Chapter 1: Evoke of light

Satyug, Treta, Dwapar, and now Kalyug—no era has been untouched by darkness. Shadows thrived beneath the surface, feeding on fear, greed, and betrayal. But even darkness must come to an end.

10 Years Ago
 12 January 2015, 10 PM
 Dear Diary,
 Tomorrow is the most special day of my life. I’m going to tell Dev I’m pregnant—he’ll be so happy! After years of waiting, Maa Kali finally blessed us. He’s been tense lately, probably worried about his promotion. I just hope all his hard work pays off.

—Durga

Present Day

Aryan strode confidently down the road, his golden kurta gleaming in the fading light. His voice carried a steady urgency as he spoke into his phone.
“Maa, ami ektu late hoye jabo. Gari ta break down hoye geche.” (Maa, I’ll be a little late. The car broke down.)

The blare of a truck’s horn shattered his focus. Blinding headlights roared toward him. His breath caught as panic rooted him to the spot.

Before disaster struck, a hand yanked him back with startling force. They stumbled against the car, her slender frame colliding into his. Wind tousled her dark hair as her sari shimmered in hues of red and gold.

For a moment, time froze. Her luminous face held a fierce grace—eyes lined with kohl, lips trembling yet resolute. She was both powerful and tender, Durga incarnate.

“You okay?” she asked softly, her melodic voice cutting through the tension.

Aryan nodded, breathless. “Yeah… you?”

She straightened, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m fine. But next time,” she warned, her voice firm, “be more careful. The world isn’t always forgiving.”

As she walked away, her image lingered in his mind—a memory etched by fate.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said gently, a faint smile curving her lips. “You’re alive—that’s what counts.”

Her words struck Aryan unexpectedly. He opened his mouth to respond, but the blaring honks of passing vehicles shattered the moment.

As she stepped back, Aryan felt a strange reluctance to let go of the connection. “Wait,” he called out. “I didn’t get your name.”

She hesitated, her dark eyes flickering with mystery before she replied, “Durga. Durga Thakur.”

The name lingered, heavy with meaning, as if fate had just marked it into Aryan’s life.

“What were you doing standing in the middle of the road?” she asked sharply. “Do you have a death wish?”

He ran a hand through his hair, tension still clinging to him. “The car broke down. I was calling the garage… then the truck—everything just happened too fast.”

Durga nodded thoughtfully. “Where were you going?”

“The Durga Puja pandal. My family has to make the first offering, but now I’m late.”

A moment passed before she said, “I’ll give you a ride. I’m heading that way.”

“You don’t have to—”

“It’s fine,” she cut him off. “Consider it my way of ensuring you don’t get hit by another truck.”

A reluctant smile tugged at Aryan’s lips. “Fair enough.”

The car moved smoothly through Delhi’s bustling streets, the scent of marigolds and echoes of dhol beats filling the air. Aryan glanced at Durga’s profile—sharp, confident, and captivating under the flicker of streetlights.

“The puja sounds important,” she remarked.

“Generations-old tradition,” he explained. “The Goenkas’ first offering is symbolic.”

“Sounds like a lot of pressure,” she teased.

“You have no idea,” he chuckled.

“You’ll make it,” she assured confidently. “Maybe fate wanted you to take a detour today.”

Aryan smirked. “Getting nearly run over by a truck? That was destiny?”

“Maybe,” she said playfully, her eyes glinting. “Or maybe meeting me was.”

Her words hung in the air, charged with unexpected intensity. Aryan felt his pulse quicken, unsure if it was lingering adrenaline or something else entirely. He stole a glance at her—hair brushing softly against her cheek, lips pressed in concentration as she navigated the chaotic traffic with effortless grace.

“You drive like a pro,” he said, breaking the silence.

Durga laughed, a melodic, calming sound. “Growing up in Kolkata prepares you for wild roads,” she quipped.

“Kolkata?” Aryan asked, intrigued.

“Born and raised,” she nodded. “Delhi’s different, but I’ve learned to like it… sometimes.”

Her calm yet commanding presence pulled him in. The faint scent of sandalwood lingered in the air, adding to the spell she seemed to cast effortlessly.

