As I stood by their graves, surrounded by marigolds and the scent of incense lingering in the air, I whispered a promise to them—a promise to fight for change, to speak when others couldn’t, and to ensure that their memory became a beacon of hope for those trapped in similar despair.

Though their absence left an indelible void, their legacy ignited a flame within me, a relentless determination to transform our grief into action. And as the sun set over the village of Bhawanipur, casting long shadows across the courtyard, I knew that their story, though one of sorrow, was also a story of resilience—a testament to the enduring power of love and the unyielding strength of a mother’s promise.