One sunny morning, Anika pedaled her bicycle to the garden, her basket stuffed with a sketchbook and mango lassis her mother had packed. As she wandered past the zoo, she noticed something unusual—a massive, ancient Champa tree with golden flowers that seemed to glow. Anika had visited the garden countless times, but this tree felt… different

In the heart of Vadodara, where the Vishwamitri River sparkled under the sun, lived a curious ten-year-old girl named Anika. She lived in a cozy house near Sayajirao University, surrounded by old banyan trees and bustling markets. Anika loved exploring, and her favorite spot was the sprawling Sayaji Garden, with its colorful flowers, chattering monkeys, and the grand Baroda Museum.

One sunny morning, Anika pedaled her bicycle to the garden, her basket stuffed with a sketchbook and mango lassis her mother had packed. As she wandered past the zoo, she noticed something unusual—a massive, ancient Champa tree with golden flowers that seemed to glow. Anika had visited the garden countless times, but this tree felt… different. Its branches swayed, even though there was no breeze, and a soft hum, like a lullaby, floated from its leaves.

Intrigued, Anika parked her bike and tiptoed closer. “Hello?” she whispered, feeling a bit silly. To her surprise, the tree’s leaves rustled louder, and a warm voice echoed in her mind, “Greetings, young explorer. I am Chitra, the Spirit of the Champa Tree. Only those with kind hearts can hear me.”

Anika’s eyes widened. “A talking tree? In Vadodara?” she gasped.

Chitra chuckled, her flowers shimmering. “I’ve stood here for centuries, watching over this city. But today, I need your help. A precious gem, the Star of Vadodara, is hidden in the garden. It keeps the river and forests alive, but it’s been missing for years. Will you find it?”

Anika nodded eagerly. “I’m in! Where do I start?”

Chitra’s branches pointed toward the Baroda Museum. “Seek clues where history sleeps,” she said. “But beware—the gem is guarded by riddles and a mischievous langur.”

Anika dashed to the museum, her sneakers pattering on the stone path. Inside, the air smelled of old books and polished wood. She wandered past ancient sculptures and paintings of Maharaja Sayajirao III, searching for anything unusual. Near a display of royal jewels, she spotted a dusty plaque with a riddle carved into it:

“By the river’s bend, where peacocks dance,

Find the stone that hums with a golden trance.”

Anika scribbled the riddle in her sketchbook. “The river’s bend… that must be near Kamati Baug!” she thought. She hurried out, dodging a group of schoolkids on a field trip, and ran toward the Vishwamitri River, where peacocks often strutted near the garden’s edge.

As she reached the riverbank, a cheeky langur with a silver tail swung down from a tree, snatching her sketchbook. “Hey!” Anika shouted, chasing the monkey as it leaped across branches. The langur stopped near a cluster of rocks, dropping the sketchbook and chattering loudly. Anika caught her breath and noticed one rock glowing faintly, humming like Chitra’s tree.

She knelt and brushed dirt off the rock. It wasn’t a rock at all—it was a smooth, golden gem the size of a mango, pulsing with light. “The Star of Vadodara!” Anika whispered. But as she reached for it, the langur screeched, and the ground rumbled. A shadowy mist rose from the river, forming a figure—a grumpy old spirit in a turban.

“Who dares touch my gem?” the spirit boomed.

Anika stood tall, clutching the gem. “I’m Anika, and this gem belongs to Vadodara. It keeps the river and forests alive!”

The spirit sneered. “Solve my final riddle, or the gem stays mine:

‘I am taken from a mine and shut up in a wooden case, from which I am never released, and yet I am used by many.’ What am I?”

Anika’s mind raced. She thought of Vadodara’s markets, its craftsmen, and the museum’s artifacts. Then it hit her. “Pencil lead!” she exclaimed. “It’s taken from a mine, put in a wooden pencil, and used without ever being removed!”

The spirit’s eyes widened, then softened. “Clever child,” he said, fading into mist. “The gem is yours.”

Anika ran back to the Champa tree, the gem glowing brighter in her hands. Chitra’s leaves shimmered with joy. “Well done, Anika. Place the gem at my roots.” Anika did, and the tree’s glow spread, making the garden’s flowers bloom brighter and the river sparkle like diamonds. Even the langur clapped its paws, as if celebrating.

That evening, Anika biked home, her heart full. Vadodara felt more alive than ever—the birds sang louder, and the air smelled sweeter. She told her parents about her adventure, though they thought it was one of her wild stories. But Anika knew the truth. Every time she passed the Champa tree, it rustled, and Chitra’s voice whispered, “Thank you, guardian of Vadodara.”