He realized he was staring when she glanced sideways, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “What?”

“Nothing.” Aryan cleared his throat, looking away. “Just thinking… you’re different.”

“Different how?”

“I’m not sure yet,” he admitted. “But I’ll figure it out.”

Her smile lingered, mysterious. “Good luck, Mr. Goenka.”

The car weaved through the city, festive lights flickering past. Yet Aryan’s focus stayed on Durga. The hum of engines and dhol beats faded into the background. Her profile was regal—sharp, composed, magnetic. Her hands gripped the wheel with quiet authority, as though the chaos outside couldn’t touch her.

“You seem distracted,” she noted, cutting through his thoughts.

Startled, Aryan blinked. “What? No, just thinking about the Puja.”

Durga arched an eyebrow, clearly not convinced but choosing to let it slide. “Your family’s first offering sounds like a lot of pressure,” she said.

“You have no idea.” He chuckled faintly.

“Maybe that’s why you’re unfocused,” she teased. “You’re missing what’s right in front of you.”

Aryan opened his mouth to argue but fell silent, heat rising to his face. She was right in front of him, pulling him in like gravity itself. And for reasons beyond him, he didn’t want this strange, unexpected journey to end.

The grand Durga Puja pandal stood tall, radiating devotion as the Goenkas, dressed in opulent attire, commanded attention. Aryan, distracted, struggled to focus on the rituals. His thoughts lingered on Durga Thakur, who had disappeared as suddenly as she had appeared. The encounter had left a strange mark on him, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that their paths would cross again.

Indira, noticing his distracted state, handed him the aarti thali. “Focus, Aryan,” she said with calm authority. As Aryan performed the ritual, he couldn’t help but think of Durga, the way she had saved him, and the unsettling pull he felt toward her.

When the ceremony ended, Aryan scanned the crowd, hoping for a glimpse of her, but she was nowhere to be found. His mother, observing him closely, asked, “Looking for someone?”

Aryan quickly masked his thoughts. “No, just taking it all in.” But deep down, he knew this encounter was far from over.

The grand Durga Puja pandal stood resplendent, shimmering in the night. Aryan, still distracted by thoughts of Durga, barely noticed the rituals unfolding around him. His mind kept returning to her—the way her eyes had locked with his, how her presence had shaken him. He tried to focus, but it felt impossible.

Durga, sitting beside him, had sensed the shift in him. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.

Aryan swallowed, trying to collect himself. “Just… distracted,” he muttered, unable to explain the unsettling tug he felt toward her.

Her gaze was sharp, but she didn’t press further. “You seem like you have something on your mind.”

“I’m just thinking,” he replied, though it was more than that. He didn’t want this moment to end.

As they pulled up to the pandal, Aryan didn’t want the drive to stop. He turned to her impulsively. “Why don’t you come in?” he asked.

Durga raised an eyebrow, amused. “Me?”

“Yes. You saved my life,” Aryan grinned, trying to sound casual. “The least I can do is invite you to the puja.”

She hesitated for a moment before agreeing. “Okay, but just for a while.”

Aryan felt an unexpected relief. Together, they walked toward the entrance, turning heads as they passed. Aryan noticed the attention, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. His focus was entirely on Durga, who moved with such quiet grace.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” he teased.

“Done what?” she asked.

“Walk into a place like you own it.”

“Maybe I just do,” she replied, her smile sly.

The Goenkas, observing the pair, exchanged looks. The mysterious woman Aryan had brought intrigued them. Indira, ever composed, watched her son closely. “Aryan, you’re late. What happened?”

“A woman stopped to help me,” Aryan explained, trying to sound casual. “She saved me from an oncoming truck and gave me a ride here.”

Indira raised an eyebrow. “And who is she?”

“I… I don’t know,” Aryan admitted, scanning the crowd for her. But she had vanished.

“How curious,” Indira murmured. “But I’m glad you’re safe.”

