Chapter 14: The Choice

I took my mother’s plans and account books for the branch schools, flipping through a few pages carefully.

The ledgers were neat, precise, every rupee accounted for. She kept lists of graduates, letters of gratitude, even sketches from the children. I was awed by her diligence.

“Mother, have you thought about how, once you open branches, your intentions behind the charity trust will be exposed?”

I asked quietly, my fingers trembling. The more I read, the more I worried. This was dangerous work—if anyone found out, the consequences would be dire.

I felt a bit anxious. “Besides Amma Lakshmi, who else knows your identity?”

I lowered my voice, glancing around to make sure no one overheard. Secrets, I knew, could be deadly in this world.

“If word gets out, in people’s eyes, you’ll be accused of showing your face and privately running a school. Not to mention the authorities—even the Sharma family could punish you. With all those heavy charges, what will you do?”

I listed the risks: public shaming, banishment, even execution. In this society, a woman who challenged the order could be destroyed.

My mother was calm and steady. “So what?”

Her voice was clear, unafraid. She met my eyes, daring me to challenge her.

Seeing her like this, I grew even more anxious. “If the authorities discover your intentions, you’ll be executed.”

My voice cracked. I imagined the worst—her arrested, tortured, made an example. My hands shook with fear.

My mother’s face didn’t change. “I know.”

She said it with a finality that chilled me. There was no fear in her, only resolve.

“Then you…” I was almost pleading.

I wanted her to stop, to choose safety, to let go of this impossible dream. But I knew she would never back down.

“In this life, what I’m doing is also something punishable by death. But someone has to do it, or the country will perish.”

Her words rang out like a clarion call. She was ready to risk everything, for a future she might never see.

“And after hearing your stories, doesn’t it prove it’s worth it?”

She smiled at me, her eyes shining with hope. My heart ached, torn between fear and pride.

“I heard from your father that in the southern port cities, many fair-haired, blue-eyed people have arrived by ship.”

Her voice was low, full of foreboding. She looked out the window, as if she could see the ships waiting on the horizon.

“They’re seeking to trade with us.”

She spoke the words with a hint of sarcasm. We both knew that ‘trade’ was just the beginning—soon would come the guns, the laws, the chains.

My heart sank.

The fear in me grew, cold and hard. I saw history repeating itself, the old wounds reopening.

“The kingdom is corrupt and stagnant, rebellion is everywhere. If things continue, it’ll be the same old road as before.”

She spoke with a heavy heart, her voice laced with despair. The rulers were blind to the danger, the people too divided to resist.

My mother looked out the window at the children in the next room, their faces full of energy.

She watched them play, their laughter floating through the air. Her eyes softened, but her mouth was set in a grim line.

“I don’t want the people here, or this land, to suffer that pain again.”

She spoke for all those who had lost everything—the mothers, the daughters, the nameless millions crushed by history.

“Even if what I’m doing is futile, what if it changes things, even just a little?”

Her voice trembled with hope. She clung to the possibility, however small, that her work could make a difference.

My mother’s almond eyes shone.

Her eyes were fierce, unyielding. I saw in them the fire of a hundred revolutions, the courage of every woman who had ever dared to dream.

Suddenly, I understood, and a wave of panic rose in me.

My mind spun with fear. Was she planning something bigger than just a school? Was she hoping to change the world, one child at a time?

“Mother, what exactly do you want to do?”

My voice was barely a whisper. I was afraid to hear the answer.

She turned to me, her gaze steady.

“Indians are full of ambition, and dare to make the sun and moon change the sky.”

Her words rang with pride, echoing the poetry of revolution. I felt goosebumps rise on my arms.