4

Maya had never smiled this wide in her life.

Holding the scholarship letter in her trembling hands, she read it over and over as if the words might disappear.

"Congratulations, you’ve been selected for a full scholarship at XXX University, Mumbai."

Her heart thudded wildly. She looked up at the photo frame on the shelf—her father smiling back from behind the glass. “Dad... I did it. You said I could, remember? You said I was born to fly. Well… your girl’s flying.”

Tears filled her eyes, but this time they weren’t of pain—they were joy, disbelief, and pride all mixed together.

She ran into the kitchen, nearly tripping over the doormat.

“Maa! Maa! Look!”

Her mother was kneading dough, the red scarf around her head damp with sweat. She looked up, puzzled, until Maya shoved the letter into her hands.

“I got it! A full scholarship! To Mumbai! I’m going to college, Maa!”

For a few seconds, her mother just stared at the paper. Then slowly, a smile appeared on her tired face.

“Sach?”

“Sach, maa! Mumbai ka XXX University! They picked me!”

Maya twirled in the small kitchen like a child, laughing loudly, her voice echoing through the mud walls.

But her mother didn’t laugh. Her smile faded as the reality hit her.

“Alone?” she asked softly.

“You’ll be going all alone, Maya?”

Maya paused. She knew this was coming.

Her mother had never let her go anywhere outside the village alone—forget another city. And now, Mumbai? A place that looked like a different planet compared to their little village?

“Maa... I’ll be fine. It’s a girls’ hostel. Safe. And the university is top class. They have rules, cameras, everything.”

Her mother sat down, suddenly looking ten years older.

“Tu meri akeli ladki hai, Maya. Tere bina yeh ghar khali lagega.”

Maya sat beside her, holding her hand. “Main har roz phone karungi. Aur chuttiyon mein ghar aungi. Waada.”

Her mother didn’t respond immediately. She looked at her daughter, eyes filled with love, fear, and pride all at once.

After a long moment, she nodded. Just once.

“Theek hai. Ja. Par apna khayal rakhna.”

The morning of her departure arrived quickly.

Maya stood in front of the small mirror in her room, wearing her favorite white kurta—the one her father had gifted her on her last birthday.

It was simple, with delicate embroidery near the sleeves, but to Maya, it felt like armor.

She tied her hair in a neat braid and dabbed some powder on her face. She didn’t have much—no makeup, no fancy bag—just dreams packed in a blue suitcase.

Outside, the bus honked.

“Maa, I have to go!” she called out, dragging her suitcase toward the gate.

Her mother came out, holding a tiffin in one hand and a dupatta in the other.

She wrapped the dupatta around Maya’s shoulders.

“Yeh le. Safar mein kaam aayega. Thoda ghar ka khana bhi.”

Maya hugged her tightly, not wanting to let go.

“I’ll make you proud, Maa.”

“Tu pehle se hi meri shaan hai, beti,” her mother whispered.

As the bus rolled away, Maya waved till the village disappeared behind her.

A new world awaited her—louder, bigger, scarier.

But Maya wasn’t afraid.

Because this time, she wasn’t just a village girl.