Ch.6 3.Blood( part 1) 🌙 - "His Bindani "

"Bheje ri saari mohabbat sa, bhool ne khatma kar diyo ji. Ar agar tanne chhaago lagge to jara bataiyo."

(Show dher saara pyaar yrra's. Galti ke liye maafi ji . Agar aapko pasand aaye to btayiye jra.)

Happy reading â¨ â¤ï¸

Words count:3900

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( flashback same day morning 6 am )

The palace doors swung open with a loud echo, revealing a man drenched in blood from head to toe. His entrance demanded attention, his dark figure stark against the rich surroundings. Blood dripped steadily from his black T-shirt, black jeans, and soaked black shoes, forming puddles at his feet and marking his path. He held a gun in his hand, its surface shiny and wet. His appearance showed the struggle he had endured: blood streamed from his hair, down his neck, and covered his arms in a constant flow. Each drop seemed to say one thing-this was no ordinary man. His presence was heavy with a sense of doom, as if he had come from the depths of hell. His cold, unyielding eyes spoke of great suffering and control over pain. In that moment, the palace's splendor seemed insignificant compared to the raw power he embodied. He was the bringer of doom, the ruler of suffering-the king of hell himself.

"Raja hai ye vaha ke jaha log khwab meh bhi jaana manjur nhi karte "

("He is a king of kingdom where even in dreams, people don't dare to go.")

" Leave " In the eerie silence that followed, a single word escaped his lips, carrying the weight of his pent-up fury and desolation. His eyes, usually a mirror of his soul, now reflected a turbulent mix of emotions: a haunting stillness, fleeting traces of happiness, a fleeting sense of release, but above all, an unmistakable anger, burning with an intensity that defied words. Within him, chaos reigned, his inner landscape a jumbled mess of conflicting emotions, scattered fragments of a life once whole. He stood there, a shattered shell of his former self, bearing the unbearable weight of his brokenness.

Within the expansive halls of his grand palace, a bustling workforce typically attends to various tasks. However, today holds special significance, especially in the main hall where more than 25 diligent workers are diligently carrying out their duties. The air is charged with excitement as Rajasthan celebrates this momentous occasion, and every individual plays their part with dedication and precision.

His commanding voice echoed through the halls, prompting all to swiftly vacate the premises. With each step he took, crimson droplets from his wounded hand splattered onto the floor. Ascending the stairs, he finally arrived at his destination: his chamber. Upon entering a unique code, the door yielded, granting him access to his sanctuary. While to an outsider, it might resemble a grand hall, for him, it was much more-a refuge where he could shed the burdens of expectation and duty, and simply be himself, in communion with his own soul.

After entering his room, he headed straight for the washroom, eager to change and shed the remnants of his previous attire. The air was heavy with tension, remnants of the confrontation that had just unfolded in the main hall. As he emerged from the washroom, a transformation seemed to take place before the eyes of any onlooker. The once formidable figure now stood clad in a simple kurta, a stark departure from the dark ensemble he had worn moments before. Despite the quick change, it was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, his demeanor lighter, his expression softened.

With the new attire came a perceptible shift in his demeanor. Though his eyes retained their piercing intensity, they now harbored emotions distinctly different from before. Gone was the fury and frustration that had simmered just beneath the surface; in its place, a sense of tranquility and serenity enveloped him. It was as though the act of changing clothes had also altered his internal landscape, allowing him to cast aside the burdens of his previous state of mind.

Yet, amidst this transformation, one aspect remained constant-the aversion to black. Despite the mystery shrouding the reason behind this disdain, it was a sentiment deeply ingrained within him. Perhaps it was a symbol of something he wished to distance himself from, a reminder of a past he sought to leave behind. Or maybe it held a significance known only to him, a secret buried within the recesses of his soul.

