King

'Deedar'

"Get up you slut!" A lady shouted kicking a girl of 26 on her stomach breaking her slumber. She was lying on the cold floor with no cloak. A groan escaped her mouth because of the pain which struck her body. Her body lifted up, sitting on the same spot. She fluttered her eyelids open and looked up to see the same hideous face and that acquainted anger she's been testimony of for the past three years.

That lady had her hands over her nose and disgust plastered on face because of the foul smell spread in the room. It was the smell of the vomit from the girl and the blood of her body.

"What happened bloody whore?" She asked in a casual manner, yawning. She was weak but never let it show over her face. After all she is 'Avneet Kaur' the businesswoman who never learnt to lose, neither in business nor in life.

"How dare you call me that?" The lady shouted at her boiling in anger. "By my mouth," she mocked at her standing on her feet with the shackles still cuffing her, she stared straight into her eyes, "old lady." She threw a wink in her direction completely pissing the lady off. 

"You slut!" A slap landed on Avneet's face, her head swung sideways. Howbeit it didn't affect her even a bit, she was used to these tiny torments. Avneet stretched her neck casually like nothing happened. She could've stopped the slap and in that process the lady's hand would've sliced like a cucumber but those chains and her weakness didn't let her do so.

"Make us breakfast and before that clean yourself and the room," the lady said, having a disgusted face while gazing around the room. With that she egresssed out of the room.

Avneet stared at her so-called room, it wasn't a big one. It had dark and dirty walls and at the moment floor either. She walked towards the bathroom.

She splashed a handful of water on her face. The once bright, beautiful face had turned pale. Dark bags under her eyes, red fingerprint on her cheek, hair frizzy that was visible in the mirror hanging on the wall of the washroom. 

Her eyes roamed around her body to see brutal whip marks, dried blood around the wound and hideous appearance. Thereafter her eyes met with its reflection on the mirror, it was filled with miserable emotions like solitude, love and a tint of lust for god knows what.

She gazed around the whole room, and stepped forward mopping her 'so called' room. She placed the objects scattered on their places and replaced the table which fell when she fell over it during the beatings. The shackles surely made it difficult for her.

As her work finished, she started applying the ointment on her wounds which was caused by whipping. She applied the bandages and, crack! That was the sound caused by inhumane snapping of her ankle. Not a sound escaped her mouth, prolly because of all the sufferings she got all those years.

"When will you make the effort to prepare breakfast, you slut?" She sighed at the old woman's shouting. Kept the first aid box aside muttering, "won't even let me heal." 

She got up. As she walked out of the room her heartbeat raced. She had a heavy heart. Nobody knew why she was happy, a weird sensation was flourishing in the bottom of her heart. Her eyes were welling up and was having strange intuition. She gulped her tears and pushed herself towards the kitchen ignoring all the commotion coming from the front room.

The front room, this cottage wasn't what it showed outside. To cheat the police, they reside in the slum, living a life in lavishness. The cottage appeared rusty and tiny but its interior was indeed amazing.

"Do not come outside! And make breakfast for us." The lady from the past warned her while she walked to the gas stove taking the utensil in her hand. "Why? Are you scared that your husband will bark at you if I run away?" She scoffed.

The lady seethed in anger but prior to she could reply, "moreover you people are just cowards who are scared that I might do 'something' and so had me slept for months by drug," she spoke air quoting something. She passed the cuff with a look of contempt before looking at her. "Not to forget this handcuff, which you have compelled me to wear so that I don't run away."

"But you should know nothing can stop him from taking me away. I have enough guts to knock you people out and escape but what's stopping me is your conditions that will be hilarious once he finds you all," she said turning back towards the stove, confusion never leaving the lady's face.

"Who is this person, for whom your tongue doesn't even rest?" The lady was genuinely fed up listening about him. She turned to look at her once and smirk carved on her pale face. "I have a feeling soon you'll know. And trust me it'd be an unforgettable experience." 

Her smirk added up the spice even more. She egressed out with an imaginary red flame coming out of her ears.

_______________

Siddharth walked to one of the sofas breaking the not so chaste eye contact with his nemesis. Others were just looking at him perplexed, even the man in the centre was looking at him with a tint of fear. He was Ankur, whom the whole of Dharavi feared.

Siddharth sat on the sofa as if he owned it, well it was actually considered to be an indication of dishonour if the King stood in front of anyone lower than him. Definitely he couldn't bear his disrespect at all.

"Who are you?" Rohini shouted from the end of the front room. Everybody's attention turned towards her but him. "What do you want? How dare you sit on my sofa like that? Didn't the guards-" she turned to look at the guards, frozen. "What? Why are you standing, you fools? Attack him!" She shouted, bringing them back. They looked at Siddharth forgetting everything and charged towards him with all the weapons they had.

He swung his head left and a dagger invaded the air beside his head. He stooped low and the sword sliced the air above him. By his instinct he blocked every way of harming him. They say the truth, 'it's hard to defeat a man who fights with a weapon but it's impossible to defeat a man who fights with a brain.' He stood and started blocking punches coming his way with a concentrated mind.

Howbeit a sweet, melodious and very familiar voice sang distracting his mind.

Le chal wahan jo mulk tera hai,
Zaahil zamana dushman mera hai...

Instead of blocking the punches his eyes started searching for the owner of the voice. He knew whom this voice belonged to and was very eager to have a look at her. One look of her and he lost his senses. A small, petite and fragile figure came blurring his vision for any other activities. The only thing remained in his mind was that he found her. He couldn't be happier than this. All of his strength disappeared, his mind became blank just his heart was beating.

Aaram aata hai deedar se tere,
mit jaate hain saare gum.
Hai ye dua ke tujhe dekhte dekhte nikal jaye dum..

Boom!

A punch came his way knocking him to the ground. He didn't care about anything else. His cane flew somewhere else.

The warm feeling in his heart turned to hot burning lava as soon as she left his vision. Surely she didn't see him, or else she would've recognised him in a look.

They tied his limbs tightly with rope. His eyes were still gazing at the direction where she appeared, wishing that she could bless him with her presence once more.

He closed his eyes, forgetting the universe, her picture displayed in his memory. After three years he saw her. Tears were there in the corner of his eyes but he didn't let them flow.

Duniya bhula ke tumse mila hun,
nikli hai dil se ye dua...