𝑷𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒊 𝒚𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒏 𝒌𝒊 𝒓𝒂𝒉𝒐𝒏 𝒎

𝒌𝒉𝒖𝒅 𝒔𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒏𝒆 𝒌𝒊 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒉 𝒉

Author's POV

Khan Haveli, situated in the heart of Hyderabad, was surrounded by villages and fields. Morning light fell upon its ancient walls, bathing them in a soft, golden glow. In front of the haveli lay a large pool, shimmering in the water's sparkling reflection. Khan Haveli stood as a symbol of rich history and untold tales.

Within the Khan Haveli, workers were hurried from one task to another, bringing the old haveli back to life after a long period. The halls were adorned with fresh drapes, the windows were adorned with new curtains, the marble floors were covered in plush carpets. And why wouldn't it, after five-year long years, the young heir of the Khan Dynasty was finally returning to Hyderabad from Harvard.

Inside the Haveli, all internal responsibilities have been expertly managed by Salma Begum, the matriarch whom everyone reverently addresses as Khannum Ji.

No one dares to meet her gaze with anything less than utmost respect, for she embodies the tradition and enduring legacy of Khan Haveli. She is the keeper of its long-held culture, the silent guardian of its honour.

Maa Begum moves gracefully through the Haveli's corridors, exuding a commanding presence that captures attention without uttering a word. She is dressed in a knee-length, richly embroidered kurta paired with salwar, her attire befitting her status.

Draped elegantly over her head is a beautiful dupatta, complementing the exquisite shawl that wraps around her shoulders. Every step she takes is deliberate, measured, and full of the dignity that comes with years of bearing the weight of her family's name.

Maa Begum stood at the main entrance of Khan Haveli, her heart swelling with anticipation, eagerly awaiting the return of her beloved son. Beside her stood Haya Ikram Khan, the daughter of Maa Begum's late sister, in a pristine white anarkali dress.

Haya's heart raced as she fixed her gaze on the lawn, eager to see the future lord of Khan Haveli once more. For years, she had nurtured a deep, unspoken love for him-a love that had flourished in his absence, despite her awareness that it was unreciprocated.

But Haya had never allowed herself to acknowledge that truth. She clung to the belief that her love was enough, that it could bridge the distance between them.

She dreamed of standing beside him, not just as a cousin but as his wife-the Khanum of Khan Haveli. She envisioned herself as the queen of this fortress, her rightful place beside him, ruling over the vast lands and the people with him by her side.

Haya had waited so long for this moment and kept herself going by worshipping his pictures, holding onto the hope that one day he would see her as she saw him.

And now, the moment has finally arrived. He was coming home. Soon, she would see him again-touch him, talk to him, and maybe, just maybe, she could make him see her the way she saw him.

Her thoughts scattered as a sleek black car, accompanied by a Jeep full of armed guards, arrived at the vast lawn of Khan Haveli.

The lawn, surrounded by towering banyan trees and with a grand pool in the centre, buzzed with activity. The nearby chauffeur hurriedly opened the door with skill.

Out stepped a foot, clad in a polished black boot, hitting the ground with quiet confidence. Suddenly, the air filled with the scent of fresh flowers and the sharp cracks of gunfire-a traditional salute to the returning heir. The next thing she saw was his tall, imposing frame emerging from the car.

First, his other foot touched the ground, followed by the rest of him-a man standing over six feet tall with jet-black hair that sharply contrasted against his pronounced jawline. His moustache and beard were neatly groomed, giving him the look of a man who was not just handsome but commanding.

The future lord of Khan Haveli stood there, exuding authority, dressed impeccably in a flawlessly tailored two-piece suit that accentuated his commanding presence.

To Haya, the sight was overwhelming. This was no longer the boy she remembered; he had evolved into a man of authority and strength, exuding power in every aspect of his presence. She laid eyes on him in person after all these years, a surge of emotions overwhelmed her, leaving her transfixed and unable to avert her gaze.

