A mistaken identity. An act of mismatched revenge. Four life's entangled in a web of lies and deception. Hearts bled, tears flowed. Love changed its course and hatred ruled, but will the tide turn around?
Because some wounds run very deep, some scar...
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
I repeat this is a work of fiction. I did my bit of research but I no way claim 100% accuracy on various aspects you might come across in this story. Please be generous enough to pardon any absurdities found. I will get better. Please ignore any errors and typos found.
Happy Reading. Do let me know thoughts.
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Sleep, take me now and never let me wake
Still in your hands, in your kingdom, I'll be yours to break.
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They said he was blessed by fates to be lucky. Why not?
Born into an affluent family ringing with riches, parents who loved him more than life, a heritage to carry forward as the only heir of an undisputed leader in the business arena of Kolkata, he had everything many would wish for.
Cuddled to his mothers bosom, he would look around with his wide eyes, an attempt to understand hustle around. His mother sang him sweetest of lullabies tucking him into softest of the quilts. He would gurgle at faces made by his father which he found obviously funny. He would play in his father's lap, hearing his stories, though he couldn't make out a word of it, as his mother would try to make him eat. He smiled a lot, cried very little and was fussy at times, But he was loved nonetheless. His every tantrum was a source of happiness for his parents.
And he was named Sanskaar.
His first birthday was greeted with great pomp as his first words, his first steps...every little thing about him was no less but a celebration. With every passing year, the fortune only seemed to smile upon them. As years passed he has grown up to be a handsome lad. His eyes lashes impossibly long and dark stood out in his features. His every wish was catered in silver platter even before he could ask for. He was 'maa ka ladlaa' and dad's prince.... and he had a kingdom to take over. But he was no spoilt brat but brought up to be responsible, taught to value his fortune. He was good at whatever he did. His grades were excellent but music fascinated him like nothing else. The grand piano at the center of their mansion's hall was his favorite play instrument. He loved watching his mother play around with the white and black striped keys, her long fingers moving on them with an ease, And the sound they create--the music they sing, It was a wonder for him. Then he liked to toy around with the guitar, a gift from his dad on his 6th birthday LX1 Little Martin, of a lovely mahogany color on back and sides.
