Pehla chapter is here guys!(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠❤ Pardon my grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language.

Comment the review so that I can get to know about my tracks ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

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"आईना हम थे-और नूर का खिताब वो ले गई"

-Kiansh Devanga

[Year:-1910]

The period of Colonization-era of slaves the time of bloodshed and tears that belongs to the sufferings of every Indian under the rule of Britishers.

Everyday a new tragic with old story ink on paper and destroy by autocrat government. Never knew that the traders can become rulers of country whom we call "sone ki chiriya" a wealthy country enriched with beautiful artitecture, spices, civilizations-and weaving.

Before the invasion, India was enriched with several beautiful weavers and silk- but today it seems to lost. Once a person wearing silk and pearls now attracted towards simple piece of foreign cloth.

Irony

We enjoyed wearing their clothes showing our personality as classist insulting the weavers who draw new designs with their precious hours of hardwork and restless nights.

one of them was the the family of Devanga's-A prestigious family with skilled weavers and humble hearts, some of them rebellious and some soft like a quill. They were never teached to bow down infront of anyone, even someone who try to defy-The family excil them from profession.

Although Devanga's are prestigious but there's always a unseen and unforgiving scene behind the curtains-

Marriage failures in Devanga's ancestral history, gossips draws the attention of readers that rich man with lust hearts couldn't stop their desires to wreck other women.

Everyone with their cautious state use to keep their daughters-sisters behind curtain veiling their presence.

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Until A rebellious born in their blood, Krishna Dev Devanga

Like his name, he was the golden brown boy in his youth with sharp brain and introvert & understanding nature, like a rare sight in Devanga's.

He fell in Love with a Divorced Women. Educated but hot minded, he accepted-she feared after knowing his ancestral stories, He filled her hairline with blood giving his words to her of not even thinking about other women.

She left her Mansion just to spend rest of her life with him-She sacrificed her soft quilt only for him. Waking up at four starting from start was not easy.

Yet they grew together, he was Exiled she was Tarnished yet no one backed but walked towards horizon where it never ends.

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"Oh my-Maa, you're blushing as if you're newly married"

Saahiti teased her mother after listening all those lovely-soft romance of her mother sacrifice and her father.

Yet her mother blushes as if she's newly married. She's lucky to have them as parents who don't joke in name of insults, she's lucky that they're together to be her parents.

"I still look handsome though, Ain't I?"

Krishna said walking towards them out of nowhere making mother-daughter duo head to look at him, Saahiti's teasing gaze fell upon her mother only to get a glare back.

He gently took the bamboo flat soop from her, helping to seperate gravel from rice, saahiti not wanting to disturb them flee away in no time.

Even being this old their love is so young-like flower so vivid.

Kiansh Devanga POV

"You're Early again?"

A deep tired amused voice fell on my ears like other days, No wonder I already knew what his words would be after looking at me with his concentrated gaze.

"You Already knew it Bhai, Don't you?"

I replied-A tired sigh escaped from my lips as my fingers looses it's grip on hand spindle after wrapping remaining silk threads around them, keeping it aside , I pushed back my stool letting soreness of my body rest at nearby wall-my father encourages me to weave but seems like it became my addiction a beautiful one.

And my brother is concerned not because I look tired the reason behind unsettle behaviour is his lack of interest in weaving, He never liked

"-he's heartbroken"

He thinks that weaving is a way towards love and he will never take a path that ends on term "Love"

"Are you even bothering to acknowledge my presence here?"

Akshat asked leaning on doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest

Akshat-my older brother who's interested in violence against British realm, A guy with guts and broad physic who believes in his power.

"Bhala aapko kon samjhaye ki mai bhala chhota chusa aapke samne esi gustakhi kaise kr skta hai"

[Who can explain to you that how can I, a little, do such a thing in front of you?]

I said with a knowing smile after glancing at his brows crossed together indicating his annoyance, he don't want to but teasing his older brother is fun at other level.

I poured myself a glace of cold water from copper jar letting it to soothe my dry throat like immortal nectar, my soul let out a satisfied breath after a long hardwork.

"Weaving is Absurd- yet some people think it's a skill"

Akshat commented, My older brother really trying to pinch my nerve but again putting his efforts in vain, I let out a soft smile as I patted his shoulder.

