The air inside the dimly lit room was thick with smoke and laughter. Music thumped low, mixing with the chatter of young men sipping whisky and passing cigarettes. In a corner, Sahil, carefree and reckless, was surrounded by friends, his laugh loud and bold.

The door creaked open, and Akhand stepped in quietly, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on Sahil.

Sahil caught sight of him and grinned, waving him over.

“Arey Akhand bhai, aao aao! Party mein shamil ho jao.”
(Come, Akhand bhai! Join the party.)

Akhand shook his head, smiling faintly but serious.

“Sahil, what is the matter about the land?”

Sahil leaned back, taking a long sip from his glass.

“Bhai, baat to main apne pitaji se karunga. Pehle usse poochna padega.”
(Brother, I’ll talk to my father first. Need to ask him.)

But I am  working so hard for you. Shouldn’t I get some money?

Sahil smirked, glancing at his friends as if showing off.

“Toh le, ek lakh le pehle. Baaki baat baad mein karenge.”
(Then take this—one lakh upfront. We’ll talk the rest later.)

Without hesitation, Akhand pulled out a thick bundle of notes, counting out one lakh and sliding it across the table.

“Yeh le. Dekhte hain baad mein kya hota hai.”
(Here. Let’s see what happens next.)

Sahil caught the money with a grin, the party resuming around him as if nothing serious had happened.

Early Morning

The morning sun spilled golden light over the grand haveli, casting long shadows on the courtyard. The air was still cool, a brief calm before the day’s storm.

Sahil returned home early, his footsteps echoing softly on the marble floor as he entered the main hall. His clothes were rumpled from the night, but his expression was determined.

He found Manohar seated at his ornate desk, looking over some papers. The weight of the household seemed to rest on his shoulders, but his sharp eyes caught Sahil the moment he walked in.

“Bapu sa , kuch zaroori baat karni thi,” Sahil said, stepping forward.
(Papa, I wanted to discuss something important.)

Manohar looked up, his gaze steady but distracted.

“Aaj kuch khaas mehmaan aa rahe hain, Sahil. Baad mein baat karenge.”
(Some important guests are coming today, Sahil . We will talk later.)

Sahil hesitated, wanting to press further, but the tone in his father’s voice was firm—no room for argument.

He nodded, forcing a calm smile.

“Theek hai, Bapu sa . Jo aap kahen.”
(Alright, Baba sa . As you say.)

Manohar gave a brief nod, returning his attention to the papers on his desk as Sahil turned and left the room quietly.

The soft morning light filtered through the latticed windows, casting delicate patterns across the room. The scent of fresh marigolds and sandalwood filled the air.

Mugdha stood before the ornate mirror, draped in a traditional Rajasthani poshak—her saree a rich shade of deep green , embroidered with gold threads that shimmered softly. On her wrists, the green glass bangles her mother had lovingly given her clicked gently as she moved her hands.

She adjusted the chunni over her head, the fabric brushing against her cheek. Her eyes met her reflection—steady, but distant.

She took a slow breath and whispered softly to herself, voice steady but carrying a weight beneath:

“Agar yeh hai jo Bhagwan ne likha hai, toh phir jhelna padega...”
(If this is what God has written for me, then I must face it...)

Her fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the saree.

For a moment, she closed her eyes, gathering strength for the day ahead.

The grand doors of the Bajwa haveli swung open as Chirag and his mother, Lajvanti, arrived. The afternoon sun cast a warm glow on the sandstone walls, highlighting the intricate carvings and the bustling courtyard filled with family members and servants.

Standing at the entrance were Manohar, Chandan, Kamini, Kusum, and even Sahil, who had returned from his night out. Their faces were a mix of anticipation and formality as they stepped forward to welcome the guests.

Manohar clasped Chirag’s hand warmly, while Kamini and Kusum exchanged polite nods with Lajvanti, who held herself with the regal dignity she was known for.

Servants began bringing in trays piled high with gifts—ornate boxes of sweets, beautifully wrapped parcels, and sparkling jewelry.

Everyone was soon seated in the lavish living room. The air smelled of freshly brewed cardamom chai as the servants circulated with silver trays, offering tea and snacks.

