Content Warning- Strong language ahead. Translation of words given right besides the words. Please do not google them for the sake of your sanity, they're very triggering.

Timeline of Events: Early adolescent years of Maya's childhood

Maya's POV:

The sun, a mischievous artist, splashed like molten gold across the dusty desk in front of me. My hand itched to grab a crayon and join its chaotic masterpiece, but Mrs. Sharma's chalk held a different kind of magic. The words dancing on the board, "History of Jamnagar," promised an escape from the humdrum textbook saga.

Silence, as brittle as old parchments, seized the room until my hand flew up like a signal flag. "Jamnagar was part of the Nawanagar princely state, right?" I asked, my voice filled with the excitement of a pioneer discovering a hidden cave. "They built all those cool roads and railways, even had their own industries!"

A spark ignited in Akash's eyes, mirroring mine. "Yeah, like Lakhota Palace," he chimed in, his voice buzzing with a mix of pride and awe. "My grandma says it was fit for a king!"

Dhruv, usually lost in his daydreams, surprised us all. "Actually," he mumbled, fiddling with his pen, "I remember reading about it in my dad's old Times of India clippings. Not all kings were bad guys, you know."

Naina, ever the pragmatist, countered, "But what about the ordinary people? Did they benefit from all this princely wealth?"

Seeing an opportunity to share her viewpoint, Gayatri added, "You may wonder if we benefited from the princely wealth. Yes and no, then. My family fared reasonably well as shopkeepers under Jam Saheb control, in my opinion. The kings made shrewd investments in ports and highways so that we might all benefit and not just themselves so they could collect taxes for their opulence. Overall, we live simple but happy lives for the most of our years."

Everyone listened attentively, their focus shifting to her as she described.

"Yet, pay great attention when I say that the British left, but the royalty remained. Do our daughters still not serve as palace brides, age after generation? Where is the law written that allows an average person to become Prime Minister? But we accept whatever benefits come our way, whether for the better or not.

I ask you: Independence took the crowns. But seats of power rarely stray far from history's shadows, do you see? What dreams wear this country, which is still limited by invisible cliffs?

The debate crackled like static, each viewpoint a spark igniting the next. We speculated, argued, and dreamt up alternate realities for Jamnagar's past. Time blurred, the dusty classroom transformed into a bustling marketplace of ideas.

Mrs. Sharma, the wise merchant in this marketplace, guided the discussion with a gentle touch. She tossed out nuggets of information, like rare jewels, each one sparking a flurry of curiosity. We learned of the last Jam Saheb's role in India's independence, of Jamnagar's transformation from a princely enclave to a modern economic hub, and the triumphs and challenges that came with it.

The bell's jarring clang ripped us from Jamnagar's vibrant tapestry, flinging us back into the humdrum reality of desks and equations. The echoes of Jamnagar's past lingered, tangled with the faint, metallic scent of numbers. What secrets would Math unveil today?

Math class, which is generally about numbers and equations, took an unexpectedly comical turn when the answer to a statistics issue was revealed to be 14.32. My curiosity was piqued as soon as the decimal number appeared on the chalkboard.

I leaned forward, my gaze narrowed at the board, as if this seemingly commonplace number had secrets only I could discover. 14.32 became a mystical incantation, a spell imprinted on the fabric of my day. The pattern of its sentences echoed in my mind, creating an unexpected melody inside the number symphony.

The teacher droned on about regression analysis, but 14.32 drew my attention. It was more than simply a number; it appeared like a cosmic code, a hidden message from the cosmos, waiting for me to decipher its meaning.

As the class hummed with mathematical ideas, I secretly jotted 14.32 in the corner of my notebook, as if keeping a talismanic secret. In a world of variables and constants, this number became my unique X-factor.

The bell signifying the conclusion of our math adventure rang, and we scattered to our meeting point. Ria, Amit, and I went along the corridor, casually discussing the upcoming lunch break.

