People often spoke beautifully about faith.

They called it strength.

Peace.

Hope.

Light.

And perhaps-

faith was all those things.

But people rarely spoke about the moments before faith became strength.

The breaking.

The confusion.

The nights someone sat alone asking questions into silence.

The moments when belief existed-

but fear existed too.

Because faith did not erase fear.

Sometimes-

faith simply held someone's hand while they walked through it.

Krishni mathur had loved Shri Krishn for years.

Quietly.

Naturally.

The way some people loved sunrise.

The way some people loved old songs.

Effortlessly.

Without needing explanation.

She spoke to him during difficult exams.

During stressful rehearsals.

During moments nobody noticed.

Not because she expected miracles.

But because somehow-

talking to him made loneliness feel smaller.

And lately-

she needed that comfort more than ever.

I hated presentations.

Not disliked.

Hated.

Actual hatred.

Pure.

Sincere.

Entirely personal.

"Krishni."

"Hm."

"You're doing it again."

"I'm not."

"You are."

Ridhi leaned against the classroom desk.

"Stop destroying your fingers."

I immediately released my hand.

Apparently-

stress had upgraded into unconscious self-destruction.

Wonderful.

Beautiful.

Excellent.

"You'll do fine," Ridhi said.

"I won't."

"You will."

"I genuinely won't."

"You genuinely will."

"I forgot everything."

"You studied."

"I forgot that too."

"You literally taught me yesterday."

"That version of me no longer exists."

"Drama queen."

"Theatre student."

"Fair."

I looked toward the classroom projector.

Presentation.

Performance analysis.

Simple.

Normal.

Completely harmless.

So naturally-

my brain decided survival was impossible.

Wonderful.

Professor entered.

Students settled.

My heartbeat quietly increased.

Faster.

Faster.

Too fast.

Not now.

Please.

Not now.

"Krishni."

No.

No no no.

Too early.

"Your turn."

Wonderful.

Absolutely wonderful.

I slowly stood.

Walked toward front.

Hands cold.

Breathing uneven.

Why-

Why did my body react like this every time?

Logically-

I knew this.

I had performed before.

Hundreds of times.

Theatre.

Stage.

Dialogue.

Characters.

Then why-

why did normal things suddenly feel impossible?

My fingers tightened quietly.

Breathe.

Just breathe.

"You can start."

I nodded.

Opened presentation.

Looked toward class.

People.

Too many people.

Looking.

Waiting.

My chest tightened.

No.

Not now.

Not-

Words blurred.

Heartbeat louder.

Breathing harder.

No.

No no-

Not here.

Not in front of everyone.

Please-

"Krishni?"

Professor's voice felt distant.

The room suddenly felt smaller.

Air heavier.

Too loud.

Too bright.

Too much.

Too much-

My fingers tightened around my palm.

Lotus marks.

Warm.

Always warm.

And suddenly-

without thinking-

quietly-

inside my head-

"Krishn."

One word.

Only one.

Silence followed.

Not magical.

Not impossible.

Just-

steady.

Like someone placing a hand gently over chaos.

My breathing slowly steadied.

Again.

Once more.

Air.

Present.

Reality.

"You okay?" Professor asked softly.

"Yes sir."

Lie.

But manageable lie.

"You need water?"

"No sir."

Silence.

"You can continue."

And somehow-

I did.

Not perfectly.

Not confidently.

Not beautifully.

But I did.

And sometimes-

surviving mattered more than perfection.

YOU DID SO GOOD."

"I absolutely did not."

"You absolutely did."

"I forgot two points."

"No one noticed."

"I noticed."

"Exactly."

Ridhi handed me cold coffee.

I accepted immediately.

Friendship.

Beautiful thing.

"You know what your problem is?" she asked.

"I exist."

"No."

"I overthink."

"Also yes."

"I-"

"You think struggling means failure."

Silence.

Dangerous silence.

Because-

that felt painfully true.

"You think feeling scared means weakness."

"I don't."

"You do."

"I literally don't."

"You literally do."

