Chapter 1: The Throne of Ash and Blood
Scene Setting:The Shekhawat Fort, Devgarh (Rajasthan). Devgarh ka Shekhawat Mahal sirf pattharon aur gumbadon ka ek structure nahi tha; yeh pichle teen sau saalon ke khun, saazishon, aur taakat ka ek khamosh gawah tha. Aravalli ki pahadiyon par khada yeh fort aaj bhi bilkul waisa hi dukh raha tha jaisa sadion pehle tha—unche kaale patthar, vishal darwaze, aur har kone mein chhupe hue raaz. Lekin is purani haveli ke andar aaj ka modern, ruthless underworld aur political mafia chalta tha.
Baahar aasmaan mein kaale baadal ghir aaye the. Rajasthan ki shaam aamtaur par sunahri hoti thi, lekin aaj Devgarh par ek ajeeb sa sannata aur bhari-pan thahara hua tha. Reh-reh kar bijli kadakti, toh mahal ki unchi, barik khidkion par bane kanch ke pane shiddat se kaamp uthte. Thandi, tez hawa ke jhoke mahal ke corridors mein se hote hue ek ghani sansanahat paida kar rahe the.
Mahal ke sabse private aur purane hisse—Grand Royal Study Room—ke andar ka mahol bilkul alag tha. Yahan sannata itna gehra tha ki insaan ki apni saans ki aawaz bhi saaf sunayi de sakti thi. Room mein devdaar ki lakdi aur mehngi cigar ke dhuen ki mehak ghuli hui thi. Diwaron par Shekhawat khandaan ke purvajon ki purani oil paintings tangi hui thi, jinme se har ek raja ki aankhon mein wahi purana, khunkhar royal arrogance chamak raha tha. Room ke beechon-beech ek vishal mahogany wood ki desk thi, jis par brass ke lamp ki madham peeli roshni pad rahi thi.
Desk ke peeche, ek unchi dark-leather armchair par Rajveer Shekhawat baitha hua tha.
Usne dark charcoal color ka tailored three-piece suit pehna hua tha. Shirt ke aage ke do buttons khule the, sleeves halki si forearm tak rolled up thi, jisse uske haath par bana ek purana, gehra nishan saaf dikh raha tha—ek aisi chot jo use kisi purani mafia war mein mili thi. Rajveer ka chehra bilkul chhitkaye hue patthar jaisa kathin tha. High cheekbones, sharp jawline jo hamesha clenched rehti thi, aur aisi gehri, kaali aankhein jinme darr ya kisi bhi jazbaat ki koi jagah nahi thi. Uske baayein haath mein heavy crystal glass tha, jisme single-malt whiskey ke saath ice cubes aahista se float kar rahe the.
Uske theek samne, desk ke doosre taraf, Late Hukum Samarjit Singh Shekhawat ke personal legal advisor, Mr. Saxena, khade the. Saxena ji ki umar 60 ke paas thi. Unhone pichle tees saalon se Shekhawat khandaan ka kaam dekha tha. Unhone kitne hi khoon, kitne hi ghotaley aur kitne hi kaale kaarname chhupe hue dekhe the, lekin aaj... Rajveer ke samne khade hone par unki ungliyan aur pair kaamp rahe the. Unke haath mein ek bhaari, dark-red velvet folder tha, jis par gold foil se Shekhawat family ka royal crest chapa tha.
Rajveer ne aahista se whiskey ka ek sip liya. Uske chehre par apne baap ke guzar jaane ka koi dukh nahi tha. Samarjit Shekhawat ek zalim baap aur ek ruthless ruler the, aur Rajveer unka hi khoon tha.
“Saxena,” Rajveer ki aawaz room ke sannate ko cheerte hue gunji. Uski aawaz mein ek aisi gehri, raspy warmth aur dabdaba tha jo kisi ko bhi ek pal mein khamosh kar de. “Tum pichle tees minute se uss file ko aise pakad ke khade ho jaise usme koi bomb ho. Mere baap ki maut ko do din ho chuke hain. The cremation is done. The ashes are in the river. Now read the damn paper.”
