1st August – Monday – Early Morning
The clouds had been grumbling since dawn, but in Nandanpur, that was normal during monsoon. What wasn't normal was the sudden blackout just as the clock struck 4:45 AM — fifteen minutes before their daily scooter ride to Devgarh.
The fans stopped.
Lights flickered and died.
And then, without warning — BOOM.
A transformer near the school road exploded in the distance. Every home in Nandanpur shuddered as the wind picked up like an angry drumbeat.
The Call That Changed Everything
Rajesh Kumar had already left to check on the farm's fields. Sunita peeked out from their verandah, shielding her eyes from the wind.
Across the street, Vikram Sharma stood with a flashlight, staring at the broken electric pole that blocked half the road.
"Abhay!" he called, "Don't take the east road today — it's flooded!"
Abhay tied his shoelaces quickly and nodded. Neha packed hot parathas into their tiffins even in the dark, muttering, "Can't let them go hungry just because of some storm."
By 5:10 AM, all eight stood near the banyan tree, scooters parked in the rain. The devotion to their extra classes hadn't shaken — but the storm had.
"I saw trees fallen near the Devgarh canal bridge," said Raghav, scanning Google Maps that wasn't loading. "What if the roads are blocked?"
"We'll go through the old ghat path," Ishanvi suggested. "It's a bit muddy but less likely to be blocked."
Vaidehi looked doubtful. "And safer?"
"Together, yes," Ishanvi said firmly.
The Ride Through the Storm
Four scooters. Eight brave hearts. One flooded route.
By the time they passed the halfway point, water levels had started rising around the ghat road. The rain hadn't stopped, and thunder boomed above them like a warning.
The narrow curve of the bridge ahead was slippery.
"Careful!" Aariv yelled, as Meera's scooter slipped slightly.
But Abhay, riding behind her, quickly steered forward and helped stabilize it.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine," Meera whispered, shaken.
Just then, Vivaan's voice rang out. "Wait—do you hear that?"
From below the slope, near the ghat's edge, came a muffled cry.
The Missing Goat and the Mudslide
They rushed to the edge.
A little boy — maybe 5 or 6 years old — stood crying in the mud. He must've wandered off while the elders were still sleeping — or maybe no one noticed in the chaos.
"My goat... she slipped down... please help!"
There was no adult nearby. He must have followed the goat early morning and gotten stuck.
Ishanvi looked at Abhay. One nod was enough.
Raghav stayed back with the kids. "We'll guard the scooters!"
Slipping down carefully, Ishanvi moved toward the frightened goat. But the mud under her foot gave way, and she skidded.
Abhay lunged, catching her by the arm just in time — the downpour now soaking them both.
"You need to stop risking your neck every other day," he muttered.
"And you need to stop catching me every time I fall."
He flushed red but didn't answer.
Together, they helped lift the goat and the child up, covered in dirt.
Village Shaken, Bonds Strengthened
By the time they reached school, soaked and late, Principal Thakur wasn't even mad.
The news of their early morning rescue had already reached school staff through a passing tractor driver who'd seen them.
"Brave and bright," one teacher whispered. "Just like their parents."
In class, Simran handed Ishanvi a towel. "You look like you wrestled the rain and lost."
"I did," she smiled. "But I won the goat."
At Home That Night
Sunita sat with Rajesh, fanning herself in the dim candlelight. The power hadn't returned.
"Ishanvi looked exhausted when she came home," she said, concern in her voice. "But proud. There was something in her eyes today."
"She's growing," Rajesh said quietly. "Like fire. Controlled, but fierce."
Meanwhile, at the Sharmas, Neha scolded gently, "You didn't think of telling us before jumping into a landslide?"
Vikram just smiled. "He's turning out a lot like you."
"Why does that sound like both a compliment and a warning?" Neha smirked.