Outside the warm, mud-smeared walls of Yashoda Maiyaa's house, where incense still curled gently into the dusk air, a soft knock echoed against the wooden door. The sound was hesitant, firm, but respectful. Nanda Baba opened it cautiously, startled to see a royal figure standing at the threshold. Dressed in flowing silk garments and adorned with ornaments fit for a king, the man's presence was as commanding as it was unexpected.

For a moment, Nanda froze. Was this another one of Kansa's sly messengers? A trick wrapped in gold? But the stranger bowed slightly and said with grave courtesy, "I am Rajendra, Maharaja of the Saurashtra Kingdom."

Yashoda Maiyaa joined him at the door, eyes narrowing with suspicion. Sensing the tension and suspicion  between the couple, Rajendra quickly stepped forward, folding his hands. "I have not come with ill intent. In fact, I bring a request tied deeply with ancient dharma. One that involves the girl you raise, Devanya."

Rajendra continued, "You are aware that Devanya is the daughter of Devaki and Vasudeva. But beyond that, she is also the daughter of Chandra Dev."

"Many years ago," Rajendra went on, "when Chandra Dev was afflicted with a grave curse, he was healed by sages of our land. In gratitude, he granted a boon to my ancestors, that when no more heirs remained to rule our kingdom, his own child would take the throne. And now, as I grow old with no son or daughter, the boon takes effect. I have come to request you allow Devanya to leave this home. She must fulfill the destiny that Chandra Dev laid before her."

"No." The word came as a whisper, almost lost in the wind. Yashoda Maiyaa's voice trembled, but her eyes were ablaze. "I may not be her birth mother," she said softly. "I may not be a goddess. But I raised her. I bathed her, fed her, told her stories when she had nightmares. She is my daughter. What good is this destiny if it rips her from the very arms that held her in the night?"

"She is only eight," she added bitterly. "What kingdom is she to rule? What dharma forces a child to wear the crown of burden so soon?"

Rajendra's jaw tightened, but he kept his tone level. "She will not rule now. She is to begin her training under Guru Parshuram."

Nanda Baba, trying to soothe his wife's rising pain, gently said, "But Guru Parshuram only teaches Brahmins?"

"True," Rajendra admitted, "but Rohini Mata performed deep tapasya to gain this exception. The heavens themselves have acknowledged it."

Yashoda turned away, tears spilling from her eyes as Nanda placed a hand on her shoulder. The house felt heavier now, suffocating with unspoken sorrow. Neither of them could find a way to defy fate, fate that had crept in like an uninvited guest and demanded their child.

Without waiting for further argument, Rajendra bowed once more and stepped outside to his chariot. "I will wait," he said, "until the family has made their farewells."

Inside, Yashoda and Nanda stood frozen. How could they tell her? How could they look into Devanya's eyes and say the words no child should ever hear?

━━ ✿°.。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。✿° ━━

Outside, the golden sun had begun to set. The three children, Krishna, Balarama, and Devanya, sat under the shade of a flowering tree, playing a game of shells and stones. The warm breeze tousled their hair, laughter dancing through the grass as if the world had not changed.

But when they returned to the house, the joy ebbed away.

Balarama was first to ask, ever the eldest and most curious. "Maiyaa," he said, eyes narrowed, "who was that strange man dressed like a king?"

Nanda Baba exchanged a look with Yashoda. She nodded.

"He came with a message," he said slowly. "He says Devanya is meant to go to Gurukul to fulfill her responsibility."

Devanya's breath caught. "What?" she asked, voice soft with confusion. "Maiyaa, are you sending me away?" She turned to Yashoda with wide, pleading eyes. "Please, Maiyaa, I won't steal butter again. I promise! I'll do everything you ask. I'll listen to everything you say, just don't send me away."

The tears came quickly, to hers and Yashoda's both. Yashoda sank to her knees and pulled Devanya into a tight embrace, sobbing into the girl's shoulder. "No, putri. Never think that we want you to go, we would much rather keep you here with us. But this is something we can't stop. We have no choice."

Blessed were the children who had known Yashoda's love. Even those not born of her blood had known her warmth. And it is such a cruel misfortune that they had to part ways so soon. 

In the end, Devanya would not sleep in the cradle she once did. She would no longer hear Yashoda's lullabies echo down the hallways. But she would carry that love like a garland around her heart, always. And with heavy steps, she left the home that was hers.

The memories, the stolen butter, the riverbank games, the festival lights, the swing under the neem tree, all became tucked away inside her, like precious beads in a box.

After all, even if a flower petal detaches and floats away on the wind, its scent remains forever a part of the flower.

━━ ✿°.。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。✿° ━━

Hours later, the chariot wheels turned slowly down a narrow forest path, pulling Devanya farther from all she knew. She sat quietly beside Rajendra, arms folded, staring at the path ahead. The tall grass swayed around them, and for a long while, neither spoke.

Finally, she could no longer hold her silence.

"Where are we going, Shriman?" she asked. "Is your palace in the middle of this jungle?"

Rajendra chuckled softly. "No. You are going to Gurukul, where you will learn under the guidance of Guru Parshuram."

Soon they reached a vast meadow bursting with wildflowers and sun-soaked hills. Atop one such hill was a curious arrangement of stones, placed in ancient precision.

Rajendra pointed. "There. That is the path to the ashram. You must sit in meditation for an hour before Guru Parshuram will appear. My presence is not allowed there. I must leave you now."

With that, he stepped away, leaving the small girl alone in the field.

Devanya looked up at the hill, her heart heavy. Her feet ached. Her soul more so. Her hands trembled as she began the quiet climb.

What did destiny want from a child like her? Sorrow streamed across her face. At the age of playing carelessly, fate had tossed her carelessly aside, left to ponder her own fate. The gentle wind cradled her. The chirping birds offered company. And the distant sound of a waterfall lulled her mind into peace. And yet, though she had been separated from her mothers, from her brothers, the enternal mother still remained, Prakriti.

━━━━━━ • ✿ • ━━━━━━

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ 　 °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

!ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴠᴏᴛᴇ! .　

. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