Chirag sat quietly beside his mother, his expression calm but reserved. The room buzzed with polite conversation and the subtle undercurrent of negotiations.

After a few moments of quiet sipping, Lajvanti cleared her throat, her voice firm and commanding.

“Ab ladki ko laayein.”
(Now, bring the bride.)

There was a slight rustle in the room as all eyes turned toward the door, waiting for Mugdha’s entrance.

The heavy doors at the far end of the room opened quietly. Kamini and Kusum appeared, each gently holding one of Mugdha’s arms. Mugdha’s steps were hesitant, her eyes cast downward, nerves visible in her every movement.

As they led her forward, Kamini leaned in, her voice low but sharp.

“Dhyaan rakhna, Mugdha. Yeh log bahut ameer hain, bade log hain. Toh jyada baatein mat karna, sharmana. Samjhi?”
(Be careful, Mugdha. These people are very rich, important people. Don’t talk too much, be shy. Understand?)

Mugdha nodded quietly, swallowing hard.

Kusum gave Mugdha a softer, encouraging smile but said nothing.

The two women guided Mugdha toward the center of the room where Chirag, Lajvanti, and the others waited. Mugdha’s heart pounded as she lifted her gaze, meeting Chirag’s lusty  eyes for a fleeting moment before looking away.

The room fell into an expectant silence.

As Mugdha stood nervously in the center of the room, Chirag’s eyes fixed on her, lingering in a way that made her skin crawl. His gaze was heavy, almost hungry—taking in every curve, every movement with a possessive intensity.

Mugdha shifted uncomfortably under his stare, feeling exposed and uneasy.

Across the room, Lajvanti Devi’s sharp eyes were on Mugdha, evaluating silently.

After a pause, she spoke, her voice calm but cutting:

“Kya tumhe pakana aata hai?”
(Do you know how to cook?)

Mugdha nodded quietly.

“Ji she can cook everything and today all this food was cooked by her..!!”

Kamini spoke , she was standing behind Mugdha, who was sitting on a chair.

Lajvanti’s eyes narrowed slightly, then she asked another question.

“Aur kaam-kaj kaise sambhalti ho?”
(And how do you manage household chores?)

“Our daughter is very good with chores, she knows everything from stitching to cooking…!!”

Kamiini again said, this time she rested her hand on Mughd’s shoulder.

Lajvanti waved a hand and said.

“Chalo, thoda chal kar dikhao ki tum achhi tarah se chal sakti ho.”
(Come, walk a little and show that you can walk properly.)

Mugdha hesitated, then took a few tentative steps forward, feeling all eyes on her.

Lajvanti’s gaze then shifted to Mugdha’s hair.

“Tumhare baal kitne lamba hain?”
(How long is your hair?)

Before Mugdha could respond, Kamini interjected with a smirk.

“Bahut lambi aur ghani hain, bahut hi sundar.”
(Very long and thick, very beautiful.)

Lajvanti suddenly stepped forward, took hold of Mugdha’s hair, and gave it a firm tug.

Mugdha gasped, startled but held still.

Lajvanti chuckled softly, the hint of an old memory flickering in her eyes.

“My mother-in-law did the same when she first came to see me.”

Kamini laughed along, a sharp, slightly cruel sound that echoed in the room.

The tension thickened, Mugdha swallowed hard, caught between the scrutiny and the unspoken demands of the gathering.

Mugdha sat quietly, her hands trembling slightly as she replayed the afternoon’s events in her mind. The harsh tug on her hair, the cold stares — it all felt like a nightmare she couldn’t wake from.

Her mother, Kusum, noticed the distress and gently took her hand.

“Ye kaise kar sakte hain, Maa? Woh ladki dhoondhne aaye hain ya kuch aur… jaise koi gudiya? Jab chahein gaaliyan de sakte hain.”
(How could they do this, Maa? Did they come to find a bride or some doll? They abuse whenever they want.)

Kusum placed a finger softly on Mugdha’s lips, shushing her.

“Shh... chup raho. Jiji aur Lajvanti ji aa rahi hain.”

(Keep quite Jiji and Lajvanti ji is coming.)

They both turned their heads toward the entrance just as Kamini and Lajvanti entered the kitchen together, their expressions unreadable but commanding.

