The evening air had softened by the time Sanvi wrapped up her conversation with Abhishek bhaiyya. His words, filled with brotherly warmth and encouragement, had brought a small smile to her face. But as she stepped into her room, the warmth began to fade, like sunlight swallowed by twilight.
She reached for her phone, half-expecting a notification from Mehak or maybe some family group chatter. But her eyes landed on a message from an unknown number. Her fingers trembled slightly as she unlocked it.
"Dear Sanvi Gupta, to proceed with your admission process for Master's in Germany, please transfer the initial fee of Rs. 15000 to the following account. Kindly confirm at the earliest."
A chill ran down her spine. The weight of reality pressed heavily on her chest. It was happening. Her dream—something she’d nurtured quietly through years of sacrifice and silent prayers—was finally knocking at the door. But dreams came with price tags, didn’t they?
She stood there for a moment, staring at the message. Then she quietly walked out of her room.
Her parents' room was dimly lit. Her father was sitting with his reading glasses on, flipping through the last few pages of his old newspaper. Her mother, sitting cross-legged on the bed, was gently oiling her hair. The room smelled of coconut oil and jasmine—comforting, familiar.
"Papa, Maa... ek baat karni thi," Sanvi spoke softly, standing at the threshold.
Her father looked up, eyebrows rising in mild curiosity. Her mother didn’t respond at first.
"Consultant ka message aaya hai," she continued, walking in slowly. "Germany jaane ke process ke liye initial fees deni hai... kal tak."
(I got a message from the consultant. I have to pay the initial fees for the Germany admission process… by tomorrow.)
Her father set the paper aside and took off his glasses.
"Kitna amount hai?" he asked calmly. (How much is it?)
Sanvi told him the amount, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Theek hai," he said with a nod. "Kal main tumhare account mein transfer kar dunga. Tum payment kar dena." (Alright. I’ll transfer the money to your account tomorrow. You make the payment.)
Sanvi gave a small nod, gratitude shining in her eyes.
But her mother remained quiet for a moment longer. Then she exhaled loudly.
"Pata nahi kis sapne ke peeche bhaag rahi ho tum, Sanvi," she said with a hint of irritation. "Germany... master’s... jaise sab kuch itna aasan hai." (I don’t know what dream you’re chasing, Sanvi. Germany… Master’s… as if everything is that easy.)
Sanvi blinked. The sting in her mother’s tone hit harder than she’d expected. She opened her mouth to respond but quickly closed it again. Her father glanced at her mother but said nothing.
"Jitna invest kiya hai tumpe, utna toh humne khud pe bhi nahi kiya kabhi," her mother continued. "Ab har mahine naye kharche. Sab kuch online, ye fees, wo payment. Kab rukega yeh sab?" (We’ve invested more in you than we ever did in ourselves. And now, every month there’s some new expense. Online applications, this fee, that payment. When will it stop?)
Sanvi felt her throat tighten. She looked down at her feet, a familiar burn behind her eyes.
"Mujhe laga tha..." she started, but her voice cracked. She swallowed hard. "Bas batane aayi thi." (I thought… Never mind. I just came to inform you.)
Without waiting for a reply, she left the room.
Her room welcomed her with silence. She shut the door behind her and leaned against it, her eyes squeezed shut. One tear slipped down her cheek, then another. Her knees gave in and she sank onto the floor, curling into herself.
She thought of her childhood—the evenings spent studying under the dim light of a flickering bulb, the sacrifices her parents had made so she could attend English medium school, the days she skipped outings so they could save for her books. She thought her dreams were theirs too. But lately, it felt like she was running alone.
"Agar Maa khush nahi thi toh haan kyun kiya unhone? Bas haan bolkar roz taane dena hi tha toh..." (If Maa wasn’t happy, then why did she agree? If all she wanted to do was say yes and then taunt me every day…)
She wiped her tears quickly, biting her lip to stop the sobs.
"Main har din apne sapne ke liye lad rahi hoon. Par har baar Maa ke shabdon se haar jaati hoon." (Every day I fight for my dream. But every time, I lose to Maa’s words.)
And this wasn’t the first time. She had once dreamt of singing—of standing on a stage, letting her voice heal, inspire, soar. But she gave it up quietly because her mother said it was just a hobby, not a career.
She still remembered that day in vivid detail. It was the final round of a prestigious college-level singing competition. She had received an invitation to perform as a guest vocalist. Her mentor had called it a big opportunity. But her mother had looked up from her kitchen work and simply said, "Gaana bajana theek hai shauk ke liye, par ismein bhavishya nahi hota Sanvi."
(Singing is fine as a hobby, but there’s no future in it, Sanvi.)
She had cancelled the performance that evening. She’d cried herself to sleep with her guitar lying untouched beside her for weeks.
"Maa ki khushi ke liye maine pehle hi apna singing ka sapna chhod diya tha... ab yeh bhi?" (I already gave up my singing dream for Maa’s happiness… now this too?)
She looked at her phone again. The message from the consultant stared back at her. A door to her future—but the handle was laced with guilt.
"Shayad mujhe sapne dekhne hi nahi chahiye the..." (Maybe I shouldn’t have dreamed at all…)
She curled into bed, not bothering to change out of her clothes. The soft whir of the ceiling fan, the distant bark of a street dog, and the heaviness in her chest—everything pressed down until she slowly drifted into a restless sleep.
And outside, the moon watched silently, casting silver light on a girl torn between love and longing, duty and desire.
*****************************
Some dreams are loud, and some are soft—whispers in the corners of our hearts. Sanvi’s are the kind she never shouted about, but ones she clutched tightly even when the world tried to peel them away. If you’ve ever been made to choose between your own happiness and someone else’s, if you’ve ever silenced a part of yourself for love, then maybe… you’ll see a bit of yourself in her tonight.
To everyone fighting silent battles and still choosing to move forward—this chapter is for you.
Until next time—
With love,
-The Author❤️✨
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