Author’s Note: Before starting this story, I want to say something very clearly . Many of you asked for Avni’s story because a lot of you relate to her. But please remember, I will be writing according to the narrative I have planned. There may be points where it feels like the criticism is “too much,” but that is because Avni’s circumstances are different — she had a sister who was considered beautiful, so naturally she faced even harsher comparisons and judgments.

Earlier, I thought of asking you all to share your personal experiences — especially if you’ve faced life as a dusky girl — but then I deleted that note, because I didn’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable. For myself, I am not dusky, nor would I call myself “too beautiful.” Just somewhere above average, so I never really received bad comments on my looks. But I do have friends who have told me their painful stories, and I’ve seen some things happen with my own eyes. I will be picking from those real situations to show how Avni, as a dusky girl, was treated.

If at any point it feels like I am overdoing it, please do correct me with critical criticism — but kindly, and not as harsh orders.

°•♡•°

The weather was cool, carrying with it a certain stillness that only came before rain. The sun was hidden behind heavy, dark clouds that slowly stretched across the horizon, as though trying to swallow the entire sky. A mild, sweet breeze rippled across the lake, bending the tall grass at its edges, carrying the scent of wet earth even before the first drop had touched the ground. It looked as though, any moment, the sky would give in—releasing a soft, steady rain. Not the harsh kind that tears roofs and drowns streets, but the gentle one, the kind that makes you sit still and watch the world in silence, feeling both humbled and comforted.

Avni and Pooja sat by the lake, behind the old Shiv-Parvati mandir. The temple bells chimed faintly in the distance, sometimes drowned by the rhythmic sound of chants that floated in the air. Avni’s knees were drawn up close to her chest, her arms wrapped around them, her posture small but thoughtful. Pooja sat cross-legged beside her, lazily drawing patterns on the soft mud with a stick, her hair swaying with the breeze.

For Avni, this place carried a quiet significance. She had made a promise—if her project, the biggest of her career so far, went smoothly, she would return here to offer her gratitude. And today she had come, not just with folded hands and whispered prayers, but with her childhood friend by her side.

Pooja hadn’t prayed for anything. She was simply tagging along, the way she always had.

“Bol bhi,” Pooja insisted suddenly, tilting her head at Avni.

(Say it too.)

Avni’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Socha hai na,” she replied softly.

(I have thought about it.)

“Kya?” Pooja asked excitedly, leaning closer, her voice curious.

(What?)

Avni hesitated for a moment, her eyes fixed on the rippling water. “Ki kaash…” she began slowly, her voice almost a whisper. “Kaash humein bhi koi chahne wala hota. Kaash hum bhi kisi ke dil ki zid hote.”

(I wish… I wish I also had someone who truly desired me. I wish I were someone’s deepest want.)

She paused, her throat tightening, but before she could add more, Pooja joined in. “Kaash humein bhi paane ke liye koi har had paar kar jaata.”

(I wish someone would cross every limit just to have me.)

They both spoke the last line together, their voices blending in quiet amusement, and then—despite the heaviness in their words—they laughed. Not because it was funny, but because sometimes laughter was easier than silence.

“I’m asking for real, Avni,” Pooja said after the laughter faded, her eyes narrowing playfully but her tone serious.

Avni brushed dirt off her kurta and pushed herself slightly up, glancing toward the mandir. “I think the wedding is over. Let’s go.” She was almost on her feet when Pooja’s hand shot out and gripped her wrist firmly, pulling her back down.

“No, it’s not,” Pooja countered, her voice calm but insistent. And Avni stilled, realizing the chants were still rising from the temple. The ceremony was still underway.

“Yeah, right,” Avni muttered, settling back into her spot with a sigh.

The truth was, they had come to the mandir to thank the gods for Avni’s success. But on reaching, they had stumbled upon a wedding inside the sanctum. The vibrant sounds of shehnais, the rhythmic mantras, the joyous laughter of families—all of it spilled into the quiet courtyard. Not wanting to intrude on someone else’s sacred moment, they had chosen to retreat behind the mandir, by the lake. And here, in the waiting, conversation had naturally bloomed.

