Hidden Flames

"Arjun, did I ever tell you about the time I spotted a peacock dancing on this very roof?" Grandma waved a nimble hand upward as she assembled platters of sweets around her. The mix of cardamom, ghee, and warm laughter infused the air. The sun had just begun dipping beyond the horizon, sprinkling the village with a soft glow, and grandma was already reminiscing. "You have, Dadi. Many times." Arjun chuckled, leaning against the clay wall. "Is everything ready? Scampering kids and bustling villagers don't delay the festival's start." "Almost." Grandma winked. "Run along, we're just wrapping up." As Arjun stepped out into the village square, lanterns dotted the winding lanes, each flickering flame reflecting a rainbow of colors on the cobblestones. If there was one thing putting a smile on his face more than family stories, it was Diwali. And today, the festival held a secret sway over the village of Amarwan. Gathered in front of the temple, two men spoke in hushed tones like conspiring whisperers in winter—Ramesh and his brother, Shashank. "...vanished," Shashank's anxious voice drifted through the prattle of festival-goers. Arjun's ears perked up. Invisible to them, he hovered at the edge of the lantern's reach. Was someone missing during Diwali? "But why now? Ramesh," Shashank's voice eddied closer, "It's been quiet for years. Do you think..." "Shhh," Ramesh interrupted. "Not here. Later." Arjun’s curiosity flickered like the festival's flames. The Kumar brothers might be keen businessmen, but they weren't known for their zeal during family gatherings, which made their jittery chatter stand out. Arjun decided he’d slip away after dinner to do some sleuthing. When the feast was over and guests relished the hues of fireworks over the sky, Arjun craftily edged out just as a cracker shrieked overhead, masking his departure. Taking a winding path toward Ramesh's shop, Arjun ducked behind the rose bush beneath a barred window. The shop was laden with sweets, reminding him of Grandma’s laddoos. Voices danced through the air: "You’re sure she’s missing?" Shashank questioned. "Positive," responded Ramesh, a tremor enhancing the certainty of his voice. "Deepak’s daughter was last seen near the old well." Arjun's heart thudded like the beat of the festival's drums. Deepak, the reclusive blacksmith, rarely mixed with others unless necessary due to a past scandal that painted his reputation like a stygian shadow. Arjun thought it strange she'd be there—no lamps, no decorations, only history's cold breath. "Should we report it?" Shashank whispered; by now, even the night seemed to hold its breath. "Wait till tomorrow," Ramesh declared. "Give it a chance." With Arjun's sleuth syndrome triggered, his footsteps back home were tinctured with daydreams and deducing thoughts. If the villagers knew this, it could send unsettling shockwaves through their celebrations. The following morning, before the sun began staining the horizon with dawn's colors, Arjun was on the trail. He ventured through native trees to reach that old, infamous well. Empty save for echoes of forgotten tales. He found her bracelet—its beads winking affirmations under the sun's newborn rays. "Arjun," a familiar voice sounded. Deepak appeared, weathered yet strong, a bit of gray brushing his temples. "Could you keep it quiet? At least until this ends?" "I will, Deepak Uncle." Arjun nodded, respecting a silent vow in his gaze. The festival faded slowly into the backdrop, whispers of a scandalous disappearance spun on the lips of revelers long after sunset. Arjun found pieces of gossip becoming legend, but the truth shared itself only between the hallowed few who remembered how a daughter once got caught beneath shadows—resolved to not sweep secrets underground ever again. Arjun fell asleep that night, an unexpected warmth knitting itself around his shoulders—a flame that whispered of hidden tales, of family, and just about everything in between. And he smiled, knowing that wasn't a duty, but rather a gift to hold close in his heart.