn't it?"
Shivani's voice, his younger sister floated softly, barely audible beneath the rising chants.
"Bhaiya…"
Shivansh turned, his face calm, yet there was a fleeting gentleness in his amber eyes.
His lips parted, as if to say something but before he could, another voice cut through the crowd.
"Shivansh! Shivani!"
Their mother's tone carried both care and quiet urgency.
Shivani's gaze flickered toward her, then back at her brother, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
"Bhai, Mumma's calling.
Let's go let's see what she's panicking about this time,"
Shivani said, rolling her eyes playfully.
"Vani…"
Shivansh's voice floated stern, yet with a hint of softness.
"Let's go."
Shivani's brown eyes glimmered with mischief as she gestured toward the path ahead.
"As you say, my dear bhai,"
she teased.
Shivansh shook his head, his lips curling into a faint smile.
Before they could move, their mother's voice floated again clearer this time, filled with mild exasperation.
"These children… they don't even know where they are! We need to go;everything's already so cluttered. And the aarti is over!"
As their mother's voice reached them, Shivani moved with sudden urgency her hurried steps echoing softly before fading into the crowd.
Behind her, Shivansh followed, slower this time.
His gaze lingered on the river, on the flickering diyas now floating away and for a fleeting moment, toward the path where Isha had gone.
He started walking again, but his shoelace came undone.
Kneeling down, his fingers moved deftly to tie the knot.
Just as he began to rise, something caught his eye something faint, glimmering near the edge of the steps.
Her hands had moved just moments ago a flicker of silver had caught the fading light.
Now, his gaze fell upon it.
A small anklet its gungroos still swaying faintly lay near the steps, the soft chime barely audible beneath the hum of the crowd.
For a moment, Shivansh's eyes flickered, scanning the surroundings.
But when he saw no one, his fingers slowly reached out, curling around the cool silver of the payal.
He turned toward the path where Isha had gone moments ago.
His fingers tightened around the payal before he stood, the silver glinting faintly in the dim light.
For a second, he looked at it then slipped it into his pocket.
As he walked away, the faint chime of its ghungroos echoed softly a sound unknown, yet strangely familiar.
As Shivansh moved ahead, the faint chime of the ghungroo faded carried away by the evening wind.
—
Somewhere within the sacred courtyard of the Vishwanath Temple, the same silver chime echoed softly with each of Isha's steps, swallowed by the quiet chanting of the devotees.
Isha's brown eyes flickered softly under the glow of the diyas as she pushed her way through the crowd of devotees.
Her steps carried a quiet urgency until she finally stopped before her father.
"Isha, where were you?"
his voice came concerned, barely audible beneath the faint chants.
"Take this prasad, and let's go home. It's getting too crowded."
Isha nodded, accepting the prasad with both hands.
As she did, her fingers moved instinctively, adjusting her dupatta over her head once more.
Her gaze lingered on the lingam adorned with marigolds and belpatra, the air thick with sandalwood.
The scent curled through the temple, wrapping the space in a peaceful, divine calm.
For a moment, she bowed her eyes closed, her head bent in reverence that lasted longer than a breath.
Just as she began to move again, her father's voice floated once more through the hum of the temple…
Her head snapped down.
For a second, she just stared her breath caught, the space around her suddenly too still.
That anklet… her father's gift.
Her fingers brushed against her right foot, the lone payal still chiming faintly a soft sound lost beneath the temple bells.
Aditya sighed, shaking his head gently.
"You and your carelessness,"
he muttered, though his eyes softened.
Isha looked around here and there, her gaze wandering to the temple walls.
Her voice came low and hesitant, not meeting her father's eyes.
"Papa… aap jaiye hum aate hai…"
("Papa… you go ahead, I'll be right behind you.")
For once, Aditya looked at her but then his eyes softened.
The devotees were already there, and it was getting congested now.
Yet, as if he understood his daughter, he only hummed and started walking his footsteps steady, creating a thump on the floor.
Pushing past the devotees, he moved towards home.
When Aditya was finally gone, his silhouette fading in the hush of devotees, Isha released a breath she didn't know she was holding.
