Ishq Mein Marjawan ~ Dil Ki Khubsoorti ~ Chap 16 on pg 2

The plot of this story is inspired from the Hollywood movies Beastly 2011 movie (which in itself is an adaptation of Beauty and the Beast) and Stardust 2007 movie

Character Sketches & Introduction

Narrator: The concept of this season of Ishq Mein Marjawan has three main characters whose names are the same as those in season 1: Deep Singhania, Aarohi Kashyap and Tara Raichand. Which among the three should I start introducing with?

1. Harsh Rajput as Deep Singhania

Deep as his name indicates is like a shining lamp, an epitome of beauty. Deep is a young, bearded man with hair grown just until above his neck, which is divided sideways with small strands of hair falling partially onto his face in the front, while the rest of his hair tied tightly into a bush right behind his neck. Beneath the two strands of hair falling onto his face, can be seen shining two double studs shining, which are pierced neatly onto his earlobes. He is someone who has immense pride in his beauty such that, he hates anything and everything which is deformed or ugly from outside.

2. Aneri Vajani as Aarohi Kashyap

Aarohi is a young underweight delivery girl. Having started delivering milk and newspaper on her bicycle from a very young age, she cycles at such a speed that all her deliveries are made before time. Thus, she developed a great passion for riding bicycles from a very young age and wants to become a renowned cyclist someday.

3. Esha Kansara as Tara Raichand

Tara as her name indicates is a stunning woman who looks like a bright beautiful star. She is a woman known to have eternal beauty. But unbeknownst to this world she has mysteries behind her existence and her identity.

4. Khalid Siddiqui as Ravindra Singhania

Deep's father who too was a famous make-up artist, however stopped his career when his son stepped into his professional line and business.

5. Monalisa as Chhaya Singhania (née Bisht)

Deep's mother who was known to be the most beautiful woman in the whole city.

6. Ashish Kaul as Rakesh Kashyap

Aarohi's father who owns a dairy farm. He loves cows and tends to them as his own friends.

7. Sooraj Thapar as Mayank Raichand

Tara's father and Ravindra Singhania's business associate. He too has mysteries hidden behind his existence and his identity like his daughter.

Chapter 1

Narrator:

Do you believe that the elements of the universe can take human form? That stars, shadows, winds or fate itself might walk the earth in flesh and blood—just to fulfill a purpose? Well, sometimes... they do. When a mission calls them, even the cosmos takes form.

Mussorie, 2021

In the mist-wrapped hills of Mussorie lived two people—Deep Singhania and Aarohi Kashyap. And whether they knew it or not, the universe was already scripting a tale of destiny around them.

Deep's Studio – Daylight filters through the tall windows

The camera trails a soft blur of Deep's vision from behind. He's focused—his hands skilled, graceful—as he brushes color across a client's cheekbone. A perfectionist at work.

An assistant quietly walks up, hesitant but determined.
"Sir, there's a girl outside... she wants her face beautified by you. Says she'll pay any amount you demand but..."
The assistant pauses, uncertain. Deep, unfazed, moves on to mascara, carefully filling out the brows.
"But what?" he asks, not looking up.
"She's... a bit odd-looking, sir."

That's when Deep's hand freezes mid-air. He slowly raises his face. From under the overhead spotlight, his chiselled, bearded features glow with perfection. Hazel eyes framed by jet-black studs in both ears, radiating cold intensity.

Narrator:

Deep Singhania—son of the legendary make-up artist Ravindra Singhania and the stunning late Chhaya Bisht—was known across the nation, not just for his own divine looks but for being the most sought-after makeup artist in India. He inherited his mother's ethereal beauty and his father's art.
Actors, models, celebrities flew across oceans to be touched by his brush. He didn't just enhance beauty—he defined it.
But what the world didn't know was that Deep's obsession with beauty had crossed the fine line of pride. Anything that didn't align with perfection—repulsed him.

Ravindra Singhania's Office

Ravindra gazes at a faded photograph of his late wife. Chhaya's serene face smiles back at him. Tears silently trace down his cheeks.
He whispers, "You live in him, Chhaya... every angle, every stroke of that brush... is yours."
After her death, Ravindra had poured all his love into Deep, raising him as both mother and father. But unknowingly, he had planted seeds of obsession that bloomed into vanity.

Back at the Studio

Deep gently sets the mascara down. "I'll be back in a minute," he tells his client. Then, taking his assistant by the wrist, he pulls him aside.
Voice sharp but quiet, he mutters, "How many times have I told you—I loathe anything ugly or deformed?"
The assistant stammers, "Yes, sir... but she offered—"
Deep raises a finger. Silence.
"Nothing matters more to me than beauty," he says. "If someone's born to be hideous, they should stay away from Deep Singhania."

He turns back to his client, the air around him colder now, as his heavy footsteps echo.

Kashyap House, Stable

Mr. Rakesh Kashyap is seen milking a cow. He wipes the bottle clean and shouts, "Rooh! Mrs. Patel wanted extra milk! It's ready!"

Two brightly-colored shoes come dashing in, trip over a steel vessel.
"Careful, Rooh!" he calls out, as a girl falls headfirst into a haystack.

Laughing and brushing straws from her hair, a bubbly young girl in a faded jumpsuit gets up. Two braided pigtails, a crooked smile, and eyes full of mischief.

