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A-TULA

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Once, there was a family that lived together and grew together. Two sons were raised under the same roof, loved equally—but measured constantly. Skin tone, height, marks, abilities—nothing escaped comparison. Marriage did not end it. It only changed shape. Gold, beauty, status, respect—quiet questions replaced loud ones: Are we less? Are we enough? Believing he was behind, one son chased “ahead.” The joint family thinned into a nuclear one. Open spaces shrank into an apartment. Many plates became four. Husband and wife worked—not out of greed, but to support each other. They stretched their wings together. Money came. Stability came. A maid came. A nanny came. Then something else arrived. The children ran first to the nanny’s arms. She knew their fears, their habits, their favourite colours. The parents did not. The father was no longer the man of the house—only a partner in a system. The home felt less like a family and more like a workplace. Conversations needed appointme...
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Room no. 906 English Version

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Room No. 906 The sound of the door opening was heard. I quickly turned around; the speed of the light struck my eyes sharply. A dark shadow entered, and soon after, a doctor appeared in a white coat, a stethoscope hanging around his neck like a garland. Had I been promoted to a new room, or transferred from the ICU? Was this good news, or something to be understood or explained? It was beyond comprehension. The doctor held my hand, and I came fully back to my senses. “Why is your palm blue?” the doctor asked. At once, I looked at my mother’s face, then turned my pale face toward the doctor. He glanced at my clothes and said softly, “First, wash your hands.” My mother, holding the IV bottle, walked with me to the washbasin. The entire blue color washed away with water. The doctor laughed and said, “This is just the effect of your blue kurti.” Hearing this, everyone’s breath eased. Just then, I noticed a new face peeking at us from behind the curtain. Parvati! On the patients’ chart past...
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This is the untold story of a village cradled in the embrace of lush greenery, far away from the rush of the city. In the courtyard, a little granddaughter plays, while on a cot nearby, her doll lies under the open sky, counting countless stars as Grandpa’s stories fill the night. Under the silver moonlight, tales of seven princes and seven fishes unfold, carrying the young girl into a world of dreams. Grandpa’s cherished granddaughter, a radiant source of joy for the entire village, becomes the center of every gathering. With her tiny hands painting her nails red, she charms everyone with her innocent grace. The courtyard soon transforms into a meeting place for villagers, where they gather to watch television together, and Anandrao Master’s granddaughter becomes the beloved playmate of many households. The highlight, however, is the granddaughter’s delightful talent for adorning her nails—something so simple, yet it creates a stir throughout the village. Neighbors gather just to witn...
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