Their friendship had a history that stretched far back—beyond career paths and adult responsibilities. From kindergarten days of shared lunches and secret giggles, through long nights of exam stress and teenage confessions, they had grown side by side. It was only after school that their roads parted. Avni had thrown herself into her profession with single-minded dedication, while Pooja had chosen a different career altogether. Yet, no distance, no lack of daily contact, had dimmed the connection they carried. Whenever life gave them moments like this, they held onto them dearly.

Today was one such day. A rare pause in their otherwise busy schedules.

They had started with small talk—about work, about families—but soon Pooja had slipped into the real reason for her insistence. Her parents had begun looking for a groom for her. She had listed out the qualities she wanted in her future husband, half-seriously, half-jokingly. And then, naturally, she had turned the question onto Avni.

“What about you? What kind of guy would you like?” Pooja had pressed. And that’s how Avni’s “kaash” had spilled out.

Now, sitting with her knees hugged tightly, Avni exhaled slowly, as though the air itself carried weight. “I would like someone who would love me like those lines of ‘kaash’…” Her voice softened, her gaze dropping to the dirt at her feet. “But I know it will remain only that—kaash. A wish. Why would anyone love me like that?”

Pooja blinked, taken aback by the sadness in her friend’s tone. “Why wouldn’t they?” she asked firmly.

Avni gave a small, bitter laugh. “Why would anyone love a dusky girl like me in that way?”

“What is this nonsense, Avni?” Pooja snapped, her tone sharper now.

But Avni only smiled faintly, though the hurt shimmered beneath her voice. “It’s not nonsense. It’s true. To be worthy of such love, you have to be… something more. Why would anyone cross all limits for a girl who looks average? Wouldn’t people laugh at him? They’d mock him, saying, ‘He’s doing all this for her? For a girl who isn’t even beautiful? What did he even see in her?’” She tried to sound mocking, but her words cracked, betraying the pain underneath.

Pooja’s brows furrowed. “What are you even saying? I wasn’t expecting this from you. That you’d start thinking like this.”

Avni turned her gaze away from her, toward the water. “I tried not to think. But the world around me keeps making me. You know… last week, an aunt came to my house with a proposal. The man was divorced… and almost forty.”

Pooja gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “What? You didn’t tell me before! If you had, I would have killed that bitch with my bare hands.”

Avni chuckled faintly. “That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me who it was. I’ll burn that budhiya down with my own hands.”

(Tell me who it was, I’ll burn that old hag down with my own hands.)

“Don’t worry,” Avni said with a small smile. “Mom and Dad handled her well. Made sure she won’t show her face again, not just to us, but in the entire neighborhood. And you know, the funny thing? Abhimanyu got to know about it too. He had her arrested. Turns out she’s been doing this to a lot of girls—finding those she thought were below average, manipulating families into marrying them off to old or toxic men. It was her bad luck she came to our house.”

Pooja’s eyes lit up, fury mixed with pride. “Apne brother-in-law se kehna, acchi khatirdari kare uski.”

(Tell your brother-in-law to take good care of her.)

“Woh toh usne ki hi hogi,” Avni replied, smiling slightly, imagining Abhimanyu’s way of handling things.
(Of course, he must have already done that.)

But the smile didn’t last. It dropped, like a candle flickering out in the wind.

“You must have been hurt,” Pooja said gently, placing her hand over Avni’s.

Avni’s voice quivered. “I was hurt, not because she brought the proposal. But because she said… I deserve this.”

The words hung in the air like a weight neither could escape.

Pooja fell silent, her chest tightening with anger and sympathy.

