In the kitchen, Tara stood by the stove, the aroma of frying puris filling the air as she prepared the morning prasad.

With each gentle press of the rolling pin, she shaped the dough into perfect circles, her movements methodical and precise.

Meanwhile, in the adjacent room, Kusum meticulously cleaned the puja hall, dusting the idols and arranging fresh flowers with practiced ease.

The soft sounds of her sweeping and arranging mingled with the sizzle of cooking coming from the kitchen, creating a peaceful ambiance that enveloped the house.

It had been a week since Padma's departure for her pilgrimage journey, leaving behind an air of quietude in her wake.

Despite the absence of her imposing presence, the house still bore the remnants of her influence, from the carefully arranged puja items to the lingering memories of her stern commands.

As Tara placed the golden-brown puris on a plate and spooned the fragrant halwa into bowls, she couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over her.

With a sigh, Tara glanced towards the puja hall, where Kusum worked diligently, her movements a testament to her devotion.

Despite the challenges they faced, Tara found solace in the familiar routines of their daily lives, a reminder that even in the midst of uncertainty, there was still comfort to be found in the simple act of coming together as a family.

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As the morning sun filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow over the puja hall, the men of the house emerged, freshly bathed and clad in crisp dhotis.

With reverence in their steps, they joined Kusum in the puja hall, where she had already begun the morning rituals.

Kusum, took the lead in performing the puja, her hands moving deftly as she lit dhuni and offered prayers to the deities.

Manvi and Tara stood beside her, their eyes closed in quiet devotion, their minds focused on the divine presence that surrounded them.

Amidst the solemnity of the prayers, Prithvi remained standing at the back of the room, a silent observer in the sacred space.

Aware of Tara's sensitivity to his presence, he chose to keep his distance, not wanting to disrupt the peaceful atmosphere of the puja.

Meanwhile, little Manik, wrapped securely in his Baba's arms, gazed wide-eyed as always at the flickering flames of the diyas, his innocent curiosity adding a touch of innocence to the solemn proceedings.

His presence served as a reminder of the continuity of life, even amidst the challenges and uncertainties that surrounded them.

The prayers continued, the fragrance of dhuni filled the air, mingling with the soft murmurs of the mantras.

As Tara blew the Shankh, its deep, resonant sound filled the puja hall, signaling the start of the prayers.

Mannu, the loyal companion, lifted his head and joined in with enthusiastic howls, his canine voice blending with the conch's sound.

The unexpected harmony between Tara's Shankh blowing and Mannu's enthusiastic howling brought quiet chuckles from the gathered family members.

Despite the solemnity of the occasion, the light-hearted moment infused the morning prayers with a sense of joy and camaraderie, briefly dispelling the tension in the air.

With smiles on their lips, the family members exchanged amused glances, their laughter subdued but genuine.

Even Prithvi, standing at the back of the room, couldn't help but crack a small smile at Mannu's enthusiastic participation.

As the Shankh's reverberations gradually faded and Mannu's howls subsided, the puja resumed.

The brief moment of levity lifted the family's spirits, providing a respite from their troubles and fostering a sense of togetherness amidst the sacred rituals of the morning prayers.

In that moment, despite the tensions and complexities that lingered beneath the surface, there was a sense of unity and peace, as the family came together in prayer, seeking solace and guidance in the divine presence that watched over them.

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"Come on, Punam, let's speed it up. We need to peel these mangoes and sun-dry them for pickling, and then we have to make papads too," urged Kusum, directing the maid as she washed the raw green mangoes.

As Kusum supervised the preparations for pickling and making papads, the bustling activity in the kitchen filled the air with a sense of purpose and anticipation.

Meanwhile, Tara and Manvi joined in, their hands deftly rolling out dough for the papads and arranging them neatly on trays for drying.

The rhythmic clapping of their hands against the dough echoed through the kitchen, punctuating the air with a sense of camaraderie and shared purpose.

As they busily prepared everything in the kitchen, the heat of the summer sun beat down upon them.

With the arrival of summer, it was time to engage in the age-old tradition of making various types of pickles and papads.

Kusum, Tara, and Manvi worked tirelessly, their hands moving with practiced efficiency as they sliced, seasoned, and rolled out the ingredients.

Once everything was ready, they decided to take the preparations to the terrace where the warmth of the sun would aid in the drying process.

