THE WOMEN
466 Words
The soft glow of the spirit drifted closer. Her presence wasn’t frightening—it felt calm, almost sacred. The four friends stood still, mesmerized by her gentle expression and the warmth in her eyes.
“My name is Devika,” she said softly, her voice like a breeze through old trees.
As she spoke, the world around them shifted.
The decayed walls and shadows faded into the golden hues of a peaceful countryside. They were standing on a quiet dirt path, lined with mango trees. A village slowly appeared around them—alive and vibrant. Children played barefoot, smoke rose from clay chimneys, and the sound of distant laughter floated through the air.
“I was born in this village,” Devika continued, walking gracefully. “My father was the headman here. Wealthy, respected, but stern. He believed in power. I believed in people.”
The friends followed her through narrow lanes as she greeted villagers with a smile, helped an old woman carry grain, and poured water for a thirsty traveler.
“I never saw my family’s status as something that made me better than others. I used it to give, not to separate.”
She stopped near a beautiful banyan tree where flower garlands hung lazily in the breeze.
“And one day, I met Rajan—a man with little money, but a heart full of gold.”
A man appeared beside her in the vision. Tall, quiet, and kind-eyed. He wore simple clothes and carried a basket of medicinal herbs.
“He wasn’t like the others. He didn’t bow to my family’s name. He spoke to me with respect… and honesty.”
Devika’s eyes glowed brighter as the memory replayed. Her family, after hesitation, accepted Rajan—because even they could not deny his character.
They were married under the banyan tree, surrounded by the entire village.
“We didn’t have a grand palace. Just a small home and the joy of giving. We spent our days healing the sick, feeding the hungry, and teaching the children. That was enough for us.”
The friends stood quietly, feeling the peace of her life.
“But time moves on. The world outside grew louder. Our village… faded. The stories, the memories—they were nearly lost.”
Devika turned to them, her eyes soft but firm.
“That’s why you’re here. To see. To know. To feel what once was.”
And just as the vision began to dim, she added:
“There is more I must show you. Rajan will guide you now.”
Then she vanished into the breeze, leaving only the scent of fresh marigold and a trail of sunlit petals behind.
The friends looked at each other—hearts pounding, but not from fear.
From wonder.
To be continued…
- Writer