Murtasim's POV

I'm Murtasim Khan, the future lord of Khan Haveli, and here I am now in front of Khan Haveli. It's been five years since I last set foot in Hyderabad-or, more precisely, in Khan Haveli, the fortress of stone and history.

This is the place where I spent my entire childhood, right up until I decided to pursue an MBA after my board exams. I can't believe how much everything has changed.

That decision wasn't as easy as it sounds, especially with the two promises I made to Maa. First, that I would return after completing my MBA, and second, that I would take on the responsibility of the estate as the sole heir-not just of Khan Haveli but of the vast acres of land surrounding it.

And here I am now, after five long years, ready to fulfil that promise. Yet, I can't shake this pang of regret, this weight on my shoulders. I thought, whatever will be, will be. But now, after all the hard work and sacrifices I made to achieve my dreams at Harvard University, the thought of sitting where my ancestors ruled doesn't appeal to me. It feels like suicide.

It totally feels like a suicide.

These five years have not only altered me physically but have reshaped me mentally as well. My way of thinking, my manner of walking-everything about me has changed. But the real question is whether this change is for the better.

Will Maa understand that I'm no longer the young boy who played in the corridors of Khan Haveli, even though every corner is still etched into my memory?

But I have my own plans, and I'm determined to see them through, regardless of any obstacles. That's who I am-determined and unwavering in pursuing what I want, no matter what.

I always achieve what I set my sights on, no matter the challenges. That's my way. By hook or by crook, in the end, it's mine.

Author's POV

Maa Begum, seeing her son, hurried towards him, her eyes brimming with emotion. "As-salamu Alaykum, Maa Sahab," he greeted her respectfully, his voice carrying the warmth of a long-awaited reunion.

"Walekum assalam, agya mera pyara beta?" she asked, her tone soft and filled with love.

"Ji, Maa Sahab," Murtasim replied, bending slightly as she placed her hand on his head, a gesture filled with all the affection and pride she felt at that moment. No words could truly measure the pride swelling in her heart.

"Chalo, andar chalte hain," she said, motioning him inside.

Murtasim took long, purposeful strides into Khan Haveli. As he entered, every eye in the room was fixed on him-the workers, the maids, his people.

And among them were Haya's eyes, locked onto him, her breath caught in her chest. She stood frozen in the entrance, unable to move or even blink as she stared at him, lost in her own world of fantasies.

Murtasim stopped, noticing her standing in his way, and looked at her with mild confusion. "Hato raste se," he said, but Haya, deep in her thoughts, didn't hear him.

It was only when Maa Begum gently took her hand and pulled her aside that Haya snapped back to reality. "Haya?"

"Ji-i, Maa Begum," Haya stammered, feeling embarrassed.

"Yahan murti bane khari rehne ke bajay, khana lagwao Murtasim ke liye," Maa Begum instructed.

Murtasim, who had already walked past once Haya moved aside, turned and said, "Nahi, Maa Sahab, bhook nahi hai. Mai khana khaa kar aya hun."

"Areh, aise kaise bhook nahi? Itne saalon baad aye ho, aur mai ne sab tumhari pasand ka banwaya hai. Biryani, gosht, aur kheer... Wo to tumhe bohot pasand hain," she said, her voice full of motherly affection.

Murtasim's thoughts drifted to the cholesterol in the rich foods she mentioned. He wasn't fond of such heavy meals anymore. "Maa, meri pasand badal chuki hai waqt ke sath. Mai thak gaya hun," he replied.

Maa Begum looked at him closely, searching his face for something, perhaps understanding. "Achha, theek hai. Aram kar lo. Khana mai tumhare kamre mein bhejwati hun."

"Ji," he agreed, and with long strides, he made his way upstairs, heading to his room-the second one on the left, how could he ever forget. Once inside, he closed the door behind him and leaned back against it, letting out a long breath of relief.

