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Author's  pov

In the dimly lit room, Isha jolted awake, the echo of her nightmare lingering. It was the same haunting dream that had plagued her every dawn for over a decade, a recurring reminder of pain and fear she couldn't escape. Clutching her head in her hands, she muttered to herself, her heart racing as she fought to shake off the dread that clung to her chest.

As soon as she gathered herself, an unmistakable, sarcastic voice cut through the silence. "So, the maharani finally wake up," came the taunt.

"This girl and her screaming... first, the men don't let us sleep at night, and now this one ruins the morning. Every single day!" It was Sonali, her roommate and frequent rival in this harsh, unforgiving world.

But before Isha could reply, Mayuri, her best friend yet sister figure  and fierce defender, retorted with a sharp tongue.

"If it bothers you so much, stuff cotton in your ears and mind your own business. Don't you dare speak ill of my ishu ." Mayuri was like a firestorm, loyal and protective, her defiance of a rare spark of light in the oppressive darkness surrounding them.

Mayuri turned to Isha with a grin, trying to lighten the moment. "Hey ishu, guess what I scored last night from that old miser, Seet ji?" She held up a thin gold chain, flashing it proudly.

Isha rolled her eyes as she rose from the bed, stretching away the last traces of sleep. "Come on, bhaji , there's nothing left to take from that old man," she said, her tone worry.

"Maybe not wealth, but he's desperate to get his fill of whatever he can," Mayuri chuckled, draping the chain around her neck with a smug smirk. Sonali, watching with feigned admiration, sighed, "It's your charm, Mayuri. You could probably win a pauper's last penny."

Isha walked to the window and pulled back the curtain, only to quickly slam it shut, heart sinking as she caught sight of men slinking out of rooms, clutching their clothes and shame. She couldn't bear to watch. Sitting back down, she whispered,

"Ever since I came to this wretched place, the sunlight scares me. It feels like every ray sees my shame, my entrapment."

Mayuri put a comforting arm around her. "Ishu, one day you'll get out of here. I've watched you suffer for ten years, and I know you're better than this place. Just say the word, and I'll help you escape, start a new life."

Isha hesitated, but the weight of Ammaji's threat hung over her. Her voice trembled as she remembered:

"Dekh ladki agar tum yaha se bhaag gayi ya bhaagne ki koshish ki?? Toh mein tumhari behen ko iss khote mein le avungi aur usse aise barbaad karungi ki uski rooh tak kaap jaye."

("Listen, girl, if you try to escape or even think about running away, I will bring your sister to this brothel. I will ruin her so thoroughly that even her soul will tremble with fear.")

"If I try to leave... she'll bring my sister here." She closed her eyes, the words carving pain into her heart.

With a resigned sigh, Isha rose from her bed, pulling clothes for the day, and walked to the washroom, each step heavy with her fate. Behind her, Mayuri's frustration erupted.

"Why do you always torment her like this, Sonali?" Mayuri asked, her tone sharp with anger.

Sonali's face softened, her voice weary. "It's not hatred, Mayuri. It's just... humanity dies a little in each of us here. Look at her. My words might hurt now, but if they can make her desperate enough to escape, to dream of a life outside this hell... then maybe there's a chance she won't end up like us." She forced a brittle smile, pain gleaming in her eyes.

Mayuri nodded, their silent agreement underlining the tragedy of their existence.

This was Ammaji's Kota, a red-light district disguised as a shelter. Here, women weren't people; they were property. Some were sold; others were simply... taken. For every soul that resisted, there were dozens who had lost themselves, caught in the silent war to survive, in whatever way they could.

---

Flashback

Years Ago:

The bustling streets of mumbai  faded as Akansha and Akshaya finally stopped walking, gasping for breath, their faces flushed with fear and exhaustion.

"Didi... I... I can't walk anymore," Akshaya panted, clinging to her sister's arm. Her small, trembling voice tugged at Akansha's heart.

Akansha knelt beside her, holding her close. "Don't worry, Akshu. We're almost safe," she whispered, though her own heart was pounding with dread. They were vulnerable, stranded in an unfamiliar city with nowhere to go.

Just then, a man approached them, his eyes warm, his smile kind.

"You two look exhausted," he said gently, extending his hand. "Come, there's a place nearby. You can rest and eat something."

Akansha's gaze narrowed, wary of his intentions. But the ache in her legs and the pleading look in Akshaya's eyes made her reconsider.

"Why... why are you helping us?" Akansha asked, her voice thick with suspicion.

