Adultery The Swamiji: The Ashram of the Sacred Angels

[shailu4ever]

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Each Sevaki had the same blank expression, a calmness that bordered on eerie, and yet Ahalya couldn't help but wonder how many had once been just like her, standing where she stood now, unsure, wide-eyed.
 
Ahalya felt the weight of her own nervousness. She tried not to show it, but the quiet of the place seemed to press in, making her feel as though her own thoughts were too loud. 

She glanced back briefly at the other girls.
 
One of the new girls, the one with the wide eyes, was walking a few paces behind, her face tight with anticipation. 

She caught Ahalya’s gaze for a moment, but quickly looked away, her shoulders tensing.
 
Another new girl, with the long dark hair, moved with a kind of purpose, but there was an edge of something unspoken beneath her composure.
 
The others were just as absorbed in the strangeness around them, caught in the same current that was slowly pulling them forward.
 
Meera led them without speaking, her presence almost like a force field, calm and certain. Her silence was steadying, but also, in its own way, unnerving.
 
There was a certainty in her step, a belief that this place, this moment, was where they were meant to be, that it was perfect as it was. And that, in itself, was what felt so off-kilter. Nothing felt forced here.
 
It was as though the very air conspired to make everything feel inevitable.
 
“There are no walls here,” Meera said, her voice calm, carrying effortlessly over the sound of the wind that stirred the branches above. “Gurujii says walls are for those who do not trust. We trust.”
 
Trust. 

Ahalya felt the word hang in the air like a question, a command she wasn’t sure she could answer. 

She glanced at the others, but their faces were hidden behind masks of composure, masks that hid whatever was stirring underneath.
 
She herself felt it, an edge of doubt, a gnawing awareness that something was happening underneath everything. 

Walls are for those who do not trust.

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