Mugdha swallowed her frustration, forcing herself to compose a calm face, while Kusum gave her a steadying squeeze on the shoulder.

Kamini glanced at Mugdha with a proud smile as she spoke, her voice confident and polished.

“Mugdha sab kuch jaanti hai, Lajvanti ji. Woh aapke ghar ki bahu banne layak hai. Sab kuch samajhti hai, ghar ka kaam, sanskaar — sab.”
(Mugdha knows everything, Lajvanti ji.She is worthy to be your bahu. Understands everything — household work, values — everything.)

Lajvanti nodded in agreement, her tone softer but firm.

“Humein us par pura bharosa hai. Aisi bahu chahiye jo parivaar ka maan badhaye.”
(We have full trust in her. We want a bahu who will honor the family.)

Lajvanti gave a small, reassuring smile, looking at Kusum.

“Aap chinta maat kariye . Sab achha hoga.”
(Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.)

Kusum looked at her daughter, trying to believe the words, though worry still lingered in her eyes.

Akhand stood in the dusty village square, surrounded by a few wary locals. His eyes scanned the faces, searching for any hint of help or advice.

“Bajwa parivaar ke khilaf main kya kar sakta hoon? Apna zameen wapas pane ke liye koi raasta batao.”
(What can I do against the Bajwa family? Tell me if there’s any way to get my land back.)

One elderly villager, a weathered man with deep lines etched on his face, shook his head slowly.

“Beta, tu bhool ja. Bajwa log bahut bade hain. Agar unhe pata chal gaya ki tu kuch kar raha hai, toh woh tujhe tabha kar ke rakh denge.”
(Son, forget about it. The Bajwas are very powerful. If they find out you’re trying anything, they will destroy you.)

Another villager added cautiously,

“Woh sirf zameen nahi lete, logon ka jivan bhi le lete hain. Tere liye sabse achha yeh hai ki chup chap rah.”
(They don’t just take land, they take people’s life too. It’s best for you to stay quiet.)

Akhand’s jaw tightened, but the warning hung heavy in the air.

The sky was painted in shades of orange and pink as the sun slowly dipped behind the distant hills. The dusty village road lay quiet, save for the occasional bird call and the rustle of dry leaves in the wind.

Akhand stood alone, his eyes fixed on the horizon where the silhouette of the Bajwa haveli loomed large—an imposing symbol of power and control over the land and people.

He pulled his shawl tighter around himself against the evening chill and sighed deeply.

“Yeh Bajwa parivaar... kitne bade shaktishaali hain. Zameen unke kabze mein hai, log unke dar ke neeche jeete hain. Par main haar nahi maan sakta.”
(This Bajwa family... how powerful they are. The land is under their control, and people live in fear of them. But I cannot give up.)

His gaze dropped to his clenched fists.

“Mere paas ek hi raasta bacha hai—Sahil Bajwa.”
(I have only one way left—Sahil Bajwa.)

He chuckled bitterly.

“Woh paison ka deewana hai... hamesha zyada chahta hai. Agar uske muh par paisa bhar diya jaye, toh woh khud hi meri madad karega.”
(He’s a money-hungry man... always wanting more. If I stuff his mouth with money, he’ll help me himself.)

Akhand pictured Sahil’s greedy face, always craving wealth, power, and luxuries.

“Main usko itna paisa doonga ki uska muh bhar ke bhar jaaye, tab tak paisa khilate rahoon ki ulti karne lage... phir dekho kaise meri baat manega.”
(I’ll give him so much money that his mouth will be full; I’ll keep feeding him until he vomits... then see how he listens to me.)

The plan was ruthless, but Akhand knew it was the only way to break the Bajwa fortress.

He looked down the road as village lights began to twinkle, signaling the close of day.

“Main uski jeb bhar ke, apni zameen wapas launga. Par yeh sirf shuruat hogi.”
(I’ll fill his pockets and get my land back. But this is just the beginning.)

His voice lowered as he recalled a promise he’d made long ago.

“Main school aur hospital bhi banwaunga, jaisa dadi ne kaha tha. Maa ki aakhri ichha hai ki iss gaon ke logon ko acchi seva mile.”
(I will also build a school and hospital, just as grandma said. It’s mother’s last wish that this village people get good facilities.)