The man smiled softly. "Because you look like my daughter. The city can be harsh on strangers."

Akansha hesitated but nodded, deciding to trust him just this once. "Alright... but only for a little while."

The man led them to a small, dimly lit room. He brought out food - simple, but enough to calm their growling stomachs. Akansha and Akshaya sat down, glancing at each other, grateful yet cautious.

As they ate, Akansha felt a strange heaviness tugging at her eyelids. She shook her head, trying to fight it off.

"Akshu... I feel... so tired," she murmured, her vision blurring.

Akshaya's face turned pale, her voice laced with fear. "Didi, kya hua? Aap thik toh hain?"

("Sister, what happened? Are you okay?")

But the world around Akansha was slipping away, her senses dulling. She tried to reach for Akshaya's hand, but her strength was fading fast.

"Akshu... run," she managed to whisper, her words barely audible.

"Didi!" Akshaya's frightened cry was the last sound Akansha heard before darkness claimed her, her last memory of her sister's terrified face.

The promise of safety had been a lie.

When Akansha woke, she was surrounded by unfamiliar faces and an overpowering scent of incense and smoke. That stranger had handed them over to Ammaji, the infamous mistress of this place.

"Di, what is this place?" Akshaya whispered, her voice tinged with confusion and innocence. She looked up at her sister, clutching her arm as if it were a lifeline.

Akansha pulled her sister closer, shielding her from the leering eyes around them. "Shh... I'm right here, Akshu," she murmured, though a storm of terror was brewing in her chest. "Nothing will happen to you, I promise."

But her promise felt thin as Ammaji entered the room, her eyes instantly finding Akansha and drinking her in with greedy interest. Ammaji's lips twisted into a smile, cold and calculating. "What a beautiful flower," she sneered, her eyes glinting. "You, my girl, will fetch me a fortune when the time is right."

Akansha felt a chill run down her spine, but she straightened, holding Ammaji's gaze with fierce defiance. "I'll do whatever you ask. I'll stay here. But my sister... she's just a child. Let her go," she said, her voice low but resolute.

Ammaji raised an eyebrow, smirking. "And why should I let her go, hmm? What are you to me but another commodity?"

"Because if you keep her here, I'll make sure she escapes," Akansha snapped, barely holding back her rage. "And if you try to stop her, I'll ruin every plan you have for me by committing suicide. Or else, I'll make sure no one ever wants to buy me by seeing my face."

Ammaji's smirk faded, replaced by a dangerous glint. She leaned in close, her voice a low hiss. "You think you can bargain with me, girl? Do you know what I could do to you with just a snap of my fingers?"

Akansha's heart hammered, but she forced herself to speak. "I know. And I know you won't kill me... not when you think I can make you rich. But if you want that money, you'll keep Akshaya out of this. You'll let her go and never touch her."

Ammaji stared at her, a flicker of amusement crossing her face. "You have spirit, I'll give you that. Fine." She leaned back, waving a hand dismissively at Akshaya. "The little one can go. But remember, girl... you owe me for this. Every breath you take in this khota will be a debt to me."

Akansha clenched her jaw. "I'll pay. Just leave her alone."

Ammaji's smile was cruel. "Then it's settled. But don't think I'll forget this 'deal' of ours, Akansha. Your sister is safe... for now. But you... your fate belongs to me."

Akansha turned to Akshaya, kneeling down to hold her face. "Akshu, listen to me. You're going far away from here, to study, to live a life that's yours. Remember, no matter what, I'll always be with you. You won't come back to this place again, promise on  Maa and Papa that you will never try to get in touch with me."

Akshaya's eyes filled with confusion and fear. "But Di, I don't want to go without you..."

Akansha forced a smile, brushing away a tear. "One day, I'll come to you, Akshu. I promise. Until then, be brave... for both of us."

Ammaji men drags akansha by holding her fore arm , she is a 12 years old kid and akshansh 2 years elder than akaya , comparatively Akansha is more beautiful than akshaya , but ammaji have some other plans in her mind bcoz for her a girl nothing but an object who used to warm the men bed ...

After that day akansha never met akshya , hoping that she will be fine at somewhere....

Years passed. Akansha became known as Isha in Ammaji's khota, a name whispered with both admiration and possessive greed. Now, at twenty-four, she was the crown jewel of Ammaji's establishment, an object of desire for countless men. But Ammaji wasn't satisfied with mere glances or even brief encounters; she was waiting, holding back until the right buyer came along, someone wealthy enough to pay the astronomical price she had in mind.

