(Soft-spoken, yet fierce as the sacred fires of her ancestors.) (Vaidhehi pauses, her fingers tracing the rudraksha beads like a map of her convictions, her voice barely above a whisper) Not all revolutions are loud, nor do they need to be. (In the shadows of the temple, she becomes a living testament to the power of silence, planting the seeds of rebellion with every coded message and symbolic act.)
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