The late afternoon sun filtered through the thin curtains of our small living room, casting soft golden hues on the walls. Avu was sitting on the floor with his toy cars, humming a tune only he understood, while I folded the freshly laundered clothes.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
“Main dekhti hoon,” Maa called out, rushing to the door. She opened it to reveal Shiksha, her radiant smile lighting up the space. Beside her stood a tall, lanky figure—her brother Satyam, whom I hadn’t seen in years.
“Arre Shiskha! Aur yeh Satyam? Kitne saal ho gaye tum dono ko dekhe!” Maa exclaimed, ushering them inside.
“Sanyuuu!” Shiksha squealed, enveloping me in a tight hug. “Tu bilkul waisi ki waisi hai!”
“And you’ve turned into a diva,” I teased, pulling back to examine her. Her glowing face and bridal bangles were evidence enough of her big news.
“Woh toh hai,” she said with a playful toss of her hair. “But what about you? Same old cotton kurtas and no kajal? Tch-tch!”
We both burst out laughing, startling Avu, who peeked up from his toys.
“Yeh kaun hai, Sanyu? Tera chhota sa copy lag raha hai!” Shiksha bent down, trying to catch Avu’s attention.
“This is Avyukt, mera Avu,” I said, smiling as I gestured him forward. “Avu, say hi to Shiksha Maasi.”
But my shy little boy had other plans. He quickly crawled into my lap, burying his face in my dupatta.
“Shy ho raha hai?” Shiksha cooed, trying to coax him out. “Arre baba, main toh bas tumhare dost ban’ne aayi hoon.”
I felt his small fingers clutch my kurta as he peeked at her from under his long lashes. His tiny giggle escaped when Shiksha started making funny faces.
“Mummaa…” he whispered, hiding his face again.
Shiksha threw her hands up in mock defeat. “Yeh toh pura Mumma ka beta hai. Lagta hai mujhe impress karne mein pura din lagega!”
"But mei toh ye toys laayi thi Avu ke liye ....ab ye kis ko du" ....She said taking out a toy box from her bag.
This caught his attention. He hesitated before grabbing it with a shy smile. He peeked at her cautiously before burying his face again. I chuckled, brushing his hair.
We all laughed, the sound filling the room with warmth.
As we sat down for tea, Shiksha shared stories about her fiancé, her upcoming wedding, and even some of our childhood mischiefs.
“Yaad hai, Sanyu, jab humne woh rangoli colors se poore school ke floor par designs bana diye the?” she said, her laughter echoing.
“Yaad kyu nahi hoga?” I said, chuckling. “Principal ne hume ek hafta classroom clean karne ki punishment di thi!”
Our nostalgia was interrupted by Maa, who joined us with a hesitant smile. “Shiksha beta, tumhare ghar toh sab teek chal raha hai na?”
“Haan aunty, sab badiya hai. Shaadi ki tayyariyaan chal rahi hain,” Shikha replied cheerfully.
Maa hesitated for a moment before continuing, “Tumhare ghar ke rishtedaar toh acche log lagte hain… hum bhi Sanyukta ke liye aisa hi koi acha ladka dhoondh rahe hain.”
Shiksha’s smile faltered slightly as she glanced at me. “Aunty, Sanyu ko koi zarurat nahi kisi ladke ki. Woh khud bohot strong hai.”
I gave her a grateful look, but Maa, ever the traditionalist, shook her head. “Beta, strong hona alag baat hai, par ek partner hone se zindagi aasaan ho jaati hai. Avu ke liye bhi toh koi hone chahiye jo uska father figure ban sake.”
Before I could protest, Shiksha reached over to hold Maa’s hand. “Aunty, aap chinta mat karo. Sanyu apni life mein jo bhi decision legi, woh sahi hoga.”
I sighed inwardly, hiding my irritation behind a polite smile. This conversation had become all too common, and I was tired of being treated like an incomplete puzzle.
The conversation ended on a lighter note as we teased Shiksha about her wedding preparations. “Tera dulha toh full filmy lagta hai, haan?” I said, wagging a finger at her.
“Bilkul,” she said with a wink. “Aur shaadi ke baad tu aur Avu Bengaluru aa jaana. Full VIP treatment milega tujhe.”
