home
The night was silent, the empty road glowing faintly under the moonlight. A girl, barely nineteen, ran barefoot, her heavy red bridal lehenga dragging in the dust. She was small in height, delicate in build, with long open hair framing her beautiful yet pale face. Her large eyes, filled with fear and confusion, glistened with unshed tears as they searched the lonely road.
Her lips trembled as she whispered:
“Hamara ghar kaha hai? Hum kab se chal rahe hai... ghar mil hi nahi raha... humko bhukh bhi lagi hai... aur ye lehenga... hum thak bhi gaye... Ved ji, humko kaha chod gaye?”(Where is my home? How long have I been walking... I still can’t find it... I’m so hungry... and this lehenga... I’m so tired... Ved ji, where have you left me?)
She stopped at the corner of the road and slowly sat down. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she looked up at the sky and said:
" Ved ji... aapne bola tha ghar wapas jao... par apna ghar to hai hi nahi na... aur jo hai, waha kaise jau? Ghar nahi pata kaha hai... aur jo paise Ved ji diye the wo bhi uncle ne chin liye... ab hum kaha jaye? Bhagwan ji, hum kya kare?”( Ved ji... you told me to go back home... but I don’t even have a home... and even if I do, how can I go there? I don’t know where it is... and the money Ved ji gave me was taken by uncle... now where should I go? God, what should I do?)
She sat quietly, hugging her knees, completely alone.
Suddenly, a drunken male voice cut through the night:
“Oye ladki! Kya kar rahi ho yaha?”(Hey girl! What are you doing here?)
She lifted her teary eyes toward him and answered softly:
“Hum ghar dhoond rahe hai...”(I’m looking for my home...)
The boy staggered closer, confused, then smirked.
“Ghar? Kiska ghar?”(Home? Whose home?)
She looked at him with innocent eyes and replied:
“Hamara ghar...”(My home...)
The boy laughed under his breath and asked:
“Tumhara ghar kaha hai?”(Where is your home?)
She lowered her gaze and said softly:
“Pata nahi...”(I don’t know...)
The boy chuckled lightly and said:
“Mujhe pata hai... chalo, main le chalta hoon.”(I know... come, I’ll take you there.)
Her eyes brightened with a faint hope. She smiled weakly.
“Aapko pata hai?”(You know?)
He nodded lazily. She slowly stood up, brushing the dust from her lehenga.
“Chale? Humko ghar jana hai...”(Shall we go? I want to go home...)
And with that fragile hope, she followed him into the darkness.
After one and a half years...
The girl was lying on a bed in a government hospital. Her face was pale, her body weak. Slowly, she opened her eyes, blinking at the unfamiliar white ceiling. Confused, she looked around the room. The smell of antiseptic filled the air. Suddenly, in one swift move, she slipped off the bed and rushed to the corner of the room, crouching there like she was trying to hide herself.
The nurse, who had been checking another patient, turned and hurried toward her bed. All the other patients stared at her with curiosity and pity. As the nurse stepped closer, the girl shook her head violently and muttered:
“Na... na... ghar...”(No... no... home...)
The nurse spoke gently, trying to calm her.
“Dekho, shaant ho jao.”(Look, calm down.)
But the girl didn’t listen. She kept mumbling to herself in a broken voice:
“Ghar... ghar jana...”(Home... I want to go home...)
The doctor entered the room, holding an injection, and slowly moved toward her, signaling the nurse to keep her steady. Just as he got closer, a soft but firm voice stopped him.
An old lady had walked into the room, her presence calm yet strong.
“Kya hua?”(What happened?)
The girl, who was trembling in fear moments ago, suddenly lifted her head and stared at the old lady with wide, intense eyes. And then, as if recognizing something, she ran toward her.
“Dadi... dadi...”(Grandmother... grandmother...)
The old lady froze in shock. The nurse and doctor also looked surprised—because in the last two days, this girl had spoken nothing but the wordghar.
The old lady gently tried to hold her, but the girl clutched her clothes tightly and whispered desperately:
“Dadi... ghar... ghar jana...”(Grandmother... home... I want to go home...)
After six more months...
In the grand Rajput house, the entire Rajput family was gathered in the main hall. Everyone was dressed elegantly, preparing to leave for a grand party—it was the second wedding anniversary of their beloved daughter Disha. They were all heading to her house to celebrate.
Nandani, Disha’s mother, was carefully checking the gifts. Nirmala approached her and asked:
“Nandani, tumne sab kuch dekh liya na? Kuch bhi kam nahi hona chahiye.”(Nandani, have you checked everything? Nothing should be missing.)
Nandani smiled softly and replied:
“Haan, Bhabhi, maine sab kuch dekh liya. Kuch bhi kam nahi hai. Viraj aur Varun ne sab kuch bahut achhe se prepare kiya hai.”(Yes, Bhabhi, I’ve checked everything. Nothing is missing. Viraj and Varun have prepared everything very well.)
Divesh Rajput added proudly:
“of course karenge... unko behen ki anniversary hai. Aur uske bhai uske liye sab kuch la sakte hain.”(Of course, they will do everything... it’s their sister’s anniversary. Her brothers can bring her anything.)
Both Nandani and Nirmala smiled. But suddenly, Daksh’s voice came from behind with a taunt:
“Haan, sab kuch la kar de sakte hain... par apni reputation ke liye use kisi ke saath baandh bhi sakte hain.”(Yes, they can bring her anything... but they can also tie her to someone just to save their reputation.)