Carrying trays laden with raw mangoes, spices, and dough, they ascended the stairs to the open expanse of the terrace.

As they spread out the ingredients, the vibrant colors and fragrant aromas mingled with the fresh air, creating an atmosphere of anticipation and excitement.

Despite the sweltering heat, their spirits were high as they worked together, each task a labor of love and tradition passed down through generations.

As Tara meticulously spread the raw cut mango pieces on the fresh cloth, her movements slowed as her gaze drifted downwards.

There, at the foot of the stairs, she noticed Prithvi engaged in conversation with a man.

Her curiosity piqued, she observed as Prithvi exchanged money with the man, who in turn handed him a paper envelope.

With a furrowed brow, Tara watched as Prithvi tore open the envelope and extracted its contents.

Her heart raced with apprehension as she wondered what documents lay within. Was it a letter? A contract? Or something else entirely?

Unable to tear her eyes away, Tara felt a knot form in the pit of her stomach as she waited anxiously for Prithvi's reaction.

Would the contents of the envelope bring joy or sorrow? Only time would tell, but in that moment, Tara couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over her like a dark cloud.

As Tara continued to watch, Prithvi's expression shifted subtly as he perused the documents enclosed in the envelope.

His brow furrowed in concentration, his lips pressed into a thin line as he absorbed the contents.

Sensing Tara's gaze upon him, Prithvi glanced up, meeting her eyes for a brief moment before averting his gaze.

There was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, a mixture of determination and apprehension that left Tara feeling unsettled.

With a sense of unease gnawing at her, Tara turned her attention back to the task at hand, but her mind remained preoccupied with thoughts of what Prithvi might be hiding.

As the sun beat down upon them, casting long shadows across the terrace, Tara couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding that lingered in the air.

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As the scene shifted indoors to the somber atmosphere of the mourning home, a heavy pall of grief hung in the air, mingling with an undercurrent of simmering tension.

The room was dimly lit, the flickering flames of oil lamps casting eerie shadows on the walls.

The women of the house, clad in mourning attire, huddled together in a corner of the room, their faces veiled in sorrow and tears glistening in their eyes.

They murmured prayers for the departed, their voices soft and trembling with emotion as they mourned the loss of their loved one.

At the center of the room lay the lifeless body of the dacoit leader, surrounded by mourners paying their respects.

His features were peaceful in death, a stark contrast to the violence that had claimed his life. Yet, despite the solemnity of the occasion, an air of unease pervaded the room, as if the very walls themselves whispered of impending danger.

But amidst the mourners, a figure stood out, his presence radiating an aura of quiet menace.

It was the elder brother of the deceased dacoit leader, his eyes burning with a fierce determination

"Teri mauth ke kemat uss Thakur ko toh chukana padega, bahut pyaar hai na usse apni biwi se ab uski sabse kimti se cheez usse chin jayegi" as he silently vowed to avenge his brother's death.

(He will have to pay for your death. He loves his wife so much, doesn't he? Now he will lose the most precious thing to him)

With clenched fists and a steely gaze, the elder brother watched from the shadows, his mind consumed with thoughts of retribution.

He knew that blood must be repaid with blood, and he would stop at nothing to avenge the honor of his family.

As the mourners gathered to pay their respects, unaware of the storm brewing within their midst, the elder brother bided his time, plotting his next move with cold precision.

For him, the death of his brother was not just a loss-it was a call to arms, a catalyst for vengeance that would shake the very foundations of their world.

In the quiet confines of the mourning home, amidst the whispers of grief and the solemn prayers for the departed, a darker force lurked, ready to unleash its wrath upon those responsible for the tragedy that had befallen their family.

And as the flames of vengeance burned ever brighter, the stage was set for a confrontation that would change the course of their lives forever.

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As Prithvi held the paper envelope in the moonlight, its contents seemed to taunt him with painful reminders of their separation.

The letters within, carefully written and filled with longing, served as poignant echoes of a love that now felt out of reach.

Prithvi's gaze lingered on the letters, his heart heavy with the ache of longing. How he wished he could turn back the hands of time and reclaim the happiness they had once known together.

But reality remained stubbornly unchanged, and he was left to grapple with the pain of their separation alone.

With a heavy sigh, Prithvi folded the paper and tucked it away, the weight of its presence a constant reminder of the love he had lost.

