Chapter 1

[A/N: Before you start reading this, you must know this write-up probably sucks and isn't really good enough. I apologize in advance if after reading this you don't feel good. Also, Nandini is just perfect for Aman in my head. I have no idea why. But I ship these two together. And I wish to lord that the creatives do listen to this pairing and make it possible. Again, Sorry for wasting your time with this one. Please read and review. The song used is Awari from the film, Ek Villain. Inspiration struck when I saw this song for the first time. I had been delaying writing this because I really was very doubtful whether it was worth it or not.]

Soul for Sale

Teri baahon mein jo sukoon tha mila
Maine dhoonda bahut
Phir na milaa...

He sat silently in the jeep, his fingers clutching the steering wheel. What was he doing here, of all places? His palms were sweaty, and his forehead creased in anger that he felt perennially since the past few months. His nose scrunched in disgust, as he tried to not concentrate on the area he was in.

Strange, how this would repulse him, and yet, he'd make his way back here.

It was all her fault anyway, he gritted his teeth. No, it was his fault. He never should have found her.

He cursed the day he undertook this assignment. Never in his wildest dreams, would Captain Amandeep Singh have thought how blatantly upside down his whole world would become due to this assignment. He sighed, and fought back the bile that rose in his throat.

At times like these, he wondered why his anger was so different than Major Rudra Pratap Ranawats'? Wouldn't it be easier if he could scream, throw things around, go on a stampede?

Yet, he just silently simmered. It seemed months had gone by, and he was letting his anger simmer, turning it into a poison that was slowly killing him.

Love wasn't supposed to be a poison, was it?

Was this not love, then?

Or was this love after all?

He had always been good at these assignments. Finding secrets, information, people, was his specialization. Now, sitting in his jeep, waiting for her to come out, he almost wished for a different specialization.

He wished he had never laid his eyes on her.

Yet still, his eyes seemed to light up as she came out of that heavily lighted shabby building, and the pain increased ten-fold.

Duniya chhoona chaahe mujhko yun
Jaisay unki saari ki saari main
Duniya dekhe roop mera
Koi na jaane bechari main

Nandini... His mind echoed her name, with a million emotions in their wake.

His superior had one day given him the assignment to track down his wife's sister's whereabouts, and Aman, being the follower that he was, had instantly agreed. He was quick and effective when tracking down people was concerned. And this would mean another addition to his success rate. But what he hadn't prepared himself for was this.

He had been efficient enough, bribing informers across the border to know about the trade that went off, and within weeks, he had come to know the ugly condition that this girl had faced.

She had been bought and sold seven times by now, the recent one being in a village that was famous for the abundance of prostitutes just three hours away from Chandangarh.

He had refrained from informing his superior about this, wanting to confirm whether the girl was actually Nandini or not.

And some tiny part of him wanted to conceal this from Rudra and Parvati because it might just be too painful for his pseudo-sister.

His first meeting with this silent tornado had been in the marketplace of her present village. He had followed her trails for weeks and waited days for her to come in the open so that he could meet her. Somewhere deep down, he wanted her to be saved like her sister was saved. And like the normal guy he was, he had thought she would latch on to any sort of saviour.

He hadn't been more wrong about anything in his life.

She had been wearing a green ghaghra, he remembered distinctly. Everything about her, from her hair, to her overly powdered face, to her uncharacteristic swollen lips, everything screamed devastation.

Except her eyes.

And those eyes had knocked him cold. He had stood for a good five minutes, rooted in his place, staring at her eyes.

And she had passed him by, thinking him a fool to be standing still as a statue in the middle of the market.

He had run after her, and introduced himself. He had thought the mention of his job and position would be enough to earn her trust in him. He had thought she would be delighted to know that he was there to take her to her long lost family. He had thought she would break down and cry over the family that was supposed to be her everything.

Instead, he had found her running away from him. He had found her struggling away from him when he had caught up to her. He had found her biting him when he had tried to touch her to calm her down.

He had sworn that day that he would give all the information he had on her to Rudra.

But after a sleepless night and caressing the wound she had given him, he hadn't approached his senior.

Right now, he watched in silence as she stood on the roadside, all dolled up.

