• PROLOGUE

    March 7. A little after midnight. The slums of India.

    "The baby stopped crying fast, mem'sab," the local midwife said. The old woman wiped the sweat off the sleeping mother's forehead. "Very lucky sign. Very aspicious."

    Sanju, the new mother's sister, picked up the sleeping b*****d child and looked at the baby girl with contempt.

    "This thing has ruined my sister's life and soiled my family's name," she replied in disgust. "The child didn't even have the decency to be born a boy so that she could bring a shred of dignity with her birth."

    The midwife said nothing. Her weathered eyes had seen many births like this one. She pitied the new life, whose only crime was being born into a cruel world.

    Sanju thrust the baby into the midwife's arms. "Get rid of her. I don't care how or where. Just do it. I'll pay you extra."

    "You won't talk to your sister about this?"

    "No," she said. "She and I discussed it before. We both agreed that it would be for the best."

    "She might change her mind when she sees her baby."

    "I refuse to condemn her with that monster," Sanju snapped coldly, her voice ringing with finality. "That baby has nothing to do with this family. She'll never live up to be anything."

    Reluctantly, the old woman left the meager excuse for a house with the child.

    The midwife decided to take the baby to an orphanage. It might have been easier to dump her in the garbage bin or leave her in some secluded corner of the city, but the midwife reeled back with disgust from even the thought. She flagged down a rickshaw and directed the driver to an orphanage in the city. She knew it somewhat well.

    She told the driver to stop and wait for her when she approached her desination. She knocked three times before a haggard, mean-looking woman came to the door.

    The haggard, mean-looking woman clucked her tongue in dissapproval when she saw the little bundle in the midwife's arms.

    "Another one?" she asked with distaste. "Very well, give her here. And I assume she will be anonoymous as well?"

    The midwife nodded and handed the child over to the soulless woman.

    She hestitated for a moment and said, "Tonight is her very first in this world."

    "A newborn, eh? She'll be lucky to make it a week here with the flu going about."

    The midwife nodded and turned to leave. It had been a tiring night and she had to collect her earnings from the mother of the unfortunate child.

    "Wait!" the haggard, mean-looking lady said. "What is her name?"

    The midwife paused, but didn't turn around.

    "Arya," the midwife said. Arya, meaning the truthful one. "Her name is Arya."

    And so the old woman turned her back to hopeless, helpless little Arya, who was born without a penny to her name of brethern to claim as her own. The little girl who everyone thought would never live up to be anything.

    I get full copyright over this. You better not try to pull anything. pirate