08-01-2026, 10:21 PM
Scene: Unlearning
The bell woke her before dawn. Its sound was a soft, gentle insistence, not the harsh clang of an alarm, but a call from a deeper place. It wrapped around Ahalya like the whisper of a forgotten dream.
She surfaced from sleep, the world blurry, unsure for a moment where she was. The room was dim, shadows clinging to every corner, the air cool and still. “Where am I?”
A faint rustle of fabric outside her door brought her back to herself. She could hear the soft, rhythmic footsteps moving along the stone path outside, Sevakis, the women of the Ashram.
The low murmur of voices, too quiet to understand, filled the spaces around her. “Ah, yes... the Ashram.”
Her feet hit the cold floor, the chill of the stone creeping up her spine, but there was no time to linger. Ahalya rose quickly, splashing cool water from the brass vessel that had appeared by her door, its cool surface almost too real in the half-dark.
“When did that arrive?” she wondered.
Her hand brushed against the polished metal, the water spilling into her palm, its touch grounding her in the strange, dream-like quality of the morning.
She dressed quickly in one of her kurtas. The soft cotton fabric slid over her skin like a second layer, comfortable but still foreign. She pulled her hair into a loose knot, trying to ignore the weight of everything she didn't yet understand.
When she stepped outside, the air was thick with the smell of jasmine and damp earth, an intoxicating mix of fragrance and the weight of nature itself, ancient and alive. The sky was still dark, stars just beginning to fade, their light slowly surrendering to the growing darkness.
The Sevakis moved around her with an almost unseen grace, their footsteps in perfect rhythm, as if they were part of the very earth they walked upon.
"They move like they belong here," she thought. "As if the ground knows them."
Ahalya joined them, stepping into the silent current that carried them toward the main hall. Her steps were soft, careful, as though she were trying to move unnoticed through a world that already had its own rhythm.
The others around her, their faces solemn and calm, seemed to glide with certainty. She felt, for the first time, the weight of being an outsider here.
The bell woke her before dawn. Its sound was a soft, gentle insistence, not the harsh clang of an alarm, but a call from a deeper place. It wrapped around Ahalya like the whisper of a forgotten dream.
She surfaced from sleep, the world blurry, unsure for a moment where she was. The room was dim, shadows clinging to every corner, the air cool and still. “Where am I?”
A faint rustle of fabric outside her door brought her back to herself. She could hear the soft, rhythmic footsteps moving along the stone path outside, Sevakis, the women of the Ashram.
The low murmur of voices, too quiet to understand, filled the spaces around her. “Ah, yes... the Ashram.”
Her feet hit the cold floor, the chill of the stone creeping up her spine, but there was no time to linger. Ahalya rose quickly, splashing cool water from the brass vessel that had appeared by her door, its cool surface almost too real in the half-dark.
“When did that arrive?” she wondered.
Her hand brushed against the polished metal, the water spilling into her palm, its touch grounding her in the strange, dream-like quality of the morning.
She dressed quickly in one of her kurtas. The soft cotton fabric slid over her skin like a second layer, comfortable but still foreign. She pulled her hair into a loose knot, trying to ignore the weight of everything she didn't yet understand.
When she stepped outside, the air was thick with the smell of jasmine and damp earth, an intoxicating mix of fragrance and the weight of nature itself, ancient and alive. The sky was still dark, stars just beginning to fade, their light slowly surrendering to the growing darkness.
The Sevakis moved around her with an almost unseen grace, their footsteps in perfect rhythm, as if they were part of the very earth they walked upon.
"They move like they belong here," she thought. "As if the ground knows them."
Ahalya joined them, stepping into the silent current that carried them toward the main hall. Her steps were soft, careful, as though she were trying to move unnoticed through a world that already had its own rhythm.
The others around her, their faces solemn and calm, seemed to glide with certainty. She felt, for the first time, the weight of being an outsider here.
.
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