Narrator:

Meet Aarohi Kashyap. Her mother died giving birth to her, but Aarohi never let sorrow define her life. Raised by her loving father, she delivered milk and newspapers by cycle every morning through the steep slopes of Mussorie. She didn't just pedal through the streets—she pedaled through life with unshakable joy. Her dream? To become a champion cyclist. Her reality? A girl too thin for her age but filled with spirit and sunshine.

Later that evening

As she finishes her last delivery, Aarohi notices an extra newspaper in her carrier. Just as she's about to return it, an ad catches her eye.

City's Grand Beauty Pageant. Chief Judge: Deep Singhania.

Aarohi stares at his name, smiles faintly, pops a bubble gum into her mouth and starts pedaling again, lost in a daze. Her thoughts drift as she chews and cycles, until—

A black Benz approaches from the opposite side.

Aarohi doesn't notice until it's too late. She crashes into the car.

The driver jumps out. "Are you okay?" he asks, helping her up.

She's still dazed, chewing.

Then, the car door swings open.

Out steps a man in a crisp designer suit, the setting sun casting a golden halo behind him. Ray-Ban sunglasses. Sculpted jawline.

Aarohi freezes.

It's him. Deep Singhania.

Her eyes widen.

And right then, the gum in her mouth bursts—sticking right onto his sunglasses.

Deep halts mid-step, disgust spreading across his face. "Start the car," he growls.

Aarohi rushes, "I'm so sorry! It was an accident—"
But he's already back inside.

The driver nervously signals her to move aside. As the car drives off, she watches silently, then reaches for the chain around her neck. A small lamp-shaped locket hangs from it.

She murmurs, "You don't remember me, D... do you? Never mind. I'll remind you. Everything."

Her eyes trail after the disappearing car, the smile on her lips laced with mystery.

Inside the car

Deep yanks off his sunglasses, repulsed. "Throw them," he orders.

Then pauses.

"That girl..." he mutters. "Have I seen her before?" He closes his eyes, trying to recall.

But all he remembers is her bony frame.
He scoffs. "No chance. That skinny, awkward creature? I'd never know someone like her."

Narrator:

And so, on one side stood Aarohi, hoping to remind Deep of something forgotten... something once shared. And on the other side stood Deep, revolted by what he saw, blind to what he couldn't remember.
But neither of them knew—someone else was yet to arrive.
Someone whose presence would change both their lives... forever.

So what do you think? Was there truly something once shared between Deep and Aarohi?
And more importantly—
Who was the one destined to alter their fates?

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To be continued.

Chapter 2

Beauty Pageant, Mussorie – 2021

Excitement buzzed through the backstage corridors as contestants hurriedly prepped for the grand evening. After all, this wasn't just any pageant—it was Miss Mussorie 2021. And what elevated the stakes even higher was the presence of the country's most celebrated makeup artist and Mussorie's most adored heartthrob: Deep Singhania.

The air was thick with hairspray, nerves, and ambition as the contestants lined up with their entry numbers, adjusting gowns, touching up lips, and rehearsing smiles.

Among the dazzling crowd of sequins and stilettos stood someone utterly out of place—a girl in a simple, bright salwar kameez. The organizers paused mid-checklist when they spotted her.

One of them approached her.
"Excuse me, could you tell us your name—and why you're participating in this event dressed like... this?"

The girl gave a gentle smile. "My name is Rooh. It means 'soul.' And as for my clothes... tell me, sir—does beauty only live in glitter and fabric? True beauty can shine through the simplest of outfits. Simplicity, too, holds elegance."

Her calm conviction silenced the crew. One of the organizers smiled, impressed. "Good luck, Miss Rooh."

Once they moved on, Aarohi's fingers brushed the lamp-shaped locket around her neck. She whispered softly, "I'm not here to win a crown. I'm here to win back a heart. To make him feel what he used to... fifteen years ago."

She tucked the chain back beneath her kameez and stepped quietly into line, ignoring the repulsed glances from the other contestants.

Just then, the crowd outside stirred with loud chatter and flashing cameras.

A sleek, black Mercedes rolled up in front of the venue.

The media, organizers, and fans gathered in a flurry as Deep Singhania stepped out, immaculately dressed, every inch the icon. He smiled graciously for the cameras, fielded a few questions, and made his way into the hall. Shortly after, the two other judges arrived. The organizers took position and announced, "Ladies, take your places. The show is about to begin!"

From the corner, a contestant scoffed and whispered to her friend, eyes on Aarohi, "What is that loser even trying to do here?"

Aarohi looked at her sharply, walked up, and without a flicker of irritation, fixed the girl's tangled dupatta. "Don't worry about me. Just worry about yourself," she replied with a smile before calmly stepping into line.

The lights dimmed. The music began. And one by one, the contestants took to the ramp—smiling, posing, trying to etch themselves into the judges' minds.

Deep, seated with the other two judges, scribbled occasional remarks with an expression of detached professionalism.

Then came her turn.

Aarohi stepped onto the stage. No dramatic strut, no practiced smile—just grace in simplicity. The two other judges exchanged puzzled looks. A contestant in a salwar kameez? Unheard of.

Deep finally looked up.

And froze.

His pen hovered mid-air as his eyes locked onto her face.