Her laughter was infectious, but as she left, her words lingered.
---
Later that evening, Nisha Bhabhi came into my room with a stack of folded clothes. “Yeh lo, Prince ke purane kapde. Avu ke kaam aa jayenge.”
Her tone wasn’t kind—it was transactional, almost dismissive. I clenched my fists, trying to keep my composure. “Bhabhi, kapdon ki zarurat nahi thi."
Her words stung like a slap. I clenched my fists, biting back the retort that bubbled in my chest. Before I could speak, Maa placed a hand on my arm, silently pleading with her eyes.
“Bhabhi,” I managed, my voice tight, “Avu ke liye main sab kuch manage kar sakti hoon.”
“Woh toh theek hai,” Nisha interrupted, her tone falsely sweet. “Lekin savings toh sabke liye zaroori hai, na?”
I swallowed my pride, nodded stiffly, and took the clothes. Later that night, I resolved to leave this house after Shikha’s wedding. I didn’t need anyone’s pity—not for myself and definitely not for my son.
“Main akeli kaafi hoon, Avu,” I whispered as he slept beside me. “Aur ek din, sab dekh lenge ki teri Maa kitni strong hai.”
---
Ranvijay’s POV
The courtroom was packed, the tension palpable. I glanced at the opposing lawyer, his overconfidence showing in the smug curl of his lips.
The judge entered, and the room settled into a hushed silence.
The hearing began, and the Singh family’s defense started with a series of denials and vague statements. But I was prepared.
“Objection, My lord,” I interrupted as the defense attempted to paint Sahil as a delinquent. “If the deceased was such a troublemaker, why did your client not lodge a single complaint prior to the incident? Or is this newfound narrative a product of convenience?”
The opposition lawyer floundered, and I pressed on, presenting evidence of phone calls between Prashant and his uncle, Udey Singh, on the night of Sahil’s murder.
“Coincidence?” I asked sarcastically, spreading my arms theatrically. “My lord, agar yeh coincidence hai, toh main lawyer nahi, astrologer banna chahunga!”
The courtroom erupted in muffled laughter, leaving the defense visibly embarrassed.
“Your Honor,” I began, standing tall. “This isn’t just a case of murder; it’s a case of societal rot. Sahil was killed not because he broke a law, but because he dared to love someone from a different caste.
And today, we’re here to ensure that justice is not buried under the weight of privilege.”
The defense lawyer scoffed. “Mr. Ranvijay, emotions have no place in a courtroom. Evidence, however, does. Where is your so-called proof?”
I smirked, holding up a folder. “Patience, my friend. Evidence toh hai… aur sach bolne ka waqt ab aaya hai.”
I flipped through the autopsy report, pointing out the injuries that contradicted the defense’s claims of an “accidental” death. “The bruises on Sahil’s wrists indicate he was restrained. The blunt force trauma on his skull was no accident. This, Your Honor, was a calculated murder.”
The defense fumbled for a rebuttal, but I didn’t give him the chance. Turning to Maansi, I softened my tone. “Maansi, tumhare silence se un logon ko aur taqat milegi jo tumhare pyaar ke dushman the. Kya tum chahti ho ki Sahil ki maut bekaar jaye?”
Her eyes welled up, and she nodded. “Main sach bolungi.”
The defense lawyer rose, attempting to intimidate her during cross-examination, but I intervened. “Objection, Your Honor! Witness ko darana dhamkana unki strategy ka hissa lagta hai. Par yeh courtroom hai, wrestling ring nahi.”
A ripple of laughter ran through the audience, and even the judge struggled to suppress a smile.
The first hearing ended with the defense visibly shaken.
------
Back in my office, Satyam entered hesitantly, an invitation in hand.
“Sir, meri behen ki shaadi hai agle hafte… Main samajhta hoon aap kaafi busy hain, lekin—”
“I’ll be there, Satyam,” I cut him off, smiling. “Shiksha meri behen jaisi hai. Tumhe kis baat ki tension hai?”
He looked surprised, his eyes softening.
“And listen, “Shaadi ke kharche mein kisi cheez ki zarurat ho, toh mujhe bata dena. Yeh bhi mat sochna ki main tumpe ehsaan kar raha hoon.”
I placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Satyam, tum meri team ka hissa ho. Tumhari behen meri bhi behen hai. Shaadi ke liye main zarur aaunga. Aur haan,” I added, handing him a cheque, “yeh shaadi ka ek chhota sa gift hai. Use karne mein jhijhak mat karna.”
His eyes grew moist as he stammered, “Sir, yeh zarurat nahi thi…”
“Zarurat aur gesture mein farq hota hai, Satyam. Tumhari behen ki khushi meri zimmedari bhi hai,” I said with a warm smile.
As I sat alone in my office that night, the case files scattered around me, I reflected on the day’s progress. The fight for justice was far from over, but the pieces were falling into place.
This wasn’t just about winning a case; it was about rewriting the rules. For Sahil. For Maansi. For every silenced voice.
Author pov ......
The wedding Day .......
The wedding venue buzzed with a festive energy, adorned in hues of gold and crimson, reflecting the grandeur of the occasion.
Guests filled every corner, exchanging laughter and compliments, while a subtle aroma of marigold and incense lingered in the air.
Satyam stood near the stage, overseeing the final arrangements with meticulous attention.
His phone buzzed relentlessly as caterers and decorators sought his approval. Despite the chaos, his face bore a look of calm determination.
This was his sister Shiksha’s day, and he wouldn’t let anything go amiss.
“Satyam bhaiya, bas pandal ke lights thoda aur check karwa lo,” a decorator called out.
“Ho gaya hai, Bhola ji,” Satyam replied, wiping his forehead. “Ek baar stage ke flowers bhi dekh lena.”
Meanwhile, Shiksha sat in the bride's room, surrounded by her cousins and friends. Her bridal lehenga sparkled under the soft lights, and her makeup enhanced her natural glow. Sanyukta sat next to her, holding Avu on her lap.
“Shikha, you look like a princess!” one of the cousins exclaimed.
“Princess?” Avu asked, his wide eyes fixed on Shiksha.
“Yes, Avu,” Sanyukta smiled, brushing his hair. “Shiksha masi is a princess today.”
Avu leaned closer to Shiksha, his tiny hands reaching for her bangles.
“Wow, shiny!” he giggled.
Shiksha laughed, adjusting her bangles to let Avu play with them. “Tumhe pasand aaye, Avu?”
He nodded enthusiastically. “Pincess, aap flying cal mein jaoge? Like my toy cal ?”
The room erupted in laughter as Sanyukta kissed Avu’s cheek. “Nahi beta, princesses big car mein jaate hain.”
Shiksha pulled Avu into a gentle hug. “Tum mere prince ho, Avu. Ek kaam karo, baaraat dekhne chaloge mere saath?”
“Baaraat?” Avu’s excitement was palpable.
“Woh ghode aur band waale, jo bahar honge,” Sanyukta explained, her heart melting at his innocent joy.
As Shikha’s friends giggled and took pictures, Sanyukta’s mind wandered. She recalled her wedding day—a time when she, too, had been surrounded by laughter and anticipation. Dressed in her bridal attire, she had been a bundle of nerves and excitement.
Naman had been everything she had dreamed of—or so she thought. Their wedding had been a grand affair, and she had envisioned a life filled with love and companionship. But that dream had shattered just four months later.
She still remembered the exact moment she caught him cheating. She had walked into his office unexpectedly one evening, her heart pounding with excitement to surprise him, only to find him entangled with his colleague. The betrayal was a knife to her heart, made worse by the fact that she was pregnant with Avu at the time.
The memory of that night burned vividly in her mind. She had cried, begged, and questioned herself. But eventually, she chose Avu over a broken relationship, filing for divorce and stepping into an uncertain future.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a collective cheer from outside. “Baaraat aa gayi!” someone shouted.
The room erupted with excitement as the girls rushed to the balcony to catch a glimpse of the groom. Sanyukta shook off her memories and followed, holding Avu’s hand.
Outside, the baaraat danced to the rhythm of dhols, and the groom made his grand entry on a white mare. Amidst the celebration, a sleek black car pulled up at the venue, catching everyone’s attention.
Ranvijay stepped out, his presence commanding. Dressed in a sharp navy-blue suit, he exuded an effortless charm that made heads turn. Guests whispered among themselves, speculating about his identity.