As he stood in the moonlit room, enveloped in solitude, he couldn't help but wonder if they would ever find their way back to each other, or if their love was fated to remain a painful memory in the shadows of the past.

As Prithvi stood there, lost in the somber reflection of the moonlight, Kusum entered the room, her presence a gentle interruption to his solitary reverie.

She approached him with a knowing look in her eyes, sensing the weight of his thoughts even before a word was spoken.

"Prithvi," Kusum said softly, her voice carrying a mixture of empathy and concern. "I know it's difficult for you, but you mustn't dwell on the past. We must look to the future with hope and courage."

Prithvi turned to face her, his expression a mask of resignation tinged with sorrow.

"I try Maa, but it's not easy," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Every moment without her feels like an eternity."

Kusum placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, her touch a silent reassurance of her support.

"I understand, my child," she said gently. "But you must trust that everything happens for a reason. Perhaps this separation is but a test of your love, a trial that will only strengthen your bond in the end."

Prithvi nodded, albeit reluctantly, his gaze drifting back to the paper envelope clutched in his hand.

"I hope you're right Maa," he said, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "But sometimes it feels as though the pain will never end."

Kusum offered him a reassuring smile, her eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that transcended mere words.

"Have faith, Prithvi," she said, her voice filled with quiet conviction. "Love has a way of enduring, even in the face of the greatest challenges. Trust in its power, and you will find the strength to overcome."

With those words of wisdom, Kusum left Prithvi alone once more, the echoes of her encouragement lingering in the air like a beacon of hope in the darkness.

And as Prithvi stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, he found himself clinging to that hope, allowing it to guide him through the long night ahead.

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3 𝘿𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙇𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧.

As night settled over the household, casting shadows that danced along the walls, Tara sat beside Manik's bed, her silhouette outlined by the soft glow of a bedside lamp.

She gently coaxed him to sleep, her movements slow and deliberate, betraying the weariness that settled deep within her bones.

Each breath she took felt heavy with exhaustion, the weight of her pregnancy pressing down on her like an invisible burden.

The last 1 month and 2 weeks had been a relentless struggle for Tara.

Nausea and vomiting had become her constant companions, robbing her of the simple pleasures of eating and leaving her weakened and depleted.

Tonight had been particularly harsh, with Tara enduring five episodes of vomiting, each wave of nausea further draining her already diminished energy reserves.

Despite her best efforts to nourish herself and the life growing within her, the unrelenting sickness had taken its toll, leaving her feeling as though she were perpetually on the brink of collapse.

As she sat by Manik's bedside, the fatigue that gnawed at her bones seemed to seep into the very fabric of her being, enveloping her in a shroud of weariness.

But amidst the exhaustion and discomfort, Tara found solace in the presence of her son.

Watching him sleep peacefully, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, brought her a sense of peace and contentment that momentarily eased the ache in her weary heart.

With a tired sigh, Tara closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink into the embrace of the night.

Despite the heaviness that weighed upon her, she knew that she would find the strength to endure, fueled by the love she held for her son and the new life growing within her.

Suddenly, a soft knock echoed through the room, pulling Tara from the edge of sleep.

Startled, she blinked away the remnants of drowsiness and turned towards the door, where the silhouette of Prithvi stood, bathed in the muted light filtering in from the hallway.

Prithvi hesitated for a moment before stepping into the room, his movements tentative as if unsure of his welcome.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," he said softly, his voice laced with a hint of apprehension.

Tara pushed herself up into a sitting position, her gaze fixed on Prithvi's face. She couldn't help but notice the tension that seemed to radiate from him, casting a shadow over the room.

Prithvi shifted nervously, his hands fidgeting at his sides.

"I... I wanted to talk to you," he began, his words hesitant.

Their relationship had grown strained in the wake of the accusations that had been leveled against Tara, and the once-intimate bond they shared had been fractured beyond repair.

Now, they existed as mere strangers under the same roof, their interactions marked by a palpable tension that hung in the air like a heavy fog.

With a heavy heart, Tara motioned for Prithvi to enter, her eyes avoiding his gaze as she struggled to contain the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

She couldn't bear to face him, not after everything that had transpired between them.

Prithvi stepped into the room with a tentative air, his expression guarded as he approached the bed.