I looked away.

Annoying.

Very annoying.

Because sometimes --

truth became irritating when spoken aloud.

"Krishni."

"Hm."

"You don't have to become perfect before allowing yourself kindness."

Something quietly shifted inside me.

Small.

Almost invisible.

But there.

Evening arrived slowly.

Clouds covered the city softly.

Rain threatened quietly.

The theatre showcase pressure had officially consumed everyone's peace.

Wonderful.

Assignments.

Performance preparation.

College pressure.

Life pressure.

Dream pressure.

Mystery pressure.

Existence pressure.

Amazing.

I sat quietly near the small temple inside home.

Cross-legged.

Silence surrounding softly.

The diya flickered quietly.

Golden light dancing across walls.

Peace.

Always peace.

Krishn's murti stood before me.

Gentle smile.

Peacock feather.

Flute.

Calm.

Always calm.

"How?"

The whisper left quietly.

Silence.

Expected.

"How do you stay calm?"

Wind moved softly through nearby windows.

No answer.

Expected.

"I'm tired."

The confession left unexpectedly.

Quiet.

Honest.

Dangerous.

"I keep trying."

My throat tightened slowly.

"I really keep trying."

College.

Dreams.

Pressure.

Fear.

Everything.

"I don't know what's happening to me."

Silence.

Only silence.

Yet somehow-

it never felt empty.

Tears slowly rested quietly inside my eyes.

Annoying.

Inconvenient.

Terrible timing.

"I don't understand anything."

The flute.

The dreams.

The marks.

Fear.

Questions.

Everything.

"I don't know who I am becoming."

My fingers slowly touched the lotus mark resting against my palm.

Warm.

Always.

Warm.

And suddenly-

a memory surfaced quietly.

Age thirteen.

First stage performance.

Hands shaking.

Heart racing.

Fear swallowing everything.

And Maa quietly saying-

"Don't perform to prove yourself."

"Perform honestly."

My breathing slowly steadied.

Not fixed.

Not healed.

Just-

steadier.

Wind moved softly.

The peacock feather resting beside the murti shifted gently.

And somehow-

for reasons impossible to explain-

peace slowly settled.

Very quietly.

Very gently.

Like reassurance.

Not answers.

Just reassurance.

That night-

rain finally arrived.

Soft against windows.

Quiet.

Comforting.

Sleep came easier tonight.

Gentler.

And when dreams arrived-

they changed.

Again.

Moonlight.

River water.

Temple bells.

Flowers drifting slowly.

The flute.

Closer.

Closer than ever.

Ancient pathways stretched softly ahead.

My footsteps moved slowly.

No fear this time.

Only something strange.

Calm.

The river reflected moonlight beautifully.

Wind carried sandalwood fragrance.

The night felt alive.

Sacred somehow.

And there-

near flowing water-

stood that familiar figure.

Dark blue.

Peacock feather.

Golden ornaments resting softly beneath moonlight.

Closer.

Clearer.

Yet somehow-

still beyond reach.

My heart quietly trembled.

Not fear.

Something deeper.

The figure slowly turned.

Lotus eyes.

Gentle smile.

Warmth impossible to describe.

And suddenly-

for the first time-

I spoke.

"Who are you?"

Wind moved softly.

Temple bells echoed quietly.

The flute slowly faded.

And then-

that familiar voice.

Ancient.

Gentle.

Patient.

"You already know."

Darkness.

Silence.

And suddenly-

I woke.

3:51 AM.

Heart beating unevenly.

Rain still falling softly outside.

Room quiet.

Peaceful.

Too peaceful.

I slowly sat up.

Breathing carefully.

Hands resting quietly against my palms.

Lotus marks.

Warm.

Always.

Warm.

But tonight-

something felt different.

Fear still existed.

Questions still existed.

Confusion still existed.

Yet beneath everything-

very quietly-

something else existed too.

Faith.

Small.

Fragile.

But there.

And sometimes-

small faith carried people through very large storms.

Thank u

Stay tuned

Gaura 🧿