Naina Sharma lived in the forgotten village of Ghatpura, where dust had been clinging to every surface for centuries and dreams seemed as distant as the city lights. Life in Ghatpura was harsh, and it was especially so for Naina. Her family was suffering under the weight of poverty, and the expectations placed on her shoulders were crushing since she was the eldest child.
Her father, Ramesh Sharma, spends his days thinking about those better times and nights rueing the present. Then there was her mother Sunita, no-nonsense to the extreme when it came to matters about daughters and marriage and men. And then, her brother Kunal - not a year younger, his irresponsible behavior drained all possible resources they had left within themselves.
That evening while sitting for dinner, the air was thick with tension.
"Naina, we've found a good boy for you," Sunita announced abruptly. "His name is Rohan Verma. He works in a bank. It's time you settle down."
Naina set her spoon down, her appetite vanishing. "Ma, I've told youâI'm not interested in marriage right now. I want to find a job first."
"A job?" Ramesh scoffed. "You've been looking for two years. How much longer will you keep this up? We can't wait forever!"
"Forever?" Naina's voice rose. "But you're happy to wait while Kunal wastes everything we have! Gambling, drinking, giving money to girlsâdoes that not matter to you?"
That's enough!" Sunita snapped, her sharp tone piercing the room. "Stop comparing yourself to your brother. He's young, and he will learn. You, on the other hand, have to learn to stop being so obstinate!
Naina's fists were clenched beneath the table. Injustice burned in her chest; she kept her mouth clamped, knowing an argument was useless. Later, after dinner, she flung open the door to the night, feeling a weight inside her heart and a restlessness of her mind.
She walked aimlessly, the cool breeze offering little comfort. She found herself eventually near the village junkyard, a desolate place filled with discarded items that told stories of their own. She kicked at the rubble in frustration when something caught her eyeâa small, intricately carved wooden box half-buried under a pile of broken tiles.
Intrigued, she stooped down and pulled it out. The box old, the wood had got darkened by the pass of time, and even the carvings it had on its surface unlike anything she had seen yet. Despite all that-anger and exhaustion-inher, curiosity urged her to open it.
Some little effort, the latch snapped open, and Naina lifted the lid. Inside were only two things. A strange non-working compass, with a folded letter.
The compass was beautifully strange. Its casing showed odd signs, and the needle simply hung, refusing to spin round. The letter that was scrawled out on withered parchment was heavy with unknown script.
She furrowed her brow as Naina held the letter closer toward the faintly glowing moonlight. Even so, she couldn't decipher anything from the unintelligible script.
"What is this supposed to mean?" she muttered, frustrated.
She looked at the compass again. Beautiful as it was, it seemed a broken, useless thing. "Maybe I can sell this," she thought. "The box and the compass might fetch enough to cover Kunal's latest mess."
It is when she got home, the weight of reality seemed to settle on her shoulders as she made her way there. The streets were silent and the village wrapped in darkness, it was already late, and she slipped inside very carefully so not to wake anybody. She got into her room and locked the door, then sat on the bed placing the wooden box beside her.
As she gazed at the mysterious objects, a small part of her wondered if they were more than they seemed. But exhaustion soon overtook her, and she lay down, letting the mysteries of the night drift into dreams.
Unbeknownst to her, the compass and letter would soon lead her on a journey that would change her life forever.