KISMAT

I still remember the night I was woken by the sound of a baby crying.

As I stepped outside, I froze. Nearly the entire village had gathered near our house. My heart began to race. Had something terrible happened?

Then I saw her.

Wrapped in a small cloth and barely two months old, a baby girl lay crying in someone’s arms. She had been abandoned.

For a moment, nobody spoke. Yet in that silence, something remarkable happened. No one asked where she came from. No one cared about her caste, religion, or family background. All they saw was a child who needed love.

My brother brought her into our home, and the village stood beside us. What began as a night of uncertainty became a story of belonging. We named her Kismat, because it felt as though fate had brought her to us.

Today, she fills our lives with joy. We celebrate her smile, her first steps, and every little milestone. Soon, she will turn one, and while I wish time would slow down, I am grateful for every memory she has given us.

When I think of the India I have lived in, I do not think of headlines or monuments. I think of that night, when an entire village chose compassion over judgment and turned an abandoned child into everyone’s daughter.

This is the India I lived in.

 #IndependenceWritingContest2026