"Weaving may be absurd for you but I can't really tell if you able to root on your words or not"

I remarked my words making his further vocables, wearing my kurta covering body beneath fabric I blew the candles off taking my recent work, ready to depart for ghat of Banaras.

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As the sun dipped towards the horizon, Banaras bloomed with an ethereal glow, casting hues of gold and crimson across the sky. The Ganges shimmered like molten silk, reflecting the dying light as boats glided gently over the rippling waters. The ghats, lined with ancient stone steps, bustled with life - priests lit oil lamps, their flames flickering like tiny stars, while devotees murmured prayers that blended with the rhythmic lapping of the river.

The arcades, with their intricately carved arches and weathered pillars, stood like silent sentinels of history. Their cool stone corridors echoed with the soft chime of temple bells and the distant strains of a flute from a wandering musician. Merchants sat cross-legged beneath these arcades, their stalls brimming with silk sarees, fragrant spices, and gleaming brassware, as the scent of incense curled through the air like a ghostly thread.

As twilight deepened, the city seemed to blur the line between the mortal and divine. Diyas floated down the river like offerings of light, and the ghats became a tapestry of glowing lamps, casting shimmering reflections onto the water. The arcades, now bathed in the soft glow of lanterns, felt like portals to another era - a world where time meandered as slowly as the sacred river itself.

Here, in the heart of old India, Banaras held its secrets close, its beauty magnified by the quiet hum of devotion, the grandeur of its architecture, and the ever-present promise of eternity.

I blinked back a smile, this my home is always been a beautiful and solace home-from taking first steps in childhood from standing on my own with skills trying to gain those attention which already once drift towards us.

I step up my frame loom amidst those ignition of light emitting from diyas, to complete unfinished fabric work .

My fingers gripped on threaded needle working on pattern of peacock with contrasting light green and blue at ends for stars, represents their story

They admire each other but can't be together

A story played back in my mind about how my mother use to told a story about a peacock and star they fell in love.

Seems fairy tail but represents all those poets who write poems.

"Vo aapna dukh sunata raha aur Log waah waah karte gye"

[He kept speaking about his sorrow and people kept cheering.]

Words of my father swayed through my mind alongside with the fingers working on embroidery in solace amidst the chaos.

Every beautiful mirror have tragic opaque that never conquer anyone's eyes.

His eyes on threads and someone's on his.

Author Pov

The marketplace hummed with life, a tapestry of color and sound. Vendors called out their wares, the scent of saffron and sandalwood curling through the air like an invisible song.

A girl with long black hairs with face veiled- stepped carefully through the crowd, her silk dupatta brushing against baskets of marigolds as she walked.

Her father's estate loomed on the hill beyond the town, but today, curiosity led her to wander farther than she ever dared.

Beneath the veil she dared.

She paused before a small workshop, the doorway half-concealed by a curtain of beads. Inside, a young man worked at a loom, fingers gliding over threads as though he played a divine instrument.

What caught her eyes was

"Colour of Green"

The weaver didn't notice her at first. He was lost in his art, the shawl on his loom a breathtaking array of gold embellishments with green and blue, a garden blooming on silk. His brow furrowed in concentration, lips moving silently as he counted the threads.

The girl with long hairs cleared her throat.

"Is this your work?"

The young man looked up, startled. His eyes, the color of diya golden light -soaked earth, lingered on her for a moment too long. He stood, brushing his hands against his kurta.

"Yes. Forgive me, I didn't hear you come in."

She stepped closer, fingertips grazing the unfinished shawl.

"It's beautiful."

He watched her carefully, as if unsure whether to speak. "Thank you," he said at last, voice quiet but steady.

"I weave patterns from stories. This one... is about a peacock who fell in love with a star."

Kiansh said, his eyes glanced at her veiled form.

She smiled, her heart unexpectedly unsteady. "And does the star love him back?"

Kiansh looked down, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile.

"She watches him every night, but she cannot leave the sky."

The girl traced the gold threads with a gentle touch, feeling the weight of unspoken longing woven into the fabric.

She didn't know why, but she wished the star could fall.