Avni continued, her voice quieter now. “ Before leaving, she said my parents were giving me false hopes. That in the end, I’ll only find that kind of man. She even knew about Abhimanyu… that he had first come for me but chose Khushi instead. She assumed it was because Khushi is beautiful. That he chose her over me… because I wasn’t enough. That no one will choose me. She even said girls like me—dusky, average, nothing striking about the face—don’t get to dream of love stories. That it’s not just divorced or older men I should expect, but the kind of men no one else wants. ‘For someone like her,’ she said, ‘don’t even think of a good-looking or successful groom. Handsome boys will never look at a girl like this.’"

“That’s nonsense,” Pooja burst out.

Avni’s eyes dimmed. “Maybe. But I think, at some level, it’s true.”

“No. Clearly not. You’re such a sweet, mature girl. You’re going to find the best guy in the world,” Pooja insisted.

“Mature?” Avni almost laughed at herself, a hollow sound. “I don’t think I’m mature. If I were, I wouldn’t have been jealous of my own sister for being beautiful. I wouldn’t be so desperate for the things I don’t have. If I were mature, people’s judging comments about my skin color wouldn’t hurt me so much.”

Pooja squeezed Avni’s hand. “Maturity doesn’t mean you don’t feel anything.”

Avni looked at her, silent but questioning.

“Judgments, harsh comments—they’re always going to sting, no matter who you are. Feeling pain doesn’t mean you’re immature. You’re mature in the way you handle them. The way you don’t let bitterness take root. The way you remain loving despite it all. That’s real maturity. And that’s what makes you shine. Not your face, not your skin—your character. Just wait and see, Avni. One day, you’ll find a man who’ll love you like you’re a goddess.”

Avni smiled faintly, though disbelief lingered in her eyes.

“You don’t believe me?” Pooja challenged.

“Maybe,” Avni whispered.

Behind them, the temple bells rang louder. The wedding was over. Laughter and cheers filled the air. They turned to see the newlyweds stepping out of the mandir. The groom was carrying the bride in his arms, her face glowing with shyness as relatives showered them with blessings. Amid the clapping and teasing, the groom bent and pressed a kiss to the bride’s forehead. She blushed deeply and hid her face in his chest as he walked forward, protective, proud, and unashamed of his love.

Avni’s eyes lingered on the groom, his confident stride, the tenderness with which he held his bride as though she were the most precious thing in the world. The cheer of the relatives, the teasing voices, the bride’s shy smile—all of it played before her like a scene out of a story she had never dared to write for herself.

Her lips curved into a faint smile, but her heart trembled under it.

It’s too much for me to even dream, Avni thought, her heart trembling at the very idea. But if I could wish… deep down, I want a guy like this.

Her eyes lingered on the couple before her — the groom pressing a soft kiss on his bride’s forehead, the way she smiled as if her world had just been blessed. A lump rose in Avni’s throat.

I want someone who will love me without hesitation, she admitted silently, not because I’m convenient, not because it’s time, but because when he looks at me, he truly sees me. My flaws, my scars, my insecurities… and still decides I am his world.

Her fingers curled into her lap, holding onto her knees as if to steady herself.

I want someone who isn’t ashamed of me. Someone who won’t hide me because people might say I’m not beautiful enough. Someone who’ll hold my hand in front of the world, proudly, like I’m a choice he’ll make a thousand times over.

The breeze grew stronger, stirring her dupatta. She closed her eyes for a second, her thoughts spilling like a prayer only the wind could carry.

I want a man who will protect me, not because he thinks I’m weak, but because I’m precious to him. Who will stand by me when the whole world is against me. Who will fight for me even when I can’t fight for myself.

Her chest tightened, her breaths shallow, but her heart refused to stay quiet.

I want someone who looks at me like I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen… even when I know I’m not. Someone who would kiss my forehead in front of everyone and not care about anyone’s laughter. Someone who reminds me beauty isn’t the mirror, but the way he sees me.

Her lips trembled as she blinked away the sting in her eyes.