For once, her eyes again shifted to the lingam, adorned with belpatra.
She started walking her feet steady, the rhythmic chim of her payal faint, yet there, reminding her of her lost pair each time.
As she moved across the lines of devotees, pushing past the queue, she finally reached the ghat the scent of rose curling in the air, exactly where she was a minute ago.
Her bare foot touched the cold floor, the fragrance of ghee curling in the air, mingling softly and creating a pure calm.
Her brown eyes wandered toward the floor, as if she could find the traces of her payal but there were none.
Each time, the rustle of her white anarkali gave way as her eyes wandered through all the corners where she had been standing a minute ago.
Devotees passed by all blurring, as she kept looking.
Then she stilled.
She looked around and for once, her eyes caught a faint leather strap.
Her voice came faint, fading into the air.
"Hey Shiv ji… ye kiski hai?"
("Oh Lord Shiva… whose is this?")
The clock ticked their hands reminding of the watch glimmering under the faint light.
The sky had surrendered to darkness; the air had turned chill.
For once, Isha looked around, her gaze sweeping everywhere.
She bent down ,for once she hesitated, looking once more, as if she could find the owner.
But there was no one, except for the devotees sitting in front of the Ganga.
Finally, her fingers tightened around the strap. The leather felt warm grounding her. Something about it was familiar, though she didn't know why… but it felt as if it was hers only.
She finally stood up, her gaze soft, her fingers moving to adjust the dupatta.
Then she started walking the leather still in her hand, reminding her of something strange yet so familiar.
As she walked, finally far away from the ghat, her figure faded the ticking of the clock reminding her of the stranger.
Yet her steps were calm, the faint chim of the payal reminding her of her lost pair as she moved through the lanes of Banaras, towards her home.
—
At the same time, in Varanasi Cantonment, in the Atri house, Shivansh navigated his hands carefully, opening the boxes and fixing the things.
His sister's voice came, irritated searching for the lost notebook.
Their mother moved swiftly across the house, her lips moving in a quiet prayer as she waved the Sandhya aarti to every corner of the home.
Though her eyes held frustration, she still moved towards the temple they had newly set up, keeping the aarti thal once again before the deity, her head bowing in reverence.
She turned, her eyes carrying a hint of frustration as her payal made a faint chim with every step.
The scent of sandalwood curled in the air, wrapping the quarters in a peaceful atmosphere.
Shivani's voice floated again louder this time, enough for both her mother and brother to hear how irritated she was.
"Mumma! Meri school ki notebooks nahi mil rahi hain!"
("Mumma! I can't find my school notebooks anywhere!")
"In which box did you pack them earlier?"
"Ugh! All the things are so cluttered! Kaise dhoondein apna samaan isme?"
("How am I supposed to find my things in all this clutter?")
Her voice echoed through the quarters.
Her mother's voice came she shook her head, done with her daughter, though her eyes softened.
"Pehle khud rakho, aur phir na mile to poora ghar sar pe utha lo.
Dekh, wahi kahin hoga."
("First, you misplace it yourself, and then you turn the whole house upside down! Look properly, it must be somewhere.")
Shivani's gaze swept through the large boxes carefully gleaming decorative pieces kept safely wrapped in plastic sheets.
But there was no trace of her notebook. She shook her head, her brows furrowing as she shouted again.
"Mumma! Nahi mil rahi hai!"
("Mumma! Still not finding it!")
Her mother's voice came again, irritated as she worked in the kitchen.
"Agar main wahan aa gayi aur mujhe mil gayi na, Shivani… tab dekhna!"
("If I come there and find it myself, Shivani… just wait and watch!")
Shivansh, seeing all the drama, shook his head at his sister's antics.
Shivani gulped audibly, looking once more as if the notebook could appear out of nowhere her gaze nervously shifting from the kitchen entrance to her brother.
Her mother was already moving, mumbling something about her daughter, though her eyes still held a trace of softness.
Shivani looked helplessly toward her brother, as if he could save her. But Shivansh only continued working, as if he hadn't seen her pushing past the boxes though his lips curled into a faint smile, his amber eyes carrying a quiet warmth.
