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ALL INDIA

ASPIRING WRITER's

AWARD

Vatsla Singh

REGISTRATION ID

B6485

YOUR FINAL SCORE IS IN BETWEEN

9.21 - 9.75

IFHINDIA CONGRATULATE YOU FOR BEING IN THE TOP 10 FINALISTS.
YOUR FINAL SCORE WILL BE ANNOUNCED IN THE AWARD CEREMONY.

1. THE TITLE WINNER SCORE MUST BE MORE THAN 9.70 WHO WILL BE  WINNING 1,50,000/- CASH PRIZE & YOU MAY BE ONE OF THEM FOR SURE BECAUSE OUR FINAL WINNER IS IN BETWEEN THOSE TOP 10 FINALISTS INCLUDING YOU. 
2. SINCE YOU ARE ONE OF THOSE TOP 10 FINALIST YOU WILL BE GETTING EXCLUSIVE GIFT COUPON WORTH 5000/- EACH
(Note : You must participate either in ONLINE EVENT or OFFLINE EVENT without fail to get your AWARD BENEFITS)
3. ALL TOP 10 FINALIST INCLUDING YOU MUST PARTICIPATE IN THE MEGA EVENT EITHER OFFLINE OR ONLINE BECAUSE EVEN YOU MAY BE THE ONE WHO WIN THE TITLE FOR SURE.
4. INCASE YOU ARE NOT WILLING TO PARTICIPATE IN THE MEGA EVENT/ AWARD CEREMONY EITHER OFFLINE OR ONLINE then your journey in the contest will end here. HOWEVER YOU WILL STILL RECEIVE THE BEST 25 WRITERS BENEFITS but you will not get any benefits for being in the TOP 10 incase you quit from the contest hereafter.


click on the below link to know more information about the FINAL ROUND



 

Written By

Vatsla Singh

The Priest Who Taught a Lesson

Tapasya was always in a hurry.

She had dreams, ambitions, and aspirations, like most young people her age. She was twenty-three, fresh out of college, and brimming with ideas about how she was going to conquer the world. Her morning commute to work became a daily ritual of rushing past people, absorbed in her thoughts about presentations, deadlines, and the endless lists she carried in her mind.

But there was one constant in her hurried mornings, something that tapped at her consciousness even if she didn’t pay it full attention. She passed an old, stone temple every single day. It was a small, modest structure, the kind of temple that people in her bustling city often ignored in favor of the more grandiose, tourist-attracting shrines. It sat quietly at the corner of a narrow lane, weathered by time and the passage of thousands of lives that never paused for a second look. Except Tapasya, who—although always in a rush—found her gaze lingering on the ancient temple almost every day.

The temple had a distinct charm, something serene and sacred that contrasted with the noise and chaos surrounding it. Its sandstone walls were cracked and stained by the monsoon rains. Small patches of moss had found a home in the crevices. But the heart of the temple lay within—an old priest, who often sat cross-legged at its entrance.

Tapasya had noticed him many times, sitting there with a gentle smile that seemed as ancient as the temple itself. He was frail, with a deeply wrinkled face, a white beard that brushed against his thin chest, and eyes that sparkled with kindness and wisdom. The priest was always dressed in simple saffron robes, his hands resting on his lap, silently watching the world go by.

At first, Tapasya’s thoughts about him were fleeting. I should visit one day, she would think, the idea passing through her mind like a breeze, only to be pushed aside by the busyness of her life. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, yet every morning she would walk past him, thinking to herself, Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week.

The priest never waved her over, never beckoned, but there was something in his calm presence that stirred a quiet voice in her heart. He’s waiting. But what for? she would ask herself. But she never stopped. Never made time. Life was just too busy.

***

Time moved on, as it always does, in its relentless march. Three years passed by like a blink, and yet everything had changed for Tapasya. She was twenty-six now, still driven, still chasing her dreams, but now her dreams had expanded. She had switched jobs, earned two promotions, and was beginning to make a name for herself in her field. She had fallen in and out of love during this time, experienced the highs and lows of friendships, and even faced her first major failure at work. Life had become more complex, more layered.

But the temple and the priest? They remained the same—constant and unchanging.

Every day, Tapasya still walked by the small temple. Every day, she saw the priest sitting there, his peaceful demeanor never faltering, his age slowly marking itself on his body. His hands trembled more now, and his eyes seemed to sink deeper into his skull. The kindness in his gaze, however, never waned.

She would still think, I really should visit. The thought came with more urgency now, a vague sense of guilt that had started creeping in. How many times had she promised herself she would stop by? How many times had she pushed that thought away in favor of more “important” things? Deadlines. Projects. Dinner plans with friends. And yet, that temple and the priest had always been there, patiently waiting.

There was something about the way the priest sat, never rushing, never demanding attention, that tugged at her. Why doesn’t he ever call out to people? she wondered. He seemed content to let the world pass him by. The priest looked like someone who had lived through the world’s noise and now preferred silence, someone who had learned the value of patience, of waiting for things to come to him in their own time.

But time, Tapasya realized, was something none of us have in abundance.

It was a realization that came to her slowly, over the course of many rushed mornings. Time slipped through her fingers like grains of sand, and the more she tried to hold onto it, the faster it seemed to vanish. There were days when she would catch herself staring at the priest for longer than usual, feeling an inexplicable sense of unease. But she never stopped. She never walked through the temple gates.

