06-01-2026, 05:52 PM
Scene: Settling In
The Ashram was quiet, but not still. The air hummed with an energy too subtle to see but impossible to ignore.
The five new recruits walked in silence, their steps soft on the stone paths. Ahalya could feel the weight of the forest around them, the trees pressing in from all sides, ancient and watchful.
Above them, the sky was dimming, the last traces of daylight retreating into a thickening night, but the world inside the Ashram seemed untouched by time, untouched by anything outside.
They walked together, but each of the five girls was wrapped in her own world. Ahalya walked at the front, her senses heightened, every detail of the Ashram standing out in sharp relief.
The Sevakis they passed did not glance at them, yet Ahalya felt their gaze, not eyes, but presence, calm, focused, unwavering. There were no hurried movements, no unnecessary gestures.
They moved with purpose, like threads woven into a larger tapestry, their bodies part of the place, not separate from it. Their eyes were steady, their expressions serene, so unperturbed by the world outside that it was as if they had always existed here.
The path ahead split, and they turned into a courtyard. The ground was covered in soft, muted sandstone, and plants with names Ahalya didn’t know clung to the walls.
They were not ornamental, not exotic, just quiet, living things that had been allowed to grow into the place, merging seamlessly with the architecture, with the very air.
The fragrance of tulsi and hibiscus filled the air, but it wasn’t sweet in the way flowers usually were. It was a thick, herbal scent, grounding and suffocating, as though the earth itself had anointing to do.
Even the birds, who were seldom seen but heard often, sounded like part of the Ashram's heartbeat.
As they walked, the other Sevakis continued their tasks, unhurried, as if they were part of the same slow pulse.
Some were bending to water the plants, others moving in and out of the buildings, their movements synchronized, as if they had rehearsed them so many times they had become the Ashram’s quiet rhythm.
The Ashram was quiet, but not still. The air hummed with an energy too subtle to see but impossible to ignore.
The five new recruits walked in silence, their steps soft on the stone paths. Ahalya could feel the weight of the forest around them, the trees pressing in from all sides, ancient and watchful.
Above them, the sky was dimming, the last traces of daylight retreating into a thickening night, but the world inside the Ashram seemed untouched by time, untouched by anything outside.
They walked together, but each of the five girls was wrapped in her own world. Ahalya walked at the front, her senses heightened, every detail of the Ashram standing out in sharp relief.
The Sevakis they passed did not glance at them, yet Ahalya felt their gaze, not eyes, but presence, calm, focused, unwavering. There were no hurried movements, no unnecessary gestures.
They moved with purpose, like threads woven into a larger tapestry, their bodies part of the place, not separate from it. Their eyes were steady, their expressions serene, so unperturbed by the world outside that it was as if they had always existed here.
The path ahead split, and they turned into a courtyard. The ground was covered in soft, muted sandstone, and plants with names Ahalya didn’t know clung to the walls.
They were not ornamental, not exotic, just quiet, living things that had been allowed to grow into the place, merging seamlessly with the architecture, with the very air.
The fragrance of tulsi and hibiscus filled the air, but it wasn’t sweet in the way flowers usually were. It was a thick, herbal scent, grounding and suffocating, as though the earth itself had anointing to do.
Even the birds, who were seldom seen but heard often, sounded like part of the Ashram's heartbeat.
As they walked, the other Sevakis continued their tasks, unhurried, as if they were part of the same slow pulse.
Some were bending to water the plants, others moving in and out of the buildings, their movements synchronized, as if they had rehearsed them so many times they had become the Ashram’s quiet rhythm.
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