He raised his hand. The music stopped. Silence crashed into the auditorium.

All heads turned toward the judges' table.

Deep stood slowly and began walking toward the stage. Aarohi's heart raced. He's coming... he saw me. A small smile formed on her lips.
"Yes, Rooh... you did it," she murmured to herself.

But the look on Deep's face was anything but warm.

His jaw clenched. His voice, when it came, thundered through the hall.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

The crowd flinched. Aarohi instinctively stepped back. He climbed onto the stage, eyes blazing.

Grabbing her arm, he shook her.
"What are you even doing in this place?"

The organizers rushed forward in panic. "Sir! Please! Let her go!"

They managed to pry Aarohi from his grip, but Deep's rage didn't cool.

"Do you think this pageant is a joke?" he barked.
"You have no class, no wardrobe, and no BEAUTY! How dare you walk into this contest?"

Aarohi trembled, trying to speak.
"I... I..."

He cut her off.
"Look at you! Skin and bones! Even a soft breeze could blow you away!"

From the sidelines, the same contestant who mocked Aarohi earlier let out a loud giggle. Others joined in. The organizers tried to silence them, but Deep wasn't done.

"Don't ever step into a beauty pageant again. People like you don't belong here."
His voice lowered, sharper than ever.
"A bony, ugly creature like you... has no place in my heart."

Those final words struck like a dagger. Aarohi's eyes widened, tears stinging the edges. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

Deep snapped, "Are you going to stand there forever or walk out?"

Aarohi nodded faintly. Slowly, she turned away.

The girl who had taunted her leaned in and sneered, "You still think I should worry about myself?"

Aarohi didn't reply. She walked straight ahead—his words echoing in her mind:

"Bony... ugly... creature... no place in my heart..."

She exited the auditorium, hollow-eyed and silent.

Inside, Deep returned to his seat. The organizers hesitated, then reluctantly resumed the event. But the mood had shifted. The shine of the pageant had dulled.

Outside, Aarohi wandered away, tears blurring her path, as the slow tune of Ishq Mein Marjawan – Tu Jo Kahe Woh Karjawaan played softly in the background.

Narrator:
And just like that, the invisible thread between Deep and Aarohi began to snap. They were drifting apart, unaware that fate had other plans.
Above the auditorium, a single star twinkled silently in the early evening sky—watching, waiting, as if it too remembered what they had forgotten.

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To be continued.

Chapter 3

Beauty Pageant, Mussorie – 2021

After Aarohi's quiet exit, the beauty pageant resumed and drew to a glittering close. The winners were announced to thunderous applause. And unsurprisingly, the crown for Miss Mussorie 2021 went to none other than the girl who had earlier mocked Aarohi backstage.

That night, under the starlit sky at the celebratory dinner, the crowned winner sauntered up to Deep, dressed in designer elegance and still basking in the limelight.

"Sir," she began sweetly, "you did the right thing with that girl. She was just—"

Deep raised his hand, silencing her instantly.

"Deep Singhania doesn't need validation," he said coldly. "I know exactly what I do, and I need neither applause nor advice."

He turned to walk away, but the girl called after him, "Just one last question, Sir—"

Deep paused, glancing at her sideways.

"You're the most sought-after makeup artist in India... and quite frankly, the most desired man in Mussorie. Yet, there's never been any woman in your life. Why? What are you looking for in a woman that no one seems to possess?"

Deep smirked—cold, amused.

"No woman has ever entered my life because none have met my standards. When a woman does... she won't just be beautiful—she'll be one of the most beautiful beings in the universe."

As his words lingered in the air, a star above shone brighter, almost knowingly, piercing the night sky.
(A haunting instrumental from "Ishq Mein Marjawan" plays softly in the background.)

Deep walked away, his figure melting into the shadows, leaving the girl staring after him, stunned and intrigued.

Just as he reached his car, his phone buzzed. It was his father.

"Deep," came Mr. Ravindra Singhania's cheerful voice, "I've organized a success party for you tonight—to celebrate your journey as India's most renowned makeup artist."

Deep frowned. "Dad, was that really necessary? The world already knows I'm the best. I don't need a party to prove it."

His father chuckled warmly. "Son, sometimes celebration isn't about proof—it's about pride. You inherited your mother's beauty and my skill. Just show up. That alone will be enough to dazzle the room."

With reluctant agreement, Deep ended the call.

Later that evening – The Success Party

The grand hall was abuzz with elegance—men in tuxedos, women in sequined gowns, camera lights flashing across champagne glasses.

Mr. Ravindra Singhania arrived, greeted his guests with warmth, and took the mic.

"Thank you all for being here tonight," he announced. "It gives me immense pride to introduce my son—India's most accomplished and gifted makeup artist, the man who redefines beauty with every brushstroke—Deep Singhania!"

Just then, Deep made his entrance.
(His eerie background theme plays as heads turn, conversations pause, and eyes widen.)

Tall, poised, and breathtakingly handsome, Deep moved with an air of authority. Every guest in the room, though already in awe of his artistry, now stood captivated by his presence.

He stepped onto the stage and stood beside his father, who beamed with pride. One by one, guests approached to offer congratulations.

After the crowd thinned, Mr. Singhania led Deep to the bar counter, handed him a drink, and leaned in.