Saxena ne apna thook nigla. Unhone apni naak par se chashme ko thoda upar khiskaaya aur bhaari aawaz mein bolna shuru kiya.
“H-Hukum... Late Samarjit Singh ji ki final, legally binding Will... High Court aur Royal Council dono mein register ki gayi thi. Main iske main points aapko padh kar sunata hoon.”
“Cut to the chase,” Rajveer ne coldly kaha, uski aawaz mein sabr khatam ho raha tha. “I don’t have time for legal jargon.”
“Ji Hukum,” Saxena ne file kholi. Unki ungliyan kagaz par tezi se ghumi. “Point number one: Late Raja Sahib ki saari movable aur immovable properties—jisme Devgarh Palace, Rajasthan, Delhi aur London ke saare commercial estates, 4,000 crores ke offshore bank accounts, aur Shekhawat Mining & Infrastructure Corporation ke 51% controlling shares shamil hain... yeh sab kuch aapke naam transfer kiye jaate hain.”
Rajveer ke chehre par koi khushi nahi aayi. Uske liye yeh wealth koi surprise nahi thi. Vo hamesha se jaanta tha ki yeh sab uska hi hai. Usne glass ko aahista se desk par rakha. Crystal aur lakdi ke takrane se ek sharp aawaz hui.
“Aur political ticket?” Rajveer ne pucha, uski aankhein Saxena par tiki hui thi. ” have spent five years building the grassroots support in Devgarh. The ruling party’s supreme council ticket was supposed to be mine.”
Saxena ke maathe par pasine ki boond jhalak aayi. Unhone kagaz ko thoda aur paas kiya.
“W-Wahi sabse bada issue hai, Hukum. Point number two... conditional clause 4B.”
Rajveer ne apni aankhein halki si narrow ki. “Clause 4B? Speak up, Saxena.”
“Samarjit ji ne vasiyat mein ek bohot hi kadi shart rakhi hai,” Saxena ki aawaz thartharayi. “Unka kehna hai ki Shekhawat family ki legacy sirf taakat se nahi, balki sanskar aur lineage se chalti hai. Sub-clause A ke mutabiq... jab tak aap legally Married nahi ban jaate... tab tak Board of Directors ka supreme command, Mining empire ki ownership, aur State Political Party ka Supreme Commandment aapko transfer nahi kiya jayega.”
CRACK!
Rajveer ke haath mein pakda hua glass thoda sa pinch hua, par toota nahi. Uske jaw muscles itne tight ho gaye ki unki line saaf dikhne lagi. Uske chehre par ek dark, dangerous smirk aaya—ek aisa smile jo gusse se bhi zyaada khaufnaak tha.
“A trap...” Rajveer low whisper mein bola, jaise khud se baat kar raha ho. “My bastard father is manipulating me even from his fucking grave.”
Vo apni chair se khada hua. Uska 6-foot-2-inch ka tall, muscular frame poor room par ek dark shadow daalne laga. Vo desk ke chaaro taraf ghoom kar glass window ki taraf badha. Baahar bijli kadki, aur uski safed roshni mein Rajveer ka chehra kisi shaitan jaise chamka.
“Vo chahta tha ki main kisi Royal clan ki ladki se shaadi karun,” Rajveer ne nafrat se kaha. “Kisi be-dimaag, spoiled princess se, taaki mere political career ko ek ‘traditional’ look mile. Vo jaanta tha ki main shaadi se nafrat karta hoon. He wanted to break my control.”
“Hukum, agar teen din ke andar aapki shaadi nahi hoti,” Saxena ne darte-darte aage kaha, “Toh Will ke mutabiq poori property aur political chairmanship aapke cousin—Vikram Shekhawat—ke paas chali jayegi. Aur party ticket bhi unhi ko mil jayega.”
Vikram Shekhawat—Rajveer ka chacha ka beta. Ek corrupt, ruthless, aur lachaar insaan jo Rajveer ka sabse bada rival tha. Agar Vikram ke haath mein political power aur Shekhawat empire ki wealth chali gayi, toh vo do din mein poore Devgarh ko barbaad kar dega.
