Chapter - 2

Sadhvi pov......

"Ambika"

That name echoed in my ears. Ambika. I didn’t know why, but the name gave me goosebumps.

I placed my hand on my chest. Why was I always dreaming about a name I’ve never heard in this life? Was it connected to my past? I shook my head, trying to forget the strange dream. But somewhere deep inside, I knew this was not just a dream.

The morning light filtered through the curtains. I looked at the clock. It was 6:30 AM.

“Great, now I can’t even sleep properly,” I muttered to myself.

I got out of bed and stretched. Just then, my phone rang. It was Maa calling from Jaipur, The pink city and My hometown.

“Good morning, Maa,” I said, trying to sound cheerful.

“Good morning, beta!” Maa’s voice was warm as always. How are you?Did you sleep well?

“Well… kind of,”I replied, not wanting to explain the weird dream.

“I have some good news!” she said excitedly. “Your Papa is coming home next week. He’s getting a one-month holiday!”

“That’s amazing! Finally, some time with him after so long,” I smiled. Papa had been posted in the Northeast for months.

“Oh, and guess what? Your little brother Arav got top marks in his NDA physical test. He’s already making friends and says he’s learning how to polish boots properly,” she added with a laugh.

I chuckled. “That boy is always so serious about his uniform.”

“I’ll tell him you said that. And don’t forget to video call tonight, okay? He misses both you and Adhya.”

“I won’t forget, promise.”

“Take care, beta. And tell Adhya to eat properly. That girl lives on chips!”

And also tell her to keep her room clean this time,” Maa warned. “Last time, it looked like a hurricane passed through!”

I laughed. “You know her too well. Love you, Maa.”

“Love you too".

I looked over to Adhya’s room — her clothes were all over the bed. “Yeah, good luck with that,” I said, rolling my eyes.

We talked a little more before I hung up, and just then, I heard Adhya scream from her room.

“Didi! Where’s my other sneaker?!”

I opened her door and saw her hopping on one leg, brushing her teeth and trying to wear one shoe at the same time.

“Why are you like this?” I asked, laughing.

“Because I’m a multitasking queen!” she said proudly, foam still in her mouth.

“Your sneaker is under your pillow,” I pointed out.

“Why was it there?!”

“You tell me, you sleep like a tornado!”

She threw her toothbrush in the glass and gave me a sheepish grin. “I was dreaming of running away from zombies.”

“No wonder your shoe was in the bed!”

We both burst into laughter.

After our usual morning chaos and fighting over the bathroom (Adhya takes forever in there!), I finally got ready. I wore a light pink floral Pakistani suit — no dupatta, because I always forget where I keep it. My hair was tied in a loose bun, and I put on a light kajal. Simple. Comfortable.

I made quick breakfast for me and my sister, Poha.

We quickly finish our breakfast and clear mess, ofcourse only me.

Ho gaya sab Kaam !!!

(Everything is done).

Now I am ready to go.

After moving out, I checked my phone and saw  messages from our group chat.

Group Chat: Powerpuff Girls (Me, Riya & Kirti)

Kirti: Guys! Disaster! I stitched my sleeve to my jeans while trying to fix a blouse.

Riya: facepalm You need an assistant or a babysitter?

Me: Both. Kirti, how does this even happen?

Kirti: Multitasking, duh. I was also watching a Turkish drama.

Riya: I hope your boutique survives you.

Kirti: At least I don’t wear suits without dupatta like a rebel.

Me: Excuse me! It’s a style choice.

Riya: More like a lazy choice.

Me: You both are bullies. I’m blocking you.

Kirti: She says this every week.

Riya: And she still responds in 2 mins.

Me: Because I love you, idiots.

Kirti: Awwww, group hug?

Riya: Ewww, no. I have a class.

Me: See you soon, Riya. Kirti, don’t stitch yourself again.

We always laughed a lot in that chat. No matter how tired or stressed I felt, these two made everything better.

My friend Riya, is also a professor of business management.

She and me are teaching in same  college.  And  kirti Is a fashion designer and have her own boutique.

While walking to the auto stand, I saw an old lady struggling to cross the road. The morning traffic was madness as usual, with honking bikes and impatient cars.

I rushed to her side. “Aunty ji, let me help you.”

She looked at me with a kind smile. “Beta, thank you. These cars don’t stop for anyone.”

“I’ll stop them,” I said bravely and held up my hand like a traffic police. The cars didn’t stop at first, but when I stepped forward confidently, they did. I helped her cross safely to the other side.

“May God bless you".

“May your heart always stay kind,” she said.

It made me feel light. Good. Like maybe… this is what I was meant to do.

I felt a warm peace settle in my heart. “You too take care, aunty.”

After that, I caught an auto and reached college just in time. The usual buzz of students, chatter, and chaos welcomed me.

I met Riya outside the staff room. She was dressed in a crisp blue saree and had her glasses on — her “strict professor” look.

“Madam Kapoor,” I bowed dramatically, “Any dumb answers today?”

She laughed. “You won’t believe this. A guy wrote in his assignment, ‘The best business plan is to marry rich.’”

“WELL. That’s honest, if nothing else.”

We both laughed until we were almost in tears.

She added, “And someone wrote that ‘Capitalism is a type of hair oil.’ I have no hope left.”

“See, I told you. Literature is better. Even if they think Romeo and Juliet had a happy ending.”

