The seed sown in spring

Rani clutched the well's edge, her heart hammering a frantic dhol against her ribs. Below, the full moon shimmered like a silver coin begging for a wish. Holi, the festival of colours, was in full swing, but for Rani, it was a night steeped in an older tradition – a fertility ritual passed down through generations of women in her family.

Unlike most young women in their village, Rani had been married to Pankaj for two years with no child on the horizon. Whispers followed her, like dust devils – "Baanjh (barren)," they murmured, the word a constant ache beneath the vibrant red of her Holi saree.

Following her grandma's whispered instructions, Rani snuck away from the revelry. Holika, usually a symbol of burning away winter and misfortune, seemed to mock her with its crackling flames. Here, by the well, the air hung heavy with the scent of Jasmine and the distant thrumming of dhol drums.

Taking a deep breath, Rani looked inside a small bag Grandma had given her. Inside, nestled in soft cloth, was a tiny, smooth doll carved from neem wood. This doll was an offering, a symbol of the child they longed for. As Rani lowered the doll into the well, a voice, like the tinkling of temple bells, echoed from the water, "What troubles you, child?"

Rani's heart leaping, whispered, "The blessing of a child eludes me."

The voice chuckled, and a sound like wind chimed. "Patience, Rani. The fields lie fallow before the harvest. But the earth remembers."

Suddenly, a shooting star streaked across the inky canvas of the night sky. Rani closed her eyes and made a wish, as fervent as the holika flames.

When she opened her eyes, the well water shimmered, and the neem doll was gone. In its place floated a single white lotus flower, its pristine petals cradling a dewdrop that sparkled like a tiny moon.

A gasp escaped Rani's lips. The white lotus was a symbol of purity, fertility, and new beginnings. Hope, warm and bright, bloomed in her chest, chasing away the shadows of doubt.

Relief washed over Rani as she returned and saw the familiar sight of the holika bonfire crackling merrily. Her family and neighbours gathered around it, faces glowing in the firelight, sharing stories and laughter.

A smile, genuine and bright, bloomed on Rani's face. This year, the warmth of the holika held a deeper meaning. This was a new beginning for her. She slipped into the crowd, joining her family. The night wore on, filled with the rhythmic beat of dhol drums and the intoxicating scent of burning wood. The flames danced, casting flickering shadows on the joyous faces.

By the time they returned home, exhaustion had settled over everyone. Pankaj, his eyes heavy-lidded, shuffled towards their bed. Rani, however, felt a different kind of energy coursing through her veins. Relief and newfound hope intertwined, bubbling over in a surge of affection.

As Pankaj reached for the bedsheets, Rani surprised him by gently pulling him closer. He turned, his eyes widening in surprise before melting into a soft smile. He knew what the night's ritual meant to her, and the silent understanding between them crackled in the air, warmer than the dying embers of the holika.

Rani leaned in, the moonlight filtering through their window painting their faces silver. With tenderness, Pankaj reached out and gently caressed her hair, his touch sending shivers down her spine. Their eyes met, a silent conversation passing between them, filled with hope and unspoken promises. It was a stolen moment, a shared secret under the watchful gaze of the moon.

The next morning, Holi arrived in a burst of colour. Children chased each other with playful showers of gulaal. Rani and Pankaj danced hand-in-hand, the vibrant hues mirroring the joy blossoming within them.

Days turned into weeks, and life settled back into its familiar rhythm. One afternoon, while working in the fields, Rani felt a sudden wave of dizziness. She stumbled, catching herself before she could fall. A cold sweat pricked her skin, a strange mix of fear and excitement coiling in her gut.

Later that day, a visit to the village doctor confirmed their secret hope. Rani was pregnant. Tears welled up in her eyes, a mixture of relief and joy spilling over. As Pankaj held her close, the whispers around her faded away, replaced by the promise of a new beginning painted in the vibrant colours of their future.