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Days turned into weeks, and Aarav found himself returning to the cottage more and more often. He couldn’t bring himself to sell it, not now. Instead, he began to restore it, carefully tending to the garden, repairing the roof, and cleaning the old furniture. But the one thing he left untouched was the little lantern.
It became a beacon, not just for him, but for the entire village. People would come to sit with him on the porch, sharing their own stories, their own memories of Dadi and the lessons she had taught them. The lantern, once forgotten and dim, now glowed brighter than ever, its light a symbol of the stories that connected them all.
And so, the little lantern continued to shine, holding within it the tales of love and loss, of joy and sorrow, of lives lived fully and memories cherished. Aarav realized that he didn’t need to let go of the past—he only needed to carry it forward, to keep the flame burning, just as Dadi had done for him.
In the end, it wasn’t the lantern that was magical. It was the stories—the ones that had been told, and the ones that were still waiting to be shared.( END)
Rajat Chandra Sarmah
Guwahati , Assam , India
03/11/2024
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