Banaras, Uttarpradesh. 1980.

इश्वर सत्य है
सत्य ही शिव है
शिव ही सुन्दर है
जागो उठ कर देखो
जीवन ज्योत उजागर है

The serene voice floated through the narrow lanes of Kashi, wrapping the ancient city in its sacred rhythm.

Every dawn, before the first rays of sunlight touched the ghats, it was her voice that awakened the city, calling every soul towards the divine, gathering devotees for the morning aarti with a melody that felt like a prayer itself.

राम अवध में काशी में शिव कांहा व्ऱिन्दवन में
दया करो प्रभू देखूँ इन को
हर घर के आँगन में
राधा मोहन शरणम

सत्यम शिवम सुन्दरम

एक सूर्या है एक गगन है एक ही धरती माता
दया करो प्रभू एक बनें सब
सब का एक से नाता
राधा मोहन शरणम

सत्यम शिवम सुन्दरम

Draped in a simple white Banarasi suit that shimmered faintly in the morning glow, she looked like purity personified. Her kohl-rimmed eyes reflected devotion deeper than the river she worshipped.

Long, thick hair tied neatly in a braid, her every gesture carried grace and reverence. She was not merely a devotee - she was the embodiment of bhakti, her voice a bridge between mortals and Mahadev.

Before the rituals began, she would sweep and cleanse the ancient temple of Kashi herself, her hands moving with purpose as her lips continued to sing praises of her Lord.

The rhythmic sound of her anklets mingled with the echo of her hymns, filling every corner of the temple with sacred peace.

Once her chores were done, she would walk down to the Ganga, taking a holy dip in its cold embrace. When she emerged, the first rays of dawn would dance upon her wet braid as she stood at the forefront of the crowd - eyes closed, palms joined, ready for aarti.

That was Durga. The girl whose faith could move mountains - Mahadev's fiercest devotee in Kalyug.
Always found at His doorstep: sometimes complaining, sometimes sharing her secrets, but always admiring His creation with the innocence of a child and the devotion of a saint.

She wasn't born in this city - yet her heart, her soul, and her entire being belonged to it. The air she breathed was soaked in Kashi's essence, and her name itself had become a whisper of power among its people.

For they all knew - when Durga smiled, the city bloomed with warmth. But when she was angered... she was no less than Maa Kali herself....

The morning aarti had just ended in the temple. Durga lifted the thaali, her bangles clinking softly as she moved through the crowd, offering the sacred flame to every bowed head. The scent of sandalwood, camphor, and ghee filled the temple as she distributed prasad to each devotee with her usual warm smile.

Once everyone left, she turned back into the mandir. The air was silent now-only the flicker of diyas and Mahadev's presence remained.
Standing before the towering idol, Durga looked around quickly and, with the stealth of a child caught between devotion and mischief, plucked a small piece of sweet from the offering plate.

Then, lifting her gaze toward the idol, she found those stony eyes seemingly fixed on her act. She squinted, lips curving into a sly grin.

"Ka dekh rahe ho? Eko mithai hi toh churai!"
(What are you staring at? I just stole one sweet!)

"Kal humara chappal chori hua tha, tab toh us chhor ko na roke... aur aaj aa gaye Durga ko rokne?"
(Yesterday someone stole my slippers and You didn't stop that thief... but today You're here to stop me?)

Crossing her arms, she huffed with mock annoyance.

"Bata dein Mahadev... Durga aandhi hai, rukti nahi kabhi!"
(Let me remind You, Mahadev... Durga is a storm - she never stops!)

"Aur haan, kam mein na aankhan! Jisne bhi churai humari chappal, Mahadev ki kasam... uski toh Ganga Maiya hum karenge!"
(And yes, don't take me lightly! Whoever stole my slippers, I swear on the Ganga... I'll make him pay!)

Then she smiled, winked at the idol and whispered softly,
"Abhi chalte hain... Har Har Mahadev!"
(I'll take your leave now... Har Har Mahadev!)

And with that, she ran out of the temple like a gust of wind - her white dupatta fluttering behind her, her anklets chiming with each stride.

Through the narrow lanes of Banaras she darted, unstoppable, fearless - just like her name.