The Goenkas exchanged a knowing glance. The family’s empire was built on control, and tonight, their instincts told them something unusual was unfolding. But for now, the focus shifted back to the grand ceremony, as the rituals continued with practiced grace. The Goenkas stood side by side, their regal attire glowing under the soft lights, their eyes not just on the ceremony, but also on the mysterious woman who had caught their son’s attention.

Aryan and Viraj followed the puja rituals with disciplined precision, their devotion mirrored by their parents. But Aryan’s mind wandered, pulled by an inexplicable feeling. He caught a flash of red near the temple steps, thinking it was Durga. His pulse quickened as he searched the crowd, but she was nowhere to be found.

Aryan muttered to himself, “Where is she?”

The ritual continued, but Aryan’s senses were consumed by the vision of Durga, as if she was always just beyond his reach. Despite the sacred atmosphere around him, his thoughts remained clouded by her presence—or the illusion of it.

Indira turned to her family, smiling, “A beautiful puja.”

Manohar nodded, “May the goddess protect our family and grant us strength.”

But Aryan, distracted, murmured, “I couldn’t focus… I thought I saw her again.”

Outside, the sound of the dhak intensified, and the courtyard transformed into a stage for the dancers, embodying the spirit of Durga. Their movements were fierce and graceful, mirroring the goddess’s divine strength. The red sindur swirled through the air, painting the space in devotion.

Durga moved through the crowd, her presence commanding and unwavering, leaving a trail of crimson behind her. Her thoughts turned dark as she whispered, “Jab insaan iss duniya mein aata hai tab uska dil saaf hota hai. Par jaise-jaise insaan aage badhta hai, uska dil aur dimaag wahi sunte, samajhte aur sikhte hain jo uske log usko sikhate hain…”

Her gaze locked onto the grand idol of Goddess Durga. “Aur har Mahishasur ka ant karne aati hai… Durga.”

With each step, her resolve grew stronger. The crowd remained lost in their celebration, unaware of the storm brewing within her.

The morning sunlight filtered through the Goenka mansion’s glass windows as Indira, dressed in an ivory saree, walked towards the living room where Manohar paced with his phone. “Delivery jaldi pahuchni chahiye,” he ordered.

“Kaam baad mein kar lo, breakfast ke liye aayiye,” Indira called out, her tone sweet but firm. Manohar, in his tailored suit, followed her to the dining room, their presence commanding.

Just as they neared, Viraj appeared on the stairs, effortlessly handsome in a navy suit. “Aapko ek secret bataun?” he teased, making his parents stop in their tracks. With a mischievous grin, he joked, “Aap dono achhe lag rahe ho… as a couple.”

Indira gasped, half-amused, while Manohar chuckled. “Ban raha hai, lekin ladakpan bhi nahi gaya,” he commented.

“Good genes ka asar hai,” Viraj quipped, and Indira playfully rolled her eyes.

As they sat for breakfast, Indira asked, “Aryan kaha hai?” Viraj joked, “Shayad kisi ladki ke sapne dekh raha ho,” but Indira wasn’t fooled. Manohar joined in, “Aryan apne time par aahi jayega.”

Moments later, Aryan entered, playfully claiming, “Main apne time pe entry maarunga.” A playful back-and-forth ensued between the brothers, their teasing revealing their strong bond.

Indira, sensing something amiss, asked, “Aryan, raat ko pandal mein kaha the?” Aryan avoided eye contact, dismissing her concern. Viraj added fuel to the fire, teasing him about his late-night whereabouts.

As Aryan left for some fresh air, tension lingered between the parents. Viraj, needing to leave early for work, assured them he’d be fine. “Lunch time tak kuch kha lunga,” he said as he left.

Manohar observed his son’s exit with quiet pride, while Indira pondered. “Tumhe nahi pata?” she responded to Manohar’s casual inquiry. “Jo khel shuru ho chuka hai, uska har mohra apne jagah pe aayega,” she added, a glint of intrigue in her eyes.

Their words hinted at a game in motion, and as the family continued their breakfast, the underlying tension remained palpable.

As the laughter died down, the mood shifted subtly. Indira’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she glanced at Aryan, who had been silent since his hasty departure. She could sense something wasn’t quite right, but she chose not to address it—at least, not yet.