"I'd like to buy it," she said impulsively.

He hesitated. "It isn't finished."

"Then I'll wait."

The weaver, Kiansh, nodded - and from that day, her presence lingering like jasmine in the air, as he wove not just a shawl, but the beginning of something neither of them had words for yet.

"Is these all your works?"

The girl asked as her eyes scanned those detailed beauty of embellishments and beauty of weaving.

Kiansh glanced through his concentrated before speaking "yes"

Back he sat on his wooden stool again immersed in weaving peacock patterns and stars at end of shawl.

"Your weaving style is quite unique"

The girl complimented as she roamed around her hair brushing against all his colourful and detailed works in awe and admiration of his skills.

"Vo dekhne wali ki khubsurti hai varna galtiya ginnane wale kahi se bhi usme galti nikal dete hai"

[The beauty lies in the one who sees it, otherwise there are many who count mistakes find fault in it out of nowhere]

Kiansh replied as he flapped other side of shawl working on edges, he spindled the hand chakra wrapping the silk to work on.

The girl let out a soft giggle as her eyes glanced his back through her veil-admiring the concentration and dedication of his work.

"Aap agar hame esi he dekhti rahengi toh sayad hum apni karigari par dhyan nhi de payenge"

Kiansh weaved his work alongside with his words, the girl eyes fell somewhere else in slight blush and confusion that how he figured out her gaze on him. It started intriguing her more, want him to know more about him.

[If you keep looking at me like this, perhaps I won't be able to concentrate on my work]

A peaceful silence fell in room, her heart beating in slow pace like a music-she is not able to figure out why, maybe she developed a crush on a weaver she barely saw his face due to her veil and sight golden light of Diya's elegance.

Maybe because he's soft spoken not dominating with his voice like other man do.

Maybe because he didn't asked her name yet neither forced her to unveil herself.

Maybe she's thinking so deeply about it or maybe he's weaving on her request.

She scolded herself not taking any step to ask his name, won't it awkward to ask his name in middle of his work.

She smiled but her heart still played rhythmic beats as if encouraging her

But she can't trust someone at first glance, Many people appear beautiful but there's a devil inside.

he didn't seem like that person

But first meeting rarely exchanged words. And why would a skilled weaver would take interest in girl like her.

She speaks a lot, clumsy and-"

Girl silenced her inner voice as the solitude silence broke in warm room.

"Kesh-Pratap tumhe Dhund rahe hai"

[Pratap is looking for you]

A women with panicked face barged inside the room-her breath unsteady,

Kiansh concentrated gaze broke as his head snapped back to the women in confusion and knitted brows.

The girl panicked as a horror ran through her spine Without any word she ran outside alongside with the women without any word with him.

Kiansh stood up immediately not able to figure out what's happening, he walked outside behind them but unable to find them as if they vanished in thin air like never existed.

A unsolved mystery

Unable to think forward, he returned back inside lost in his thoughts until something pierced sole of his bare foot, A hiss of pain escaped from his lips before bending to pick it up.

A small gold jhumka

Kiansh took the gold article in his palm inspecting the engrave on it.

"Bhale he vo hawa ke jhoke ki tarah gayab hui ho par nishani hame de ke gyi hai"

["Even though she has disappeared like a gust of wind, she has left us a mark."]

He exhaled a breath keeping the golden jhumka inside his pocket reminding himself about the veiled her and her secret request about shawl before bandaging his sole with cotton and antiseptic.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Kiansh Pov

"You're late again"

Akshat remarked again like other days ignoring it I walked towards dinning table smile to my father who greeted back to me with same warm smile. I,cautiously sat on table not wanting them to figure out about my limping-I don't want them to worry about me in small matters.

"Tum roj itni mehnat kyu karte ho? Baba kamate hai na?"

[Why you do this much of hardwork when your father is here]

Maa words attracted my attention towards her, although she's right even after British exploitation on Indian weaving we are still people first choice, but I don't want to be burden on them I want to be myself as like him.

Also now I've another reason too for working hard near ghat of Banaras.

The veiled women

"Kya baat hai bhai chehra aapka kafi khil gya hai"

Saahiti's teasing was enough to bring me back from the imagination of the lady behind the veil. I was so immerged in deep picturisation of the anonymous lady that I forgot where I'm in present.