As he stood in his chamber, clad in the kurta that now felt like a second skin, he pondered the enigma of his own emotions. Though the events of the day had left their mark, he found solace in this moment of quiet introspection. Here, in this sanctuary, he could be free from the expectations of others, free to explore the depths of his own being. And as he gazed into the mirror, meeting his own eyes with a newfound sense of clarity, he knew that, regardless of the mysteries that lay ahead, he would face them with unwavering resolve.

Present time

Raghav's pov

As I approached the palace's main door, I couldn't shake off the uneasy feeling gnawing at me. Every step felt heavier, burdened with the weight of responsibility. "Veer, aap ek baar entrance dekh aayi ye sab thik to hai, koi rok tok to nhi ki ja rahi hai," ( "Veer, have a look at the entrance once, everything seems fine, there's no restriction or hindrance going on.")I instructed, my voice firm but laced with underlying concern. The shadows of the evening stretched long across the palace grounds, creating an eerie play of light and dark.

I had just finished checking every corner outside with Veer, ensuring there were no hidden threats lurking in the periphery. The palace, with its towering spires and intricate carvings, stood majestic against the dusky sky, but tonight, its grandeur felt overshadowed by the palpable tension in the air.

As Veer nodded and moved towards the entrance, my eyes scanned the vast expanse once more. Every rustle of leaves, every distant sound seemed amplified, making my senses hyper-aware. I couldn't afford to miss anything; the safety of everyone inside depended on our vigilance. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever lay ahead, and stepped towards the grand doorway, the weight of my duty pressing firmly on my shoulders.

"Ji Hukkum" ( yes king )Veer's response came swiftly, and I moved forward to investigate, reassured by the presence of numerous guards assigned to protect me.

As I stood in quiet contemplation, my mind drifted back to the haunting memories of the past, to those dark days that scarred the land of Rajasthan. "Hey Devi Maa, hum bss itna hi chahte hai ki. Kuchh saal pahele Jo hua tha, uss halat se ye Rajasthan fir na gujare," ( "Hey Devi Maa, all we want is that Rajasthan doesn't go through the situation it did a few years ago.")I whispered softly, my heart heavy with the weight of history. "May we be spared from reliving those dreadful moments that once tore our land apart." With a fervent prayer, I sought solace and protection for my homeland, hoping for a future free from the shadows of its past tragedies.

As the girl approached me, I felt a rush of anticipation. "Aap???" ( You ??)I asked, my heart pounding with curiosity. Before I could even utter another word or extend my hand, she was already close, and I couldn't help but wonder what was about to unfold between us.

As she replied with a" hum!"( Me!) and a smile, my heart skipped a beat, just like it did when I first saw that smile from the terrace. It's dangerous, the way she affects me, making my heart race with just a glance.

(Author pov:

"Log darte rahe meri parchhayi se or mai .... Mai uski ek muskan pe sanse kho baitha hu ". )

("People kept fearing my shadow, and I... I lost my breath with just one smile from her.")

Raghav's heart raced as he tried to sound menacing, but the sight of her smile melted his resolve. "Aap hai kon chhori??"( Who are you , girl ?) he demanded, his voice strained with the effort to maintain an air of danger. Yet, despite his best efforts, her smile washed away his intimidation, leaving him lost in the warmth of her gaze. "Just stop thinking, Raghav," he reminded himself, struggling to regain his composure amidst the overwhelming allure of her presence.

"Are chup bhi raho ab tum "( keep quiet now )she said.

Raghav felt his heart skip a beat as she almost shouted at him. He watched her, his heart racing, as she spoke with intensity, her gaze fixed on the main door of the palace where the guards stood watch. The weight of her words hung in the air, echoing in his mind as he tried to process what she had said.

"Kahena kya chahti hai aap or pahele hath hatai ye apna " ("What do you want to say, and first remove your hand from here.")I said .As I , I struggled to retrieve my hand from hers, frustrated by her stubbornness. Despite my attempts, she only tightened her grip, leaving me feeling bewildered about her identity and intentions. In that moment, I couldn't help but wonder who she really was. With a sigh, I resigned myself to the situation, silently urging myself to forget about everything and just let go.