Rajveer ne apni mutthi bheeni. “Vikram will not get a single rupee of my kingdom. I will burn Devgarh to the ground before I let that bastard touch my throne.”
“Lekin Hukum... shaadi ke bina legal papers sign nahi ho sakte,” Saxena ne kaha. “Aur... one last thing, Hukum.”
Rajveer ne bina peeche mude kaha, “What else?”
Saxena ne file ka sabse pichla, private page nikala. Yeh page official registrar ke paas nahi tha, yeh Late Samarjit Singh ka ek personal note tha.
“Will ke saath ek private debt agreement attached hai,” Saxena ne padhna shuru kiya. “Teen mahine pehle... Thakur Jagat Singh ne late Hukum se 10 Crore Dollars ($10 Million) ka private cash loan liya tha.”
Rajveer halka sa mudi. “Thakur Jagat Singh? That washed-up nobleman from the outer district? Uske paas 10 million dollars chukane ki aukat nahi hai. Why did my father lend him that kind of money?”
“Thakur ka beta... gambling aur offshore casinos mein poori tarah doob chuka tha,” Saxena ne explain kiya. “Underworld ke cartels unke bete ko maarne wale the. Jagat Singh ne late Raja Sahib ke samne bheekh maangi thi. Raja Sahib ne paise diye... lekin ek bohot hi dark condition par.”
“What condition?”
Saxena ne ek gehri saans li. “Jagat Singh ne ek legal bond sign kiya tha. Agar vo teen mahine mein paise interest ke saath nahi lauta paaye... toh unki ikloti beti... Prachi Thakur... Shekhawat family ki personal property aur collateral ban jayegi. Cash ke badle ladki.”
Room mein ek pal ke liye sannata chha gaya. Baahar baarish ab tez ho chuki thi, paani ke thapede kanch par pad rahe the.
Rajveer ne ek cold, indifferent look se Saxena ko dekha. Uske chehre par na koi surprise tha, na koi hamdardi. Uske liye insaan aur unke jazbaat sirf barter system ke items the.
“A debt slave?” Rajveer ne cold aawaz mein kaha. Uske lips par ek ruthlessly sharp smile aayi. “Thakur ne apni beti ko bech diya apne useless bete ko bachane ke liye. How typical of these so-called honorable nobles.”
“Hukum... Jagat Singh ne kal hi legal notice bheja tha. Vo paise nahi chuka paaye hain. Unhone kaha ki contract ke mutabiq unki beti par ab Shekhawat family ka haq hai. Aap boliye toh main police ya hamare men bhej kar uss ladki ko custody mein le loon? Usse kisi estate par kaam par laga dete hain ya—”
“Do whatever the fuck you want with her right now, Saxena,” Rajveer ne interrupt kiya, uski aawaz mein absolute disinterest tha. “Sell her family’s remaining land. Put her father in jail. Claim their house. Mujhe uss ladki ya uske khandaan mein koi interest nahi hai. Clear?”
“Ji Hukum. Absolute clear,” Saxena ne jhuk kar kaha.
“Now get out. I need to think how to break this fucking marriage clause without a bride.”
Saxena ne jaldi se file band ki, bowed again, aur tezi se room se baahar nikal gaye. Teak wood ka bhaari darwaza ek sharp thud ke saath band ho gaya.
Rajveer window ke paas khada raha. Baahar Devgarh ka blackout view dikh raha tha—pahadi par bana hua shehar, neeche jhilmilati hui lights, aur door jungle ke raaste. Rajveer ne glass ko muh se lagaya aur bacche hue whiskey ko ek ghoont mein pi gaya.
Uske dimaag mein sirf ek hi baat chal rahi thi: How to secure the kingdom.
Scene 2: The Other Side of the Coin
Meanwhile, 40 Kilometers away - The Thakur Haveli.
Devgarh ke outer area mein sthit Thakur Haveli mahal jaisi nahi thi. Yeh ek purani, toot-futo se bhari hui do-manzila haveli thi, jahan kabhi amiri hua karti thi, lekin ab sirf dhool, karz aur purana ghurur bacha tha.
Haveli ke main hall mein ek purana chandelier latak raha tha, jiski ek-do lights bujhi hui thi.