Murtasim's POV

As soon as I closed the door behind me.

"Peace for now."

But even as the words left my mouth, I knew they were hollow. There was no peace here-nothing even close. They're spreading flowers and firing guns like I've done something extraordinary.

It's only been a few minutes, and already, I'm missing my life at Harvard-the carefree days, the sense of freedom. I loosened my tie and tossed it onto the couch, then glanced around the room. It was exactly as I'd left it, unchanged. I don't like changes unless they're beneficial.

I unbuttoned my shirt, ready to tear it off my body, when a knock interrupted me. Who could it be now? Can a man not get some space? I had no desire to interact with anyone, especially not now.

I sighed, fixed my shirt, buttoned it back up, and opened the door. Haya stood there, holding a tray.

"Murtasim, khana layi hun mai tumhare liye," she said with a smile.

I nodded, stepping aside to let her in. A maid followed behind, carrying a trolley, which she placed near the small table before leaving the room.

But instead of leaving, Haya sat on the couch. Wasn't she done?

I glanced at her, gesturing subtly for her to leave. But she seemed oblivious.

"Tum jaa kar nahalo, mai kapre nikal deti hun tumhare," she offered, as if she had any right.

"I can handle my own things, Haya. Bahar jao," I said, my voice louder than I intended.

"Mai kar deti hun na," she insisted, heading toward my wardrobe to pick out clothes.

"Didn't you hear me? You can go now." My patience was wearing thin. What was her issue?

She finally turned to face me. "Gussa kyu ho rahe ho? Ja rahi hun." She moved closer, and I instinctively took two steps back. "Ankhein taras gayi thi tumhe dekhne ke liye," she added, her voice soft.

"Shut up. Go," I roared, and she flinched before hurrying out of the room. What was that? What did she mean by that? I may have spent five years at Harvard, but I was never interested in girls. Never. I've always believed in respecting women unless they crossed a line.

Love? I don't believe in it. But I do believe you shouldn't string someone along unless you're serious about them.

I closed the door and headed to the bathroom. Undressing quickly, I stepped into the shower, letting the cool water wash over me, trying to cleanse the burdens that weighed heavily on my shoulders. But I knew I couldn't just hide in my room all day. I needed to talk to Maa. The sooner, the better.

After changing into a white shirt and a pair of black pants, I stood before the mirror, brushing my hair into place. Taking a deep breath, I left the room.

On my way, I stopped a maid. "Maa Sahab kahan hain?"

"Ji, Khan ji, wo bahar lawn mein hain," she replied.

I nodded and made my way to the lawn. Maa Sahab was seated on a large kursi, with a maid holding an umbrella to shield her from the sun. Several women sat on the ground nearby, one by one approaching her, kissing her hand before leaving.

"Salam, Khan ji," they greeted me in unison.

Their deference reminded me of the deep-rooted hierarchy here-a stark contrast to Harvard, where everyone was treated as equals. When will they understand it's the 21st century?

"Walekum assalam," I replied, nodding at them.

"Maa Sahab, kuch baat karni hai aapse," I said, my tone serious.

Maa looked at me and nodded, signaling that she would join me shortly. I made my way to the sitting area in the hall and sat on the couch. I picked up my phone, which I hadn't touched all day, and opened WhatsApp. There were a few texts from Bobby-well, Mustajab Khan, but we all called him Bobby.

"Meet us at 6:00 pm.

Something needs to be discussed.

How's it feeling being back home?"

I smiled bitterly at his message.

I typed, "suffocating" Then I paused, deleting the message before I sent it. I've never been one to share my personal issues, even with Bobby. Though we've been friends for seven years, and I trust him, some things are better left unsaid.

"Mil kar baat karte hain,"

I finally replied.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice that I was no longer alone. Someone was standing beside me. I looked up and saw Haya.

"Coffee layi hun tumhare liye, jaisi tumhe pasand hai," she said with a smile.

