Nandana Krishna Soumya -

When Nandana woke up the next morning, she was in her own bed, her feet still dusty from the temple floor. The bell never rang at midnight again. But something had changed inside her.

The bell was still swaying gently when she arrived. In the dim glow of the oil lamp, she saw a boy sitting on the temple step. He was dark as a monsoon cloud, with peacock feathers tucked behind his ear, and he was eating butter from a clay pot with his fingers.

He smiled, butter-smeared and ancient. "Guess." nandana krishna soumya

"Who are you?" Nandana whispered.

And she would go back to lighting a small bronze lamp, humming a tune no one else could hear. When Nandana woke up the next morning, she

He nodded. "And you are Nandana. My joyful one. But there’s a third name they gave you. Soumya. Gentle light. Do you know why?"

"You came," he said, not looking up.

The bell rang one last time—softly, like a question answered.