Manohar, sensing the change in her demeanor, leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. “Kuch soch rahi ho?” he asked, his voice smooth and laced with curiosity.

Indira’s gaze flickered to him, then back to where Aryan had left. She remained silent for a moment, her sharp mind calculating the next move. Finally, she spoke, her voice calm but with an edge of suspicion. “Aryan’s been acting strange lately. It’s not like him to avoid confrontation.”

Manohar’s expression remained unreadable, though the hint of intrigue danced in his eyes. “He’s always had a bit of a rebellious streak, Indira. Maybe he’s just… figuring things out.”

Indira’s lips curled into a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I hope so. But I’ve learned never to underestimate the quiet ones.”

Manohar studied her for a moment, then nodded, understanding the unspoken weight of her words. The Goenka family was never simple, and they never let anything—or anyone—go unnoticed.

This addition adds a layer of tension and foreshadows the complexities in Aryan’s behavior, while also highlighting the calculating nature of both Indira and Manohar. What do you think?

As Indira’s phone vibrated on the table, she glanced at the screen—Raima calling. A faint smirk tugged at her lips as she picked it up.

“Hello, Raima,” Indira greeted smoothly, her tone polished yet distant.

“Indira darling! Just a quick reminder for tonight’s kitty party. Everyone’s coming, and if you’re not there, the fun will be ruined!” Raima chirped.

“Of course, Raima,” Indira responded gracefully. “I’ll be there on time. Delhi’s high society gossip wouldn’t be complete without you.”

“You always know how to make me smile!” Raima laughed. “Can’t wait for the surprises tomorrow, hmm?”

“Definitely, Raima,” Indira assured before hanging up.

Manohar, who had been quietly sipping his tea, glanced at her with mild curiosity. “Getting ready for the evening, huh?” he teased.

Indira smirked, setting her phone aside. “Preparations are for those who don’t know the game’s rules. We’re just waiting for the right moment.”

Manohar chuckled. “Looks like tonight will be interesting.”

“As always,” Indira replied, her sharp eyes glinting with intrigue.

Viraj walked into his sleek executive office, his expression cool and composed. Avantika, his poised secretary, matched his pace with ease.

“Good morning, Mr. Goenka,” she greeted smoothly.

“Morning, Avantika,” he replied, adjusting his cufflinks.

“Your schedule today is tight,” she informed, tapping on her tablet. “Interviews for the Strategic Operations Manager at 10, a legal briefing at 2 PM, a financial review at 4, and a meeting with the head of ‘D&D Art & Couture Gallery’ tonight.”

Viraj stopped at the mention of the gallery. His usually calm expression shifted, and he asked, “Is she coming?”

Avantika smiled knowingly. “Yes, she confirmed.”

Viraj nodded curtly, hiding his interest. “Great. I’ll see you later.”

Once in his cabin, Viraj stared out at the city, thoughts drifting to the mysterious woman from D&D. His phone buzzed. Seeing Aryan’s name, he answered with a playful tone.

“Aryan! Dreaming of your long drives with hot girls again?” Viraj teased.

Aryan’s response was sweet but unexpected, “Na re Viraj, ami tomar opor kichu karzye korte esechi.” (No Viraj, I need a favor.)

Viraj smirked. “Favor? Sweetness doesn’t suit you, Aryan. Spill it—what do you want?”

Aryan chuckled, “Just a little special assistance. Will you help?”

Viraj leaned forward, intrigued. “Why do I feel like I should say no already?”

Aryan confidently replied, “Ami jani je tumi naa bolbe na.” (I know you won’t say no.)

Viraj smirked, “Fine. What’s your plan this time?”

Aryan’s voice was respectful, yet playful, “You know the girl. This time, we need to make it happen. Just hold down the fort at home, Viraj.”

Viraj grinned. “I’ll handle it… but what do I get in return?”

Aryan chuckled, “I’ll arrange a special surprise for you. Deal?”

Viraj’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “This should be interesting. But remember, Aryan, be careful.”

“Don’t worry, bro. I’ve got this,” Aryan quipped before hanging up, leaving Viraj with a grin on his face.