Agra, Uttar Pradesh
It was 5:10 in the morning, a girl was sleeping peacefully, cuddled up in her quilt and pillow, smiling as if having a beautiful dream. But the slumber was disturbed as her alarm rang off. Instead of snoozing it, she woke up, stretching herself. "Radhe-Kanha"
Opening up her window, inhaling the fresh air of a new day, she watched the sky beginning to set itself for a change in its dark and deep hues into brighter shades. At 5:25, she left her home running for five minutes to reach the heart of the city, Taj Mahal, waiting for the sun to rise from its slumber too. For her, the Taj looks ethereal in the presence of the first, fresh sunrays. Coming back home in the next 15 minutes, working out and freshening up, the girl's day seems to unfold methodically, not a second to waste or use extra. Around 6:40, she left for the nearby temple. The only two things that ever succeeded in giving her peace were the Taj and the bells' ringing of her Kanha's temple.
"Pranaam Panditji."
"Aa gayi Hanitra laado, le tere Kanha aarti ka wait kar rahe hain." Hanitra, my name. A beautiful night. (You are here? Come your god is waiting for worship.)
"Ab to aisa lagta hai ki humari Tara ki aarti na suno to din shuru hi nahi hota." (It now seems that without Tara's aarti, the day is not going to unfold.)
"Kanha bhi jaise ise hi sunna chahte ho, isliye to iske alava Panditji aarti ki anumati kisi no nahi dete." (Even kanha wants to listen to just her, for Panditji doesn't allow anyone else to do it.)
Not having a family, I grew up between these streets and these people. Finding solace and a friend in Kanha, and his devotion. Everyone here knows it and adore me more for it. I was about to leave when Panditji's voice stopped me.
"Arrey kahan bhaag rahi hai? Exam hai na aaj tera, kuch maang to le tere Kanha se."
(Where're you running? Isn't it your exam today, ask your Kanha for something.)
"Vo konsa mujhe bin maange nahi denge, Laadli hoon unki, he won't let me face a lose."
(As if he won't give me without asking. I am his beloved favourite..)
I left directly for my institute, CSR University. I'm a final year student in M. Journalism and Mass Communication, giving the second last exam of History. The corridor buzzed with pre-exam tension. Final year students whispered last-minute formulas, laughter echoing through the sunlit arches of the university.
Suddenly a hand was placed on my shoulder and I turned around coldly. Jayesh, my classmate - smiling too wide. Sliding his hand downwards, he began, "Dinner date tonight?" Before his hand could go lower, I grabbed his throat and pushed him to the ground.
"Never ever dare to touch me again, or else they won't find your body."
Hanitra has set a few rules in her life, one of them being not to be touched. A girl carved from calm restraint and cold intellect, she had built her walls brick by brick, not to keep the world out—but to keep herself in. Being a strong devotee, the girl settles for nothing but justice and sophistication, even going lengths to achieve them. A reserved personality, she is known for her quiet nature in her entire university. No one dares to cross her path, not even for the purpose of understanding her, not like she wants anyone to.
She preferred her solitude steeped in sophistication, her life curated with precision. No chaos, no mess. Just books, thoughts, and a devotion to the only thing that ever made sense—truth.
She didn't live for people. She lived for purpose.
And in her world, ties were chains. Love was noise. And lies?
Unforgivable.
She lives to perform the true functions of journalism- to uncover the truth, not binding to the lengths of danger. The truth that is merciless, not caring for the ones you may have lived your whole life for.
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