📅 October 20 – Diwali Night, Nandanpur
Evening Lights
By sunset, Nandanpur shimmered like a dream.
Every courtyard glowed, every roof dripped with marigold garlands. The scent of oil lamps and sweets hung thick in the air.
From the Sharma house, Abhay and Vaidehi carried trays of diyas toward the Sudarshini river.
Across the path, Ishanvi and her siblings—Raghav, Vrinda, and Vivaan—walked too, their laughter mingling with the crackle of fireworks in the distance.
"Even Lord Ram's welcome home must've looked like this," Vrinda said softly.
Raghav smiled. "Except we've got scooters instead of raths."
They laughed, but when the river came into view, all sound seemed to hush.
The Sudarshini glowed silver under the moon, calm and deep, holding the reflections of a thousand flickering flames.
The Legend of the River
Elders told children every year: "Whoever's diya floats unbroken till the last bell of the temple, their wish is heard by Sudarshini herself."
Tonight, the river brimmed with prayers disguised as light.
Ishanvi knelt near the edge, shielding her diya from the wind.
Abhay crouched beside her, close enough to feel the warmth of her lamp against the chill rising from the water.
"Ready?" she asked.
He nodded, voice soft. "Let's see if the river listens this year."
Their fingers brushed as they placed the diyas together.
For a moment, nothing—then both lamps drifted forward, side by side, steady against the ripples.
Flicker of Power
The wind picked up, strong enough to snuff out every flame around them—except theirs.
Abhay's diya shimmered with a faint blue hue, rippling as if water itself guarded it.
Ishanvi's burned with a steady golden-orange flame, refusing to die even as droplets hit it.
Their eyes met, startled. The air between them glowed faintly, where fire met water—briefly, beautifully.
And just as quickly, it faded.
Only the diyas kept floating, untouched.
The Siblings' Tease
From behind, Vivaan's voice broke the silence.
"Oye! I told you not to wish together! What if Sudarshini makes you both a couple now?"
Vrinda joined in, laughing. "Exactly! Look, even their diyas are inseparable."
Ishanvi turned crimson. "Shut up, Vivaan!"
Abhay rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to smile. "It's just a coincidence."
"Sure it is," Vaidehi smirked. "Fire and water—what a perfect match."
Their laughter echoed down the riverbank as fireworks exploded overhead, painting the sky in gold.
As the others walked back, Abhay lingered by the water. His diya still floated, untouched by the current.
Beside it, Ishanvi's flame burned on, steady and bright.
He whispered, half to himself, half to her, "Maybe the legend's true."
She smiled faintly, her reflection flickering beside his. "Then maybe the river made its choice tonight."
Above them, the temple bells rang—the ninth toll marking the hour when, long ago, Lord Ram returned home.
And on the Sudarshini, two lights refused to die.