He had grown accustomed to avoiding Tara's presence, the weight of her accusations still fresh in his mind.

Despite his efforts to maintain a semblance of normalcy, the distance between them seemed insurmountable.

In the hushed stillness of the room, Tara and Prithvi stood on opposite sides, the silence between them a testament to the chasm that had formed between their hearts.

"I will depart within 3 days to America," said Prithvi, his voice breaking the silence with a solemn declaration.

In the wake of Prithvi's announcement, a heavy silence hung in the air, pregnant with unspoken tension and unresolved emotions.

Tara felt a pang of sadness at the prospect of his absence, a stark reminder of the fractured bond that once bound them together.

As Tara struggled to find the right words to respond, Prithvi's gaze remained fixed on her, his eyes betraying a tumult of conflicting emotions.

There was a vulnerability in his expression, a silent plea for understanding and forgiveness that tugged at Tara's heartstrings.

With a heavy sigh, Tara finally broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Why?" she asked, sadness laden in her voice.

Prithvi's shoulders tensed slightly at the question, his gaze dropping to the floor as he struggled to articulate his thoughts.

"I... I told before that my friend Abhijeet met with an accident there, and no one from his family can go, so I need to go," he replied, his voice strained with emotion. "There are things I need to take care of... things I can't ignore any longer."

Tara studied him intently, her heart aching at the vulnerability she saw reflected in his eyes.

Despite the distance that had grown between them, she couldn't shake the lingering sense of compassion she felt for him, a testament to the bond they once shared.

"When will you come back?" she asked softly, her voice barely audible above the faint rustle of the night breeze.

Prithvi hesitated for a moment before meeting her gaze, his expression tinged with uncertainty.

"I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "But I hope soon I will."

Their eyes met in a moment of understanding, and Tara realized that his departure was not just about his friend's accident. There were deeper reasons, buried beneath layers of hurt and misunderstanding.

With a heavy heart, Tara nodded in acceptance, her gaze never wavering from Prithvi's as she silently acknowledged the inevitability of his departure.

In the stillness of the night, amidst the shadows that danced along the walls, they stood as silent witnesses to the unraveling of their shared history, each grappling with the weight of their own unspoken truths.

Breaking the silence, Prithvi spoke, his voice filled with a quiet resolve.

"I will leave tomorrow from here, then reach the city, and finally depart for America," he said, his words hanging heavy in the air.

Before leaving, there were things he needed to take care of. Retrieving a key from his desk drawer, Prithvi approached the wardrobe and unlocked a small locker, revealing its contents to Tara.

"It contains some cash. If you need anything, you can take it from here," he explained, his voice gentle yet firm. "The keys will be kept in the drawer."

After retrieving another box from the shelf, Prithvi carefully opened it, revealing a collection of medicines neatly arranged inside. "This box contains all your medicines, and now  have this syrup, so you will not feel nauseous anymore," he explained softly, his voice carrying a hint of concern.

Tara accepted the syrup from Prithvi, then she took the glass of water he offered.

"This you need to take before breakfast, this one before dinner, and this one after dinner," Prithvi instructed, pointing to each medication in turn. His voice was gentle yet firm, his concern for Tara's well-being evident in his every word.

"Even if you don't remember, don't worry. I've informed Maa, she will take care of it."

With a heavy heart, Tara accepted the medications, the weight of their unresolved emotions hanging heavy in the air.

In that moment, amidst the quiet intimacy of their shared space, Tara and Prithvi found themselves teetering on the edge of reconciliation, their hearts yearning for the healing and closure that seemed always just out of reach.

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The next day dawned with a sense of anticipation and apprehension lingering in the air, the impending departure of Prithvi casting a shadow over the household.

While the rest of the family went about their morning routines with a semblance of normalcy, Kusum, Tara, and Prithvi each carried the weight of their own emotions.

In the kitchen, Kusum moved with mechanical precision, her hands busy as she prepared breakfast for the family.

Despite her outward composure, her heart was heavy with worry for her son. Every clatter of utensils, every sizzle of cooking oil served as a stark reminder of the impending separation that loomed over them.

Meanwhile, Tara sat at the dining table, her movements slow and deliberate as she packed Prithvi's lunch for his journey.

With each item she placed in the lunchbox, her heart clenched with regret and sadness, knowing that this would be one of the last acts of care she could offer him before his departure.

