Samriddhi

Time healed more than wounds.

Two months had passed since the accident, and the little boy was doing well now — running again, laughing again. Somewhere in between hospital visits and careful check-ins, numbers had been exchanged, conversations had become familiar, and comfort had settled in quietly.

That morning, Samriddhi sat at the breakfast table with her parents, absent-mindedly stirring her tea.

“Mandir chalogi mere saath?” her mother asked casually.

Samriddhi looked up and smiled.
“Haan, Maa. Why not.”

Later, in her room, she got ready slowly — slipping into a blue anarkali and fastening her most loved possession: her jhumkas. She caught her reflection in the mirror and paused for a second, adjusting them gently, almost protectively.

She and her mother left together, the morning air calm and unhurried.

At the temple, the sound of bells filled the space. They folded their hands before Radha-Krishna, closed their eyes, and whispered prayers known only to their hearts. After darshan, the priest handed them prashad, his blessings lingering in the quiet moment.

As they descended the temple steps, a voice called out.

“Aap Sushasini ho, na?”

They turned.

A woman, around her mother’s age, stood there with a tentative smile.

For a second, silence hung between them — and then recognition struck.

“Nandini?” her mother gasped, eyes widening. “Aap yahan? Itne saalon baad?”

Laughter followed, warm and nostalgic.

They spoke quickly, excitedly — memories overlapping, years folding back into familiarity. Phone numbers were exchanged, promises made.

Nandini’s gaze shifted to Samriddhi.
“Is she your daughter?”

“Haan,” her mother replied proudly.

“Kitni sundar hai,” Nandini said warmly. “Bilkul tum par gayi hai.”

Then, with sudden enthusiasm, she insisted,
“Is Sunday humare ghar aaiye. Family ke saath baithenge, purani yaadein taaza karenge.”

Her mother agreed without hesitation.
“Zaroor.”

With smiles and light hearts, they parted ways — unaware that a simple temple visit had quietly nudged destiny forward.