Prachi Thakur apne chote se room mein desk par baithi hui thi. Desk par architecture ke blueprints, drawing tools, aur ek heavy desk-lamp rakha hua tha. Prachi ne ek simple, cotton pastel yellow kurta pehna hua tha. Uske lambe, kaale baal peeth par khule hue the. Uska chehra innocent tha—soft features, big expressive brown eyes, aur ek delicate jawline. Lekin agar koi uski aankhon mein ghaur se dekhta, toh wahan ek aisi aag aur zidd dikhati jo kisi bhi tufan ko mod sakti thi.
Prachi Devgarh ke top Architecture College ki final-year student thi. Vo din-raat mehnat karti thi. Uska sapna tha ki vo apni khud ki firm khole aur is ghatiya, patriarchal haveli se hamesha ke liye baahar nikal jaaye.
Tabhi... baahar hall se bohot zor-zor se chillane aur rone ki aawazein aane lagi.
“Nahi! Main police ke paas jaunga! Main nahi bachuanga!” Prachi ke bhai—Rudra Thakur—ki daravni aawaz gunji.
“Beta, shaant ho ja! Humne rasta nikal liya hai! Tu chinta mat kar!” uski maa ki aawaz aayi.
Prachi ne apna pen table par rakha. Uske maathe par shikan aayi. Uska bhai Rudra ek number ka bewakoof, alcoholic aur gambler tha. Vo har doosre din haveli mein koi na koi naya tamasha khada karta tha. Prachi ne gehri saans li, apna dupatta kandhe par dala aur room se baahar nikli.
Hall mein ka nazaara dekh kar Prachi ke kadam ruk gaye.
Uske pita—Thakur Jagat Singh—sofe par baithe hue the, unka chehra peela pada hua tha aur haath mein sharab ka glass thar-thar kaamp raha tha. Rudra kone mein baitha ro raha tha. Aur unke samne... do gundey type ke aadmi khade the, jinke kamard par gun holster saaf dikh rahe the. They were Shekhawat family’s recovery agents.
“Dekhiye Thakur Sahib,” ek agent ne badtamazi se kaha, “Aapka waqt khatam ho gaya hai. Late Raja Samarjit ji ke sign kiye hue papers hamare paas hain. $10 Million Dollars. Agar kal subah tak paise nahi aaye, toh Shekhawat Hukum ka hukum hai... yeh haveli aur aapke sabhi assets hamare ho jayenge.”
Prachi aage badhi. Uski aawaz mein koi darr nahi tha, sirf ek sharp commanding tone thi.
“Aap log kaun hain? Aur hamari haveli mein bina permission ke aane ki himmat kaise hui aapki? Get out before I call the police!”
Dono agents ne mudkar Prachi ko dekha. Unki aankhon mein ek ajeeb sa, cheap smirk aaya.
“Oho... toh yeh hain Thakur Sahib ki beti,” agent ne hass kar kaha. “Miss Thakur, police ko mat bulaiye. Kyunki police aapke baap ko hi arrest karegi. Aapke pita ji ne $10 Million ka loan liya tha. Aur pata hai unhone security deposit mein kya rakha tha?”
Prachi ne apne pita ki taraf dekha. Jagat Singh ne apni aankhein jhuka li.
“Kya rakha tha?” Prachi ne pucha, uska dil tezi se dhadakne laga.
Agent ne pocket se ek document ki copy nikali aur Prachi ke chehre ke samne lehraya. “Aapko, Miss Prachi. Aapke baap ne aapko bech diya hai. $10 Million Dollars ke karz ke badle... aap ab Shekhawat family ki property hain.”
THUD.
Prachi ke pairon tale se zameen nikal gayi. Uske kaano mein ek ajeeb sa sannata chha gaya. Baahar bijli kadki, lekin andar jo dhamaka hua tha, usne Prachi ki poori duniya ko raakh kar diya tha.
Vo aage badhi aur usne tezi se vo paper agent ke haath se chheen liya. Uski aankhein lines par tezi se ghoomne lagi.
“...In the event of non-payment, the daughter, Prachi Thakur, shall be surrendered as collateral to the Shekhawat estate...”
