The sun cast golden rays into the sacred halls of the Kanyakul (girls school), the section of the monastery dedicated to the young maidens. Rajkumari Darsayamini, with her lithe form and vibrant energy, was practicing her dance amidst her friends. Her anklets chimed with every precise movement, and the melodies of the veena filled the air as the girls immersed themselves in the rhythm.

Rajkumari Darsayamini, ever the spirited one, decided to add a playful twist to their practice. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she whispered to her closest friend, Citralekha,

"Let’s try something fun. Gurumata is busy in prayer, she won’t notice."

The other girls, giggling, agreed and began improvising their routine, adding exaggerated movements and playful spins. Their laughter echoed through the hall, a sound rarely heard in the solemn monastery. In their exuberance, they accidentally toppled an earthen lamp placed near the altar. The oil spilled, the lamp cracked, and the sacred space was momentarily thrown into disarray.

Before they could recover, their Gurumata entered the hall. Her sharp gaze fell upon the scene, her stern expression making the girls freeze in their tracks. The laughter died instantly, replaced by nervous glances and bowed heads.

"Darsayamini!"

Gurumata's voice rang out, laced with frustration.

"What mischief is this? Have you no regard for the sanctity of this space?"

Darsayamini, though usually confident, fidgeted under Gurumata’s glare.

"It was... an accident, Gurumata," she stammered, her eyes darting toward her friends for support.

"An accident caused by your constant mischief and lack of discipline!"

Gurumata’s voice was stern, but it carried a trace of exasperation rather than true anger.

"If you do not curb this impish nature, you will face the consequences of your folly in the future."

Seeing Darsayamini’s half-suppressed smirk, Gurumata threw up her hands in mock frustration.

"Mark my words, putri," she said, her tone tinged with dramatic flair.
"You shall marry a man who is a devil disguised in the robes of a god!"

The girls gasped, their faces a mix of fear and astonishment. But Darsayamini, ever the rebel, raised an eyebrow and tilted her head.

"If that is my fate, Gurumata, I will deal with it when the time comes," she said, her voice carrying a defiant edge.

Gurumata couldn’t help but hide a smile behind her stern façade.

"You are impossible, Darsayamini," she muttered, shaking her head.

"Now clean up this mess and get back to your practice."

As the girls hurried to obey, Darsayamini’s friends teased her, whispering about the ominous words of Gurumata. But in her heart, Darsayamini dismissed it as a harmless jest. Little did she know, Gurumata’s words, spoken in frustration, held a shadow of truth that would one day shape her destiny.

I’m like the wind, wild and free,
A playful force you cannot see.

I dance through hearts, a fleeting art,
Beware, I might just steal your heart.

~~~Darsayamini