The Silent River

In a small village by the Ganges, there lived a widow named Ashalata. Her days were filled with the quiet hum of daily chores, and her nights were spent in the company of memories—memories of her late husband and the child they never had.

One evening, while drawing water from the river, Ashalata noticed a young girl sitting alone on the steps of the ghat. The girl was staring at the water, lost in thought, her tiny feet dangling above the flowing river. Concerned, Ashalata approached her and gently asked, "Where is your home, child?"

The girl looked up with tear-filled eyes but said nothing. Ashalata sat beside her, feeling an inexplicable bond with the child. She took the girl's hand, and together they watched the sun dip into the river, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson.

As the days passed, the girl began to visit Ashalata regularly. They spoke little, but their silence was rich with understanding. Ashalata never asked about the girl's past, and the girl never spoke of it. They simply existed in each other's company, filling the voids in their hearts.

One day, as the monsoon rains began to pour, the girl did not come. Ashalata waited by the river, her heart heavy with worry. Days turned into weeks, and still, there was no sign of the girl.

Then, one evening, as the rains subsided, Ashalata saw something floating in the river. It was a small, handmade doll—the very one the girl used to carry. Ashalata's heart sank, and she understood. The river had taken the girl away, just as it had taken her husband.

But in her sorrow, Ashalata found a strange solace. The river, ever-flowing, had united them in spirit. The girl's silence, her unspoken words, had become a part of the river's song—a song that Ashalata would carry with her until her last breath.