Jaisalmer…

A girl was wearing a long Anarkali dress… her thick, wavy hair flowing free… holding the dress with both hands, she was running up the fort stairs, laughing. Her voice echoed, “You won’t be able to color me!” she shouted as she ran.

Another girl, around the same age, was chasing after her. The first girl reached the fort’s terrace.

The second girl caught up, lifted her lightly by the waist, spun her around, and applied red color to her cheek.

The first girl laughed out loud. It was evening, and the golden sunlight was shining down on both of them.

The second girl said, “Got you! Don’t mind, it’s Holi!”

The first girl replied, “Oh really? You’re done for now!” and started chasing her in return.

Nearby, a few women who were already gathered and gossiping near the fort commented:

First woman: “Isn’t that girl in the Anarkali dress Ratan Sisodia’s daughter?”

Second woman: “Yes, and look at her! No dupatta on her head, no manners… running around like that… no shame at all.”

Third woman: “Ratan Bhai Sa has given her way too much freedom. Look at her behavior, just like a boy’s. Girls are supposed to be delicate and graceful.”

Fourth woman: “And look at the other girl… Isn’t she Chaudhary Sahib’s daughter? These short clothes don’t suit our place. So many boys come here…”

Just then, Sheetal, the second girl, stopped and replied:

“Aunty, then tell your boys to keep their eyes down—because every girl is like a mother figure. And what were you saying about my clothes? Tell me, what’s the difference between yours and mine? I’m wearing a crop top that shows my waist and stomach, and you’re wearing a saree showing your back and waist. So how are my clothes inappropriate? What logic is this?”

“And you’re talking about Ratan Kaka Sa’s daughter? Yesterday, I saw your own daughter smoking with some boys in the alley, Janhvi Ji.”

Hearing that, the woman named Janhvi was stunned. The other three women covered their mouths in shock. Sheetal walked away from there.

The first girl, Aditi, said, “Sheetal, was that really necessary? You shouldn’t talk back to elders.”

Sheetal replied, “Oh come on Aditi… don’t be so naïve. You have to learn to answer back sometimes. I don’t usually talk back, but women who gossip like that—I just can’t tolerate them. They’ve got thorns in their own homes and are out looking for thorns among others’ roses.”

(Aditi says, “Where did you get that line from?”

Sheetal replies, “I didn’t say it, Nikki came up with it.”)

Aditi didn’t respond and simply nodded. They both went their separate ways—Aditi got into her car, and Sheetal rode off on her bicycle.

Aditi sat in the backseat, staring outside. Her cheeks were still stained with color. Sheetal, too, was covered in vibrant hues. The college group had celebrated Holi a day early. Most of the other girls had already gone home.

This is Aditi Sisodia, daughter of Ratan Sisodia. She’s 20 years old, fair-skinned, with thick brown hair, currently pursuing a B.Sc. degree.

On the other side

A chopper flew through the sky and slowly descended onto an empty plot of land. A man stood below, watching it arrive.

Seconds later, a door opened and another man stepped out dressed in a crisp white shirt and pants, carrying his overcoat, sunglasses perched on his eyes.

He walked confidently towards the man on the ground. The chopper took off again.

Extending his hand for a handshake, he said, “Hello. Show me your plot. If I don’t like it, I’ll charge you for every second of my wasted time.”

The man began sweating nervously but proceeded to show him the land. The visitor examined it thoroughly—it was barren, but valuable. Still, his face remained emotionless.

The man asked, “Mr. Advait Pratap Singh, do you like this land?”

Advait stroked his beard and slid both hands into his pockets, “Hmm… I could build an amusement park here. The land is far from any river and very dry. There's no food or drink nearby—so tourists will have to eat and drink inside the park. That means profit everywhere is ours.”

The man smiled. Advait looked at his assistant—who had also exited the chopper with him—and extended his hand. The assistant gave him a blank signed cheque.

Advait handed it over to the man and said, “Fill in whatever amount you feel is right. For the land and for anything else you may want.”

The man was overjoyed and quickly wrote the amount on the cheque, handing it back to the assistant. The land was 700 acres and worth ₹700 crore. Advait bought it for ₹1,000 crore, without flinching—because he earned ₹10 lakh crore a day.

Advait Pratap Singh, 26 years old, a hardcore businessman who turned his ancestral business from lakhs to thousands of crores.

His company, Pratap Industries, provides petrol and electricity to states like Rajasthan, Gujarat, Maharashtra, Punjab, Madhya Pradesh, Delhi, Uttarakhand, and surrounding areas.

Just then, Advait heard the sound of anklets. He looked to the side—the landowner’s wife had arrived. Advait frowned and said to the man, “Bringing your wife to a business site like this isn’t right. You never know how different men might look at her…”

The man apologized, “Forgive me, Kunwar Sa, she insisted on coming. I couldn’t say no.”

Advait smirked and replied, “If you can’t control your wife, what kind of man are you?” and walked ahead while checking his phone.

Advait’s assistant, Badal Prajapati, felt bad for the couple. The woman’s face fell, while her husband glared at her as if to say, See, this is why I told you not to come.

Badal had gotten used to all this. He had a wife too, who often said, “Your first wife seems to be your boss—you're always with him. Even at home, he keeps calling for work.”

Badal would reply, “Once a girl enters boss’s life, all this will stop on its own.”

To be Countinue......❤️