"I heard about what happened at the pageant."

Deep raised a brow. "How?"

"Come on, son. Mussorie isn't that big," Ravindra said with a knowing look.

"So?" Deep shrugged.

Ravindra's voice dropped. "Look, Deep. I've always supported your choices. But today, you should've controlled your temper. That outburst? It could damage your reputation."

Deep slammed his fist lightly on the bar. Several guests looked over. Ravindra quickly raised his voice, "Everyone enjoying themselves?"

The guests laughed, reassured, and resumed mingling.

When their attention drifted away, Ravindra turned back to Deep. "You see? That's exactly what I meant. Your anger is dangerous."

Deep's eyes darkened. "Dad, you know how I feel about ugliness. That girl on stage—her bony figure, her awkwardness—it repulsed me. I couldn't stand the sight of her."

Ravindra sighed, placing a steady hand on his son's back. "I understand, Deep. I've never stopped you from chasing the extraordinary. But the way you treated that girl..."

"She deserved it," Deep snapped. "She mocked the essence of real beauty by walking into that contest looking like that. She made a joke out of everything we stand for."

Ravindra fell silent, his heart heavy. He knew his son's obsession had spiraled beyond control. And the truth stung—he had planted that seed himself, nurturing it with misplaced pride in beauty and perfection.

Before he could respond, a voice called from behind—

"Won't you introduce your son to me, Ravindra?"

Both men turned.

Standing behind them was a tall, stylish, and sharply dressed middle-aged man, a sly smile curving on his lips.
(A chilling undertone played beneath his entrance.)

His arrival wasn't just unexpected—it was foreboding.

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To be continued.

Chapter 4

Deep's Success Party

The moment Mr. Singhania spotted the approaching figure, he stood up with evident surprise and delight. Striding over, he greeted the man with a warm embrace.

"Aah, Mayank! What a pleasant surprise!"

Turning to Deep, he gestured toward the guest with pride. "Deep, meet one of our most esteemed business associates—Mr. Mayank Raichand."

Then to Mayank, he added, "And this is my son, my pride—Deep Singhania."

The two men exchanged a firm handshake and polite smiles.

Mr. Singhania, clearly still surprised, chuckled. "You showing up to a party, Mayank? That's rare! You're known for skipping even your own events. What brings you here tonight?"

Mayank Raichand's lips curled into a soft, enigmatic smile. "Well, tonight isn't just any party, is it? It's a celebration of the most gifted makeup artist in India. I couldn't miss the chance to meet the man whose hands can transform any face into a masterpiece."

Deep raised an eyebrow, amused. "Should I take that as a hint, Mr. Raichand? Are you offering me your face to work on?"

Mayank let out a dry chuckle. "Not mine. But my daughter's."

Deep blinked. "Your daughter?"

"Yes," Mayank replied smoothly. "Tara Raichand."

A flicker of intrigue crossed Deep's eyes. "So, that's why you're here?"

Mayank nodded. "I want to see what your artistry can do—how your touch can elevate beauty to a level that even nature hasn't."

Deep considered the request for a moment. "But you do know I have no patience for anything remotely unpleasant to the eye. I detest anything deformed or lacking grace."

Mayank's smile didn't falter. "Did I say my daughter was lacking in any way? Believe me, Deep—once you meet her, you'll realize she is one of the most beautiful women you'll ever lay your eyes on."

Deep's interest deepened. "Then why bring her to me if she's already so flawless?"

"Because I want to see how far your talent stretches," Mayank replied. "I want to see how Deep Singhania beautifies even perfection."

A brief silence hung between them before Deep nodded. "And when do I meet Ms. Tara?"

"Tonight. At 10:30 p.m.," Mayank said, his voice calm but purposeful.

Deep hesitated. "That late? Isn't that...unusual?"

"Isn't beauty best witnessed under moonlight?" Mayank replied with a twinkle in his eye. "Besides, she insisted on meeting you alone. And Deep—if her father has no objections, why should you? Just work your magic and send her back. That's all I need to see."

Deep smiled faintly, his curiosity now undeniable. He reached into his coat pocket and handed over his studio's visiting card. "Then give this to Ms. Tara. Ask her to meet me here."

Mayank took the card, his expression unreadable. "You won't forget tonight, Deep. Not after you meet my daughter."

With a parting smirk, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Narrator:
Deep Singhania had always been obsessed with beauty—his life driven by a singular pursuit of the most exquisite, the most perfect. The moment he heard of Tara Raichand, touted as the most beautiful woman he would ever meet, his heart skipped a beat, and a strange anticipation gripped him.

Kashyap House – 10:00 p.m.

After enduring Deep's cruel words, Aarohi had returned home wearing a smile, hiding the ache in her chest from her father. After dinner, when Mr. Kashyap finally drifted into a peaceful sleep, Aarohi quietly slipped out of the house and rode her cycle through the moonlit fields near the stable.

But her mind was still haunted by the echoes of Deep's voice—
"Bony... ugly... creature... no place in my heart."

The wheels of her cycle wobbled. Suddenly, she slammed on the brakes and toppled, tumbling down a slope.

Deep's Studio

Deep meticulously cleaned his studio, prepping it for the mysterious Tara Raichand. His heart, though usually unmoved, now thudded with anticipation.

