The cuckoo clock on the wall struck six, its shrill sound waking Preeti up. She tied her long, silky hair into a bun and opened the curtains, letting the morning light seep into her room.
“Hmm, yet another week…Monday blues,” Preeti murmured. Her thoughts soon spiralled into the usual whirlwind—endless tasks, back-to-back meetings, and ticking off to-do lists.
Preeti brushed her thoughts and wrapped up her household chores. As part of her daily ritual, she bowed her head in reverence to Sai Baba, then grabbed the keys from the holder by the door and stepped out for work.
Preeti picked up her friend from the adjacent lane and sped off on her bike. After a few kilometres, the bike came to a halt. Preeti glanced at the fuel gauge and groaned, “Oh God, zero fuel!”
“We have an important meeting with the new client to close the deal. We are going to miss it! We will lose our fat commission, too." Riya exclaimed, her voice tinged with rising panic.
“Don’t panic, Riya! We will reach.” Preeti consoled Riya.
“How do I not panic? Our lives are moving at a snail's pace. Above all, I can never quite escape this question- ‘Where do you see yourself in five years?’ At this pace, forget five years; we will not reach anywhere even in ten years." Riya said, sounding frustrated.
Preeti sighed heavily and said, “I know, dear. We are putting in all our efforts to achieve our goals, but the journey isn’t easy. As we climb the ladder, we are bound to stumble several times. The five-year plan looked like a pseudo-harmony. Calm and structured on paper, but uncertainty, pressure, and silent chaos beneath it. How can we possibly predict where we will be five years from now? Such thoughts only gnawed at us slowly, like a slow poison. What was the point of a 5-year plan if you burned out in a year or two? Let’s take life as it comes.”
True! But…” Riya left the sentence incomplete, and both rushed to punch in.
Despite arriving late, the two managed to sneak into the conference room for the client meeting. Preeti began the presentation confidently, while Riya fumbled at first but soon picked up the pace. Together, they managed to leave a good impression—yet a faint dissatisfaction lingered on their faces.
The rest of the day went in hurried footsteps, staring at the screen and replying to the emails from seniors. A brief one-on-one meeting post-lunch with their manager added a little more stress.
The day ended. They punched out and walked toward the parking area. Riya burst into tears. “Riya, what happened?” Preeti asked.
“I am sorry, Preeti. I couldn’t hold back my tears. Nothing went well today.” Riya replied, wiping her tears.
They decided to stop by a café for a while before heading home. After they settled and ordered coffee, Preeti held Riya’s hand and asked, “Tell me what is bothering you.”
Sobbing, Riya replied, “No one asks about our well-being. Bosses hammer us for targets, parents keep nagging me to get married, and friends drift away when we need them the most. Besides, I’m constantly thinking about the future—making career plans, even retirement plans. Is that normal? Not a single day goes by, living in the present or feeling at peace. It’s like Harmony has gone on a long vacation.”
She continued, “I always dreamt of becoming a singer, and here I am, struggling to meet sales targets.”
“Why didn’t you follow your dreams then?” Preeti asked with a puzzled look.
Riya smirked and said, “Because girls aren’t supposed to dream, right? We are supposed to get married and look after the family. At least, that’s what my father believed. He allowed me to work because my mom convinced him. He sponsored my brother’s foreign education, and now, my brother has no plans to return.”
“Hmm. I guess life’s like that. I am standing at a similar crossroads. You know my dream was to be a travel journalist, to write about places, but no savings, a mother battling cancer, rent overdue, bills piling up… and the list doesn’t seem to end. But I have decided not to give up. Things will change sooner or later.” Preeti said.
“Hope so,” Riya said softly, her voice hollow—as if hope were just a word, no longer something she believed in.
That night, as Preeti sat on the window ledge, watching the rain dance against the glass, a quiet voice within stirred - “When was the last time you truly lived?”
Preeti remained silent. Her inner voice nudged again, gentle but unrelenting— “What happened? You don’t remember or don’t have an answer?” She broke her silence and said, “Ah, I…I don’t remember.”
She quickly rummaged through her drawers, searching for the journal that had long been waiting to see the light again. Except for four pages, the rest were blank and white.