Divesh turned angry at his son and snapped:
“Shut up, Daksh! Kya ek hi baat ko baar baar bolte rehte ho? Disha khush hai is marriage mein. Aur Viraj ya Nirmala Bhabhi ne use is shaadi ke liye nahi kaha tha. Maine aur tumhari maa ne faisla liya tha. To apne bhaiyon ko dosh dena band karo. Aur Disha khush hai is shaadi se. Uske paas sab kuch hai jo ek ladki ko chahiye.”(Shut up, Daksh! Why do you keep saying the same thing again and again? Disha is happy in this marriage. Viraj or Nirmala Bhabhi didn’t ask her to marry. Your mother and I made that decision. So stop blaming your brothers. Disha is happy in this marriage. She has everything a girl could want.)
Daksh replied angrily:
“Sab kuch hai... par pyaar nahi hai! Aapne is ghar ki reputation ko bachane ke liye meri behen ko meri cousin ki jagah bitha diya... ek aise ladke se uski shaadi kara di jisse wo pyaar nahi karti thi!”(She has everything... but not love! You sacrificed my sister to save this family’s reputation... you married her to a man she didn’t love instead of her cousin!)
At that moment, Viraj entered, wearing a perfectly tailored three-piece suit. His voice carried authority as he spoke:
“Humne Disha se pucha tha. Unki haan ke baad hi ye shaadi ki gayi thi.”(We asked Disha. This marriage happened only after her consent.)
Daksh’s voice lowered but held quiet pain:
“Aur Vyakhaya? Use pucha tha? Uski shaadi fix karte hue?”(And Vyakhaya? Did you ask her? When you fixed her marriage?)
Everyone turned to look at the two men, tension thick in the air.
Varun stepped in and said sharply:
“Sab kuch us Vyakhaya ki wajah se ho raha hai! Kud to bhag gayi... pata nahi kis ke saath... aur hume apni reputation bachane ke liye Disha ki shaadi karni padi! Aur Dadi bhi uske gham mein mar gayi! Aur wo... usne ek baar bhi yaha aane ki sochi? Aur aap, bhai... aap uske liye lad rahe ho?”(Everything is happening because of Vyakhaya! She ran away... who knows with whom... and to save our reputation we had to marry off Disha! And grandmother died in grief over her! And her? Did she ever even think of coming back? And you, brother... you’re still fighting for her?)
Daksh glared at him and said:
“To kya tumne use dhoondha? Socha kabhi ki kaha chali gayi hai wo?”(So did you ever try to find her? Did you ever wonder where she went?)
Viraj spoke calmly but coldly:
“Wo apni marzi se kisi ke saath chali gayi. Humne to unke liye acha hi socha tha, tabhi unki shaadi fix ki thi. Ab unko ye nahi chahiye tha aur wo shaadi wale din yaha se chali gayi... to hum kya kar sakte hain?”(She went with someone of her own will. We only thought of her best interest when we fixed her marriage. If she didn’t want it and left on the wedding day... what could we do?)
Nirmala, seeing her two sons clashing with their cousin, stepped in and said firmly:
“Dekho, hum baad mein baat kar lenge is topic par. Abhi hume chalna chahiye. Disha wait kar rahi hogi.”(Look, we’ll talk about this later. Right now, we should leave. Disha must be waiting.)
At the mention of Disha’s name, everyone fell silent and nodded in agreement.
At the airport, a 28-year-old man stepped out of the arrival gate. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored charcoal grey suit, a crisp white shirt, and polished leather shoes. His sharp jawline, neatly trimmed beard, and confident posture made it clear he was a successful Indian businessman. A sleek wristwatch gleamed on his wrist, and his intense eyes scanned the bustling surroundings.
As he walked toward the exit, he suddenly stopped. His gaze fell on a quiet corner of the airport, and memories from the past hit him like a storm.
Ved Rajvansh stood in front of a young girl. She was wearing a heavy bridal dress, looking around with innocent curiosity. Her face was glowing with youthful beauty, her big eyes shining with trust. That face—so pure and naive—stabbed him with guilt for what he was about to do.
The girl spoke softly, her voice filled with childlike hope:
“Ved ji... hum plane mein baith kar ghar jayenge?”(Ved ji... will we sit on the plane and go home?)
But Ved’s face hardened as he forced himself to stay cold. He handed her an envelope of money and pointed toward the taxi stand.
“Vyakhya... take it, aur apne ghar chali jao. Dekho, waha taxi khadi hai... jao, driver ko address dena aur ghar chale jaana.”(Vyakhya... take this and go to your home. Look, there are taxis over there... give them the address and go home.)
Vyakhya looked at him, confusion clouding her eyes.
“Home? Par ghar to aap le kar ja rahe the na... aapne, humare ghar?”(Home? But you were taking me... to our home?)
Ved clenched his jaw, irritation flashing across his face. He grabbed her delicate hand—it felt like a feather, fragile and trembling—but he pushed away the rising emotion. His voice turned harsh:
“Take this. Go to them. Aur apne bhai ko kehna... ab uski baari hai apni behen ka dard dekhne ki.”(Take this. Go to them. And tell your brother... now it’s his turn to see his sister in pain.)
Vyakhya froze, his words slowly sinking in. Before she could speak, Ved turned away and walked into the airport terminal, disappearing into the crowd, leaving her standing there in silence.
The memory faded.
Ved blinked and came back to the present when a voice interrupted his thoughts. His assistant, Aman Rawat, approached respectfully.
“Sir, car aa gayi hai.”(Sir, the car has arrived.)
Ved nodded silently and walked toward the waiting car. As he sat inside, his mind whispered darkly:
Viraj Rajput... I hope now you understand how it feels... to watch your sister in pain... when people question her character.
A pang of guilt tugged at his chest, but he justified it to himself.
Revenge for my sister.
Author’s Note
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