"Guys, you won't believe what happened in math class today!" I burst into the usual gathering spot, my excitement palpable.

"Hold up, what's got you so hyped, Maya?" Riya, the resident skeptic, raised an eyebrow.

I leaned in, my eyes wide with conspiratorial delight. "So, we were working on this stats problem, right? And the answer was 14.32."

Blank stares greeted me initially, but I pressed on, my enthusiasm infectious. "No, seriously! It's like fate tapped me on the shoulder and said, Maya, this number is your lucky charm."

Amit, always the voice of reason, chuckled. "Maya, it's just a number. You can't have a lucky number based on a random math problem."

But I was undeterred, spinning my tale with theatrical flair. "No, no, listen! The universe chose 14.32 for a reason. It's my cosmic connection. Imagine the possibilities!"

Ria rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "Maya, you're turning math class into a mystical experience."

"That's the beauty of it!" I grinned. "Life's more fun when you add a sprinkle of magic. And 14.32 is our secret code."

Amit shook his head, chuckling. "Fine, fine. Maya, you and your magical numbers. Let's make it a thing then. 14.32, our enchanting code."

"So, what's on the menu today?" I asked, my stomach chiming in with an eager growl.

Amit flashed a mischievous grin. "Well, I've got my mom's famous aloo paratha. Care for a bite?"

Ria chuckled. "I wish my mom packed something as exciting. It's probably the usual sandwich and an apple."

We continued our lighthearted chatter until a disruptive presence inserted itself into our conversation. Kushal, a notorious troublemaker, swaggered toward us with a grin that spelled mischief.

"Hey, four eyes!" he jeered, pointing at Ria. "Your glasses look like they belong in a museum. Did you steal them from your grandma?"

Ria's expression tightened, a visible discomfort settling over her features. Amit shot Kushal a warning look, but the guy reveled in pushing boundaries.

Ignoring him, I nudged Ria playfully. "Come on, don't let him ruin our good mood. What's life without a little tease now and then?"

Ria managed a weak smile, but before we could continue our banter, Kushal escalated his taunts.

My fists involuntarily clenched. I took a deep breath, reminding myself of the magic in 14.32, but before I could respond, Kushal took it a step too far.

"And, Ria, seriously, who would want to be friends with someone who can barely see without those ugly glasses?" he sneered.

Ria's eyes flashed with hurt, but this time, I couldn't stay silent. "Enough, Kushal! You've crossed the line. Apologize to Ria now."

Kushal laughed, dismissing my demand. "Or what? You're going to cast a spell on me, Maya?"

Ria tugged at my arm, pleading with her eyes for me to let it go, but I couldn't. Not this time."No more, Kushal," I warned, my voice steady. "Apologize, or face the consequences."

Amit stepped between us, attempting to mediate, but Kushal's arrogance knew no bounds. "Taari raand ma gaand nakhi ne chodis ne to kyay ni nai re. If I decided to r**e you, your dignity will be torn to pieces."

I'd had enough. Without a second thought, fueled by a surge of anger, I pushed Kushal to the ground. The corridor fell silent for a moment, students frozen in their tracks, witnessing the unexpected turn of events.

Kushal, caught off guard, scrambled to his feet, his face a mix of shock and fury. "Taari aatli himmat? How dare you?"

I stood my ground, defiant. "Apologize, Kushal, or I won't be responsible for what happens next."

Amit and Ria, realizing the gravity of the situation, pleaded with me to step back. But Kushal, driven by wounded pride, spat out a string of insults that cut deep. In that heated moment, my restraint shattered.

I lunged at him, my fists connecting with his face. The corridor echoed with the sounds of a scuffle, the onlookers gasping at the unexpected spectacle.

Amit desperately tried to pull me away, and Ria begged for calm, but the rage inside me surged. Kushal, now on the ground again, mumbled "If you wanted it so bad, you could've just asked for it.. Maya," he choked out his words, coughing blood out of his mouth, but, apparently, his ego still was intact.

