Every alley glowed with lit diyas, every doorstep was adorned with intricate rangoli, and every face shone with devotion and pure joy.It was the celebration of Lord Krishna's Raas Leela, also known as Raas Yatra.
On this same auspicious day, special worship was being offered to Goddess Durga in her form of Akal Bodhan. Idols of various deities had been beautifully installed in pandals across the town. The spirit of Raas Poornima had reached its ecstatic peak.
The scene by the Ganga was even more enchanting. As dusk settled, the entire town of Navadwip seemed drenched in color and light. In the local temples, massive, exquisitely decorated idols stood resplendent—some depicting the divine dance of Krishna and Radha, others revealing the otherworldly beauty of the Goddess.
This night was also called Pot Poornima. It marked the beginning of the divine kalash rituals and the lighting of lamps in sacred yajna. Special prayers were performed at the ghats. White flowers were offered to the river, rangoli patterns bloomed in courtyards, and the sound of conch shells echoed far into the distance.
It was more than a festival. It was a night when people believed the river listened to every whispered prayer, when each floating diya carried a silent wish, and every wave carried fragments of unfinished stories.
Arjun and Kavya were returning home, their hearts light and faces glowing with happiness. Joy and celebration filled every corner of the town that day.
Night was slowly descending. The cool breeze from the Bhagirathi still clung to Arjun's clothes, as though he had carried back not only the sacred air of the river but also some of its unfinished tales.
His mother had prepared dinner earlier in the day. The moment the two of them stepped inside, she noticed their radiant faces in the soft glow of the wall lamp and spoke at once.
"Arjun, I'm quite tired today. You must be exhausted too. These old knees of mine are aching so much that I can barely walk anymore."
"But seeing your happy face makes me feel better. Come, sit with me for a while. It's been so many days since we've really talked. Your busy schedule keeps you away, and we hardly get a chance to speak properly."
After washing her hands and feet at the ghat, she settled comfortably on the bed, wiping her face with the edge of her sari. It seemed as if she were not just cleaning away the dust of the day, but also the heavy burden that had settled on her heart.
Arjun sat down beside her. "I'll wash up quickly, Ma. In the meantime, please serve dinner. I'm really hungry today."
In a soft voice, she replied, "Alright. Let's eat first, then we can sit and talk peacefully."
Arjun looked at her with deep concern. "You seem worried. Is everything alright?"
His mother said nothing. But in that moment, it was as if someone had gently untied a knot that had long been hidden deep within her.
After a pause, she spoke quietly, "Bittu, seeing the fair today reminded me of Rani."
The night had grown dense and silent. In the distance, dogs barked in the neighborhood, but inside the house, a profound stillness reigned—the kind that gathers for years on old books kept shut in a closed room.
A cool breeze drifted in from the veranda, and in the dim light, Arjun returned to the room. He began gently massaging his mother's tired feet. Watching her son care for her this way, she felt as if a great weight had lifted from her chest."
"I'll take you to the doctor tomorrow," Arjun said. " Winter has just begun. If we don't do something now, the pain in your knees will only get worse."
"It will be fine after some rest," she replied. "Don't worry about it." A little later, she added, "Come, let me serve dinner. You must be tired too."
Mother and son sat down at the dining table, yet a heavy silence hung between them like an invisible wall. Even the steady ticking of the clock felt intrusive after Rani's name had been spoken.The quiet stretched on for some time.
Finally, his mother asked softly, "You like stuffed parathas, don't you? I made those today. Shall I serve them?"
Arjun shook his head. "No, Ma. It's okay. I don't feel hungry anymore."
She wanted to say, "But I worry about you. You haven't eaten properly since morning… you should eat on time." The words, however, remained stuck in her throat.
Deep inside, she kept thinking: I wonder when Bittu will stop worrying about everyone else and start thinking about his own happiness.
Perhaps today, things had finally become clear between the two young ones. Maybe Arjun had finally said everything he had been carrying in his heart for so long. Their faces had been glowing with joy when they returned, so surely everything had gone well.That single word—"perhaps"—trembled in her mother's heart like her very breath.
Arjun, too, had planned to tell his mother everything the moment he reached home. But Kavya had not given him a clear, direct answer. And he knew the fault was partly his own. The way he had behaved with her all this time made it impossible for her to say "yes" so easily. Besides, until the case was resolved, their relationship could not reach any conclusion.
He looked at his mother's eyes—tired, restless, and filled entirely with concern for him—and found he could not bring himself to say what he had wanted to.
On the way back, the memory had suddenly returned to him: the crowded temples, the processions spilling into the streets, the noise, the pushing crowds, the chants, the laughter of children—and in the midst of all that chaos, Rani's face had flashed before his eyes without warning.
His mother asked gently, "You wanted to say something, didn't you?"
He had been wanting to ask her something important about Rani for a very long time, but had never found the courage."Yes," he said. "I did want to ask… but I still can't bring myself to say it."
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