(Unhe dekha to nazre na hata sake hum , unhone chua to hath kya htate hum . )

("When i saw her, i couldn't look away, and when she touched me, how could i move my hand.")

Raghav couldn't help but roll his eyes at her request for "just a little help." "Bss ek chhoti shi help kardo," who asks for help like that? Rajasthan ki saan ki baat hai bss isiliye abhi Tak yaha hu mai. ( "It's just because of the essence of Rajasthan that I'm still here.")I gave her a disbelief look while she shows her moist eyes and made crying face. "Matlab had hai abhi hass Rahi thi, ab ro Rahi hai," ( " she was laughing a moment ago, now she's crying.")he thought to himself, shaking his head in exasperation.

"Or vo kiu?"( And why so ?) I asked her, puzzled by her sudden change in demeanor.

"Rajasthan mai paheli baar aayi hu itni help to kar hi sakte ho yrr tum,"( "It's my first time in Rajasthan, so you can definitely help me out, buddy.") she said with too much frankness in her words, her tone carrying a hint of expectation.

"Achha," ( seriously)I said, more like a question, trying to understand her sudden shift in mood and expectations.

"Aap Raja ho ... Agar ho to ye mahel Hume ghuma layo na, bss ek baar pkka promise dubara nhi aayege pleasssssssssssss........" ( "You're a king... If you are, then please show me around this palace, just once, I promise I won't come again, pleasssssssssssss........")she said, pleading to me. How does she know about me? Is she a spy? The thought crossed my mind as I tried to make sense of her words and her sudden familiarity with my identity.

"Aap Hume janti bhi hai ?" ( Do you even know me ??)I asked her, just to gauge her expression. But I know she is too good an actress.

"Tum jante ho mujhe?"( Do you know me ?)she asked me, her words carrying a hint of audacity. She is the first person who has shown the audacity to question me, the king of Rajasthan.

"Nhi," ( no )I uttered, my tone firm as I gestured subtly to my guard to stand closer, a silent indication of caution. Her words cut through the air with an insolence that struck a chord of disbelief within me.

"To muje kya tumhare sapne aayege...... yrr matlab kuchh bhi, abhi filhal to tum bss itna kro mujhe ye mahel ghuma Lao." ("So what i dream of you... I mean anything, for now, just do me a favor and show me around this palace.")The sheer audacity of her tone left me momentarily speechless. How could she address me in such a manner? The need for retribution pulsed through me, a silent determination to teach her a lesson she wouldn't soon forget.

I stood there, my face a mask of indifference, as her words hung in the air between us. She seemed taken aback, maybe expecting a different reaction from me. But I had mastered the art of concealing my emotions, a skill honed over years of navigating complex relationships and confrontations.

"Puchh sakta hu kiu," ( can I ask why ?) I asked her, my voice steady and calm, betraying none of the turmoil that might have been brewing beneath the surface. My gaze was steady, unwavering, meeting hers directly. It was a simple question, yet it carried the weight of my curiosity and the demand for clarity.

I watched her closely, noting the flicker of confusion and hesitation in her eyes. It was a moment of vulnerability, one she hadn't anticipated. But I remained unaffected, my expression impassive, determined to maintain control over the situation.

This was my method: to confront issues head-on, to seek answers without letting my emotions cloud the interaction. It was a way to protect myself, to ensure that I remained unshaken by whatever came next.

Her stern expression softened, her eyes taking on a childlike earnestness. "Kiu ki mujhe dekhna hai," ( because, I wanna see) she said, her voice small and plaintive, like a child pleading for a toffee. There was a hint of desperation in her tone, as if she was on the brink of tears if she didn't get what she wanted.

I watched her, taken aback by the sudden shift. She seemed so vulnerable, her earlier confidence crumbling away. Her eyes searched mine, hoping for understanding and a positive response. It was disarming, seeing her like this, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy.

