Rooh-e-Hayat

ཞơơɧ-02

I know the update took a while, and I really appreciate your patience. But instead of complaining about the delay, let’s just get straight back into the story we’ve got that voting target to hit 🎯

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Enjoy reading.
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The station was alive with whistles piercing through the air, engines hissing, vendors shouting over one another.

“Karishma! Yahan! Idharr” Meera waved both her arms to catch Karishma's attention. In the middle of it all, stood near a pillar, two oversized suitcases beside her and impatience written all over her face.

Karishma finally reached her, a backpack slung over her shoulder a second trailing down.

“Tumhe pata hai, mera baccha mujhe aane hi nahi de raha tha,” Meera said, rolling her eyes.

Karishma glared her instantly,
“Meera, phle toh tum uss kutte ke pille ko baccha kehna band kro aur yahin chhod do… aur doosra tumne wahan jaake ek bhi kutte ka bachcha god liya na, toh hum tumhe wahi chhod ke aa jayenge. Kaa Samjhi?” completed like she’d already made up her mind.

Meera grinned, completely unfazed. “Tum bas bolti ho… dil toh tumhara bhi bilkul mom jaisa hi hai.”

Karishma let out a dry scoff, checking her watch. “Woh mom ab pighalna band ho gaya hai, khaaskar ke tumhari ye topa shakal dekh ke. Train lag chuki hai chalo.”

Meera blinked at her for a second, then clutched her chest dramatically. “Waah, kya pyaar bhari baatein karti ho tum mere liye,” she said, making a face as she dragged her suitcase along.

As she walked past Karishma, she leaned in just enough to mutter under her breath, “Bhagwan kare tumhare future partner ko double patience mile… warna bechara pehle hi din bhaag jayega.”

Karishma shot her a sharp look.

“Jaa rahe hain, Sarkar! Jaa rahe hain!” Meera shouted back.

They climbed into the coach, pushing past the crowd. As Karishma settled near the window, something shifted inside her.

Like a collision waiting to happen.

Almost instinctively, she slipped her hand into her pocket, her fingers brushing against the folded piece of paper.

Mishri Number.

Outside, the city slowly began to loosen its grip.

Karishma stared out of the window, her grip tightening slightly around the paper.

She didn’t know it yet that the guidance she was promised… and the guidance she was about to receive… were going to be two very different things.
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The next morning, The train groaned to a final halt, at the Premnagar station.

“Hum pahunch gaye?” Meera asked, her voice thick with sleep as she rubbed her eyes, squinting against the sudden, bright intrusion of the morning sun.

“Pahunch toh gaye,” Karishma muttered. She stepped onto the platform.

No blaring announcements. No crowds pushing past like waves.

Just space.

The platform was smaller, quieter almost bare. A faded nameboard stood slightly tilted, its paint chipped at the edges. A lone tea stall rested at one corner, where an old man lazily poured chai into small glasses, the steam curling gently into the morning air.