Paper ke niche... uske apne pita ke signature the. Official stamp ke saath.
Prachi ke haath se paper gir gaya. Vo gusse aur sadme se kaampne lagi. Vo mudkar apne pita ke paas gayi aur unke samne khadi ho gayi. Uski aankhon mein aasu nahi the, sirf ek aisi aag thi jo Jagat Singh ko jala kar raakh kar sakti thi.
“Pita ji...” Prachi ki aawaz kaamp rahi thi, par usme zehar tha. “Is this true? Aapne... aapne mujhe bech diya?”
Jagat Singh ne sharab ka glass table par rakha aur bina Prachi se aankhein milaye bola, “Prachi... samajhne ki koshish kar. Rudra ki jaan khatre mein thi! Underworld ke log use maar dete! Unhone uske haath katne ki dhamki di thi! Main kya karta? Tu toh beti hai... kal ko shaadi karke doosre ghar hi jaati. Agar Shekhawat khandaan mein chali bhi gayi, toh raj karegi—”
“SHUT UP!” Prachi chillayi. Uski aawaz poori haveli mein gunj uthi. Both the agents were shocked by her rage. “Aapne apne ek nalayak, sharabi bete ko bachane ke liye apni beti ka sauda kar diya?! Main koi khilona hoon? Main koi zameen ka tukda hoon jo aapne mujhe kisi aur ke naam kar diya?!”
“Prachi! Apne baap se aisi baat mat kar!” uski maa chillayi. “Rudra tera bhai hai! Uska future zaroori hai! Tu toh ladki hai, tu adjustment kar sakti hai—”
Prachi ne apni maa ko dekha, phir apne bhai ko jo abhi bhi muh chupa kar baitha tha. Uss ek pal mein... Prachi ke andar ka har ek masoom jazbaat mar gaya. Uska apne parivar par se hamesha ke liye vishwas uth gaya.
Vo gusse mein agents ki taraf mudi.
“Yeh paper le kar yahan se dafaa ho jao,” Prachi ne cold voice mein kaha.
“Arre ladki, tu hume hukum de rahi hai?” agent ne aage badhte hue kaha.
Prachi ne desk par rakha hua ek heavy brass candlestick holder uthaya aur agent ke chehre ke theek samne kar diya. Uski aankhon mein absolute death wish dikh rahi thi.
“Main akhri baar bol rahi hoon... GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE. Kal subah... main khud Shekhawat Mahal aaungi. Main uss Rajveer Shekhawat se baat karungi jo apne aap ko Devgarh ka Raja samajhta hai. Tell your master that Prachi Thakur is not a slave!”
Agents ne Prachi ki aankhon mein woh pagalpan dekha jo kisi desperate insaan mein hota hai. Unhone aapas mein look exchange kiya.
“Thik hai, ladki. Kal subah Shekhawat Mahal mein milna. Rajveer Hukum se khud hi baat kar lena... agar unhone tumhari shakhal dekhna bhi pasand kiya toh.”
Dono agents haveli se baahar nikal gaye.
Prachi ne brass holder ko zameen par fenka. Ek bhaari metallic noise poore hall mein gunji. Usne apne pita aur bhai ko ek akhri nafrat bhari nazar se dekha.
“Aap logon ne mujhe becha hai na?” Prachi ne whisper kiya. “Aaj ke baad... aap mere pita nahi hain, aur yeh mera parivar nahi hai. Main Shekhawat Mahal jaungi... lekin apni sharton par. Main kisi ki ghulam nahi banungi.”
Vo mudkar apne room mein chali gayi aur darwaza zor se slam kar diya.
Baahar baarish aur tez ho chuki thi. Rajveer Shekhawat apne fort mein baith kar apni legacy ko bachane ka rasta dhoond raha tha, aur yahan Prachi Thakur apne hi ghar mein mili zillat ka badla lene ki aag mein jal rahi thi.
Dono ko nahi pata tha ki agle 24 ghanton mein... unki qismat ek aisi dark, deadly wedding mein bandhne wali thi, jahan se koi wapas nahi laut sakta tha.
