The morning air was still when Sai climbed the tree.The branch bent slightly under her weight, leaves brushing against her face as she reached higher. Below her, the ground felt far away, but Sai didn't look down. She never did. Fear had no place in her life.
Her eyes were the most striking bright, alert, alive with purpose. They held no fear, only focus, as she stretched her arm higher. For a brief moment, the branch wavered, but Sai didn't.
"I don't understand what's going on, Pari," a voice said from below."First, Sister Sahi collected honey from a beehive. Then she extracted milk from a cow. And now… why has she climbed so high just to pluck a leaf?"
Sai's fingers closed around the leaf, and in that instant, her face changed.Excitement flickered across her expression quick, unguarded. A small smile curved her lips, not loud or dramatic, but genuine the kind that appeared only when something truly mattered. There was triumph in her eyes, a childlike spark breaking through her otherwise composed exterior. It was the look of someone who found joy not in grand victories, but in small moments earned through effort.
Clutching the leaf, she exhaled softly, relief and happiness blending together.Then she jumped down from the tree."Pari, no need to answer his question," Sai said, her smile bright. "I'll answer him myself."
"Because today is my father's birthday."
"Sister Sahi," Pari asked curiously, "will your father eat this leaf together with the honey and milk?"
Sai laughed softly and shook her head.
"Oh no, Pari. This leaf is not for my father. It's for Mahadev (Lord Shiva). "Oh… I see, Sister Sahi," Pari said, understanding dawning on her face.
"I've answered both your questions now," Sai said warmly. "Come on, let's go."
Sai, along with Pari and Ranveer, soon arrived at the temple.She stepped forward alone, her expression turning solemn as she folded her hands in prayer."Mahadev," she whispered, "you know how much I love my father. He is my life. Since today is his birthday, I ask you to bless him and keep him happy always."
She placed the leaves before the deity.
"I brought you your favorite leaves," she continued softly. "And I have one more request. Please help me pass my medical entrance exam. If I succeed, my father and I will move to Nagpur, since he will be retiring in fifteen days." Her eyes closed as her faith carried the weight of her hopes.
His hands moved with quiet familiarity.
The dough rested in his palm, soft and warm, as his fingers shaped it with slow, careful precision. There was patience in the way he worked, as though this was not just a ritual, but something deeply personal.
He pressed the edges gently, folding the dough into delicate pleats, each one formed with care. The filling was sealed inside, hidden from sight, as if he were protecting something meant only for one person. Every movement spoke of intention, of effort poured silently into a simple act.A faint smile touched his lips as he worked.This was not something made out of obligation. It was made out of thought out of memory. Out of a feeling he didn't speak aloud.
As the modak took shape, perfect and complete in his palm, there was a softness in his expression. The kind that appeared only when the world slowed down and the heart spoke louder than words.He set it aside gently, as if it mattered.
"Brother, today is your birthday," Usha said gently as she removed a cucumber from the market bag. "And you like modaks too."
He paused for a moment.
"Usha, you know Alta used to love modaks on my birthday," he said quietly.
Usha's expression changed instantly at the mention of Sai's mother. A shadow passed over her face as old memories resurfaced.
"And my Sai," he added after a brief silence, his voice softening, "she loves them so much too."
"Of course, brother," Usha replied, nodding. Then she looked around the room. "But… where is she?"