Preeti decided to return to the habit of writing, hoping it would bring her clarity, healing, or perhaps a path forward. At the same time, she began searching for a new job — this time, her dream job. It didn’t involve travelling abroad but exploring the diverse states of India.
One day, while returning from the office, Riya and Preeti met a former colleague who embraced risk and moved on. He was doing something unconventional and fulfilling—working with an NGO, running a startup, and living a slower, rural life.
"Hey, Saurabh! So good to see you after such a long time," Preeti said excitedly. "You look great—fresh and relaxed, back from a vacation?"
“Hi, ladies! I am not returning from vacation, but from work. Thanks for the compliment, Preeti. I look fresh because I stay happy, not just from outside but within.” Saurabh replied.
“Why should we force ourselves to do something that doesn’t interest us or cause pain to our soul? Life is too precious to be spent in frustration or agony.” He continued.
“Hmm….True that!” expressed Preeti.
“What happened to you, Riya? You were so full of life when you joined the organisation. Why are you so quiet now? It’s not like you." Saurabh said.
“Yeah, situations change you. There’s so much work pressure, targets, and everything else under the sun,” Riya muttered.
“Riya, tough situations come — they still do for me. But I have always held on to hope, and somehow, it works like magic.” He responded.
They exchanged numbers and agreed to catch up soon.
While Riya continued holding on to the same job, putting in extra effort and working hard, Preeti took up a part-time job to pursue her dreams of writing a blog and journaling. Despite a cash crunch, she found joy in all the little things she did. Meanwhile, with the support of an NGO, Saurabh helped Preeti arrange affordable medical care for her mother.
Things moved for Riya and Preeti. They stayed connected through phone and messages but rarely met.
Two years later
Preeti’s mother passed away, leaving her all alone. For days, a heavy sadness weighed on her heart, making each moment very difficult to face. Yet slowly, she gathered her strength, embraced the pain, and found the courage to return to her work, determined to move on.
Around the same time, Riya’s company announced layoffs affecting employees across multiple states due to severe business losses. The news hit everyone hard. Riya, who had poured years of dedication and hard work into her job, felt a wave of despair wash over her. She closed her eyes and silently prayed to the universe for strength and a miracle.
But call it her hard luck or something else! Her prayers were unheard, and finally, the dreaded day arrived. The HR mailed letters to nearly 200 employees. The following morning, when Riya switched on her PC, the mail flashed. Overwhelmed by shock and fear, she fainted right at her workplace.
Her colleagues managed to bring her back to consciousness, but her tears kept flowing — silent, unstoppable, and full of unspoken pain. Her stress rose to the brink.
“It’s okay, Riya. We’ve also received emails. Don’t worry—we’ll figure something out,” one of her colleagues said gently, trying to console her.
“No, it’s not okay!” Riya burst out, her voice trembling. “My father will force me into marriage now, and I’ll be stuck doing all the household routine as my mother. Only the other day, I was talking and sharing with Preeti about joining a singing group and finally going to chase my dream after work without letting my parents know. But now, that dream is gone. It has breathed its last.
With her belongings in hand and tears in her eyes, she pushed the door open and walked out. At home, she quietly told her mother she was sleepy and didn’t want anything to eat. Without another word, she headed to her room and shut the door behind her.
First, she called her music teacher and requested a refund of the fees and had the amount transferred to her mother’s account. Then, she messaged her brother, asking him to come home for their parents' sake.
Finally, she penned a note that read, “Baba, I wanted to do so many things in life, but you never heard or supported me, and I couldn’t express it out of fear. I am leaving this world behind and moving to a place where I can find my voice, where peace awaits me.”
She placed the note on the table, beside her bed, and brought the handful of pills close to her lips. But just before taking them, she paused — and sang a few lines of her favourite song, a final tribute to the dream she had long carried in her heart. Moments later, she consumed the pills and drifted into an eternal sleep.
The following morning, Riya's mother knocked on the door. “Riya, it’s already 8 a.m. You will be late for the office. You haven’t eaten anything since yesterday. Come out fast. I have made your favourite sabudana khichdi.” She said and left.
