चाँद की रोशनी सी हे जिसकी आखे, अदा-ए-ख़ास रखती हे वो, हर लिबास जचता हे उस पर, हर रंग में कमल लगती हे वो

~Shafin Khan

🪞✨🦢 🌷Happy reading 💗

"Pyaar se sehlana zaroori hai, par kabhi-kabhi mitti ko aakar dene ke liye us par sakhti bhi baratni padti hai... use tapana padta hai. Kab narmi ka istemal karna hai, kab sakhti ka... jo yeh samajh jaaye, wahi asli kalakaar hai. Pottery ka bhi... zindagi ka bhi."

("It's important to handle with love, but sometimes, to shape clay, you have to be firm... you have to test it. Knowing when to be gentle and when to be strong whoever understands that, is a true artist. In pottery... and in life.")

A thoughtful silence followed her words.

Sitara quickly added with a playful smile, "Nahi, nahi! Mujhe philosopher mat samajhna... yeh toh flow mein hi gyaan nikal gaya!"

("No, no! Don't think I'm some philosopher... it just slipped out in the flow!")

The audience burst into laughter, their admiration for her growing with every word.

"So, Sitara," the host leaned forward, smiling, "how does it feel to be such a successful pottery businesswoman in Udaipur at such a young age?"

She grinned. "Come on, guys... age is just a number... until you feel back pain."

The hall roared with laughter again.

"But seriously," she continued, her voice softer now, sincere. "Pottery has been the one thing I've loved for as long as I can remember. It's been my everything. I've worked really hard to reach where I am, and if there's one piece of advice I'd give..."

She paused dramatically, eyes twinkling.

"...just fall in love. But- " she pointed at the audience, grinning, "fall in love with pottery."

The hall echoed with laughter and applause.

"And what could be more special than receiving this award from none other than my biggest supporter.. my brother, Devyansh Oberoi!"

The spotlight shifted to the tall man beside her, his eyes shining with pride.

"Bhai, would you like to say something about your extraordinary sister?" she teased, holding the mic to his face.

Devyansh chuckled softly

"I've always said this," Devyansh said warmly, "aasmaan ka sabse chamakta tara hai meri Sitara. And she's proven it, again and again. I'm so proud of my extraordinary sister. I love you."

("The brightest star in the sky is my Sitara.")

He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. She giggled, but her eyes shimmered with tears.

"Thank you, bhai," she said, composing herself. "This journey reflects my family's support, the strength of the women I grew up around, and the belief that tradition and innovation can beautifully coexist. I'm grateful for everything what I've created, and where life has taken me."

She glanced around and quipped, "Okay, that's all from me! And thank you for listening.. because that's probably the toughest thing to do!"

The crowd laughed again. Devyansh chuckled at her mischief.

"Ma'am, would you like to dedicate this award to someone?" the host asked.

Sitara nodded, thoughtful.

"I dedicate this award to every woman who dares to dream, and to all the artisans who continue to tell stories with their hands. Kudos to you all"

As she accepted the Sakhi Award, the room lit up with cheers and admiration. The evening continued with heartfelt performances, stories of resilience, and a renewed promise to empower women across Rajasthan.

Later that Evening - Oberoi Mansion

"Chachiiiiiii!" Sitara yelled as she ran into her mansion, excitement bursting like fireworks.

("Auntyyyyy!")

"Aree aree aa gayi toofaan humari!" her grandpa laughed from his spot in the living room.

("Oh dear, here comes our little storm!")

"Taruuu!" her Aunty Isha giggled, walking toward her.

"Here!" Sitara said, handing over the award. Isha hesitated for a second, glancing at her husband, who nodded slightly.

"Aap se hum hain, chachi. Aap na hote toh aaj... yeh award bhi na hota." Sitara's voice softened as she handed the award to Isha.

("I am who I am because of you, aunty. If it weren't for you... this award wouldn't exist either.")

Isha smiled, touched.

"Chachu!" she squealed, hugging her uncle tight.

"I'm so proud of you, Potter Sitara!" he said dramatically, making her giggle.

"Dadu, yeh mat sochna mithai milegi aapko!" she said, wiggling her eyebrows at her grandfather, who pouted adorably.

("Grandpa, don't expect any sweets!")

"Mera Maalpua kahan hai?" she called out teasingly.

("Where's my Maalpua?")

And before anyone could blink, a fluffy white cat came darting toward her.

"Maalpuaaaaa!" she squealed, dropping to her knees to scoop him up.

Devyansh shut his ears playfully. "Yeh nahi sudhregi!" he muttered, laughing.

("She'll never change!")

The room echoed with laughter, the warmth of love and pride wrapping around them like a shaw

Later, as everyone sat in the living room...