She finally halted before a small, old house nestled at the heart of the city. Without even knocking, she pushed the creaky door open and stormed inside.

In one swift move, she ran to the old man sitting on a charpai in the courtyard and popped the stolen sweet into his mouth. Before he could even react, she dashed into the kitchen, helping the elderly woman there with the rest of the prasad and tea.

Both elders,used to her whirlwind energy only smiled, their eyes soft with affection.
Their home had long accepted Durga's chaos as its morning blessing.

Licking the sweetness off her fingers, Durga said proudly,
"Acchi thi na mithai? Ramu ke paas baithkar banwayi hai- shudh desi ghee mein, haan!"
(The sweet was good, right? I had it made by Ramu himself- pure ghee, I swear!)

The old man, Kamal ji, chuckled and rose slowly, stretching his back.
"Prasad ka swaad na hove laado... je to amrit hot hai. Bhagwan humari umar bhi, aapko de."
(The taste of prasad, dear child, is nothing less than nectar. May God give you the years of my life.)

Durga smiled. But behind her, Kamala Ji almost scolded,
"Haan, par umar paane ke liye swasth bhi toh rahiye! Aaj khana khaye bagair ek kadam ghar se nahi nikalenge aap, samjhi?"
(Yes, but to live long you must stay healthy! You're not stepping out of this house today without eating, understood?)

Just then, hurried footsteps broke their laughter.

Mangal, a thin boy, same as Durga's age,burst into the courtyard, panting heavily.

"Durga, kaand ho gaya!"
(Durga, there's been trouble!)

Durga immediately stood up at his words, fire sparking in her eyes, ready to beat someone new, but Kamla ji shot her a piercing glare, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her back down to sit. Then, turning to Mangal, she snapped sharply,

"Mangal ka bacche... har baar amangal khabar laata hai! Nikal, warna teri taangein tod dungi!"
(Mangal, you brat... every time you come, it's with bad news! Get out, or I'll break your legs!)

Without paying him any more attention, she began feeding Durga with her own hands, muttering under her breath.

"Tere kaaran meri bacchi khana tak nahi kha paati... aaj kahin nahi jaayegi khaye bina."
(Because of you, my girl doesn't even get time to eat... today she's not going anywhere without finishing her food.)

Durga quickly gulped down two big bites, cheeks puffed like a child, then gently held Kamla ji's hand to stop her.

"Nani... sewa hi sabse bada dharm hai. Apki laado ko pehle apna dharm nibhane do."
(Grandma... service is the greatest duty. Let your girl fulfil her duty first.)

Then, turning to Mangal with a grin, she shouted,
"Oye Manglu... ghuma apni dhanno!"
(Hey Manglu... get my ride ready!)

Before Kamla ji could stop her again, Durga ran out of the house, her anklets jingling as she jumped on her bike. With one swift kick, the engine roared to life, and she sped through the narrow streets of Banaras - unstoppable, fierce, and wild as the morning wind.

On the other side of city. A man- rich, powerful, and corrupt- stood in front of a frail old man, gripping his collar tightly. His eyes gleamed with arrogance as he threatened,

"Kaha tha na tujhse, ye zameen mujhe chahiye! Kar abhi ke abhi khaali!"
(Didn't I tell you, I want this land? Vacate it right now!)

The old man trembled, falling to his knees as he begged,
"Mera ghar mat todo, sahib... baksh do."
(Please don't destroy my home, sir... have mercy.)

But the man only smirked cruelly, kicking him aside with his polished shoe.

"Teri zameen sahab ko kisi bhi kimat pat chahiye hi chahiye! Phir Yahan lagegi..badi si factory ..."
(I want your land and I will have it! I'll build my shop right here.)

He said it with a grin,one dripping with power, pride, and the heartlessness of a man who'd long forgotten compassion.

Until-

A sudden clap ripped through the hush, a single, sharp sound that made heads turn.

The crowd, parted as Durga pushed through like a storm. She walked in on her own terms: paan tucked in her cheek, crimson smear at the corner of her mouth, sleeves rolled to the elbow, each step a challenge. She didn't hurry; she owned the space.

"Aha... mazaa aa gaya, guru. Mahadev ki kasam, kya natak karte ho."
("Ah... that was entertaining, man. I swear on Mahadev, you act really well.")