Tomorrow, she told herself. Always tomorrow.

***

One day, Tapasya’s routine was broken.

She was running late, which was nothing new, but the city felt different that morning. There was a strange stillness in the air, the kind that comes just before a storm. When she approached the temple, she noticed something immediately—something was off.

The gate was closed.

Tapasya slowed her steps, feeling a ripple of confusion pass through her. The temple had always been open, always welcoming. The priest had always been there. But today, the ancient wooden doors were shut, the weathered paint peeling away, revealing the bare wood underneath. She stared at the gate for a moment, unsure of what to make of it, until her eyes caught sight of a small board hanging near the entrance.

Her heart skipped a beat as she approached it.

In neat, simple letters, the board read:

“The temple will remain closed. Our beloved priest passed away due to old age. May his soul rest in peace.”

Tapasya was taken aback, the words sinking into her like stones thrown into a still pond. The ripples of shock, guilt, and regret spread through her, leaving her feeling hollow. The priest had died. He was gone.

The thought seemed absurd. He had always been there, a part of her routine, a part of her mornings. He had been a constant presence, and now…he was simply gone. And Tapasya had never spoken to him. Never visited the temple. Never taken the time.

The guilt hit her all at once, a wave of regret so strong that it made her stomach turn. She hadn’t known him, not really, and yet the loss felt personal, as though she had lost something irreplaceable. She stood there, staring at the closed gate, feeling the weight of missed opportunities pressing down on her chest.

Why didn’t I stop? Why didn’t I talk to him, even once?

The questions echoed in her mind, and for the first time, she couldn’t hide behind the excuse of busyness. She had always had time—she had just never prioritized it. She had let life’s noise drown out the quiet moments that truly mattered.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she stood there, in front of the closed temple, mourning not only the priest but something deeper—something she couldn’t quite put into words.

***

For the next few days, Tapasya couldn’t shake the feeling of regret that clung to her like a shadow. It followed her everywhere, a constant reminder of the opportunity she had let slip through her fingers. She couldn’t understand why the loss of a man she had never spoken to affected her so deeply, but it did.

She felt as if the priest’s death had opened a door inside her, a door she had been avoiding for years. Through that door, she saw her own life in a new light. How many people had she rushed past without really seeing them? How many moments had she let go of, telling herself she would return to them later? How many times had she said, Maybe tomorrow, only for tomorrow to never come?

The temple had always been there, and so had the priest. But now, the charm was gone. And with them, the chance to make things right had vanished as well.

Tapasya couldn’t undo what had happened, but she could change what came next. She made a quiet promise to herself, standing in front of the temple gates one last time: I won’t let this happen again. I won’t keep waiting for tomorrow to come.

From that day forward, Tapasya vowed to value the people in her life more. She promised herself she wouldn’t take anyone for granted, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant their presence in her life might be. She would make time for those moments, those conversations, that she had once brushed aside. Because in the end, those were the moments that mattered the most.

Tapasya found herself returning to the temple in the days that followed, even though it remained closed. She would stand outside the gate, her hands folded in prayer, and think of the old priest who had silently waited, day after day, for someone to stop. She had been too late to be that person for him, but she wouldn’t let that happen again.

As the weeks passed, Tapasya started living her life differently. She slowed down, just enough to notice the small things—the smile of the barista who made her coffee every morning, the kind eyes of the security guard at her office, the way her mother’s voice softened when they spoke on the phone. She reached out to old friends, made time for conversations, and began appreciating the people who had always been there, quietly supporting her without demanding attention.


***

Months after the priest’s passing, the temple finally reopened. A new priest had taken residence, a much younger man with the same gentle eyes and calm presence. He was probably the older priest’s son. Tapasya visited on the first day it opened, stepping through the gates for the first time since she had made her promise.

The temple hadn’t changed much, but it felt different to her now—more sacred, more significant. She knelt before the deity, her hands folded, and closed her eyes in prayer. But her thoughts weren’t just with the god before her. They were with the old priest, the one who had waited patiently, silently, until his final breath.

As she stood up to leave, Tapasya felt a weight lift from her heart. She had missed her chance with him, but she had gained something far more valuable in return. She had learned a lesson that would stay with her for the rest of her life—a lesson about time, about patience, and about the importance of truly seeing the people who crossed her path.

The priest’s absence had left a void, but in that void, Tapasya had found herself. And that, she realized, was his final gift to her.

---

As the sun set on the horizon that evening, casting a golden glow over the city, Tapasya walked away from the temple with a peaceful heart. She no longer rushed through life with the same frantic energy. She had learned to slow down, to breathe, to appreciate the moments in between.

And every now and then, as she passed the temple on her way to work, she would glance at the new priest sitting quietly at the entrance, a gentle smile on his face.

Maybe today, she would think, a soft smile playing on her lips. Because she had learned the most important lesson of all—tomorrow was no longer a promise she was willing to wait for.

PLEASE CHECK YOUR PHOTO

Vatsla Singh

ABOVE SHARED PHOTOGRAPH WILL BE USED IN THE CERTIFICATE AND DONT WORRY IF THE ALLIGNMENT IS NOT CORRECT. IT WILL BE CORRECTED DURING CERTIFICATE DESIGN. 

ALSO THE NAME MENTIONED BELOW THE PHOTOGRAPH WILL BE WRITTEN ON CERTIFICATE. 

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