But when Riya did not come out, she knocked louder this time. Again, no response. A shiver ran down her spine. She turned the knob with a duplicate key and stepped in.
Riya was lying on the bed peacefully, eyes closed and a faint smile on her lips. Riya’s mother rushed and shook her hard, but Riya didn’t move. The note beside her fluttered. With trembling hands, her mother picked it up and read the words. Overwhelmed with shock and grief, she nearly collapsed. A loud cry broke the morning silence.
They rushed her to the hospital, but it was too late. She was declared dead on arrival.
Preeti’s phone buzzed.
“Hi, Riya! Sorry, I didn't answer your call the other day; I was busy.” A faint voice came over. “This is Riya’s mother, Preeti. Riya is no more. Preeti's legs trembled, and her voice choked. She couldn’t absorb those words.
By the time Preeti reached the hospital, Riya’s was gone. Her body was shrouded in a thin white sheet. One glimpse at her pale face shattered Preeti. She clutched the note that had been handed to her by Riya’s mother, reading it again and again.
“I am leaving this world behind and moving to a place where I can find my voice...”
Tears blurred her vision.
Days passed, but Preeti couldn’t sleep. Riya’s voice haunted her — in the cafés they used to sit at, travelling together, in the echo of her unfinished song. One evening, while Preeti gazed at Riya’s picture, a thought lit up. She quickly called Saurabh, her voice filled with emotion as she shared what was on her mind. She wanted to start a platform in Riya’s name where women could speak, sing, write, and pursue their dreams. A place without judgment — just room to breathe.
Saurabh immediately agreed. Weeks later, Preeti launched a YouTube channel titled “Voice Unheard”, inviting women from different age groups who were never allowed to follow their passion to sing and perform live. Soon, more joined. Saurabh’s NGO helped reach rural girls, young professionals, and retired women who shared poems written decades ago.
Each post ended with a note: “In memory of Riya.”
Preeti also uploaded Riya’s favourite tune, recorded years ago, where Riya had sung casually. Within no time, it went viral. Likes and love flooded. “How I wish you were alive to see this, Riya,” Preeti thought, tears streaming down her face as she watched the heartfelt comments pour in.
One Year Later
On Riya’s first death anniversary, Preeti organized a small event at the NGO, inviting young girls and women from across cities to read, sing, and share their truths. No filters, no fear. Riya’s parents also attended, sitting quietly in the front row. Her father sat still, a silent remorse clouding his face.
As the flame flickered beside Riya’s photo, Preeti whispered, "Your voice will echo on. Through others, it will never fade."
The event began. Preeti handed the mic to a young girl who had always dreamt of anchoring but never had the chance. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she stepped forward. Initially, her voice trembled, but she gained confidence when she saw no one was judging. Each of them was enjoying.
One by one, the participants came on stage, performed, and stepped down with a smile they perhaps had never dared to wear before. With each performance, their confidence bloomed, and their hope rekindled. It was as if something long buried had finally found light. Dreams that once seemed distant now felt possible, and for the first time, their voices were heard, valued, and celebrated.
That evening, a little girl around 12 years old got on stage and, with her soft, sweet voice, sang a song written by her. After she finished, she ran to hug Preeti and said, “One day, I’ll be a singer too!”
Preeti’s eyes turned moist. She smiled and said, “You already are a great singer, my dear. Keep the determination alive. You will touch the sky.”
Closing ceremony
“Thank you, one and all, for making this event successful. This event was held in Riya’s memory, not to mourn her loss but to celebrate her life, her dreams, and the many others who carried similar hopes silently within them.” Preeti concluded and played the song Riya sang when she was a little girl. Her father broke down. That moment marked the beginning of his transformation. For the first time, he heard his daughter.
Since then, her father, along with numerous volunteers, extended support to the cause not only financially but also by making available venues like auditoriums and open grounds for hosting such performances and events. Some even offered their time and skills, mentoring young girls in music, art, and public speaking. The movement slowly but steadily began to grow, touching hearts across towns and cities. What started as a tribute to Riya’s unfulfilled dream soon became a platform for countless others to discover and chase their own.