The Haveli Courtyard

The haveli’s sun-drenched courtyard shimmered under the golden gaze of the Rajasthani afternoon. Lush bougainvillaea spilled from intricately carved balconies, and the air was thick with the scent of spices, old stone, and summer.

Mugdha, a young Indian girl draped in a vibrant lehenga that danced with every movement, rushed across the courtyard, her anklets tinkling like silver chimes in the breeze. Her face glowed with youthful mischief, eyes sparkling beneath the embroidered veil draped lightly over her head.

Her laughter echoed through the haveli as she ran back and forth, humming to herself in a cheerful, singsong voice.

"Maa sa..!"

"Ouch! Arey Marha Khatu Shyam Ji!"

She collided headfirst into an elderly woman carrying a thali brimming with freshly ground spices. The tray tumbled from the woman’s hands, cascading a colourful mosaic of turmeric, cumin, and red chilli onto the stone floor.

The woman—a stern matriarch in her late fifties—glared down at her. Mugdha’s face crumpled into a guilty pout. She immediately bent down to gather the fallen spices, her bangles clinking softly.

"Maaf kar dijiye Maa sa…"
(Forgive me, Maa sa...)

Together, they scrambled to salvage what they could. Most of it was saved, though a few streaks of red and yellow still stained the sandstone.

The woman shook her head, sighing in exasperation.

"Heye, kya karu main tumhara? Ab tumhare shaadi ka waqt aa gaya hai, aur tum yahan bachchon ki tarah haveli mein idhar-udhar daud rahi ho!"
(What am I to do with you? It's time for your wedding, and you're still running around this haveli like a child!)

Mugdha frowned, brushing spice dust from her palms.

"Aapko toh bas hamari shaadi ki padi hai..."
(All you care about is my marriage…)

Her voice held a faint tremor of irritation.

"Toh hogi kyun nahi? Puri unnis saal ki hone wali ho iss mahine."
(Why wouldn’t it? You’re turning nineteen this month.)

The woman retrieved the last pinch of turmeric from the floor and stood.

Mugdha's voice rose, filled with quiet defiance.

"Toh kya? Kya har unnis saal ki ladki ki shaadi zaroori hoti hai? Mujhe abhi padhna hai… par aap logon ne toh mera college bhi chhuda diya."
(So what? Does every nineteen-year-old girl have to be married off? I still want to study... but you people already made me quit college.)

The courtyard fell abruptly silent.

A chilling voice cut through the air, halting both women in their tracks.

"Zubaan zyada mat chala, chhori…!"
(Don’t talk too much, girl...!)

The words came like a whipcrack—sharp, controlled, and dangerously quiet. Mugdha's gaze dropped to the ground.

The voice belonged to none other than her Bari Maa, Kamini.

"Jiji, isse maaf kar dijiye… hum baat kar rahe the—"
(Jiji, forgive her… I was just talking—)

"Tanne bolne ka kisne kaha, Kusum?"
(Who gave you permission to speak, Kusum?)

Kusum immediately fell silent, eyes downcast.

Kamini turned her attention to Mugdha, her eyes cold as steel.

"Aur tu— aaj raat bhookhi soyegi. Zubaan kaafi chalne lagi hai teri aaj kal. Aur haveli ke baahar jaana— band. Apne kamre mein jaa. Aur mujhe dobara apna chehra mat dikhana… chhori."
(And you—tonight, you’ll sleep hungry. Your tongue has become far too loose. From today, you are not to step foot outside this haveli. Go to your room. And don’t let me see your face again... girl.)

Mugdha turned and walked away, shoulders tense, anger simmering beneath the surface. Kusum hesitated, then followed Kamini back inside.

Kamini muttered under her breath, her voice like venom laced with false sweetness.

"Iski jaldi se shaadi karwani padegi. Bohot uddan bharne lagi hai. Ab toh pankh bhi nikal aaye hain… kaatne padenge."
(She needs to be married off soon. She's begun to fly too high. Her wings have started to grow... they must be clipped.)

Kusum simply nodded, silently bearing the weight of the moment.

"Aaj hi Munna ke Baba sa se baat karti hoon."
(I’ll speak to Munna’s father today itself.)

Kamini stalked off, leaving Kusum alone in the kitchen to finish the chores she never lifted a finger for. True to form, Kamini was arrogant, entitled, and lazy—a queen without a crown, ruling over a palace of shadows.

Later that Night

At the long dining table, the male members of the haveli sat for dinner. Platters of steaming dal, ghee-soaked rotis, and pickles adorned the polished wood.

Only one chair sat empty—Kamini’s son, Sahil’s.

Manohar, the family patriarch, looked up from his plate.

"Where is Sahil?"

Kamini, ever composed, responded smoothly.

"Ji... apne dost ke ghar gaya hai."
(He’s at his friend’s house.)

Manohar narrowed his eyes.

"Why does he need to stay at a friend’s house?"

Kamini gave a saccharine smile.

"He’s an adult. What can I say? Perhaps it’s time to bring his bride home to make him stay."

Manohar said nothing.

He knew his son too well. No bride would change what Sahil had become. A spoiled, arrogant man-child. He wasn’t at a friend’s house. No—he was likely at the kotha, indulging himself with courtesans and alcohol.

"If he comes home tonight, tell him I want to see him."

Manohar’s tone left no room for discussion. He rose and walked away, leaving the rest of the table cloaked in uneasy silence.

Sneak peek - Chapter 2

"What were you doing last night?"

Akhand, caught off guard, fumbled.

"Baba… I was at a friend’s place."

Pratap let out a humourless laugh.

"Oh really? You have friends now?"

He mocked, his voice cold enough to draw frost.