The grand palace was adorned with flowers and lights, bustling with activity. Every worker was focused, knowing that Thakur Sahab's annual puja was a sacred tradition for his family.

A dignified woman, around 50 years old, descended the stairs with grace. "Ganga!" she called out.

The sound of anklets echoed as a 24 Year-old girl hurried towards her. "Ji, Thakurain," she replied, catching her breath.

"How many times have I told you to call me Sheela Maa? Don't you ever listen?" Sheela asked, with a hint of mock anger.

"Sorry... Sheela Maa, aapne bulaya?" Ganga responded, her voice respectful.

"Hmm... Go and check if everything in the kitchen is ready," Sheela instructed.

**Author's POV**

Ganga, a village girl, completed her graduation before being married off to a neighboring village. However, just two days after her marriage, her husband tragically died in an accident. Her mother-in-law, branding her a bad omen, threw her out, accusing Ganga of bringing death to her son.

Instead of receiving support from her own family, they also refused to take her back.

As Ganga wandered the streets in despair, Thakurain Sheela, known for her kindness, spotted her. The sight of this newlywed girl in a red saree, with sorrow written all over her face, stirred something in Sheela's heart.

Sheela took Ganga in, providing her shelter and a job in her household. Though Ganga was educated and certainly capable, she was too frightened to leave the village and work in the city. Her introverted nature caused her to retreat into herself, avoiding the harshness of the world.

**Evening Puja**

As the evening set in, Sheela and her husband, Dev Singh Thakur, sat around the Havan Kund. The puja came to an end, and they began distributing fruits, clothes, and books to the villagers.

Just then, a car arrived at the palace entrance. A young man in a black kurta and blue jeans stepped out. Seeing him, a wide smile spread across Sheela's face, and she hurried towards him.

"Oh, Daksh, my child!" she exclaimed.

"Mom," he said, embracing her tightly, "how are you?" He then kissed her forehead.

"Only love your mom, huh?" his father, Dev, teased from the side.

Daksh walked over to his father, touched his feet, and then hugged him.

"Come, let's have dinner," Sheela suggested, holding his hand as they made their way inside.

"Mom, I'll come after freshening up," Daksh replied, heading upstairs to his room.

The family gathered for dinner, and Dev, with a stern expression, asked, "So, what brings you home this time?"

Daksh paused before responding, "Oh, come on, Dad, why do you always assume I'm here because of trouble?"

"Because you always bring trouble, and I'm the one who has to solve it. The elections are coming up. How's the preparation going?" Dev's voice was firm.

"The election prep is going great, Dad. We're going to win this time. You'll see me taking the oath as Chief Minister. With Mr. Agnihotri on our side, I'm 90% sure we'll secure power," Daksh explained confidently.

Hearing the name Agnihotri eased Dev's tension. Rudransh Agnihotri was a powerful business tycoon from a royal family, known for his shrewdness and ruthlessness. Aligning with Agnihotri promised immense benefits.

"Mom, this Palak Paneer is delicious. Did you make it?" Daksh asked as he finished his plate.

"No, it was Ganga who made it. She's a wonder; everything she cooks is amazing," Sheela replied, serving him more.

**Daksh's Room**

Later, in his room, Daksh's headache intensified. Sheela entered after him.

"Do you need anything, son?" she asked gently.

"A cup of coffee, Mom. My head's killing me," Daksh said, rubbing his temples.

"Okay," Sheela nodded and went to the kitchen, where Ganga was cleaning.

"Ganga, leave that and take some coffee to Daksh," Sheela instructed.

Ganga hesitated but nodded, preparing the coffee and walking nervously to Daksh's room. Her hands trembled as she knocked on the door.

"Come in," Daksh's voice called out. She entered, avoiding eye contact, quickly set the cup on the table, and turned to leave.

"Don't you miss me, Doll?" Daksh's voice froze her in her tracks.

Ganga feared Daksh. Whenever he was home, he would take advantage of her when no one was around. Every six months, she had to endure his advances, and she couldn't tell Sheela for fear of not being believed. Only Ganga knew the torment she lived through.

She clutched her spare tightly. "Why would I miss a man like you?" she said, gathering her courage.

"You know I'm crazy about this thing of yours," he said slowly, starting to come closer to her. He tried to hold her hand, but she took two steps back. Daksh didn't like this response and clenched his teeth, turning his head away while controlling his anger.

"Ganga, jao (go)," he spoke softly, quickly moving towards his balcony.

She quickly left his room.

Four Days Later

"Dad, I need to talk to you," Daksh said seriously. Dev exchanged a glance with Sheela and then nodded.

"Come to the study," Dev instructed.

Once inside, Daksh began, "Mr. Agnihotri wants our land from the village to open a factory. I’ve promised him the land, but without the villagers’ permission and signatures, it won’t be possible. Can you handle it?"

"I’ll take care of it," Dev replied confidently. "You just focus on your political campaign. We can’t afford any losses. How much land does he want?"

"500 acres," Daksh answered.

Dev sighed. "That’s a lot of land," he said but nodded in agreement. "It’ll be done."

"And he wants to inspect the land personally. When should I call him?" Daksh asked.

"Call him next Monday," Dev said before leaving the room.

Rudransh’s Interrogation

In a dark room, a man was tied to a chair, his mouth covered with tape. Across from him sat Rudransh, holding an iron rod.

“So, how does it feel now, little boy? Didn’t I warn you?” Rudransh sneered, yanking the tape off the man’s mouth and grabbing his hair. “Now, tell me, what information did you manage to gather, hmm?”

The man, a reporter, had infiltrated Rudransh’s palace disguised as a bodyguard, hoping to snap some incriminating photos.

“I... I only gave him this month’s financial reports of your company, sir... And... And he wanted a picture of your family members... He threatened me... My mom is being held captive by him...” the man stammered, trembling.

“How’s your mom doing?” Rudransh asked with a menacing smile.

The man’s eyes widened in fear. “Please, don’t hurt her! She’s the only family I have!”

Rudransh washed his bloodstained hands, wiped them with a towel, and walked out. As he climbed into his car, his voice turned cold. “Home,” he ordered, and the car sped off

In his room, Rudransh was changing when his mother entered, smiling softly.

"Rudransh, son, can we talk?"

"Mom, you never need permission to talk to me," Rudransh said, gesturing for her to sit. He lay his head on her lap, holding her hand as she gently stroked his hair.

"Baccha, I think it's time you got married. You're not getting any younger," she giggled. "I want to play with my grandchildren, you know."

(Indian typical mother 😂)

"Mom, 32 isn't old, and I don't want anyone in my life," Rudransh replied, his voice firm.

As they were talking, a knock interrupted them. "Come in," Rudransh said, sitting up.

"Sir, there's a call from Meerut's Thakur," his assistant, Shaurya, informed him.

"Good night, Mom. We'll talk later," Rudransh said, signaling that the conversation was over.

His mother understood. "Okay, I'm going. Good night, Mere Hukum Sa," she giggled before leaving.

"Shaurya, what did Daksh Thakur say?" Rudransh asked.

"He said if you want to see the land, we can go next Monday."

Despite belonging to the royal family, Rudransh was down-to-earth and approachable. Yet, he couldn't escape the rituals and rules of royalty - his family's dharohar (heritage).

"Tell him we'll be coming in two days," Rudransh ordered.

Hello lovely guys ☺️

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