~PLACID~

CHAPTER 1

Miles Away......

"Be straight" an order resounded in his ears making him still and straight with fingers curled into a tight fist. He closed his eyes frightened of which part will be next. His body glistened with droplets of sweat.

Lack of trust ruins everything they say. But it isn't untrue.

The man shook with fear unknown.

"Stand still", the next order came.

" What are they up to?", one maid asked another.

Asking the same question was a daily ritual so were the orders.

"Daily routine. Master is hellbent on improving his shooting skills.", the other replied.

Peeping through the window the first servant tried to catch a glimpse of the rehearsal outside.

She saw a red object on the victim's head. She narrowed her eyes in an attempt to obtain a clear view. High power made things worse especially when you were ignorant enough to check your vision from a doctor.

Just like an ant who would never give up her journey to get a sugar particle, the lady didn't budge off till she succeeded in her " vision mission". Had it been "mission vision" there would have been two extra pair of eyes on her already weak eyeballs.

The red object was nothing but an apple placed very neatly on the head to be brutally shot by the rifle the very next moment.

The man shivered, his body jacketed by several layers of sweat droplets. If a doctor had attended this crucial moment, exact high rise values of blood pressure would have been recorded. But Alas! who would really care to call a doctor for as petty a reason as sweating, shivering and anxiety. Haasilgarh was beyond such terms relatable to "adrenaline rush".

People are mistaken to believe that head gears exist only on ramps for fashion weeks. The sophisticated minds of deep cut, ragged, mixed, multicoloured yet stylish clothing need to peep in the old yet new days of ancient havelis like that of Haasilgarh. Locals will teach how beneficial, multifaceted and stylish is an apple as a head gear. It was so popular that even the lone heir of the throne of this region loved to play with it.

On the contrary whoever said that an apple a day keeps a doctor away need to interview rather interrogate Sikander who flaunted the apple
head gear day in and day out without any qualms, his unrecognized sweat is enough to give us the proof. The man unlike his name was a loser whose every attempt was unacknowledged. Sikander today stood once again to face his much awaited fate which luckily enough dodged him every passing day.

The eyes that were closed tightly tried to see what laid in front. A blur visual of the rifle point was seen by the narrow opening of eyelids.

The eyes were shut again as the earlier experiences replayed in his mind.

"Sahib please!!!", he shivered.

Before his plea was heard the bullet came and hit the bottom of the apple. A loud applause was heard for the
"unmistaken grave shot" by their lone heir. But not even the dog cared for the "brave attempt" of Sikander who stood like a statue even when the bullet had nearly hit his skull and escaped with accolades.

Sikander was lost in his thoughts when again a gunshot was heard followed by loud claps. The victim opened his eyes to witness the apple's fate. The bullet holes were found exactly in the middle of the fruit which yet again invited a thunderous applause from his slaves. Well not slaves, his servants.

Whatever was the fate of the apple, Sikander was happy with the fact that his master had learnt his lesson and henceforth his skull was safe.

The ruffling sound of the birds' feathers startled the lady sitting in her room.

"What's going on?"

"Thakurain Saahib has shot the apple", the maid informed.

" Apple fell, people clapped but why did feathers flutter?"

The old lady was just like the maid, the difference being her "mission" was "seasonal".

Her maid blinked her eyes in amusement and walked out.

"Are you alright?", her counterpart questioned.

" Can't people understand that gun shots scare pigeons and hence the feathers ruffle?"

"Accept my regards Saahib", Sher Singh greeted his master.

" What news have you got Sher Singh?", the heir smiled.

Bhanu Pratap Singh Thakur was the lone son of the royal family of Haasilgarh. The place that was ruled by the Thakurs for the past seven generations saw one thing common. There was a single son and hence a single heir in each generation. Some called it fate just like that of the apple. Others called it a bane just the way Sikander was cursed to stand still with the apple on top. But no one knew why was it like that similar to the old lady who couldn't figure out the reason behind the ruffling sound of feathers.

Apple, Sikander and the pigeons were the first three things that Haasilgarh was famous for.