Looking up through the studio window, he murmured to the stars, "All I've ever wanted is the most beautiful woman in existence. Why does my heart feel... she might be the one?"

A shooting star streaked across the night sky. Deep closed his eyes and whispered, "I wish I find the woman meant for me... tonight."

By the Stable

Still lying where she fell, Aarohi sat up slowly. Her knees scraped, her soul bruised, she clutched the lamp locket hanging from her neck.

"All I wanted was to remind you... of our past... of us," she whispered to the night.

Tears welled up. She replayed Deep's harsh words again—
"No place in my heart..."

Aarohi's hand trembled as she gripped the chain.

"Fine," she said, her voice cracking, "If I don't belong in your heart, then I won't carry you in mine."

With one swift tug, she yanked off the lamp locket, wincing as it grazed her skin. She hurled it high into the night sky—just as Deep's shooting star blazed past her, unnoticed.

Suddenly, a deafening bang rang out from the stable.

Mr. Kashyap and nearby neighbors rushed outside to find fire engulfing the hay storage near the cowshed. Buckets were hauled, water splashed, shouts rang through the night.

"Where did this come from?" one man yelled, bewildered.

Just then, unseen by anyone, a woman emerged from behind the flames.

("Iss Ishq Mein Marjawan" theme plays.)

She stepped onto the road—elegant, poised. Dressed in a flowing black gown, a diamond choker glinting at her throat, and beneath it, hanging like destiny—Aarohi's lamp locket.

Tiny star-shaped charms glittered below it, and on her right leg, a small, shimmering tattoo: a single star.

The woman walked, calm and silent, as if untouched by fire or fate. Her heels clicked gently against the pavement as she made her way... toward Deep's studio.

Deep's Studio

Deep stood near his work table when the studio door creaked open.

A voice, smooth and sultry, echoed through the space.

"Hello, Mr. Singhania."

Deep turned around.

Time stilled.

The screen froze—three faces held in tension:
Deep, staring in stunned silence.
Aarohi, watching from afar, her eyes broken.
And the woman in black, stepping into the light.

(Cue suspenseful close-up. Music fades into silence.)

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To be continued.

Chapter 5

Deep's Studio

As the studio door creaked shut behind her, Deep stood frozen. His eyes remained fixed on the woman standing before him—Tara. A vision in black, she looked ethereal, almost unreal. The soft strains of the Ishq Mein Marjawan mouth organ theme floated in the background, heightening the surreal tension of the moment.

Deep couldn't tear his gaze away. His thoughts raced.

"Mr. Raichand was right. She's not just beautiful—she's exquisite. The most stunning woman I've ever seen... Could it be? Just moments ago, I wished for the woman of my dreams to walk into my life, and now... she's standing in front of me?"

He was lost—bewitched by her presence, until Tara stepped closer and snapped her fingers near his ear.

Startled, Deep blinked and turned toward her.

Tara smirked. "What happened, Mr. Singhania? Speechless at seeing me this late at night... or is it something else?" She leaned in closer and whispered, "Or are you just mesmerized by finally laying eyes on the most beautiful woman you always dreamed of?"

Deep took a sharp breath. His heart pounded—this was unfamiliar. For the first time in his life, he was the one unsettled. The Deep Singhania—arrogant, composed, feared—felt utterly unprepared for what he was experiencing.

Tara tilted her head coyly. "What's the matter, Mr. Singhania? Do I not resemble the woman you've always longed to have in your life?"

Deep narrowed his eyes, regaining a shred of composure. "Wait—how do you know about my... desire?"

Tara let out a melodic laugh. "Mr. Singhania—"

He interrupted, softer now. "Just call me Deep."

She smiled knowingly. "Very well. Then Deep... let me tell you something." She circled around him slowly, her voice honeyed and mysterious. "Tara—just like her name—may appear beautiful on the outside, but she's something truly rare on the inside. She can sense the most secret desires of the most extraordinary men in this world."

Deep looked at her, bewildered. "How is that even possible?"

Tara's laughter echoed again. "Not tonight, Deep. But I promise, I'll reveal more... in time."

Still reeling from her words, Deep instinctively reached for his brush kit, trying to refocus his thoughts. Tara smiled.

"But you didn't answer my question," she said, stepping closer. "Do I look like the woman of your dreams?"

Flushed, Deep looked away. He busied himself at the vanity mirror, arranging his tools.

"You'll have to wait for that answer," he said finally. "Your father asked me to work on your look—to make you even more radiant. Let me do that first."

Tara raised an eyebrow. "So you're not convinced I'm beautiful?"

"I never said that," Deep replied quickly. "But I'll answer you... once I've done my part."

"Very well," Tara said, moving to sit. But Deep held out a hand to stop her.

"Wait."

She paused. "Now what?"

"I always tailor my work to complement the client's attire," he explained. "And while your outfit is striking, I personally prefer to work on women wearing vibrant Indian clothes."

She smirked. "And where exactly do you expect me to find traditional Indian wear at this hour?"

Deep stepped aside and gestured to a nearby room. "You're in the studio of Deep Singhania—an artist who believes beauty must be adorned with the perfect canvas. Open the cupboard to your right. I'm sure you'll find something fitting."

Tara gave him an amused nod. "Give me five minutes."