Disgusting. She looked disgustingly beautiful in that black ghaghra. The golden and silver sequined dupatta was hanging low on her, amplifying her cleavage show, and her heavy smoky eyelids wore a sort of shimmer which seemed to hypnotize him, even without trying. He closed his eyes, trying to find objectivity in this situation. Yet, he couldn't.

He would come here every now and then, unfazed by the fact that she would turn him down every single time. He just wanted to save her, any which way possible.

At least she talked to him now. After so many months, she had come to trust him a little. She had even told him how some of her clientele included BSD constables as well, and how they had treated her. She didn't like trusting, it seemed.

But never ever would she say yes to his offer, of taking her home.

He had come tonight with a solid reason, and he'd make sure she didn't say no.

He saw a few men leering at her, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened until he couldn't feel blood flow to his fingers.

How dare they touch her, feel her, as if she belonged to the likes of them.

His teeth gritted with holding back the anger, the revulsion, he just sat there, hoping that she'd take notice of him and come on her own.

She had seen him from the window of her room when she was getting ready. She had been applying powder on a wound that had turned blue, near her lip. Her previous client had been rough and now she was cursing everything in existence. These were her everyday rituals now. Not the ones she had back in Birpur.

In her own village, she would get up early, perform pooja of the aangan, then go to the local shiv mandir with Paro, and come back and help with the household work. She was never as good at everything as her little sister was, but that never really made her angry... or jealous.

But right now, after months of the BSD officer coming to her and reciting tales of Paro and her household and her mother and her village to her, she was angry and jealous.

So jealous that she cursed everything she could.

She had rushed down as she saw the black jeep waiting downstairs. But then, she contained herself.

Yes, he was here for her. But that didn't mean he was here for her.

She was a girl that needed to be rescued for him. That was it.

No, she wasn't a woman in his eyes. No, she wasn't beautiful in his eyes. No, she didn't really hold any special meaning in his life.

And no, she didn't really make his heart go haywire, like he did for her.

She was disgusting to him. For sure.

He didn't see the Nandini that was dying inside every day. He just saw Parvati's sister that needed rescuing.

Haaye, tooti saari ki saari main
Tere ishq mein hui Awari main

Her eyes hovered over the jeep, and she couldn't make out his face from this far. He wasn't parked in a lighted area, and she was sure he was waiting for her to approach him.

Why would she?

She didn't deserve to be rescued anymore. She was downright garbage. She had lost any hope, any right, or any chance at a normal life. She had been sold so many times she had forgotten whether real family ties existed anymore. She had been subjected to horrors that she'd never even wish upon an enemy. And after all this, he wanted to be her knight in shining armour, telling her she could be rescued? Was he crazy or something? Did he not look at whom he was talking to?

He was talking to an empty body, which was used every night. He was talking to someone who had seen devils in human form, subjecting her to tortures that still made her shiver at nights.

And yet, he wouldn't give up. She turned him down once, twice, many times. But he would come. No matter how rude, how disgusting she'd behave with him, he'd come again. His perseverance had made him enter the dark confines of her barely beating heart, and that made her pained life even more hellish.

She didn't want to be in love. Love was false. Love wasn't what women like her deserved. Love, as she was taught by her mother in some other life altogether, was meant to free your soul of dirt and grime.

But what if there was no soul left in you... All you existed of was dirt and grime?

Koi shaam bulaaye
Koi daam lagaaye
Main bhi upar se hansti
Par andar se haaye..

She tried to concentrate on what was happening around her, and tried to blink back the tears in her heavy eyes. Her fake smile widened as she three or four potential clients circled her, asking for rate. She didn't even turn to see where he was or whether the jeep was still there or not.

One of the men started bargaining with her, and then within minutes, like it always was the case, it turned into an argument. Her voice unknown to herself, she fought back, unrelenting. Next thing she knew, the guy had slapped her and she fell backwards, her head coming in contact with the landing of the stairs in the verandah of the shabby haveli that was her current home. Passersby didn't even blink an eyelid at what was happening, and her heart squeezed some more. She felt the warm blood seeping from her head, and didn't really have the strength in that moment to stand up, until she heard a male scream in agony.

