Kavya muttered to herself, her voice barely above a whisper: Our meeting was etched in the stars long before we breathed each other's names. No matter how fiercely you run from me now, one day the pull of fate will draw you back. I hold unshakeable faith in this love of mine—like a quiet flame that refuses to die even in the fiercest storm. One day, you will break free from these tangled circumstances, and we will find each other again, raw, real, and true. Until that dawn arrives, I will wait. Just… let the wait not stretch so endlessly that our very existence fades into silence.
We found each other when neither of us was searching. God must have smiled knowingly, understanding the quiet voids we carried. Otherwise, why would two souls collide so perfectly in the vast chaos of the world?
Believe it or not, the universe itself conspired in our meeting. If the cosmos orchestrated our paths to cross, it did so with deliberate grace. Why us, out of all the billions?
Why not someone else?
Drained from the weight of the day, Kavya let these thoughts swirl like autumn leaves until sleep gently folded her into its embrace.
Morning arrived with quiet magic. Golden sunbeams danced through the window, sliding into the room like a tender hand resting warmly on the shoulder—soft, reassuring, full of promise.
Arjun had tossed through the late hours, yet today his eyes fluttered open on their own, bright with an unfamiliar spark. There it was again: that rare morning alchemy—the resolve to begin anew, the quiet hunger for change. Mornings like this have a way of rewriting the soul.
He propped himself up in bed, opened his laptop, and dove into crafting his résumé. His fingers flew across the keys with a rhythm that felt almost sacred. A subtle peace softened his features, something luminous and new. The early spring chill had settled in; heavy quilts were tucked away, making way for lighter hopes.
He worked with laser focus, as if touching something truly his own for the first time in years—a quiet rebellion against the shadows that had claimed him. Life has its cruel seasons when every passion withers, when desire to achieve anything dissolves, when victory feels like a distant myth. Survival becomes the only victory: just holding yourself together until the darkness lifts. That chapter had finally turned its page.
Today, Arjun was resurrecting those very skills he had abandoned years ago, not out of compulsion, but to save himself. Instead of desperately hunting for a job, he had chosen to learn a new craft. Before beginning, he closed his eyes and prayed sincerely to God: Let me not fail this time. I won't survive another defeat.
Before diving deeper, he closed his eyes and offered a heartfelt prayer to the divine: Guide me this time. Let me not taste failure again… I fear I won't survive another fall.
Over breakfast, he shared his plan with his mother."I'm heading to Surendra Uncle's for a few days of training. I want to learn freelancing properly. If you need anything at all, just call—I'll come running home.
"His mother had grown used to watching him sacrifice his joy at the altar of others, forever wrapped in invisible worries. Seeing this fresh determination light up his eyes, a quiet bloom of happiness unfurled in her heart. She whispered silent thanks to God and hurried from the kitchen with a small bowl of creamy curd swirled with sugar—an old ritual of blessing.
Arjun burst into laughter. "Oh, come on, Mom—let it be. I'm not heading for some grand interview. Remember the last time, when I left to become an Agniveer?
You stood there with the exact same bowl. And look at me now… what have I become?
"The phrase "what have I become" landed like a hidden thorn in her chest.
She could read the storm behind his smile as clearly as the lines etched on his weary face. Yet she chose not to disturb the fragile hope of this morning by stirring old wounds."It doesn't matter, son," she said gently, her voice like a soothing balm. "Don't carry that weight with you. Just step out of the house with a pure, light heart. That alone will invite the greatest blessings."
"May God walk beside every effort you make and crown you with success."Her words wrapped around his tired shoulders like a warm, steadying hand—gentle yet powerful enough to ease the invisible burden he carried.
Since returning from jail, Arjun had been navigating a silent sea of unvoiced pain and knotted emotions. Behind those walls, he had poured everything—spoken and unspoken—into the ears of Madhav Kaka, who listened like a true soul companion, understanding the currents beneath his words. But at home, the doors to his heart remained bolted shut.
He ached for someone he could lay his soul bare before, without fear or filter.
"It's always easier to share your troubles with strangers than with your own people, no matter how much you wish you could."
Every day he told himself, "I'm fine. Everything will be alright," even though he had no idea how. Yet at night, he would bury his face in the pillow and cry alone in the dark—he knew that feeling all too well.
Today, freelancing had become his new direction. He wasn't choosing it out of desperation, but as a way to rebuild and protect himself. Rather than wandering in search of a job, he had decided to acquire a skill.
.
Today, freelancing had emerged as his new north star. He wasn't drifting toward it out of mere necessity; he was choosing it as a lifeline to reclaim himself. Rather than wandering lost in the job market, he had decided to forge a skill that could anchor and heal him.
Surendra Uncle had known him since boyhood; he was also Ranjana's father-in-law. In this sleepy little town, the man was legendary as "Online Baba"—the quiet wizard who sat amid simple surroundings yet delivered work to glittering big cities.
When Arjun arrived, Surendra Uncle was lovingly watering his plants, each drop a small act of care."You've come, Arjun?" Uncle greeted him with a warm, knowing smile that seemed to cut through the morning haze.
Arjun touched his feet in respect. "Yes, Uncle. I'm ready to start learning today," he replied, a flicker of hesitation in his voice.
"Why carry all that tension, son?"
Uncle chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with wisdom. "The very first rule of becoming a freelancer is simple: don't take stress. Spot the problem, then carve out the solution. That's where the magic begins."
Arjun managed a small smile. It felt as if Uncle's words were gently sweeping away layers of dust that had long settled on his spirit.
Opening his laptop with practiced ease, Uncle continued, "To thrive as a freelancer, there are four essential things to master—and I'll walk every step of this journey with you, side by side.
First, decide clearly what kind of work calls to your soul. Once you choose, I'll teach you everything you need to shine."
"I've always loved writing, Uncle," Arjun confessed.
Uncle's face lit up. "Then you have magic in your hands, son. People are always searching for good writers. The world is constantly searching, hungering, even—for writers who can weave words that touch hearts and move minds."
For the first time in a long while, Arjun felt that his talent actually had value.
© Copyright Pushpa Chaturvedi
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