And I want him to stay. To not leave when things get hard. To not walk away when I’m at my lowest, when I’m drowning in the noise of people’s judgments. I want someone who will stay — who tells me again and again that I matter. That I am enough.

She exhaled shakily, forcing a small smile as if to push the ache away. Out loud, she only whispered, “Kaash…” — the rest of her prayer swallowed by the wind.

Avni gave a faint smile, one of those fragile ones that carried more disbelief than faith. She exhaled softly, as if releasing words she could never speak aloud.

“We should go now,” she murmured, pushing herself up at last.

Pooja stayed quiet, just watching her for a moment. She could sense Avni had drifted somewhere deep inside herself, but chose not to press. With a small nod, she brushed the dust off her jeans and followed as Avni began walking toward the mandir.

******

The two friends soon found the mandir standing silent, bathed in the hushed stillness of the evening. The family and relatives who had been there earlier had already departed. Since the mandir was located away from the bustling city, few visitors came by.Today , the weather too had played its part.

“Namaste, pandit ji,” Avni and Pooja greeted in unison as they stepped inside.

(Namaste, Uncle ji = Greetings, pandit ji.)

The pandit, who had been arranging and cleaning the altar, lifted his head at the sound of their voices. His face brightened with recognition.
“Avni beta, Pooja… bade time baad ayi ho,” he said warmly.

(Avni dear, Pooja… you’ve come after a long time.)

“Ji, bahut busy ho gayi thi kaam main,” Avni replied politely, lowering her gaze with a shy smile.

(Yes, I got very busy with work.)

The pandit’s expression turned curious. “Wahi jisky liye last time prayer karke gayi thi?” he asked, his tone carrying both memory and interest.

(The same project you prayed for last time?)

Avni’s smile widened, happiness coloring her features. “Ji,” she answered with a nod.

(Yes.)

“Maine kaha tha na, sab acha hoga. Tum aise hi tension le rahi thi,” he reminded her gently, as though speaking to his own daughter.

(Didn’t I tell you everything would go well? You were just worrying unnecessarily.)

Avni gave a little laugh at his words. “It was my first big project… tension toh hoti hai kahi kuch galat na ho jaye.”

(It was my first big project. Naturally, there was … what if something went wrong?)

“Bhagwan pe bharosa rakh kar kaam karne se sab sahi hota hai,” the pandit said with firm calmness, his voice echoing faintly in the quiet temple.

(When you trust in God and do your work sincerely, everything turns out right.)

Avni bowed her head. “Ji, tabhi toh thank you kehne aaye hain.”

(Yes, that’s why I came to say thank you.)

Pooja, who had been listening with a playful smile, suddenly chimed in. “Aur main… bas apna husband maangne.”

(And me… I’m just here to ask for my husband.)

Her words made both Avni and the pandit laugh lightly, the sound echoing warmly within the temple walls.

“Laiye, hum aapki madad kar dete hain,” Avni offered sincerely, stepping forward to help.

(Let us help you, then.)

“Theek hai,” the pandit agreed with a nod.

(Alright.)

Together, Avni and Pooja began arranging the offerings and flowers, their hands moving with care and reverence. The temple felt even more alive as the girls worked—petals of marigold scattered over the stone floor, incense sticks spreading their fragrance through the air, and the faint chiming of bells lingering in the background.

******

“Yeh lijiye, pandit ji. Kuch chadawa layi thi main,” Avni said, holding out the items she had brought.

(Here, Pandit ji. I had brought some offerings.)

He took them gratefully and placed them at the feet of the idol of Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati. The sight of the divine pair—Shiva calm and steady, Parvati serene and graceful—seemed to cast a soothing glow upon the dimly lit sanctum.

Pooja and Avni then stood side by side, pressing their palms together, eyes closed. In the silence of the mandir, each whispered their own prayers of gratitude and hope.