"Uhm... chachu, I have to go to Jaipur to attend Krishnanand ji's daughter's wedding," Devyansh said.

"Hmmm, that's important. He's very influential it will help us. You should go," Veer said, sipping his coffee.

"Bhai, I'll come too. I have a meeting with Aryan Khanna in Jaipur about our pottery supply deal," Sitara chimed in, Maalpua now comfortably nestled in her lap.

"That's a great idea," Veer nodded. "He's invited the whole family. If Sitara comes too, it'll mean more to him."

Devyansh hesitated. "But Chachu... will it be safe for her- ?"

"Bhai, don't tell me I have to go with that Evansh again," Sitara interrupted, groaning.

("Brother, please don't tell me I have to go with that Evansh again!")

"That's not up for debate, Tara. You have to go with Evansh," Devyansh said firmly.

"Bhai, it's so irritating! He doesn't laugh, he doesn't talk like a normal human being! And the worst part ,do you know how embarrassing it is to roam around with a bodyguard when you're not even a celebrity?! It's just so-"

"Saans lo, Tara baba," Veer chuckled.

("Breathe, Tara child.")

"It's for your safety, Tara. Evansh is just doing his job. He's not there to laugh or chat he's there to protect you."

"Protect me from what? Am I the Prime Minister that someone will attack me?" she argued, exasperated.

"Tara, bas. No more arguments," Devyansh cut in.

("Enough, Tara.")

"Fine! I'm not going. You go to Jaipur. Maalpua and I will stay here- at least someone here takes me seriously," she declared dramatically, scooping up her cat and stomping away.

She muttered under her breath as she climbed the stairs.

"Isski masoomiyat... kabhi kabhi bahut daraati hai mujhe, Chachu,- Dar lagta hai koi mere Tara ka dil na tod de " Devyansh whispered, his eyes following her.

("Her innocence... sometimes it really scares me, Uncle- I am scared what if someone break my Tara's heart")

Veer didn't say anything. He just placed a reassuring hand on Devyansh's shoulder.

─── ⋆⋅☆🌷🌷☆⋅⋆ ──

"Jahaan dimaag lagana hai, wahaan agar dil lagaoge... toh dil toh tootega hi."

("If you place your heart where your mind is needed, heartbreak is guaranteed.")

"Rajneeti mein dil nahi lagaye jaate, bete."

("In politics, emotions have no place, son.")

The deep, gravelly voice echoed with unshakable authority before the man ended the call and handed the phone to his aide without a second glance.

His strides were unhurried, yet every step carried the weight of power. Black boots crunched against the gravel path as he walked toward the waiting beast a majestic black Marwari stallion, taller than most, muscle rippling beneath its glistening coat.

With one smooth motion, he mounted the horse, gripping the reins with effortless control. The stallion neighed, rising on its hind legs, slicing the air with raw strength. The wind roared as if bowing to him.

He leaned slightly forward, his voice calm yet commanding:

"Chal, Shera."

("Let's ride, Shera.")

The horse responded with a powerful snort and took off in a gallop, hooves thundering against the earth. His coat billowed behind him, hair whipping in the wind, eyes locked forward with laser focus unshaken, unreadable.

No emotion. No distraction. Just that wicked, dangerous smirk tugging at the corner of his lips the kind that warned you he always wins.

As he approached the pavilion, a voice called out..

"Careful, Shaan!"

He didn't flinch. Just gave a slight nod without breaking form. Unbothered. Untouchable.

With a swift pull of the reins, he brought the horse to a sharp stop. The beast reared up once again on its hind legs, front hooves striking the air in a powerful climax of the ride.

And in that split second the dust swirling around, the sunlight carving his silhouette, the wild energy crackling in the air stood...

Shaan RaiSinghaniya.

The name. The legend. The storm in a tailored suit.

He dismounted with graceful ease, boots landing softly against the ground. His fingers ran along the stallion's neck with quiet affection. That cruel, calculated smirk still painted on his face, as if he already knew this world bends to his will.

"Damn you and your obsession with horse riding," Aditya said, chuckling as he jogged to keep up.

"That's not an obsession," Shaan replied, his voice low, almost detached.

"It's a need. A need to rule... to be powerful enough that no one can ever break me."

His green eyes darkened, as if flickering with memories he never let surface. Memories that still burned.

Aditya's smile faded slightly, sensing the shift in his friend's tone. But before he could speak, Shaan asked, casually tilting his head:

"Today's schedule is clear, right?"

"Yeah," Aditya nodded. "But tomorrow, we've got that wedding to attend."

"Right. I remember." Shaan gave a brief nod as he opened the sleek black car door.

"I'm heading home today. You coming with me?"

"Nah," Aditya said, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Since we're free, I thought I'd visit my family too."