I narrowed my eyes slightly, trying to make sense of her unusual interest in the palace. She had mentioned she was new here, yet her insistence seemed almost too eager. It made me wonder if there was more to her story than she was letting on.

"Mahel meh hai kya aisa, dekhne layak?" ("What's in the palace really that worth seeing?" ) I asked, my voice carrying a hint of suspicion. I needed to understand her motives. Why was she so adamant about seeing the palace? Was she someone sent by that bastard to cause trouble again in Rajasthan, or was there another agenda at play?

Her earnest, almost childish plea still echoed in my mind, but I couldn't afford to let my guard down. Too much was at stake, and I needed to be sure of her intentions before letting her get any closer to the palace.

"Haa," ( yupp) she replied, her voice trailing off as she took a long pause, scrutinizing my expression intently. She was standing so close to me, closer than anyone had ever been. It felt unsettling, yet oddly intimate.

Her attire was traditionally Rajasthani, every detail meticulously in place except for one - her nath was missing. This small inconsistency nagged at me, adding to my growing suspicion. Was it an oversight, or did it mean something more?

No, Raghav, I reminded myself. She's just a guest. She'll leave after some time. Focus on the function.

I tried to redirect my thoughts, but her presence was overwhelming, her closeness disarming. For a moment, I found myself caught in her gaze, unable to look away. My mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle of her sudden appearance and her insistent interest in the palace. But I knew I had to stay vigilant and not let her distract me from the important duties at hand.

he continued and said something that struck a chord deep within me, something that resonated on a level I hadn't expected. "Kala pta hai kya hoti hai," ( do you know what art means) she asked, her eyes searching mine for understanding. This was the first time someone had shown an interest in the palace not for its royalty or wealth, but for its artistic essence.

"Tum soch bhi nahi sakte is mahel ko banne mein kitna vakt laga tha," ("You can't even imagine how much time it took to build this palace.") she continued, her voice filled with reverence and passion. She spoke about the time and effort it took to build the palace, about the artisans who poured their souls into every intricate detail, and the history embedded in its walls.

Her words fed me heart to heart, revealing a genuine appreciation for the art and craftsmanship behind the palace. It was as if she could see the palace through the eyes of those who had created it, valuing it not as a symbol of power, but as a masterpiece of human effort and creativity. For the first time, I felt a connection with someone who understood the true essence of this place.

"15 saal, 1928 to 1943. Aur kuchh?"( 15 years , from 1928 to 1943 , anything else)I replied, my tone more curt than I intended. The conversation was dragging on, and I needed to refocus on the function.

But she didn't seem to notice my impatience. Instead, she stepped even closer, her eyes lighting up with an almost childlike enthusiasm. "Itni mehnat, itna pyaar... Sab kuchh isi mahel mein chhupa hua hai. Tumhe pata hai, har ek kona, har ek chitrakala, sab kuchh apni kahaniyan batati hain. Yeh mahel bas ek imarat nahi hai, yeh ek jeeti jaagti kahani hai."("So much hard work, so much love... Everything is hidden in this palace. You know, every corner, every piece of art, they all tell their stories. This palace is not just a building, it's a living, breathing tale.")

I was struck by her passion, her genuine admiration for the art and history of the palace. It was rare to meet someone who saw beyond the grandeur and wealth, someone who truly appreciated the soul of this place. For a moment, I found myself softening, almost captivated by her perspective. But I quickly reminded myself of my duties and the need to stay focused.

"Aur kuchh?" ( Anything more )I repeated, trying to bring the conversation to a close. There was still so much to do, and I couldn't afford to be distracted, no matter how intriguing her words were.

"Jab itna jante ho to le chalo na," ( "When you know so much, then take me there.")she said, her face transforming into an irresistible puppy expression. Her wide eyes and pleading tone were almost impossible to ignore.I sighed inwardly, realizing that this conversation was far from over. Her genuine interest and persistence were disarming, and despite my initial reservations, I felt a pull to show her the palace. Maybe it was her pure enthusiasm, or perhaps the way she seemed to see the palace as more than just a symbol of royalty and wealth.