What is this? Why does she care so much about what I like?

"What is this? Why are you concerned with my interests?"

"I just care for you a little more," she replied, her words striking a nerve.

"You will take care of me?" I asked, anger rising within me. Does she really think I need her to take care of me? I'm more than capable of taking care of myself. If I ever need someone, it will be only my w-

"Murtasim, kiya baat karni thi jo tum doore doore chale aye?" Maa Sahab's voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Ji Maa Sahab, baithiye." I took her hands, guiding her to sit on the large single sofa, doing my best to ignore Haya, who was doing nothing but irritating me. I took a deep breath.

"Ma Sahab, I want to build my own company," I began, choosing my words carefully. "I need your permission. I've completed my MBA, and I want to establish my own textile industry. It will be mine, and I'll make it the biggest company in India."

Maa Sahab's expression hardened slightly. "Murtasim, paanch saal pehle tumne jo wada kiya tha, now the time has come to fulfill it."

"Ji, mujhe yaad hai," I said, bracing myself for what was coming.

"Behtar. To tumhe yeh bhi yaad rakhna chahiye ki tum is ghar ke laute janashin ho. Tum koi mamuli insaan nahi. You weren't born to work in some company. You were born to rule. To become the ruler of Khan Haveli, you need to take on the responsibilities of this land, this estate-just as your father did, and his father before him."

I stood up, folding my hands behind my back. This was the same argument we'd had five years ago. She still didn't understand.

"Maa, I earned this degree to achieve my dream, not to waste it. Just say yes, and leave the rest to me."

"No. First, answer me, Murtasim. Are you going back on your word?"

"No, I'm Murtasim Khan. I would never go back on my word. But I need you to understand my point. I'll set up my business in the city. That's my plan."

"Thik hai, magar meri bhi ek shart hai," she said, her tone firm. "You will take on the responsibilities here as well, and you will marry the girl of my choosing."

I stared at her in disbelief. A girl? Marriage? Where did this come from? So, for my dream, I have to sacrifice myself again?

"Thik hai," I agreed, surprising even myself with how quickly I spoke. But what choice did I have?

I left the room, then Khan Haveli, my mind racing. I needed to meet Mustajab. There was too much to handle, too much to discuss.

I took the key from the driver, instructed the guards not to follow me, and started my car. Anger flared within me, igniting with every turn of the steering wheel.

After a 40-minute drive, I reached my destination-Mustajab's house. His three-story building loomed before me, a refuge for him away from the burdens of his own family. He, too, was irritated with the path laid out for him.

His father wanted him to take over the family business, much like my situation. The difference was, he didn't have to leave his profession behind. He could easily step into his father's shoes, but like me, he had a dream of building something of his own.

That's why we're still friends. Maybe.

I entered his house, and there he was, standing in the foyer, as if he'd been waiting for me.

I gestured at him. "As always, on time," he remarked with a slight grin. We headed to his study room, the place where we've shared countless plans, hopes, and frustrations.

I smirked as I sat on the plush couch, crossing my legs. "You know I have a special bond with time, though my own time isn't exactly going well."

He sat across from me, concern in his eyes. "What happened now? Don't tell me your mother wants you to take over the feudal responsibilities and marry that girl, Haya."

I was shocked for a moment at how accurately he'd guessed.

"Ah, correct-but only half."

He nodded knowingly. "Then nothing's changed. You knew this was coming-your escape from feudal duties was never going to last forever."

He leaned back in his chair. "Anyway, I called you here to show you something that'll fix your mood, for sure."

He opened his laptop and turned it toward me. As I glanced at the screen, my eyes brightened. It was a series of pictures of the lands where we'd decided to build our company.

New possibilities, new terms, new policies-it was everything we'd envisioned.

This was the future we'd been fighting for.

XXX

Scroll down to see what's going to happen next. Will he be able to fulfill his dream?