We walked together toward the college building, talking about students, crazy assignments, and upcoming fests. Then we split ways — I headed toward the English Department, she went toward Business.

I had three back-to-back lectures, but the dream from the morning kept flashing in my mind like a forgotten song trying to come back.

Who was that man?

Why was he calling me Ambika?

The name didn’t feel foreign. It felt like… mine. But not now. Not in this life.

By the time I finished classes and was heading home, my mind was still cloudy.

That night, I made simple dinner for me and Adhya — dal rice and aloo fry. We ate on the couch while watching a dumb reality show. At one point, one contestant said, “I’m not here to make friends,” and Adhya yelled, “Then go home!”

We laughed so hard, I choked on rice.

Before going to sleep, I checked my phone. No new messages. I lay down, trying to ignore the strange pull in my chest.

But as soon as I closed my eyes, the dream returned.

Same man. Same blurry face.

But now… more was visible. I could see his eyes — soft and deep. I could hear the sound of temple bells.

I was wearing a red bridal saree.

He was dressed in white kurta-pajama, a yellow stole over his shoulders.

We were standing in front of the Shiv Shakti Mandir. Flowers were falling. Priests chanting. Someone was tying the mangalsutra around my neck.

He whispered in my ear, “Ambika, in every lifetime… you are mine.”

My breath caught. The wind shifted. And just when I tried to touch his face —

I woke up suddenly, my chest rising and falling like I had run a race. My room was dark, only a little light from the streetlamp outside entered through the curtains. The dream felt so real — again.

My head was full of images: a blurry face, soft eyes, the sound of temple bells, a wedding… and that name again — Ambika.

I pressed my hand on my chest. My heart was still beating fast. My body felt hot, like I had lived something real, not just dreamed it.

I quietly got up from bed and went to my table. I took out my small brown journal. I had started writing my dreams in it ever since they began repeating.

“Last night’s dream — I was at a temple, standing next to a man whose face I still cannot see clearly. We were getting married. I could hear chanting, smell flowers. He called me Ambika again. His voice felt like I had known it forever. The same pendant from the earlier dream was around his neck. I touched it before I woke up.”

I closed the journal and hugged it to my chest. I didn’t know why I was writing all this, but something told me it mattered. And I wasn’t ready to tell everyone. Not yet. It felt personal… special.

Then  I look at the painting which I created.

IT WAS HIM. The same blur face man.

I slowly went back to bed. Sleep didn’t come quickly, but eventually, my eyes gave up, and I drifted into a dreamless rest.

The next morning, I woke up to Adhya jumping on my bed.

“Wake up, wake up, didi!” she yelled. “It’s Saturday! No college! No work! Just masti!”

I groaned and pulled the blanket over my face. “It’s 8 AM, Adhya.”

“Exactly! Half the day is already gone.”

I pulled her down beside me. “Let me sleep for five more minutes.”

“Okay,” she said sweetly, then shouted in my ear, “MOVIE DAY!”

I sat up with a jerk. “Okay! I’m up!”

She giggled and ran out to make tea.

Saturdays were our special days. No lectures, no assignments, no responsibilities. Just me and my little drama queen of a sister, doing whatever we felt like.

We had pasta for breakfast, while sitting on the floor in front of the TV. We watched old comedy scenes and laughed with mouthfuls of food.

By afternoon, we were ready for the movie. We had picked a horror film this time — Adhya’s choice. I wore a light blue kurti and tied my hair in a loose ponytail. Adhya wore a black t-shirt with “Scream Queen” written on it. Very fitting.

At the theatre, we bought popcorn, cold drinks, and sat in the middle row. The movie started with creepy music and dark scenes.

Adhya leaned in and whispered loudly, “Why do they always go into the dark room ALONE? Like, carry a torch, aunty!”

I nearly choked on popcorn laughing. The people behind us laughed too.

Then came a ghost jump scare, and Adhya screamed, “MUMMY!” so loudly, half the theatre jumped with her.

“Adhya!” I whispered, laughing.

“What? I felt like I was being haunted by my accounts teacher.”

We both laughed so much that I forgot everything about dreams and past lives for a while.

After the movie, we stopped by a nearby café for milkshakes. I kept glancing at the street — a strange feeling was growing in my stomach again. That heaviness.

“Everything okay, didi?” Adhya asked, sipping her Oreo shake.

I forced a smile. “Yeah, just… thinking about class stuff.”

We paid the bill and started walking back home. It was just before sunset. The sky was orange and pink, and the air smelled like roasted peanuts from the street vendor.

Then… I saw her.

An old lady standing near the corner of our lane. She wore a simple saree, her hair tied in a tight bun. But it was her eyes that caught me — she was staring straight at me.

Her gaze wasn’t casual. It felt sharp… like she knew me.

I slowed down for a second. She didn’t blink.

“Didi, are we stopping?” Adhya asked.

I looked away quickly. “No… come on.”

We walked past her. I didn’t look back. But I felt it — her eyes were still on me.

The wind blew softly. I heard her whisper, almost too quietly, but I caught it.

"Ambika..."

I froze for a second.

My heart beat faster.

Did I really hear that?

I turned back quickly — but she was gone.

The corner was empty.

“Didi?” Adhya asked again, looking at me with concern.

“Nothing,” I said, my voice lower now. “Let’s go home.”

But inside… I knew it wasn’t nothing.

It was only the beginning.