As Shivani was still searching, the notebook suddenly appeared in front of her eyes.
She gasped, startled her brown eyes snapping upward.
There he was, standing Shivansh his face composed, though a hint of softness lingered in his eyes.
Shivani quickly took the notebook, her voice urgent as if trying to stop her mother from coming closer.
"Mumma! Mil gayi, mil gayi hai!
Aap apna kaam karo jaake!"
("Mumma! Found it, found it! Now go do your work!")
Sunita only shook her head, turning again though her lips curled into a small smile as she saw her children finally busy. Her hands resumed their rhythm, chopping vegetables.
Shivansh's voice floated, a hint of care lingering in his tone.
"Vani, kya karti ho? Kabhi to apna samaan sahi se rakh liya karo."
("Vani, what are you doing? At least once, try keeping your things in place.")
His hands moved steadily, fixing the photo frames on the wall.
Shivani's voice came again, teasing but warm carrying a trace of belonging.
"Aap ho na, Bhai. Mera samaan sambhalne ke liye."
("That's what you're here for, Bhai ,to take care of my mess.")
For a moment, Shivansh stilled his focus shifting briefly then he simply exhaled, returning to his work.
Shivani's figure faded as she disappeared into her room.
The house slowly wrapped itself again in a peaceful quiet.
As Shivansh reached for the next photo frame, he paused.
His gaze fell on his wrist.
Empty.
His eyes swept across the room searching, as if he could find his lost watch somewhere.
But there was none.
Then, slowly, he stilled a flicker of memory crossing his face.
The Ganga Ghat… maybe there.
Maybe it slipped past my hand.
The house was wrapped in the comforting scent of a home-cooked meal.
After days of travelling and unpacking, the Atri family finally sat together at the dining table, the quiet clinking of plates filling the room.
Yet somewhere, Shivansh's thoughts drifted to the payal kept in his room.
The faint chime of its ghungroos echoed in his mind, soft and persistent, reminding him of someone he didn't even know.
—
Meanwhile, somewhere across the city, Isha moved through the small kitchen, arranging the dinner.
Her lone payal chimed faintly with every step, a soft rhythm blending into the quiet sounds of home.
Her mother's voice broke through the silence, carrying that familiar note of mild scolding.
"Ye ladki bhi na, payal kho di. Kuch sambhal ke rakhna nahi aata!"
("This girl… lost her anklet again! She can't take care of a single thing.")
Before Isha could respond, her father's voice came calm, gentle, carrying warmth.
"Arre, Meera ji… jaane dijiye. Hum dusri payal la denge."
("Oh come on, Meera ji… let it be. We'll just get her another one.")
At the table, her younger brother, Shivin, looked up from his plate eyes glinting with mischief.
"Acha, Papa! Agar humse agar kuch kho aya hota na, to to aap daant dete.
Didi se kho gayi hai, to dusri dilwa doge?"
("Oh really, Papa? If I had lost it, you'd have scolded me. But since Didi did, you'll just buy her a new one?")
Isha's fingers froze mid movement.
Her lips pressed together, trying to hide a faint smile as her brother's laughter filled the room.
Somewhere far away, in another quiet home, the faint chime of a lost payal rested on a wooden shelf untouched, yet alive with its soft echo.
As dinner finally ended, Isha walked back to her room, her thoughts still lingering on the watch she had found.
Her brother moved beside her, his voice breaking the silence.
"Kya hua, Didi?"
("What happened, Didi?")
Isha just shook her head, setting her books aside and arranging things for the next day.
But her eyes flickered once more towards the table drawer where the watch rested quietly, its leather strap glinting faintly in the soft lamp light.
Meanwhile, somewhere in another house, Shivansh stacked his notebooks neatly.
His fingers paused for a moment, brushing against his empty wrist.
A faint crease formed between his brows.
Maybe it slipped at the ghat, he thought but something about its absence felt heavier than it should.
He shook his head, exhaling softly, and switched off the lamp.
The room fell into darkness, except for the faint ticking of a clock.
Somewhere
far away, another clock ticked in rhythm.
And somewhere between the chime of a payal and the ticking of a watch, two stories quietly began to intertwine.
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