"Fair enough. See you tomorrow."

With that, Shaan stepped inside the car. The door shut with a solid thud clean, final.

A swirl of dust rose behind the wheels as the engine roared to life and the car shot forward, disappearing into the horizon.

Shaan RaiSinghaniya never looked back. And the world had learned it was better not to ask him why.

______________

Shaan RaiSinghaniya.

As rigid as he appeared to the world, that's exactly how soft his heart turned when it came to his family.

But don't get it twisted his softness was silent, never spoken. And while his heart might bend for his loved ones, everyone in the RaiSinghaniya household knew to tread carefully. One look from Shaan, and even the loudest tables fell silent.

As he stepped into his grand ancestral mansion, everything was still. Not a voice, not a sound until the delicate tinkle of bangles echoed from the hallway.

His eyes narrowed.

He walked quietly, his polished shoes making no sound on the marble floor, and peeked around the corner. A girl was tiptoeing in through one of the windows, clutching something in her hand.

"Where do you think you're coming from at eight in the evening?"

His deep voice sliced through the air like a whip.

"And that too... from the window, Sarika RaiSinghaniya."

Sarika froze. She shut her eyes tightly, already cursing herself in every language she knew.

Taking a deep breath, she turned around to face the one man she didn't want to encounter just yet.

"Oh my God! My bhai is back!" she chirped, trying to change the energy. "When did you come? I missed y-"

"Do I look like a child to you?" Shaan's voice was ice-cold, his expression completely unreadable.

Sarika gave him a mischievous smile, the kind that usually melted everyone.

But Shaan?

Definitely not.

"What are you hiding behind your back?" he asked, folding his arms across his broad chest.

"Bhai... a-actually..."

"Sarika." His tone grew sharper. "Answer every single question honestly, before I call everyone here and-"

"MAGGI!" she blurted out in one breath, thrusting the packet toward him. "The Maggi was over and I really wanted to eat some, so I went to get it- see!"

Shaan blinked at her like she'd just declared she'd stolen a national treasure.

"Are you serious? You climbed out of a window for... Maggi?"

"We have staff for that, Sarika. You're the daughter of a very public figure."

"And I know, bhai," she interrupted before he could launch into full lecture mode. "I didn't go outside-outside. I had it delivered to the gate. I just walked out to grab it. That's it."

Shaan stared at her for a long moment, his face unreadable.

Then, finally, he gave a single nod. "Be responsible, Sarika. You're not a kid anymore."

With that, he turned and walked up the stairs.

Sarika stood there blinking, then smirked.

"Kisi din koi toofan express aa jaaye inki life mein, aur inko sudhaar de... main toh aarti utarungi uski."

("Someday, if a hurricane enters his life and changes him, I'll literally worship that person.")

"Hush! Anyway, survived for now. Run, Sarika, run!"

She placed the Maggi packet on the kitchen counter and dashed toward her room like she'd just escaped death row.

Later that night, in the RaiSinghaniya dining hall...

The long dining table buzzed with life elders exchanging stories at one end, cousins giggling and chatting at the other. Laughter echoed, silverware clinked against porcelain.

But the moment Shaan walked in, a sudden hush blanketed the room.

One glance from him, and even the youngest cousin sat up straighter.

He strode across the hall with his signature calm, powerful aura, and took his seat beside his father's chair.

"Finally, you got time for us," his mother said, half-teasing.

He simply smiled and nodded.

"Shaan, how's the campaign going?" his father asked.

"Everything is going smooth, Papa," he replied .. stern, yet respectful.

Just as the air began to lighten, his mother spoke again, gently but firmly.

"Jab raajneeti syun fursat mil jaave, to e baat pe bhi dhyaan de dyo... thaan 29 baras ke ho gya. Byaah karoge ki nai?"

("If you get some respite from politics, then pay attention to this as well... you've turned 29. Will you get married or not?")

Shaan's jaw clenched. He slowly placed his spoon back on the plate.

"I have no time for this. And I'm not planning to get married anytime soon," he said, voice low but resolute.

"That's stupidity, Shaan. You will get married by the end of this year, and that's final." His father's tone left no space for argument.

Shaan stood up, adjusting the cuff of his shirt, his chair scraping softly against the marble floor.

"I can't. Not now- " he began, turning to walk away.

"Not now, then when, Shaan RaiSinghaniya?" his father's voice rang out, calm but commanding.

Shaan paused mid-step, his back still turned to the table. He slowly slid his hand into his pocket. His expression unreadable, his posture unyielding. And then-

"When I find someone who knows how to handle the storm inside me."

Silence.

No one dared to respond.

Because they all knew...

That storm wasn't just inside Shaan RaiSinghaniya.

It was him.

________________________

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