Moments later, she returned.

Clad in a flowing white anarkali salwar kameez, she looked angelic. The studio lights danced upon her glowing skin. Deep's breath hitched—she looked even more dazzling than before.

Catching the look in his eyes, Tara called out teasingly from across the room, "If you're done admiring, shall we begin?"

Deep, regaining his composure, simply nodded.

She sat. He moved toward her, brushes in hand—and began his work.

Aarohi's House

Meanwhile, back at the Kashyap household, Aarohi had changed into fresh clothes after returning from her midnight fall. Her limbs still bore traces of the accident, but her face wore a calm mask—as always, for her father's sake.

As Mr. Kashyap stepped inside, she approached him.

"What happened, Pa?" she asked gently.

He sighed, shaking his head. "I'm not entirely sure. There was a sudden fire in the area where we store hay for the cows."

"Fire? At this hour?" Aarohi echoed, feigning surprise. A quick flashback played in her mind—of her walking out of the flames just moments earlier.

Mr. Kashyap continued, "I have no idea who would want to harm our cattle... but thankfully, all the neighbors helped. The hay is gone, but the cows and the shed are safe."

Aarohi nodded. "Sorry, Pa... I heard the bang, but I was too tired. I must've dozed off."

He looked at her closely, sensing something deeper. "It's alright, Rooh. You'd have only worried needlessly. Everything's under control now. Go rest."

She nodded and turned to go, but his next question stopped her mid-step.

"Rooh... were you crying?"

Aarohi froze.

Her shoulders stiffened. Slowly, she turned back—her face betraying the confusion she felt.

The question hung in the air—soft, probing, and full of concern.

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To be continued.

Chapter 6

Kashyap House

Aarohi froze at her father's question, startled by his perceptiveness. She slowly turned, trying to mask her expression.

Mr. Kashyap looked at her intently. "I asked you something, Rooh. Were you crying?"

She quickly shook her head and forced a smile. "No, Pa. Why would I cry?"

He took a step closer, his voice gentle but firm. "I may not have given birth to you, but I've been both your mother and father since the day you were born. I know every emotion behind those eyes. They're swollen, Rooh... and not from sleep."

Aarohi looked down, clutching her dupatta, trying to maintain composure. "It's really nothing, Pa. My sleep was just disturbed by that loud noise outside."

He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Is that all? There's nothing else bothering you?"

She moved forward and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his chest. A quiet flashback flickered in her mind—Deep's cruel words echoing again: "Bony... ugly... creature... no place in my heart."

Tears welled up again. One slipped down her cheek.

But she steadied herself and whispered, "I'm not hiding anything, Pa. Just tired, that's all."

Though unconvinced, Mr. Kashyap didn't press further. He gently patted her back and said, "Alright, if you say so, I believe you."

He pulled her back to face him, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "But promise me something. If ever something hurts you—truly hurts you—you'll come to your Pa first, no matter what."

Aarohi nodded, then yawned deliberately, trying to divert his attention.

He chuckled. "Alright, I can see you're sleepy. Go get some rest."

She smiled faintly and slipped away to her room.

Inside her bedroom, Aarohi collapsed onto her bed. Gripping her pillow tightly, she whispered into it, voice muffled with pain, "Why, Deep? Why so much hatred for those who aren't perfect in your eyes? One day... someone will show you that real beauty lives in the heart. And maybe then... you'll understand."

Deep's Studio

Back in the studio, Tara was seated in front of Deep, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

"I'm guessing that's me," she said cheekily.

Deep blinked, still in a haze. "Huh?"

Tara smiled. "The girl of your dreams."

Deep flushed slightly, trying to focus on the brushes in his hand. "It'll be difficult to do your makeup properly if you keep distracting me."

Tara made a zipping gesture across her lips.

Deep began applying foundation with practiced ease, but curiosity got the better of him. "So... Tara," he said softly, "can I ask why you chose to visit me tonight?"

She grinned. "Didn't I already say? I'd heard so much about the legend of Deep Singhania—I wanted to see the magic for myself."

"But why at this hour?" he asked. "You could've come during the day..."

Tara caught his wrist, stopping him mid-stroke. Her tone lowered, flirtatious yet sincere. "Because I wanted this to be... special. A date, maybe. And what better time for something special than under the cover of night?"

Deep stilled, her words washing over him. He stared into her eyes—depths of mystery, allure, and something he couldn't quite place.

Tara cleared her throat and teased, "What, lost in my eyes again?"

Deep shook his head, trying to smile. "So you're calling this a date now?"

"A date," she said confidently, "only counts if both people agree. So... your call."

He chuckled. "Let me finish making you even more radiant. Then we'll decide."

A few moments later, he placed the final brush down and stepped back. His breath caught. Tara's face glowed under the soft lighting—timeless, ethereal.

Tara clicked her fingers again. "Do I really have to snap you out of your daze every time?"

He laughed. "Maybe I'm just not used to beauty like this."

She leaned in with a grin. "So... shall we officially call this our first date now?"

Deep glanced at the clock. "3:00 A.M. Already?"

Tara nodded. "You've worked on me for hours. Time to tell me your fee."

Deep smirked. "Normally, I charge ₹10,000 an hour."

Tara's eyes widened. "What!"

"But," he added, "since this is our first date... it's on the house."

