Chutki and Jhumki and the Museum

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Deep in the hush of the world, there is a place. Not a cave, not a forest, but a hall of whispers. Its name is Shantivan, where the oldest quiet lives.

Chutki was a small lantern, round and warm. Her glass belly glowed when she thought hard. She had just learned she could think.

A breeze carried her into Shantivan. The hall stretched long, filled with shelves. Each shelf held something quiet.

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