Kyun dard chupaye baithi hai?
Kyun tu mujhse kehti hai?
Main toh khud hi bikhra huaa

She sighed, her eyes weary. She knew what would have happened. She turned around, to see him standing with a peaceful expression on his face, and a smile meant to reassure her. She ignored the potential clients lying on the ground now, writhing in pain, and pulled herself up. She saw him bending down a little to help her, and then retracting.

That is what he always did. He never ever touched her. Except for the first time when she had been stopped by him from running, he had never voluntarily touched her.

And that always reinforced the notion in her mind. She was disgusting to him.

He wanted to engulf her in his arms. He wanted to gather all of her, and tell her that she would be alright. He wanted to clean the wound on her forehead, where the blood was trickling, like sindoor being smudged. He wanted to kiss her pain goodbye. He wanted to drown in those deep brown eyes of hers and find a new life in them. He wanted to show her what she was becoming to him. He wanted to tell her that her pain was causing him pain involuntarily. He wanted to say it out loud, that every time she rejected him, a piece of his heart broke and disappeared into an abyss.

Haaye andar andar se toota main
Tere ishq mein khud hi se rootha main

But he wasn't allowed to touch her. No, never. It wasn't apprehension that kept him away... It was fear. It was pure fear. If she rejected him physically too, he'd probably need depression medication, which wasn't a good sign for a BSD officer.

She already was cold enough to him. His warm smiles to her seemed pointless, as nothing seemed to melt her heart. His logic, his counter questions, his countless recalls of her relatives did nothing to her.

All she kept on chanting to him was that she didn't deserve it.

And every time she said that, it felt like she was pouring hot acid into his heart. Her jibes were always corrosive, her questions burning everything inside.

She got up, and without meeting his eyes, she pulled her dupatta over her head, covering herself, and started to make her way inside.

He followed her in complete silence, steeling himself for another one of their confrontations.

Main jee bharke ro lun
Teri baahon mein so lun
Aa phir se mujhe mill
Main tujhse ye bolun
Tu anmol thi
Pal pal bolti thi
Aisi chup tu laga ke gayi
Saari khushiyaan kha ke gayi

It wasn't the first time he stood inside her room. But every time seemed to make it worse for him. Why wouldn't she say yes already? All he wanted her to do was choose the better option. To change her life. To save herself from this world. He was giving her an option. Why did she continue saying no?

She adjusted the pallu she had on her head, and it reminded him that she was hurt.

"Nandini..." He started, only to see that she was pulling out a rag to press on her forehead.

He went quiet, not knowing where to start. He just silently let her tend to her wound, like it always was the case between them.

"Afsar-Sa, aapko unhe nahi maarna chaahiye tha." She abruptly turned and told him. ["Officer, you shouldn't have hit them."]

He felt his eyes scanning the ground. He knew he shouldn't have done it. He had caused unnecessary commotion and drawn attention to them. This was uncharacteristic to him, but they had caused her pain, in front of his eyes. There was no way he could be in control and not hurt them.

But he calmed his face, and schooled his expressions.

"Maaf kar dena, mujhe laga unhone tumhe zyaada chot pahonchaayi hai." He answered. ["Forgive me, I thought they seriously injured you."]

No matter how expressionless their faces were, their eyes depicted all the hell fire that they were going through, standing a few feet away from each other, yet miles apart.

"Pahonchayi bhi hoti, toh bhi aapko nahi maarna chaahiye tha Afsar-sa. Aap hamesha mere liye yahaan nahi honge." She told him, sitting at the edge of her diwaan. ["Even if they had seriously injured me, you didn't need to hit them, Officer. You are not going to be here around me forever."]

He felt a headache creeping up, it was starting again.

"Tumhe yahaan hamesha kyun rehna hai Nandini. Chalo, yahaan se chalo." He requested. ["Why do you want to stay here forever, Nandini? Come with me. Leave this place."]

At least he wasn't begging yet.

She seemed to be amused by his request, for a slow smile formed on her face.

He was momentarily caught off guard by that smile. It was a first for him. And watching it, his heart somersaulted and stopped at the same time.

"Aapko toote khilaune ikkathe karne ka shauk hai kya, Afsar-Sa?" She questioned, still smiling. ["You like collecting broken toys, don't you, Officer?"]

Not comprehending what exactly she meant, he just answered as plainly as he could.

"Nahi." ["No."]