In his room, Prithvi moved with quiet determination as he packed his belongings and checked everything for the journey ahead.

His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, torn between the duty he felt to fulfill his obligations and the ache of leaving his family behind.

As the morning wore on, they gathered for breakfast, the simple act of sharing a meal together tinged with a bittersweet sense of finality.

In the quiet of the morning, amidst the clatter of dishes and the murmur of conversation, Kusum, Tara, and Prithvi found themselves grappling with the inevitability of change, each silently bracing themselves for the goodbye that loomed on the horizon.

Meanwhile, amidst the somber atmosphere, Prithvi's siblings buzzed with excitement, eagerly discussing the list of items they had requested him to bring back upon his return.

Their youthful enthusiasm served as a stark contrast to the heaviness that hung over the rest of the household.

And amidst it all, Deepak, Prithvi's father, sat at the head of the table, his expression clouded with anger and frustration. He had made no secret of his disapproval of Prithvi's decision to leave, viewing it as a betrayal of his responsibilities as a Thakur.

Despite his efforts to mask his emotions, the simmering resentment was evident in his every word and gesture.

Meanwhile, little Manik, oblivious to the complexities of the situation, played nearby, his innocent laughter serving as a poignant reminder of the innocence that still existed amidst the turmoil.

And though he may not have understood the full extent of the sadness that hung in the air, it was clear that even the youngest member of the family could sense the heaviness of his parents hearts.

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Manik's tear-stained face mirrored the turmoil in his young heart as he clung to his father, his tiny frame shaking with sobs.

"Baba... Why are you going?"

His voice trembled with sorrow and confusion, the innocence of his eyes searching Prithvi's face for answers.

Prithvi's heart shattered at the sight of his son's tears, his own eyes brimming with unshed emotion as he held Manik close.

With a tenderness born of love and regret, he tightened his grip around Manik's trembling body, feeling the weight of their impending separation bearing down on him like a crushing weight.

"Manik, my son," Prithvi's voice was soft, barely above a whisper, yet heavy with the weight of his own sorrow.

"I have to go on a journey, but I promise you, it's for something important. I'll come back as soon as I can, and until then, I'll carry you in my heart wherever I go."

Manik buried his face in his father's chest, his sobs muffled against Prithvi's shirt as he clung to him desperately, unwilling to let go.

In that moment, father and son shared a bond that transcended words, a silent understanding of the love that bound them together, even in the face of separation.

As they stood together, enveloped in each other's embrace, servants bustled around them, loading Prithvi's luggage onto the waiting car.

But amidst the flurry of activity and the palpable sadness that hung over the household, there was one notable absence.

Prithvi's eyes searched the corridor, a silent plea for Tara's presence, but she was nowhere to be seen.

His heart clenched with a mixture of longing and regret, knowing that their parting would be devoid of the closure he so desperately sought.

With a heavy heart, Prithvi gently pried Manik from his embrace, the young boy's tears staining his shirt as Kusum enveloped him in her comforting arms.

Each moment felt like an eternity as Prithvi reluctantly released his son, the weight of their separation settling heavily upon him.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, Prithvi settled into the car, his gaze lingering on his family gathered by the doorway.

His mother's tearful eyes, Manik's trembling lip, and Kusum's reassuring embrace served as poignant reminders of the love and support he was leaving behind.

But it was the empty corridor, devoid of Tara's presence, that weighed heaviest on his heart.

Throughout the morning, Prithvi had not caught even a glimpse of her, her absence a painful reminder of the discord that had driven them apart.

As the car pulled away, carrying him further from his family with each passing moment, Prithvi's gaze remained fixed on the vacant space where she should have stood, a silent prayer for reconciliation echoing in his heart as the corridor disappeared from view.

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As Tara's eyes remained fixed on the departing car, her heart clenched with an ache that mirrored Prithvi's own longing.

With each passing moment, the distance between them seemed to widen, leaving her with an overwhelming sense of regret and sorrow.

"I am sorry... I... I never wanted to... do this to you..." Her voice broke with sobs, the weight of her words heavy with the burden of her unspoken truths.

The flashes of PADMA'S THREATS  replayed in her mind like a haunting melody, a constant reminder of the choices she had been forced to make in order to protect THEIR CHILD MANIK.

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𝙏𝙊 𝘽𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙐𝙀𝘿...