Is it bad to think about someone this early whom I met just today?

I cleared my throat before answering something to cover my smile .

"Aaj bikri aachi hui hai"

I replied only if they knew that how I was staring the earring that pierced my sole but touched my heart, another inspiration to weave on.

Saahiti's facial expression twitched making me confirm that she ain't convinced from my answer, witty her for sure. My father nodded with smile gently patting my back with appreciation and proud alongside my mother, and my brother just ignored their existence.

He ain't brutal he just don't want anyone to have a peek in him, his philosophy said if you try to be intellectual then you're fool because you're trapping yourself in manipulation.

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Laying myself on Cot my eyes traced the beautiful constellation of stars like a silk thread joining white pears, cool air swayed on terrace letting the leaves of gulmohar sing in soft whispers. The white marble shone but amidst all my mind again drifted to the lady in veil like ocean waves return to ocean core.

My fingers traced the lotus engrave of golden earrings in dome shape and small pearl attached at its end looking so elegantly fragile yet pierced my foot and intrigued my interest .

The moon shone brightly amidst the stars making the metal shine against my calloused fingers, My eyes Never took rest from staring at the beauty of carving, My mind rushed with several designs and after rushing with every ideas - I halt at one the dainty picture.

Taking out my diary and charcoal pencil, I lighten up my oil lamp ready to ink it on paper before I forget till dawn.

Crossing my legs, I sat on floor near burning oil lamp trying to draw a design that I will weave someday, I placed the jhumka near the lamp - carefully designing it without missing a beat or curve of engrave.

Scribbles of pencil with scent of marigolds and rustle of leaves kept me in motivation to draw in more detail and to erase all the flaws.

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When all the chaos extinguish there's a person Kiansh all awake in oil lamp with pencil and paper amidst the sound of leaves-scents of marigold and inspiration of her lost earring.

(A/N:- It reminds me the song)

-ye shaam mastani"

Door rahati hai too, mere paas aati nahi

hoothon pe tere, kabhi pyaas aati nahi

aisa lage jaise ke tu, has ke zahar koi piye jaaye

Keshika's POV

"Kaha thi tum?"

Pratap, My brother asked his voice stoic and eyes stern echoed in silent room ringing again and again in my ears as he inspected my behaviour my head low and eyes in fear—I know I stepped over a law , I made my way out from the mansion, and if he gets to know that I did maybe he will inform our father and the consequences would be too hard for me. Aashita stood behind me her form shivering and eyes on floor not daring to lift her lashes.

"Maine kuch pucha Keshika!!!"

[I asked you something]

He asked in whisper yell, enough to make me shrill down my spine, my nervous instincts started fidgeting end of my dupatta with shivering fingers. It's my weakness and reason behind every bullying I faced.

My palm sweated

I hate it

I disgust myself for this, I hate it when my body react in scared way, but I can't let myself surrender to him. I don't want to be caged with these emotions.

"Vo Maine he Keshika ko—"

Aashita was about to complete her sentence when he showed his palm to her making her words swallow back to her. I've to do something or else it might complicate the situation more.

"Vidhwa ko ghar me rehne ki jagah kya dedi usne iss ghar ko parivaar man liya, Bhulo nhi Aashita tum sirf yaha meri behn ki vajah se ho vrna—"

[We gave a place to a widow to live in the house. She considered this house as a family. Don't forget Ashita, you are here only because of my sister, otherwise—]

Pratap steps strides towards Aashita before he could reach her, I stepped between them, Although I'm scared but not more than furious about how he's intimidating his dominance over my friend with insulting words.

How dare he to insult a women like this!

"Saying who's wife ran away"

I regretted as soon I spiked out my words without thinking twice, his face twisted in brutal anger and fierce furrow, With my cold sweaty hands and eyes curtaining cowardness behind courage look.

I know, he'll slap me here like always from my childhood reasons maybe insane but one of them was my resemblance with our mother who was accused to cheat my father but later we found her dead.

"Keshika!! You—"

My eyes closed tightly ready to feel the same sting of pain on my cheek which my skin adapted to feel.

