The Lost Time 6

The crisp morning air in Kedarnath carried the scent of pine and damp earth, mingling with the sound of hurried footsteps and voices as the camp prepared for departure. Tents were being folded, bags packed, and the hum of farewells echoed against the majestic backdrop of snow-capped mountains. Amid the bustle, Siya moved gracefully, her navy-blue anarkali flowing with her every step, a shawl draped snugly over her shoulders to keep out the chill. Her dark hair, tied in a loose braid, framed her face, and her calm demeanor stood in contrast to the commotion around her.

She was busy settling payments with the local workers who had made their visit possible. Each one blessed her in gratitude, their weathered faces lighting up with genuine affection. “May God grant you everything you desire, child,” an elderly man said with folded hands. Another woman added, “May He guide you always.” Siya’s soft smile was tinged with melancholy. Their heartfelt words reminded her of Kaal, the enigmatic figure she’d met on this trip. His wisdom felt like a seed planted deep within her, waiting to grow.

As the group began their descent, younger members helped the elderly navigate the rocky paths. The murmur of the river grew louder as they approached, its surface glinting like molten silver in the sunlight. Siya walked beside an elderly woman who leaned on her for support. Suddenly, the woman’s foot caught on a shrub. She stumbled forward, her fragile frame teetering dangerously close to the riverbank. Siya’s reflexes were swift, her hands shooting out to pull the woman back just in time.

But relief quickly turned to despair as the woman gasped and clutched her wrist. “My bracelet!” she cried, her voice breaking. It had slipped from her hand and disappeared into the rushing waters below.

Tears welled in her eyes as she whispered, “It wasn’t just a bracelet. It was my husband’s first gift to me, bought from his very first salary. It’s all I have left of him.”

The weight of her grief was palpable, and Siya’s hand instinctively reached for the locket around her neck. Inside it was a tiny family photograph—her parents and her younger self, frozen in a moment of happiness. She knew the pain of losing something irreplaceable, of clinging to the tangible when memories felt too fragile.

Sanchi, ever the peacemaker, stepped in to console the woman. “Aunty, we understand how much it meant to you, but please don’t blame yourself. It was an accident. Let it go,” she said softly.

But Aryan, dressed casually in a jacket and trekking pants, was anything but empathetic. His irritation spilled over as he crossed his arms and snapped, “Can we stop this melodrama and move on? It’s just a bracelet. Anyway, she’ll meet her husband soon enough, so what’s the big deal?”

His words struck like a slap. The group fell silent, and the elderly woman’s tears turned into quiet sobs. Before anyone could respond, there was a sudden splash.

Siya had jumped into the river.

“Siya, no!” Sanchi screamed, her voice laced with fear. The elderly woman, now hysterical, begged her to come back. Aryan scoffed and walked away, muttering about unnecessary delays, his indifference shocking everyone.

But Siya wasn’t listening. The cold water bit into her skin, but she didn’t care. Her mind was consumed by a memory, a flashback so vivid it felt like she was living it again.

It was years ago, during a family trip to Manali. She had been a little girl, her laughter echoing as they boarded a boat to glide across the serene river. Her father had been her hero, his warmth and strength a constant source of comfort. She remembered the moment she realized her cherished ring was gone, the one her father had given her as a reward for helping a classmate buy books.

She had cried inconsolably, her tiny hands clutching her mother’s saree. “It was my special ring, Mama! Papa gave it to me!” she wailed, her young heart breaking. Her father, Arjun, had crouched down to her level, his eyes filled with understanding.

“Princess, don’t cry,” he had said, his voice gentle yet resolute. Before she could protest, he had leaped into the icy river, the sight of his broad back disappearing under the water searing itself into her memory.

“Arjun!” her mother had screamed, her hands trembling as she gripped the edge of the boat. Siya had frozen, her young mind unable to process what was happening.

Minutes felt like hours as they waited, the cold wind biting their faces. Then, with a triumphant grin, her father emerged, holding the tiny ring aloft like a trophy. Water dripped from his hair and clothes, but his eyes sparkled with joy.

Siya had flung herself into his arms, her small frame shaking with relief. “Papa, why did you do that? You scared me!” she had cried, her tears soaking into his shirt.

“Because, Princess, your tears scare me more than anything,” he had said with a chuckle, brushing her damp hair back. “This ring is special because it’s a part of you. And you’re the most precious thing in my life.”

She had clung to him, her heart swelling with love for the man who would do anything for her. “Always remember,” he had whispered, “whenever you need me, I’ll be there. No matter where I am.”

Now, as Siya searched the riverbed for the lost bracelet, her father’s words echoed in her heart. She ignored the shouts from the shore, the pleading voice of the elderly woman. All she could think about was the love her father had shown her that day, the lesson he had unknowingly taught her: to treasure what truly matters, no matter the cost.