Satyam’s face lit up when he saw Ranvijay. He rushed forward to greet him. “Sir! Aap aa gaye?”
Ranvijay shook his hand warmly. “Kaise nahi aata, Satyam? Tumhari behen ki shaadi hai, aur tumhare liye toh family hoon main.”
Satyam’s parents joined in, their gratitude evident. “Ranvijay beta, thank you for coming. Aapki wajah se yeh din aur special ho gaya.”
Ranvijay smiled. “Aap log mujhe sharminda kar rahe hain. Main bas ek guest nahi, family ka hissa hoon.”
As the family escorted him inside, Ranvijay stopped Satyam. “Tum apne guests pe dhyan do, Satyam. Main apna dhyan khud rakh lunga.”
Ranvijay made his way to the food court, muttering under his breath. “Shaadi ka asli maza toh sirf khaane mein hai.” He had barely taken a plate when Satyam’s cousins surrounded him, their flirtatious smiles barely subtle.
“Aap toh bilkul movie hero lag rahe ho,” one of them cooed.
Ranvijay smirked. “Aur aap log crowd scene mein extras,” he replied, picking up a spoonful of biryani.
Their faces turned a shade of crimson, but one of them persisted. “Aap dance karenge? Bride side ka toh banata hai.”
“Dance? Main wahaan hota hoon jahaan food hota hai,” he retorted, leaving them flustered as he turned his focus back to his plate.
Just then, Sanyukta walked into the food court, balancing a plate and holding Avu’s hand. Distracted by Avu’s chatter, she accidentally bumped into Ranvijay, sending a spoonful of chutney splattering onto her outfit.
“Oh, great!” she exclaimed, glaring at him.
Ranvijay glanced at her dress and smirked. “Waah! Aaj kal log designer kapdon ke saath food pairing bhi karte hain?”
Sanyukta huffed, trying to dab at the stain with a napkin. “Aur aaj kal log khana khate waqt dekh kar chalna bhi nahi seekhte?”
Ranvijay raised an eyebrow, his voice teasing. “Dekh kar chal raha tha, par tumhare jhatke waale entry scene ne sab bigaad diya.”
She shot him a sharp look. “Jhatke waale scene? Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Bollywood Hero. Next time, red carpet pe walk karke aaungi.”
He chuckled, unfazed. “Mujhe laga tha tum thank you bolne aayi ho.”
“Thank you?” she asked raising her brows in disbelief. “For ruining my dress?”
“No,” he replied, leaning slightly closer. “For the free legal tips I gave you during your divorce case.”
Sanyukta crossed her arms, her irritation palpable. “Oh, so now you’re keeping tabs? Should I expect a bill?”
Ranvijay feigned thoughtfulness. “Good idea. Lekin, mujhe lagta hai, tum afford nahi kar paogi.”
Her jaw dropped, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re full of yourself and annoying.”
“And you’re—” He paused, glancing at Avu, who was staring up at them curiously. “—dramatic.”
Sanyukta rolled her eyes. “Aur aap bas ek free food lover ho. Move aside. Mujhe Avu ke liye khana lena hai.”
Ranvijay stepped back with a mock bow. “Ji madam, khaana ka maidan khula hai.”
Grabbing the plate, Sanyukta muttered under her breath and walked away, leaving Ranvijay watching her with a bemused expression.
“Pagal ladki,” he said to himself, returning to his seat.
As he ate, he overheard a conversation between two women nearby.
“Sanyukta ke liye ladka dhoondhne mein kitni problem ho rahi hai,” one of them said.
“Haan,” another voice replied. “Woh divorce ke baad koi achha rishta milna mushkil hai. Aur Avu ki responsibility alag.”
Ranvijay froze mid-bite. So, she’s Sanyukta’s mother.
An idea struck him like lightning. Sanyukta’s disinterest in marriage was clear, but that might work in his favor. A practical alliance with no expectations could solve both their problems.
A sly smile crept across his face. “Interesting. Yeh shaadi ka solution toh mil gaya.”
😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁 How is it .....
Comments are whole heartedly welcomed here .....
Hehehe ....Sanyukta Maan jaayegi kya Ranvijay se shaddi ke liye .... Lag toh nahi raha mujhe 😜😜😜😜🤔🤔🤔
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