The Girl Who Could See Every TomorrowPrologue: The First VisionWhen Mira was seven years old, she learned that time was not as obedient as adults claimed.While other children dreamed of toys and candies, Mira dreamed of days that had not yet arrived. In her sleep, she saw spilled cups before they shattered, heard apologies before the fights began, and felt grief before it learned her name.At first, she thought everyone saw the same things.She learned she was wrong the day she warned her mother not to take the blue bus.Chapter One: A Gift That Arrived Too EarlyMira’s visions came without permission.They bloomed behind her eyes like sudden storms—sharp, vivid, undeniable. She could see tomorrows, sometimes many at once, layered like transparent sheets.She saw her teacher drop chalk at exactly 10:17 a.m. She saw her neighbor lose his keys and find them again. She saw a glass fall, a heart break, a silence stretch too long.But she also saw things no child should see: Hospitals that smelled of endings. Empty chairs at dinner tables. Tears that arrived years before the reason.When Mira spoke, adults smiled politely. When she insisted, they grew uncomfortable. When she was right, they grew afraid.So she learned the first rule of her gift:Truth is not always welcome—especially when it arrives early.Chapter Two: The Weight of KnowingBy sixteen, Mira had learned to be quiet.She walked through life carrying the future like an invisible backpack—heavy, unavoidable. She knew which friendships would fade, which dreams would fail gently, which would collapse loudly.She stopped falling in love easily. After all, she knew how most love stories ended.Why begin a song when you already know the last note?Yet the cruelest part of her gift was not the sadness—it was the temptation.She could prevent arguments. She could stop accidents. She could reroute pain.And sometimes, she did.But every time she changed something, the future rearranged itself—like water finding a new crack. Pain did not disappear; it only learned new disguises.That was when Mira understood the second rule:Not all pain is a mistake. Some of it is a teacher.Chapter Three: The Boy Who Lived Only TodayShe met Jonah on a Tuesday she had already seen.In every future, he appeared late, smiling like he had nowhere else to be. He spoke as if each word was a small celebration. He listened as if time itself had slowed down for him.Mira saw his future too.It was short.She tried to pull away. She tried to be distant. But Jonah lived in today, and today kept choosing her.“Why do you look sad when nothing bad has happened yet?” he once asked.She had no answer that wouldn’t break them both.Loving Jonah was like holding sunlight while knowing night was coming. But for the first time, Mira questioned her own rules.Maybe knowing the ending didn’t ruin the story. Maybe it made every moment brighter.Chapter Four: The Tomorrow She Couldn’t ChangeJonah’s final tomorrow arrived quietly.No dramatic signs. No thunder. Just an ordinary morning that refused to become afternoon.Mira had seen it a hundred times. She had tried everything. Nothing worked.As she sat alone afterward, the world felt unbearable in its unfairness. What was the point of seeing tomorrow if you couldn’t save it?That night, her visions changed.For the first time, she did not see events. She saw effects.She saw Jonah’s kindness living on in strangers. She saw laughter echoing from moments that had already ended. She saw how love, once given, never truly disappeared—it only changed shape.And she finally understood the last rule of her gift:The future is not something to control. It is something to meet with courage.Epilogue: Choosing the UnseenYears later, Mira still sees tomorrow.But she no longer watches every one.She chooses.She lets herself be surprised. She falls in love knowing it might hurt. She hopes without demanding guarantees.Because the greatest truth her gift taught her was this:Life is not precious because it is predictable.It is precious because it is fragile.And sometimes, the most beautiful tomorrowis the one you allow yourself not to see.

Sita MahalakshmiFrom a furrowed line in sacred earth,A golden light was born,No cry, no fear, no shadow—Just silence kissed by dawn.King Janaka paused, his breath held tight,The soil had shaped a queen,Not crowned in gold, but wrapped in grace,The purest ever seen.She walked beside the Prince of Light,Where forests breathed and thorns lay deep,A palace lost, yet peace remained,For love was hers to keep.The wind was harsh, the nights were long,Yet not once did her faith bend low,For in her heart, like steady flame,Rama’s truth would glow.In Lanka’s walls of dark desire,Where fear wore many faces,She stood alone, unbroken still,A lamp in shadowed places.Words were thrown like sharpened blades,Time pressed heavy and slow,But patience bloomed within her soul,A strength the world wouldn’t know.Fire rose, yet fire bowed,For purity does not burn,The flames themselves bore witness true,And let her light return.When all was done, when silence grew,And judgment scarred her name,She turned back to the waiting earth,Not sorrowed, not in shame.The ground embraced her gentle feet,As a mother holds her child,And from that depth, from pain and love,A greater truth then smiled.No longer bound to loss or tears,No crown of dust or clay,She rose as Lakshmi, whole and bright,The night giving way to day.For wealth is not the coin we hold,Nor gold that fills the hand,But grace that grows through sacrifice,And faith that dares to stand.So call her Sita Mahalakshmi,Where earth and heaven meet,The goddess born of silent pain,And love made whole, complete.