I delivered a kick to where the sun never shines, fueled not just by anger but by a defiance against a world that tried to silence me. It connected with a sickening thud, and the corridor fell silent.

Teachers rushed to the scene, and the principal's stern gaze bore into me.

As I stood there, adrenaline coursing through my veins, I couldn't help but wonder if this was the price one had to pay for refusing to adhere to the norms dictated by a world that never wanted to hear our voices.

The echoes of the confrontation lingered, a storm unleashed in the narrow corridors of societal expectations.

The principal's office had become a battleground of harsh reprimands, pledges of improvement, and warnings about the potential stain on my academic record. Now, as I trekked home, the weight of the situation weighed heavy on me.

My home, usually a haven of warmth, felt stifling that evening. The aroma of spices and the comforting hum of everyday life couldn't mask the tension. My mom paced the living room, her face etched with worry. My dad sat quietly, flipping through a newspaper, his eyes glancing at me from time to time.

"Maya, we need to talk," my mom's voice cut through the air, sharp and strained. I took a seat, my palms moist with anxiety.

"What happened at school?" her eyes searched mine for answers.

I hesitated, my throat tight. "It was just... Kushal was being horrible to Ria, Mom. I couldn't just stand there." My eyes pleaded for understanding.

Her brows furrowed. "Taara ma mithu che ke nahi? Do you have sense or not? What if you got hurt? What if..." She stopped herself, the unspoken what if people talk lingering in the air.

My frustration bubbled to the surface. "Mom, I couldn't let him bully Ria like that!"

He interjected gently, "Rani, let her speak." But her worry eclipsed her husband's attempt at intervention.

"Maya, beta," Rani sighed, "I understand you want to protect your friends, but there are other ways. You don't have to resort to violence. What if this affects your reputation at school?" My eyes filled with tears.

My dad sensing my emotional turmoil, placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Rani, let's hear her out. Maya, why don't you tell us exactly what happened?"

I recounted the incident, carefully omitting the explicit comments and focusing on the injustice Ria faced. As I spoke, my emotions spilled over, and tears streamed down my cheeks.

He enveloped me in a comforting hug. "You did what you thought was right, beta. We'll figure this out together." I breathed in his cologne, soaking up the comfort his arms provided.

I could sense my mom torn between maternal worry and societal expectations as she heaved a sigh, "Maya, I just don't want you to face unnecessary trouble."

My eyes pleaded for understanding. "But, Mom, sometimes trouble is worth facing if it's for the right reasons."

I stormed out of the living room, seeking solace in my grandmother's room. Dadi was sitting on a worn-out chair while reading a book. She looked up as I entered.

"Dadi, I got into trouble at school today," I confessed, my voice laden with remorse.

Dadi's gaze, seasoned with a lifetime of traditions, bore into mine. "Sit, beta. Share with me what troubles your heart." I seated myself, the weight of my actions heavy in the room. As I recounted the events, Dadi listened in silence, her eyes reflecting both understanding and a deep-rooted familiarity with societal norms.

When my tale concluded, Dadi's voice, soft yet carrying the weight of generations, filled the room. "Maya, standing up for what's right is a journey through thorns. The path you've chosen is not an easy one, but it is noble." Her words held an unspoken acknowledgment of the clash between tradition and the pursuit of justice.

"Every choice," Dadi continued, "is a tapestry woven with threads of responsibility. You've embarked on a journey that challenges norms, and for that, my child, you must carry the mantle with unwavering conviction."

In that moment, the room felt like a bridge connecting two worlds — the one where Dadi stood, anchored in tradition, and the one where I ventured, seeking a different kind of truth.

❛even ideal things flap shadowy
sounds from visionary wings❜
— Edgar Allan Poe

a/n:

the chapter is finally up! after almost a month of waiting, so, yay! it was tough to come up with a chapter that had a good balance of everything, and i am proud of how it turned out!

lemme know your honest opinions and reviews about the chapter!

thanks for reading,
catch ya on the flip side <3