---
In washroom under the shower Akshansh's ,, or rather, Isha’s ,,,,eyes opened, his fists clenched as he remembered the betrayal, the exploitation, and the silent sacrifices Akansha had endured. She had surrendered her freedom, her dreams, just to protect her sister.

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Other side of the story

Suryawanshi Haveli

Udaipur

The Suryawanshi Haveli was a grand, historic mansion, carrying the deep legacy of the family. Surrounded by lush gardens and towering trees, the haveli exuded a sense of majesty, with intricately carved wooden doors and an ancient lion emblem above them, symbolizing the strength and honor of the Suryawanshi lineage.

Inside, the main hall was expansive yet inviting, with high ceilings and tall windows that allowed warm sunlight to flood the room. The walls, painted in earthy hues, were adorned with portraits of Suryawanshi ancestors, watching over with pride. In the center of the hall, the yagna setup was a beautiful sight, with fresh marigold garlands, a woven carpet, and polished brass lamps adding to the sacredness of the occasion. The air was filled with the scent of sandalwood and incense, bringing a peaceful, almost divine aura to the place.

Madhavi Suryawanshi sat by her husband, Vikram Singh Suryawanshi, gently looking after him as he sat lost in his own world. Family members and staff stood respectfully, witnessing the ritual with quiet reverence.

The hall opened into serene courtyards, where flowering plants and fountains added to the calm ambiance. The haveli was not merely a residence; it was the heart of the Suryawanshi family, a stronghold of their history, traditions, and unity. As the yagna flames rose, the mansion seemed to radiate strength, symbolizing the unbreakable spirit of the family.

Shivaksh Singh Suryawanshi sat by the sacred fire, his strong presence filling the room. With sharp cheekbones and a firm jawline, his face was both handsome and commanding. His deep, intense eyes remained focused on the ritual, displaying a quiet strength and calm that hinted at the fierce resolve within him. His dark hair, slightly tousled, caught the glow of the flames, adding a rugged charm to his look.

With broad shoulders and a solid, muscular build, Shivaksh resembled a warrior of ancient times. Even in a simple, traditional dhoti with just a cloth around his neck , shirtless , his presence was magnetic, radiating power and control. As he performed the puja by pouting ghee in yagna ( homam ) , every movement was steady and graceful, as if he bore not only the pride of his family but his own unyielding dedication.

In that moment, he was every bit the hero, a protector bound by duty, unwavering and ready to face any challenge.

The sacred flames of the yagna danced higher, casting a golden glow over Shivaksh as he sat cross-legged, his eyes  in steady concentration. Today, he was not merely a dutiful son performing a ritual but a fortress, a shield for his family, carrying a weight far heavier than any ordinary man could bear. He was completing this ritual for his father, once a powerful businessman, now reduced to a childlike state by trauma. Shivaksh's mother, Madhavi, knelt beside his father, her gentle hands calming him as he fidgeted, lost in his own mind.

As the pandit ji chanted the holy verses, Shivaksh closed his eyes and offering prayers , his assistant and close friend, Karthik , approached him quietly, leaning down to whisper,

" Hukum sa we had ha situation" he asserted in his ear like a low growl ..

Karthik entered hesitantly, his steps cautious as though afraid to disturb the sanctity of the ritual. Summoning courage, he spoke, his voice trembling slightly. " Hukum sa , children in our school have suffered from food poisoning... 8 of them are in the hospital."

Shivaksh's posture stiffened, and he instinctively moved to stand, but before he could, the priest interrupted, raising his hand in objection.

"Hukum sa, leaving in the middle of a yagna is considered inauspicious. This ritual is specifically for your father's health. You cannot leave now."

For a moment, Shivaksh’s jaw tightened, his fists clenched in restrained frustration. But then, his calm mask returned. Without a word, he extended his hand toward Karthik, his cold, piercing gaze making his demand clear. Karthik, understanding immediately, fumbled in his pocket and handed Shivaksh his phone.

Shiv dialed swiftly, his voice low yet commanding as he spoke into the receiver.

"Hello, Rudra"

He explained the situation succinctly, each word laden with authority, before ending the call and returning the phone to Karthik.

As Karthik turned to leave, Shiv's voice halted him mid-step.

"Karthik."

The single word, spoken in his cold and monotonous tone, sent a chill down Karthik’s spine.