"Iss mahel me sabko aane jaane ki permission nahi hai,"( "Not everyone is allowed to come and go in this palace.") I told her firmly, emphasizing the importance of preserving the palace and its history. "Yeh hamare itihas aur sanskriti ki raksha ke liye zaroori hai."( "It is necessary for the protection of our history and culture.")I explained the necessity of restricting access to the palace to protect its integrity and ensure that its stories remained untainted by the outside world. It was a responsibility that I took seriously, one that had been passed down through generations of guardians of the palace.

"Lekin tumhe toh hai," ( but , you have the permission)she said confidently, her gaze unwavering. I paused, taken aback by her assertion. Who was she to assume that I had special privileges?"Ye hai kon?" ( Who is she ??)I thought to myself, puzzled by her audacity. Despite my attempts to maintain a professional demeanor, she still clung to my hand, refusing to let go. It was becoming increasingly clear that there was more to her than met the eye.I struggled to find the right words to respond, torn between upholding the rules of the palace and indulging her persistence.

"Ye kisne kaha?" ( Who told you that )I asked, my tone tinged with suspicion. No one here knew about my real identity, so her statement took me by surprise. It raised questions about how much she really knew about me and what her intentions were.

"Dekha tha maine tumhe uss guard se baat karte huye, ab le bhi chlo," ( "I saw you talking to that guard, now take me in.") she requested once more, her persistence unwavering. "Is ladki ko apna kam nikl vana bakhubi aata hai."( "This girl knows her job very well.")I paused, considering her request. Despite my initial reservations, there was something about her determination that intrigued me. Perhaps she did have a genuine appreciation for the palace's history and artistry."Let's see," I thought to myself, a hint of curiosity creeping in. "Or kitna gir sakte hai log."("And how much lower people can stoop.")

"15 min," I said after a minute, breaking the silence that had settled between us."Kya!" ( Whatttttt?)she screamed loudly, causing heads to turn in our direction. I could feel the weight of everyone's curious gazes, and I quickly glanced around, hoping to diffuse the sudden attention."Shh," I whispered urgently, gesturing for her to lower her voice. It was clear that her outburst had drawn unwanted attention, and I couldn't afford any more disruptions.

"Bass 15 min hai, phir bahar waapas aa jana," ( "Just 15 minutes, then come back outside.")I interjected firmly, cutting her off before she could say more. My tone was stern, but as I met her eyes, I couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort.Her gaze held a warmth and sincerity that softened my resolve, reminding me that despite her exuberance, there was something genuine about her. I couldn't deny the pull of curiosity that tugged at me, urging me to see where this unexpected encounter would lead.

Lekin mahel toh bahut bada hai, 15 min kam nahi honge," ( "But the palace is very big, 15 minutes won't be enough.")she said in a low, wise tone, her voice carrying a hint of concern.

"5 min," I reiterated, firm in my decision to stick to a shorter timeframe despite her earlier concerns.

"Are thik hai thik hai, khadus kahi ka,"( "Okay okay, you're such a grump.") she muttered under her breath, but her words didn't escape my notice.

"Chalo ab 15 min mein ghoomenge 26 acre mein bane mahal," ( "Alright, let's explore the palace built on 26 acres in 15 minutes.")she said, more as a taunt than a genuine suggestion. "Ek baar pata chal jaaye ye hai kaun, phir batate hain inhe." ("Once i figure out who she is, then i'll let her know.")

Aisen faramosh chhori," ( "Such a forgetful girl.")I said slowly, making sure my words were clear enough for her to hear.

Sunna Maine," ( "I heard you.")she said as she finally let go of my hands, her tone playful yet acknowledging."Kya chipku hai," I muttered under my breath, unable to suppress a smile at her teasing remark.

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