Her voice curled around the words, amused and dangerous both. She smirked at the man, then, loud enough for every ear, snapped, sarcastically.

"Chalo bhai, naatak ka samay khatam... sab nikal lo ghar. Aur aap, dev, camera bandh karo, nikalo yahan se."
("Alright brothers, the drama time is over.. everyone go home. And you, mister, switch off that camera and leave.")

She dropped onto the wooden chair somebody had dragged out from the old man's courtyard and settled as if it were a throne.

"Humara Banaras film waali natakbaazi ke liye nahin hai. Chaliye. Chaliye" she keep on her sarcasm on him. Directly pointing not to make scene here.
("Our Banaras isn't meant for these movie-style dramas. Move along.")

Her words were a stone thrown into still water. The young man on the stage frowned, confusion and irritation sharpening his features.

"Ye kya bol rahi hai... tu kaun hai?"
("What are you saying... who the hell are you?")

"Hay..tu Durga ko nahin jaanta? Ye toh apmaan hai, Durga tera." Manglu muttered, as if putting more ghee into fire.
("Hey..you don't know Durga? That's an insult, Durga!")

Durga only widened her eyes, all mock innocence.
"Arey naadaan, ye natak vaale hamara kya apmaan karenge?"
("Oh, foolish one, what insult can these drama-actors possibly give me?")

She rose, moved with slow, deliberate steps, and helped the old man up.
"Aap theek hain na, kaka? Jaiye andar, jaiye."
("Are you alright, uncle? Go inside, please.")

The young man's voice cut through, arrogant, dismissive.
"Oye ladki, mere kaam mein mat aa. Mujhe is buddhe ki zameen chahiye. Koi natak nahin chal raha yahan."
("Hey girl, don't interfere in my business. I want this old man's land. This isn't some drama going on here.")

Something in Durga's jaw tightened. In a motion quicker than the man's arrogance, her elbow arced, a clean, brutal blink of motion,and his head slammed into the ground.

The clap of impact was obscene in the sudden silence. His partners rushed to him, scrambling upward, but they were clumsy compared to her.

She didn't shout. She smirked.
"Accha? Toh ye sab natak nahin tha? Tu sala... Banaras mein khada hokar in logon ko dhamka raha tha."
("Oh really? So this wasn't a drama? You rascal... standing in Banaras and threatening its people?")

"Tu kaun hai? Tujhe kya lena dena?" he croaked, scrambling.
("Who the hell are you? What's your problem here?")

She stepped closer, eyes like flint.
"Durga." She spoke it as if naming a storm.
"Durga hoon main. Aur Banaras, yeh log.. mere apne hain. Inse panga mat lena."
("I am Durga. And Banaras..these people, are mine. Don't you dare mess with them.")

When two of his men lunged from behind, their hands aimed to grab, Durga moved without looking: arms a blur, wrists twisted, bodies flung aside as if they weighed nothing.

She let a warning fall from her lips, practiced and cold.

"Varna... Mahadev karenge hisaab Mashaan mein. Durga karegi dharti par."
("Otherwise... Mahadev will judge you in heaven, and Durga will judge you on earth.")

Her threat hung in the courtyard, strange and sacred.

The man scrambled to his feet and fled, ll and Durga relaxed into a small, satisfied smile.

Until,a woman's voice,non tolerant to her boldness and Fierce, broke through the pause. With venom dripping tone.

"Arey ye ladki... har jagah bas maar-kaant. Sharam kar! Na baap ka naam hai, na maa ka pata..anath hai tu, ladki."

("Oh this girl... always fighting and creating chaos! Have some shame! No father's name, no mother's identity - you're an orphan, girl!")

The word "anath" slammed into the quiet like a stone. For the first time that afternoon, something in Durga faltered. Her smile stilled. The air around her felt stiff. As if hitting her flesh. The words sharper than blade. And she was just bleeding.

Too strong to bear Everything this world comes up with. But too fragile for this sentence. This tag.
That remained glued to her like second skin..

That was the first chapter of DURGA!
Yup! An early update than I decided.
How was it? What do you think going to happen next?
Let me know in the comment box!
See you soon with new update.
Till then,
Stay safe..

PS: Gauri