The cover photo presents a divine and celestial vision of Lord Ganesha’s sacred birth, radiating warmth, wisdom, and grace. At the center stands Lord Ganesha, adorned with a golden crown and sacred ornaments, his elephant head glowing with serenity and intelligence. One hand is raised in abhaya mudra, blessing the devotees, while another holds modakas, symbolizing joy and spiritual reward.To his left, Goddess Parvati gazes upon her son with infinite love and pride. Her expression reflects pure motherhood—compassionate, protective, and nurturing. She is dressed in rich traditional attire, glowing softly with maternal divinity.To his right stands Lord Shiva, calm and composed, holding his trident. His presence symbolizes cosmic balance, discipline, and transformation. His eyes reflect acceptance and realization, acknowledging Ganesha’s divine destiny.Behind them, a golden halo of divine light spreads across the sky, merging the heavens and earth. Mount Kailasa, ancient temples, and celestial clouds form the background, representing the union of spirituality and the universe. An elephant and Ganesha’s mouse (vahana) appear subtly, reinforcing symbolism of wisdom, strength, and humility.The overall color palette of gold, saffron, and warm earth tones evokes devotion, purity, and auspicious beginnings. The atmosphere feels timeless—inviting the viewer into a sacred story of love, loss, rebirth, and supreme wisdom.

The morning sun had just begun its gentle ascent, casting a warm golden hue over the sprawling plains of Vrindavan. The air was imbued with the fragrance of blossoming lotuses that floated delicately on the surface of the Yamuna river, their petals a mixture of soft pinks and gentle whites, reflecting the tender light of dawn. A cool breeze stirred the branches of the ancient trees, rustling leaves and carrying the faint murmur of distant temple bells. The entire landscape seemed to breathe in harmony with the rhythm of the universe, an ethereal calm that only the sacred land of Vrindavan could possess. In the midst of this serene panorama stood two figures whose presence alone could command the very soul of the world: Lord Krishna and his eternal beloved, Radha.Krishna, the divine cowherd, stood gracefully on the soft, dew-laden grass by the riverbank. His skin, a mesmerizing shade of deep blue, shimmered faintly in the morning sunlight, like the reflection of a clear twilight sky on the still waters of a sacred pond. Adorned in a bright yellow dhoti that glowed like molten sunlight, he embodied the very essence of life and joy. Around his waist, a golden waistband glimmered, intricately crafted with delicate patterns that mirrored the eternal cycles of nature. His chest was draped with strings of garlands, fresh jasmine interwoven with vibrant red roses, releasing a fragrance so sweet that it seemed to mingle with the melody of his flute.The most enchanting adornment, however, was the peacock feather nestled atop his curly, flowing hair. Each feather shimmered with iridescent blues and greens, catching the light in a way that seemed almost magical. As Krishna raised the flute to his lips, his fingers moved with divine precision, and the first notes floated into the air. These were no ordinary notes; they carried the very essence of divine love, weaving an invisible tapestry of sound that embraced the entire landscape. Birds paused mid-flight, cows lifted their heads from grazing, and even the gentle breeze seemed to pause, attentive to the celestial music. The melody was a language beyond words, speaking directly to the heart, reminding all of the eternal connection between the soul and the divine.Standing beside him, Radha exuded a beauty that was both tender and radiant, a reflection of the devotion that filled her soul. Her attire, a flowing red-pink saree adorned with intricate golden embroidery, caught the sunlight with each subtle movement, casting small sparks of light like tiny stars dancing around her. The fabric swayed gently as though in response to the music, mimicking the rhythm of Krishna’s flute, creating a visual symphony of color and motion. Radha’s hair, long and dark, cascaded over her shoulders, interwoven with delicate jasmine flowers that added their soft fragrance to the morning air. Her eyes, deep and expressive, gazed upon Krishna with profound affection, a love that transcended the boundaries of time and space.The gentle touch of her hand on Krishna’s arm was not just a gesture of affection but a silent conversation between two souls who understood each other without words. In that touch lay devotion, longing, joy, and the serene acceptance of the divine play of life. Her lips curved in a soft smile, a reflection of the inner peace and divine bliss that came from standing in the presence of the Supreme. Every detail, from the golden bangles that adorned her wrists to the subtle patterns painted on her hands, contributed to a scene that seemed both eternal and timeless, capturing the essence of spiritual love in its purest form.Around them, Vrindavan awakened slowly. In the distance, a few gopis were walking towards the river, their saris a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors—orange, blue, and yellow—contrasting beautifully with the soft greens of the forest. Their eyes, too, were drawn irresistibly towards Krishna, for his presence was magnetic, a beacon of divine love that called every soul towards its source. Grazing cows ambled lazily along the riverbank, their white hides glowing softly in the morning light. The calm waters reflected the sky above and the divine couple standing at its edge, creating a mirrored universe where the spiritual and material worlds seemed to merge seamlessly.The lotus flowers on the river, in full bloom, were a symbol of purity, untouched by the muddy waters in which they grew. Their delicate petals reflected the love and devotion that radiated from Radha and Krishna, a reminder that even amidst the trials of earthly life, the soul could remain untainted, blossoming in divine grace.