Avni’s heart beat a little faster as she began hers. Thank you, Shiv ji, Mata Parvati ji. Most people come to you asking for a love partner, but I… I asked for success in my career. My situation sometimes makes me feel unworthy of even that, so I rarely ask for anything more. My work is my love for now. Thank you for blessing me with success in it. I pray you keep the same grace upon me for the times ahead. And… forgive me for not visiting for long. It was just too much work.

When she finished, she lowered her hands slowly, her chest rising and falling with a quiet sigh.

Just then, a familiar, bright voice pierced through the hushed serenity.

“Pandit ji, my sixteen Somvar vrat is going to complete by this coming week. After that, how much time will it take for my ideal guy to reach me?” Pooja’s tone carried her usual mischief, though beneath it hid the earnestness of a girl who still believed that devotion could bring love to her doorstep.

Avni couldn’t help but chuckle lightly, turning her head to glance at her friend.

“I’m asking for real,” Pooja insisted, narrowing her eyes at Avni for laughing at her.

“Mil jayega, sabr ka phal meetha hota hai,” Pandit ji replied with a calm smile, handing her a piece of prasad.

(You will get him, the fruit of patience is always sweet.)

Avni pressed her lips together, hiding another smile, as the pandit turned to her.

“And you, Avni beta… your fasts?” he asked, his tone gentle, like he already knew her answer.

Before Avni could even open her mouth, Pooja jumped in mischievously. “Yeh to har Somvar rakh leti hai. Par acha pati paane ki intentions se nahi, sirf bhakti ke liye.”

(She keeps every Monday fast, but not with the intention of getting a good husband—only for devotion.)

Avni shot her a warning glance, but the pandit chuckled knowingly.

“Jo kuch nahin maangta, usse sab kuch mil jaata hai,” he said simply, offering Avni her share of prasad.

(Those who ask for nothing, end up receiving everything.)

But Pooja, never one to let things go, leaned forward again. “Waise pandit ji, aapke hisaab se hamari Avni ke liye kaisa ladka sahi rahega?”

(So pandit ji, according to you, what kind of boy would be right for our Avni?)

Avni’s eyes widened, and she immediately nudged Pooja, silently pleading with her to shut up. Her gaze was sharp, but her friend only grinned wider.

The pandit only smiled and looked thoughtful for a moment. “Avni betiya ke liye toh hamare Bhole jaisa bhola-bhala hi accha rahega. Jiska mann isi ki tarah saaf hoga.”

(For Avni, someone innocent and pure-hearted like Lord Shiva would be good. Someone whose heart is as clean as hers.)

“No, pandit ji!” Pooja jumped in again dramatically. “Yeh bhi bholi hai, woh bhi bhola hoga, toh duniya inki chatni bana ke kha jayegi!”

(No, pandit ji! She’s innocent too, if the boy is also innocent, then the world will crush them both like ants!)

“Pooja…” Avni warned, her voice low but sharp, embarrassment painting her cheeks pink.

The pandit chuckled softly, clearly entertained by their back-and-forth.

“Toh phir, aur kaisa ladka chahiye tumhe apni dost ke liye?” he asked Pooja with a twinkle in his eye.

(Then tell me, what kind of boy do you want for your friend?)

Avni sighed and shook her head. “Yeh toh aise hi bolti rehti hai.”

(She just talks nonsense.)

“Aise thoda!” Pooja protested, lifting her chin. “Mujhse poochho toh aisa chahiye jo na sirf sabka muh band kare, balki iska bhi, jab yeh khud ko judge kare. Bhola-bhala nahin chalega, gusse wala chalega!”

(It’s not nonsense! If you ask me, she needs someone who can shut everyone up, even her, when she judges herself. Not an innocent one, but someone with fire in him!)

Avni blinked, surprised by the intensity in her friend’s tone.

“Bilkul bhole ke Rudra avatar ki tarah. Jo jala de sabko, agar unke prem ko kuch ho ya koi kuch kahe!” Pooja continued passionately, waving her hands as though painting the image in the air.