"So you are calling this a date now?" she asked, folding her arms.

He blushed slightly. "Alright, alright... yes."

He looked around. "But with no cafés or parks open at this hour, what would you like to do now?"

Just then, thunder rumbled. Raindrops began tapping gently on the windows.

Tara's eyes lit up. "There are far better ways to celebrate a first date than coffee shops and parks, Mr. Singhania."

Rain Outside Deep's Studio

Tara dashed out into the rain, arms outstretched, hair cascading down her back as she twirled in the downpour. She laughed, calling over her shoulder, "I hope you used waterproof makeup!"

Deep chuckled softly, watching from the studio door. And then he froze—utterly captivated. The rain danced on her skin, her white anarkali clinging lightly as droplets glistened under the streetlights. She looked like a dream.

The female version of "Ishq Mein Marjawan" played as he stepped out, slowly approaching her.

Then, her foot slipped on the wet concrete. Tara closed her eyes, bracing for the fall.

But Deep caught her.

She opened her eyes to find herself in his arms—safe, warm. Their gazes locked through the haze of rainfall. Neither spoke. The storm around them blurred into silence, save for their shared heartbeat in the moment.

A lingering, electric eyelock held them together.

Early Morning – Newspaper Stand

At dawn, Aarohi rode her bicycle through the rain, wrapped in a thin raincoat. She had come to collect the morning newspaper, shielding it in plastic.

She moved to pick up milk from her father's stable, but as she pedaled down the street—

She saw them.

Tara. Deep. In each other's arms.

Frozen mid-motion, Aarohi's heart sank.

The love she once cherished, the friend she had longed to win back—now seemed impossibly distant.

A lonely tear escaped her eye as the sorrowful female reprise of "Ishq Mein Marjawan" echoed softly.

She turned her face away and rode off, the rain hiding the pain etched across her soul.

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To be continued.

Chapter 7

Kashyap House

Aarohi returned home, her heart heavy after witnessing the intimate moment between Deep and Tara in the rain. Her mind clouded, her steps mechanical—she walked right past her father, not even registering his voice as he called out to her. She disappeared into her room, leaving Mr. Kashyap puzzled and concerned.

Stepping outside, Mr. Kashyap noticed the polythene-wrapped bundle of newspapers still tied to the back of her cycle. As he lifted it, one paper slipped out. He bent to pick it up—only to pause, eyes drawn to something on the front page.

Aarohi's Room

Aarohi stood at her dressing table, her reflection blurred with emotion. She opened a drawer and pulled out a maroon-colored mouth organ—one she hadn't touched in a long while. Holding it delicately, her fingers traced its surface like it was a relic from a past she wasn't ready to let go of.

Just then, her father's voice echoed gently from the doorway. "Rooh."

Startled, she dropped the mouth organ with a soft thud and turned around.

Mr. Kashyap entered slowly, holding up the newspaper he had just retrieved. His eyes didn't leave hers as he brought the headline into view:
"Arrogant Judge Humiliates Participant for Her Odd Looks"

Aarohi's heart sank.

Singhania Mansion

Across town, Ravindra Singhania thrust the same newspaper in front of his son.

"This is exactly what I warned you about," he said, frustration tightening his voice. "This headline—this story—it'll stain your name, Deep. Humiliating a girl on stage like that? It's all over the press!"

Deep glanced at the paper briefly before dismissing it with a scoff. "Dad, Deep Singhania has never been bothered by what people think. My beauty speaks for me—no matter what the world writes, they'll always admire what they see."

He turned to leave.

Ravindra's voice rang out behind him, louder this time. "And do you think that beauty will last forever?"

Deep froze mid-step. His fists clenched at his sides.

Seeing the tension rise, Ravindra stepped closer, resting a hand on his son's shoulder. "Deep, I didn't mean—"

But Deep shrugged it off with fury in his eyes. "I know what you meant! You think one day age will steal this from me. But let me make something clear—beauty is my greatest treasure, and as one of the best makeup artists in the world, I'll do everything in my power to preserve it!"

Ravindra stood speechless, his son's obsession echoing like a warning bell in the grand silence of the mansion.

Kashyap House

Back in Aarohi's room, Mr. Kashyap lowered the newspaper and spoke with quiet disappointment. "So this is what you were hiding from me since yesterday?"

Aarohi bit her lip, trying to find the words. "Pa... I didn't want you—"

"—to worry?" he finished for her, his tone tender but firm.

She looked away, unable to meet his eyes.

He let out a deep sigh, folded the paper, and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Alright. I understand. You didn't want to trouble me. But Rooh... why did you participate in a beauty pageant in the first place? You've always dreamed of being a champion cyclist, not a model."

Aarohi remained silent, her gaze drifting toward the open drawer where the mouth organ lay.

Following her line of sight, Mr. Kashyap noticed the instrument, then glanced back at the newspaper. A look of realization dawned in his eyes. He understood now—without her saying a word.

"You were trying to reach him... weren't you?" he said quietly. "Trying to get noticed by the Singhanias."

Aarohi said nothing.

He took a step back and added more firmly, "Rooh, whatever hopes you had, let them go. We're far removed from that world now."

Singhania Mansion

Deep, now calm, turned back to his father with a slight nod. "I'm sorry, Dad. You know how much beauty means to me."