Tears glistened in Akhand’s eyes, a rare vulnerability breaking through his stern exterior.

“Maa..... main aapka wada nibhaunga..”
(Mother...... I will keep my promise..)

He looked up at the fading light in the sky, feeling renewed strength swell within.

“Bas ab sahi waqt ka intezaar hai. Jab mauka milega, main apni chalaki se Bajwa ki taakat tod dunga.”
(Now it’s just a wait for the right time. When the moment comes, I’ll use my cleverness to break Bajwa’s power.)

A sly, confident smirk spread across his face.

“Aur jab woh din aayega, toh gaon ke log bhi meri madad karenge. Dadi ne mujhe sikhaya tha—taqat sirf hathiyar se nahi, dimaag se bhi milti hai.”
(And when that day comes, the village people will also help me. Grandma taught me—strength doesn’t only come from weapons, but also from the mind.)

He took a deep breath, steadying himself.

“Ab rukna nahi hai. Sahil ko dhire-dhire apni taraf karna hai. Paisa, sukh, sab kuch dena hai... bas ek baar uska saath milne ka raasta ban jaaye.”
(Now there’s no stopping. I have to slowly pull Sahil to my side. Give him money, comforts, everything... just create a way to get his support once.)

As stars began to sparkle in the darkening sky, Akhand turned and started walking back toward the village, his mind already plotting his next moves.

“Main uske saamne paise rakhunga... aur jab woh bhar jaayega, tab meri baat sunega. Tabhi meri maa ke sapne poore ho payenge.”
(I’ll put money right in front of him... and when he’s full, he’ll listen to me. Only then can I fulfill my mother’s dreams.)

The grand living room was softly lit, the air thick with anticipation. Lajvanti sat upright, her eyes gleaming with determination.

“Shaadi ki taiyari kijiye Manohar jii. Is hafte ke andar hi dono ki shaadi ho jaani chahiye.Aur dehhej mai-”
(Start the preparations for the wedding., Manohar ji. They should get married within this week.And as for dowry-)

Manohar, sitting nearby with a confident smile, nodded firmly.

“Chinta mat kariea, humare paas zameen hai. Bahut badi zameen. Yeh zameen hamari damad ji ke naam kar di jayegi.”
(Don’t worry, we have land. Lots of land. This land will be given in the name of our son-in-law.)

He glanced around before continuing with authority.

“Maine faisla kar liya hai ki jo Mughda se shaadi karega, usi ko main zameen doonga. Meri ek will bhi hai is baare mein.”
(I have decided that whoever marries Mughda, I will give him the land. I even have a will regarding this.)

Chandan, standing beside him, added with pride.

“Woh is ghar ki akeli beti hai, isliye hum usko sona, das lakh ka case, aur bahut saari cheezein denge.”
(She is the only daughter of this house, so we will give her gold, a dowry of ten lakh rupees, and many other things.)

He smiled mischievously.

“Ek Thar aur ek bullet bhi.”
(A Thar jeep and a bullet (gun) as well.)

Lajvanti’s eyes sparkled at the mention of the luxurious gifts.

“Yeh toh honi hi chahiye. Hamare ghar ki shaan hai yeh.”
(This is only fitting. It’s the pride of our house.)

Manohar leaned back, satisfied.

“Ab sab kuch taiyar hai. Ab bas shaadi ka din fix karna hai.”
(Now everything is ready. We just need to fix the wedding date.)

The atmosphere was charged with excitement and anticipation when the Panditji arrived, dressed in traditional attire, carrying his sacred books and puja thali.

“Bade shubh muhurat hai, 15 din baad aisa samay aayega, jab shaadi karne wale ke liye bahut mangalmai hoga.”
(There’s a very auspicious muhurat, after 15 days there will be a time when whoever marries will be very fortunate.)

Everyone looked at each other, nodding in agreement.

“Toh phir wahi din fix karte hain.”
(Then let’s fix that day.)

“Bilkul. Yeh muhurat hamare liye bahut laabhdayak rahega.”
(Absolutely. This muhurat will be very beneficial for us.)

The family started to discuss the arrangements with renewed enthusiasm.

