Near the steps of the ghat, an old wooden boat was tied loosely to a post.
Inside it sat an elderly boatman, a gamcha wrapped around his head, an oar resting in his weathered hands.
Yash stepped forward.
"Uncle, will you take us out on the river for a while?"
The boatman looked up, studying them carefully. There was curiosity in his eyes.
"At this hour?" he asked.
Jesmine answered softly, "We need to go… just for a little while."
The old man frowned slightly.
"The fog is heavy tonight. Once we reach midstream, it's hard to tell direction."
Yash gave a faint smile.
"Our direction is clear."
The boatman remained silent for a few seconds, as though weighing something unseen. Then he nodded.
"Alright. Get in."
The rope was untied.
The boat drifted away from the ghat, the oar slicing through the water with a steady rhythm. Around them stretched only fog and the pale glow of moonlight trembling on the river's surface.
After a while, the boatman began speaking casually.
"Are you newly married?"
Jesmine looked at Yash and smiled faintly.
"Maybe… in another lifetime."
The boatman chuckled.
"If there is love, life becomes beautiful."
Yash suddenly asked, his voice quieter than before,
"Uncle… can someone still love after they've left this world?"
For a brief moment, the boatman's hands paused on the oar.
"Love belongs to the soul, son… not to the body."
A sudden cold breeze swept across the river.
The fog thickened around them, swallowing the distant shore.
Jesmine reached for Yash's hand.
"Are you afraid?"
Yash shook his head slowly.
"No. For the first time… I feel peaceful."
The boat continued drifting deeper toward the middle of the river, where the world seemed to fade into white silence.