"Toh fir kyun aa jaate hai yahaan baar baar? Mhaara bhi samay kharaab hota hai... Aur aapka bhi..." She turned away from him, her pallu dropping from her head. ["Then why do you keep on coming here? You waste my time, as well as yours..."]

It was always the same. She would say something and then turn away from him, as if ruling out the final judgment on her life. Why! Why did she not understand that he wanted to take her away from this stench?

He saw her back, bruised in some places. His insides boiled at the thought of how much the monsters had hurt her. And then, slowly peeping from behind the never ending dark mane of her ebony tresses, he saw a hint of royal blue.

She had a royal blue butterfly tattoo on her back.

And he found the opening he wanted.

He slowly made his way near her, and his fingers grazed the blue tattoo.

Her breath was caught in her throat it seemed, as his fingers burned their mark on her back. It took her a few moments to realize that he was caressing that butterfly tattoo of hers, and she steeled herself for another of his attempts. She didn't know whether she had the heart to deny him anymore. She was sick of him trying. And she was sick of making him understand and see clearly what she was now.

"Yeh tumhe Parvati Bhabhi ki yaad dilaata hai naa.." He breathed. ["This... This reminds you of Parvati Bhabhi, right?"]

She just nodded, her eyes reliving Paro and her Rukmini. And the endless running around. How naive was her Paro at those times. Just running after the butterfly, not caring for the scorching desert, the hot winds, the burning sand beneath her feet. All she cared about was Rukmini.

She was like Paro too. She used to run after butterflies too. She used to bring in Paro's favourite Imli. She used to sew Paro the prettiest of Lehengas she could. She used to be precious like Paro too, once upon a time.

"Parvati Bhabhi ko ladki hui hai." He gave her the news, as calmly as he could. ["Parvati Bhabhi gave birth to a baby girl."]

Her head jerked back, meeting his eyes instantly. The flood of emotions that travelled in her eyes was evident to the world, and he knew his chances were great now.

He stepped away from her, allowing her to turn and look at him. The questions were stuck in her throat, afraid to come out.

Understanding that she needed more, he added.

"Unhone Nandini naam rakha hai." He had a ghost of a smile on his lips, telling her that her family still cared for her, still missed her every day. ["She has named her Nandini."]

What he couldn't have anticipated happened next. Her eyes became dry, almost distant and she turned away from him. He saw her demeanour changing as well, as if trying to put in distance between them.

"Nandini??" He was puzzled. What went wrong?

"Aap mhaara ek kaam karenge Afsar-Sa?" Her voice was hollow, and a shiver ran through his spine at hearing her tone. ["Will you do me a favor, Officer?"]

"Paro ko kahenge apni beti ka naam badal de?" She continued. ["Will you ask Paro to change the name of her daughter?"]

He felt the searing arrows inside his heart at that. How battered would one be, if they didn't even like their own name?

He sighed. If he stood here any longer, he'd lose his sanity.

If she stayed here any longer, he'd lose his sanity.

"Nandini... Chalo yahaan se. Mai haath jodhta hu tumhare."

["Nandini, please. Come with me. Leave this place... I am pleading here..."]

Oh well, he was begging now.

Haaye, andar andar se toota main
Tere ishq mein khud hi se rootha main

"Aap mhaara waqt naa bigaadein, toh accha hoga Afsar-Sa." She was icy cold now, "Dhandha karne dijiye."

["It'll be better if you don't waste my time, Officer."]

["Let me work."]

He felt like breaking something. After an eternity, his anger was out of control. He wanted to kill something, someone. He just wanted to not simmer anymore and let it all out.

How many times would he break? How many times would she break him?

Haaye, teri hoon saari ki saari main
Par tere liye bazaari main

She prayed for him to leave. Her tears were threatening to fall and she couldn't bear it anymore. She loved him. She knew.

But she was filth. And she didn't deserve anything other than filth.

She heard the ruffling of notes, and slowly turned around.

Her heart crushed at what she saw. He was emptying out his wallet on the table besides the door, his back to her.

And in that moment, she wanted to cease existing. She wanted the earth to engulf her for her soul was so tarnished, that she was polluting the man she loved.

[A/N: For more write-ups by me, check out my Writing Index, Ret Ke Sehraan]

English translation updated on request by DDC1-Sa! :D