As Chirag and his mother prepared to leave, Chirag suddenly stopped.

“Maa, thodi der ke liye aapse alag baat karni hai. Kuch zaroori baat hai.”
(Mother, I want to talk to you privately for a while. It’s something important.)

Lajvanti looked at him with a steady gaze but nodded.

“Thik hai beta, main thodi der mein aati hoon.”
(Alright son, I will come in a little while.)

Chirag gave her a brief nod and turned. His footsteps echoed softly on the stone floor as he led the way to a quieter part of the haveli—an old sitting room where the light filtered in gently through patterned jaalis. The distant sounds of kitchen clatter and low conversation faded behind them.

 A moment later, Mughda appeared, dressed in her traditional attire, her hands nervously folded in front of her.

“Mughda... main tumse kuch kehna chahta hoon.”
(Mughda... I want to say something to you.)

Mughda nodded quietly, trying to steady her breath.

Chirag’s eyes locked onto her face—and then slowly drifted down her figure. His look was not just admiration; it was hunger, a raw lust that made Mughda’s heart pound uncomfortably.

“Tum kitni khoobsurat ho... tumhare jaisa koi nahi. Main chahta hoon ki tum meri patni bano.”
(You’re so beautiful... there’s no one like you. I want you to be my wife.)

Mughda shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting around as if searching for an escape.

“Main... main thodi pareshan hoon.”
(I... I’m a little uncomfortable.)

She took a small step back, trying to put some space between them.

Chirag didn’t seem to notice, his eyes still fixed on her figure as if lost in a gaze that didn’t respect her feelings.

Mughda’s breath quickened. The room suddenly felt heavy. She swallowed hard, biting her lip to hold back her unease.

Without another word, she turned and started to walk away, trying to keep her voice steady.

“I think Maa sa is calling me..”

Chirag watched her go, his face a mix of desire and something unreadable—while inside, Mughda wrestled with the sharp sting of discomfort and fear.

The heavy wooden door closed softly behind her. Mugdha leaned against it, her breath shaky, eyes glistening with unshed tears. The silence of the room wrapped around her like a suffocating shroud.

She moved slowly to the mirror, her reflection staring back—dressed in the heavy traditional Rajasthani poshak, the chooda jingling faintly with each trembling movement.

Her hands covered her face, muffling the soft sobs that escaped.

“How difficult all this is for me…”

She sank onto the floor, knees drawn close, trying to hold herself together, but the weight of it all pressed too hard.

The world outside her window went on—unaware of the storm raging silently within.

Sahil approached Akhand with a serious expression, his steps slow but determined.

“Akhand bhai, baat toh yeh hai ki mere pitaji ne faisla kar liya hai—jo Mughda se shaadi karega, usi ko zameen milegi. Isliye tumhara koi chance nahi hai.”
(Akhand, the thing is, my father has already decided—whoever marries Mughda will get the land. So, you have no chance.)

Akhand’s face tightened for a moment, but he quickly masked his frustration with a calm smile.

"How can he do that? This is my mother’s property!"
Akhand thought to himself, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

Sahil observed him closely. He understood now—this Akhand Pratap Chaturvedi was dangerously attached to that land. Flattery, pride, or promises—he would do anything to possess it.

“But, Akhand bhai… I’ll do something. Believe me. I’ll talk to my father—tell him that you wish to buy the land,” Sahil said carefully.

Akhand looked at him, eyes narrowing slightly.
“Okay. Tell him I’m ready to pay whatever he wants. But I want that land.”

“Alright.”
Sahil nodded and walked away, leaving Akhand standing alone in the silence that followed.

Sneak peek- chapter 13

“Kanha ji… maine kya galti ki hai?”
(Lord Krishna… what mistake have I made?)

Her voice was a whisper, but filled with pain.

“Kya ek ladki ka apne jeevan saathi chune ka bhi koi haq nahi hota?”
(Does a girl not even have the right to choose her own life partner?)

“Main Chirag ko zara bhi pasand nahi karti. Uski woh bhookhi nazrein… mujhe darr lagta hai, Kanha ji.”
(I don’t like Chirag at all. His hungry eyes… they frighten me, Lord.)