Sitapur
The city brimmed with celebration. After years away, Prince Arav Rathore had returned from battle, victorious. Streets were adorned with marigolds, musicians echoed in the distance, and the royal halls buzzed with noblemen and generals. But not everyone was present at the grand celebration.
In a quiet, hidden corridor of the ancient palace library, dust motes danced in sunlight filtering through arched jharokhas. The quiet rustle of pages broke the silence.
A woman, clad in a simple but elegant cotton sari, sat near a wooden column, eyes scanning an old Persian text. Meharbano—known to the world as Princess Noor Jahan—had slipped away in her usual disguise. Her dark kohl-lined eyes held the storm of a thousand thoughts, her posture calm yet wary. She had long since stopped caring for the pomp of royalty. The world outside was more vibrant—more real.
Today, she was once again a commoner in the temple courtyard earlier, now a quiet seeker in the palace library.
"Pardon me," a deep voice cut through the silence.
She turned slightly, and in that brief instant, her book slipped from her hands, pages fluttering.
A man—tall, in loose navy kurta with silver embroidery and tousled hair—stooped to pick it up at the same time.
Their eyes locked for a second.
Dark. Intense. Curious.
But she was quick. She lowered her gaze and spoke in polished English, "I'm so sorry, that was my mistake."
Then hastily switched to Urdu, "Maaf kijiye, janab."
(Forgive me, sir.)
Arav, surprised, smiled faintly. "I understand both. You didn't need to switch."
She glanced at him again, longer this time, before crouching to retrieve her book. But his hand still held it.
"Aapka naam kya hai?" he asked, gaze steady.
(What's your name?)
She narrowed her eyes, brushing dust off the spine. "Janab, bada be-adab hoon. Pehlay takra gaya, phir naam bhi poochh raha hoon. Hairat hai, Sitapur mein Sita maa ne aise log kab se rakhne shuru kiye? Shikayat karni padegi unse."
(Sir, you are quite ill-mannered. First, you bumped into me, now you're asking my name. I'm surprised Sitapur has started keeping such men under Sita Maa's watch. I'll have to file a complaint.)
Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she smiled sweetly.
Arav raised an eyebrow, half amused. "Kya pata Sita maa ne kisi ko bheja ho… mujh jaise badtameez ko tameez sikhane."
(Who knows, maybe Sita Maa sent someone like me… an ill-mannered man who needs to be taught manners.)
They both reached for the book again, fingers brushing. She quickly withdrew, brushing her hands.
"Aap jashn mein nahi gayi?" he asked, following her as she returned the book to the shelf. "Maine suna, aaj Maharaja Prithviraj ke bete laut ke aaye hain… jang jeet ke. Itni badi baat hai! Aap nahi gayi? Yahan pe la-ma'roof kitaabein padhne ayi hain, jab bahar sab kuch hai?"
(You didn't go to the celebration? I heard Maharaja Prithviraj's son has returned today… victorious from war! It's such a big occasion. You didn't go? You're here reading nameless books while everything is outside?)
She slid the book into place and turned to face him.
"Aap bhi toh nahin hain wahan. Yahan gumnaam jagah mein aap bhi toh hain."
(You're not there either. You're also in this obscure corner.)
He chuckled, folding his arms. "Main wahan hokar aaya hoon. Mubarakbaad de aaya."
(I've already been there. Gave my congratulations.)
She looked at him, lips pressed in polite indifference. "Shahzade ko meri taraf se mubarak ho… Ab agar ijaazat dein, toh mujhe jana hai. Khuda hafiz."
(Please convey my congratulations to the prince… now, if you'll excuse me, I must leave. Goodbye.)
As she turned to leave, Arav tilted his head. "Kya aap khush nahi hain unke aane par?"
(Aren't you happy about his return?)
She didn't turn. "Balaa mujhe unse kya?"
(Why should I care. What is it to me?)
He watched her back as she walked away, the echo of her dupatta fluttering in the silent hall.
Raza appeared beside him, slapping a hand on Arav's shoulder. "Yeh tere haath nahi aayegi, Shahzade Saleem."
(You won't get this one, Prince Saleem.)
Arav didn't respond immediately. Still looking in the direction Noor had gone, he said thoughtfully, "Nahi yaar… mujhe ladki patane ka shauk nahi. Bas dekh raha tha… Sitapur ke log mere aane se kitne khush hain."
(No, my friend… I don't enjoy chasing girls. I was just having a look about… how happy Sitapur's people are about my return.)
Then, with a small grin, "Lekin yeh ladki… bohot tez mizaaj ki hai."
(But this girl… she has quite a fiery temper.)