A few moments passed still my eyes closed but suprisingly no pain, with Hesitation–I opened my eyes only to witness my brother hand held by our older sister Sri. Her face neutral and unreadable like always before her marriage even after her marriage.

"Daak ghar gyi thi vo, hamare kehne par—agar maine uske chehre par koi bhi nishaan dekha toh samjh jana vo tumari aakhri galti hogi"

[She went to the post office, on my request- if I see any marks on her face, then you that will be your last mistake]

Sri waarned him, her tone carrying threat and courage of a fearless women, Pratap jerked his hand free before storming out from the room with furious strides. I breath out.

My sweaty palm rested on chest soothing it carelessly without thinking twice about it. My body sat on plush, head spinning lightly.

"Keshika, mai hu na yaha—Aashita jara sari khidkiya kholo"

[Relax Keshika, I am here – Ashita, please open the windows]

Aashita nodded as she slides the curtains side as she opened all the windows letting the evening air surround us, I couldn't help but broke in cries, my arms instinctively held my sister tighter, burying my face in her embrace, her hand tried to coo down my shaky sobs but I couldn't help but stop there.

"Shh..Keshika aacha thodi na lagta hai  calcutta University se tumhare liye chhatra dakhila ki chithi aayi hai aur tum ro rahi ho"

"It is not good that they had sent admission letter for you from Calcutta University and you are crying."

I jerked myself back , eyes still filled with tears as a gasp escaped from my turmoil of my stomach seems to lighten up the tense of my body. Is it real!!! I opened my mouth but my voice refused to produce any sound.

If it is true! Then from now onwards no one will compare me no one will mock me as useless or average person who is jack of all master of none, no bodyshaming, no one will call me unwanted child no one will!

My lips quivered as I resistered her words, my fingers curled in a fist as heart beat with excitement as something new rushed inside me, unable to control myself , I cried.

No one stopped me, they knew it was tears that needed to be flow.

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Keshika lay sprawled on her bed, her face buried in the pillow, shoulders trembling with the remnants of hours-long sobs. The room, dimly lit by the fading twilight, carried a bittersweet glow, the soft hues of pink and orange melting into the sky. A gentle breeze slipped in through the open window, carrying the intoxicating scent of roses and jasmine from the garden below, wrapping around her like a tender embrace.

Across the room, her older sister Sri and closest friend, Aashita, bustled around with a bright, contagious energy. She folded Keshika’s clothes with care, neatly stacking them into a suitcase, her smile decorating her face.

"I can't believe it — Calcutta University! You did it, Keshika!" Aashita beamed, her voice lilting with excitement as she folded a delicate shawl.

"Just imagine all the new people you'll meet, the books, the city life!"

Keshika’s chest heaved with the weight of her emotions — pride, fear, and an ache she couldn’t name. She turned her face toward the window, watching flocks of birds return to their nests, their chirps echoing like distant melody.

"You’ll love it there,"

Aashita continued, plucking a photo frame from the nightstand and carefully tucking it into the bag.

"And don’t worry, I’ll take care of the garden while you're gone. I know how much you love those flowers."

The wind whispered through the curtains, rustling the papers on Keshika’s desk — the acceptance letter still lying there like untouched.

Although she read it thrice

The air smelled of promise and longing, the twilight a quiet witness to the sisters' contrasting hearts: one soaring with dreams, the other tethered by grief and the fear of letting go.

But for now, they let the evening hold their unspoken words, filling the room with hope, sorrow, and the fragile beauty of new beginning.

"Baat jab main karu, mujhe rok deti hain kyon"

A new start

"Teri meethi nazar, mujhe tok deti hain kyon"

A new breath

"Teri hayaa, teri sharam teri kasam mere hoth siye jaaye'

—ye shamm mastani

Keshika smiled as she let her hairs played by slow breeze of air, her breath normalised , eyes shone with glint of new hope of starting the life again without thinking back. Suddenly a thousand came accross her mind. Swiftly she sat on her bed with alert expression.

"Maine baba se toh iss baare me baat ki he nhi—"

"Hamne"

Sri said as her eyes assured her younger sister with gentle reminder that she's always with her.

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4000+words

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I will never use english translation again! It ruins everything ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

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