" I want minute-to-minute updates on the children's health. And the reason behind this? If someone is responsible, I want every single detail." Shiv’s eyes narrowed, his tone dropping to a dangerously calm register.

" You have until the yagna is completed. I want them in my warehouse."

The menace in his voice made even the priest’s hands tremble as he continued the ritual, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

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Within 45 minutes, the yagna concluded. The priest handed Shiv the prasad with reverence. Shivaksh took a small piece and carefully fed it to his father, his movements tender yet mechanical. He applied the sacred ash (vibhuti) to his father’s forehead, then clasped his hands in one final prayer before Mahadev.

Bowing slightly, he turned toward his mother, Madhavi. Gently touching her feet, he acknowledged her silent blessings. Without a word to anyone, his footsteps echoed in the hall as he left, a storm brewing within his composed exterior.

The haveli  stood still, as though holding its breath in the wake of his departure. Shivaksh’s actions spoke volumes , duty, rage, and unrelenting resolve coursing through his veins, ready to unleash fury on those who dared harm the innocent.

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In Shivaksh's warehouse

The warehouse loomed in the shadows, a chilling silence engulfing the vast space. Inside, Shivaksh's bodyguards had bound the culprits to steel chairs, their faces pale with fear. The dim light above flickered, casting ominous shadows on their trembling forms. Shivaksh stood at the far end of the room, his hands folded behind his back, his expression unreadable. The yagna’s vibhuti still adorned his forehead, a stark contrast to the storm brewing in his cold, unyielding eyes.

The leader of the culprits, a middle-aged man with a scar across his cheek, whimpered.
"Hukum sa... humein maaf kar dijiye. Woh galti thi, sirf ek baar... paise ke lalach mein......"
( Hukum sa , forgive us. It was a mistake, just once... blinded by greed ....")

Shivaksh raised his hand, silencing him instantly. His voice was low, yet every word cut like a blade.
"Galti ek baar hoti hai, irade nahi. Tumne jo kiya hai, usse meri trust ke naam par kalank lag gaya. Bacchon ki zindagi se khelne ka kya haq samjha tumne?"

("A mistake happens once, not by intent. What you did has stained the name of my trust. What gave you the right to play with the lives of children?")

The culprits remained silent, heads bowed, knowing there was no escape. Shivaksh glanced at his head bodyguard, Nakul , and gave a subtle nod.

Nakul  stepped forward, with a robotic expression . His men began their work without hesitation ,, striking the culprits with iron rods, their screams echoing in the large warehouse. Shivaksh stood unmoved, his icy gaze fixed on the scene. Blood splattered across the floor as the men cried for mercy, but Shivaksh’s silence was more terrifying than any punishment.

One of the culprits gasped through his sobs.
"Hukum sa... galti ho gayi... aakhri baar maaf kar dijiye..."

( Hukum sa  it was a mistake... forgive us this one last time...")

Shivaksh stepped forward, his boots echoing loudly. Stopping just a step away, he leaned in slightly, his voice dangerously calm.

"Meri dictionary mein ‘dhoka’ ke liye koi jagah nahi hai. Jo mujhe dhoka deta hai, uska anjaam hamesha milta hai."

("There’s no place for ‘betrayal’ in my dictionary. Those who betray me always face consequences.")

Straightening, he glanced at Nakul  once more.

"Jisne yeh ghatiya khaana supply kiya tha, uska haath kaat do."

("Chop off the hands of the one who supplied this inferior food.")

The men froze momentarily, shocked at the severity of the order, but Nakul’s firm nod set them into action. Shivaksh turned away, unwilling to witness the punishment ,,  his own restraint stemming from the sanctity of the yagna he had performed earlier that day.

As the culprits screamed in agony, Shivaksh wiped his hands with a pristine white handkerchief and spoke without looking back..

"Bachon ke health ke saath khelna , meri trust ke naam par kalank lagana... tum logon ka yeh aakhri din tha, mere samaj mein."

("Playing with children's health, tarnishing the name of my trust... this was your last day in my world.")

Once the punishment was delivered, Shivaksh walked out of the warehouse with calm precision. The fresh night air hit him as he stood at the entrance, looking up at the sky.

His lips moved silently in a prayer to Mahadev.

"I may be a flawed man, but I will never let your name be tarnished."

Without sparing another glance behind him , Shivaksh got into the car .culprits screams faded into the night .. a brutal reminder that there is no place for betrayal in Shivaksh's world , betrayal is an unforgivable sin ..

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Date : 1-1-2025

Words : 4000 +