𝑪𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆- 𝑾𝒂𝒓 𝑶𝒇 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆

𝟒𝟔.𝐃𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐘𝐀

AUTHOR'S POV

Before heading to the palace, Mrityunjay’s car screeched to a halt near the ancient Shiva temple. The night was heavy, the air thick with silence, and only the flickering diyas glowed faintly in the courtyard. He accelerated up the stone steps two at a time, his chest heaving. Randhir waited for him in the car.

The moment he fell to his knees before the Shivling, his body gave way. The tears came like a flood, unstoppable, uncontrollable. His forehead pressed against the cold stone as he sobbed like a child stripped of everything.

“Bhole baba… wo hume chhod kar chali gayi…” His voice cracked, drowning in grief.
“Uski khushi hume apne jeene ki wajah lagti thi… par hume kya pata tha… jise hum wajah bana rahe hai… wo humse judi hi kisi wajah ke liye hai… hume kuch samajh nahi aa raha baba.”

He clutched the base of the Shivling, as if holding on for strength.
“Hume nahi pata kaun saccha hai, kaun jhootha… bas itna pata hai ki jisko pyaar dene ke liye humne pyaar ko doosra mauka diya… usne hi hume dhokha de diya…”

His sobs grew harsher, shaking his body.
“Wo keh kar gayi hai ki hum usse nafrat na kare… aur sach ye hai, Bhole baba… ki hum kar bhi nahi paa rahe…”
He shut his eyes, chest breaking under the weight.“Hann, Hum usse nafrat nahi kar payenge… par hum uske pyaar par vishwas bhi nahi kar payenge…Aap bataiye kaise kare vishwas us par hum??”

The silence of the temple was broken by a husky voice.
“Uske pyaar par nahi… apne pyaar par toh vishwas karte ho na?”

Jay jerked his head back. From the shadows emerged a figure—long beard flowing, rudraksha beads glinting faintly in the light, matted jata tied high like a crown. An Aghori. His eyes glowed with something beyond human knowing.

Mrityunjay staggered to his feet, wiping his face, preparing to leave without a word.

But the Aghori stepped closer, voice deep, calm, commanding.
“Tumhare prem ne hi use sach bolne ki himmat di hai.”

Jay’s breath hitched. His fists tightened.
“Aap hume jaante bhi nahi… toh aapko kaise pata, kya hua hoga…”

The Aghori smiled faintly, as if he had been waiting for this.
“Tumhe kaun nahi jaanta? Tum Raja ho Banaras ke… par yeh jo ro raha hai wo Raja ka dil hai.”

Jay looked down, lips pressed shut.

The Aghori’s words struck like arrows.
“Jo prem karte hai… wo premi par sandeh nahi karte. Agar use prem na hota, toh apna sab kuch chhod kar kyun jaati?”

Jay’s voice cracked, anger mingled with pain.
“Jo prem karte hai, wo premi ko dhokha bhi nahi dete…”

The Aghori shook his head, his tone sharp, unwavering.
“Puri baat jaane bina kisi anjaam par nahi pohchna cahiye...Uski pareshaniyan tumse kam nahi hain… tum dono ek hi dard ke do pehlu ho.”

The words hung heavy in the temple air. Jay’s mind flashed with memories—her tears, her trembling voice, her promise.
And then… his own.

“I will never leave you, Swan… no matter what.”

His lips quivered as the Aghori’s voice thundered again, like a divine decree.
“Prem mein yadi tum premi ka haal na samajh sako… toh tumhe khak prem hai.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Jay’s tears stopped, but his chest still heaved. He stood frozen, caught between betrayal and belief, his heart pounding with a single truth—he still loved her or he never stopped.