(Just like the fierce form of Lord Shiva—someone who would burn the world down if their love was questioned or threatened!)

Avni crossed her arms, trying to mask her discomfort. “Yeh zyada hi fantasies nahin kar rahi tu?” she asked flatly.

(Aren’t you fantasizing a little too much?)

“Fantasy nahin, sach main chahti hoon aisa ho,” Pooja said firmly.

(It’s not fantasy, I really want this for you.)

Avni shook her head, exhaling. “Nahi, mujhe gusse wala ladka nahin chahiye.”

(No, I don’t want an angry type of boy.)

“Pagli, tujpe thodi gussa karega! Tere liye gussa karega,” Pooja replied, her tone softening.

(Silly girl, he won’t get angry at you—he’ll get angry for you.)

This time, it wasn’t only Pooja’s words, but the weight of silence that followed which made Avni’s heart shift. The pandit nodded slowly.

“Sahi keh rahi ho tum. Avni, he nahi balki har ladki ke liye aisa hi jeevan saathi hona chahiye. Jo na sirf saaf dil ka ho aur kapat se door ho, balki aisa bhi jo jaane ke apne jeevan saathi ke liye kahan ladna hai, aur kahan uske saath khada rehna hai.”

(She’s right. For any girl, the right life partner should not only be pure-hearted and free from deceit, but also someone who knows when to fight for her and when to stand by her side.)

Avni lowered her gaze, her fingers tightening around the prasad in her hand. For a moment, she let the words sink in, though her heart resisted their sweetness.

“Chahat toh sab ki hoti hai, pandit ji… puri kisi kisi ki hoti hai,” she said quietly.

(Everyone has desires, pandit ji… but only a few see them fulfilled.)

Her voice was steady, but her heart trembled.

The pandit reached forward, placing a fatherly hand over hers. His touch was warm, grounding. “Beta, pray karo. Jis tarah tumhare project mein success mili, waise hi yeh bhi mil jaayega. Aur mil gaya toh use yahan lekar aana mat bhoolna.”

(Child, pray. Just as you will find success in your project, you will also find this. And when you do, don’t forget to bring him here.)

Avni’s lips curved into a small, reluctant smile. “Ji,” she replied softly.

The pandit nodded, rising to leave. “Accha, main aata  hoon,” he said warmly before walking away.

Avni turned back to the idols of Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati, their serene faces glowing in the golden light of the aarti lamps. She stared, her heart heavy with words she dared not speak aloud.

In her mind, her thoughts spilled out like a whisper. I rarely played for a man. The taunts of society made me believe I should accept whatever I get. But sometimes, I wish… But should I pray? What if I pray… and still don’t get him? What if I ask, and God says no?

The fear tightened in her chest. Her lips parted, but no prayer left them.

Her phone buzzed suddenly in her hand, jolting her back to the present. The screen lit up with a message

“Let’s go! WE ARE LATE " avni said to Pooja almost dragging her out .

“Pray kar le pati ke liye!” Pooja teased, nudging her.

(At least pray for your husband!)

“Chal ab,” Avni muttered, walking ahead.

(Come on now.)

“Okay, fine!” Pooja said, throwing her hands up, before bowing quickly for a last greeting to the idols.

Avni only offered one last glance at Shiva and Parvati, her eyes softer than before, though her lips still held no words. She left without praying for a husband, bound by fear. She didn’t know that prayers weren’t always spoken aloud. Sometimes, the ache in the heart itself became one.

And she didn’t know—her fate had already set into motion. Somewhere, not too far from her world, the man she feared to pray for was already on his way. Not just the kind she thought she wanted, not just the kind Pooja imagined, not just the kind pandit ji described…  someone who would make her realize her worth beyond every insecurity she had carried for years.

As the temple bells echoed one last time behind her, Avni walked out into the evening light, unaware that love—unyielding, fiery, and tender—was about to step into her life.

Author note: So how was it?🙃