Ravindra exhaled slowly, the weight of regret heavy in his voice. "I know. And I curse myself for letting your passion grow into this... obsession."

Deep's jaw tightened. "Call it an obsession if you want, but I won't change. I've always had the most beautiful things in life. I won't settle for anything less."

His father lifted the paper again. "And what about this mess? What about the consequences?"

Deep smiled faintly, eyes gleaming. "Don't worry. Today they're talking about Deep Singhania insulting a girl. Tomorrow, they'll talk about how he found the most beautiful woman in the world."

Ravindra frowned. "And who is this woman?"

Deep's lips curled into a slow, satisfied smile. "Ms. Tara Raichand."

Kashyap House

Aarohi turned back to the drawer and picked up the mouth organ, holding it in her hands. Her fingers trembled slightly as she spoke.

"I know, Pa. I know we're miles away from them now." She reached into the drawer again and pulled out a long chain, threading it through the mouth organ.

She lifted it and clasped it around her neck—right where she had once worn the lamp locket.

"This," she said, touching the mouth organ, "will remind me every single day that I'm nothing in front of the great Deep Singhania."

Mr. Kashyap looked at his daughter with quiet sorrow, helpless to take away her pain.

Final Frame:

The screen splits into three.

On one side, Tara, radiant, the lamp locket around her neck.

On the other, Aarohi, solemn, the mouth organ now resting against her chest.

And between them—Deep Singhania, the man whose obsession with outer beauty has begun to draw two worlds into collision.

As the haunting theme of Iss Ishq Mein Marjawan plays softly, the screen fades to black.

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To be continued.

Originally posted by: Aleyamma47

Episode 7

The episode starts with Aarohi coming home broken-heartedly after witnessing the sight of the intense eyelock between Deep and Tara in the rain. She unconsciously moves to her room without noticing her father who was calling out to her. After going to her room, Aarohi goes towards her dressing table and opens the drawer in it to find a beautiful maroon colored mouth organ kept inside it. As she picks it up, Mr. Kashyap comes nears the doorstep of her room and calls out, “Rooh!” Aarohi is shocked for a moment, leaves the mouth organ back with a thud and looks towards her father. Mr. Kashyap had been holding that day’s newspaper in his hand and inched slowly with it towards his daughter. As he came close to his daughter, he pointed out that day’s headline towards Aarohi. Aarohi was shocked to see it.

Deep’s Residence, Singhania Mansion

Ravindra Singhania holds out the newspaper to his son Deep, “See this is what I warned you about! These reports about you misbehaving with that girl in the beauty pageant will leave a deep impact in tarnishing your image” Deep “Dad, Deep Singhania has never bothered about his public image because he knows his beauty will in itself create a beautiful image for him no matter whatever he does” after saying that he slowly turns around to leave. Mr. Ravindra Singhania says disappointedly in a louder voice from behind, “Do you think your beauty will last forever?” Deep’s feet stop for a moment. He clenches his fists hard in anger. Mr. Singhania realizing his son’s rising anger goes near him catches his shoulder from behind and tries to compose him saying, “Deep, what I meant was….” Before he could finish, Deep angrily shrugs off Mr. Singhania’s hand from his shoulder and shouts at him, “I know what you meant Dad! I know! You mean to say that with the onset of old-age, my beauty will slowly start to diminish isn’t it? But let me make it clear to you that Deep Singhania is one of the world’s best make-up artist and BEAUTY is the most precious gem for him in his life, so being the best make-up artist, he will try anything and everything with his hands to retain his beauty!” Mr. Singhania was freeze-fixed at his position hearing his son’s anger-filled words.

Kashyap House

Rakesh Kashyap asks Aarohi, “So this is what you had been hiding from me since yesterday?” Aarohi, “There’s nothing like that Pa! I just did not want you…” Rakesh Kashyap cuts in saying, “….get worried? Right?” Aarohi looks down unable to keep eye-contact with her father. Rakesh Kashyap sways the newspaper in his hand taking a deep long breath and catches his daughter’s shoulders saying, “Okay fine, I understand that you did not want me to get worried so you hid about the whole incident from me but what was the need for you to participate in the beauty pageant in the first place when your ambition is to become a renowned cyclist not a model?” Aarohi nervously looks away once again. Soon, Rakesh Kashyap spots the maroon colored mouth organ in the open drawer next to Aarohi and then reads through the newspaper deeply once again. After reading the newspaper deeply, he understood Aarohi’s reply even without her saying it. He gasps around on realizing the real reason behind Aarohi participating in the beauty pageant, then looks back sternly at Aarohi and says, “I know what you were trying to do Rooh but remember that now we are way far away from the Singhanias!”

Singhania Mansion

Deep realizing that he had been overreacting calms down himself and turns back to his dad saying, “I’m sorry Dad! You know what beauty means in my life right?” Mr. Ravindra Singhania leaving out his built-up breath, “I know Deep, I know and I curse myself now for not having stopped your love and passion for beauty turn into an OBSESSION for beauty!” Deep, “I’m fine even if it is called an obsession but I will not change it for anybody because Deep Singhania has always got the most beautiful things of this world in his life!” Ravindra Singhania, “But what about these reports Deep?” Deep, “Don’t worry about them Dad! Today’s reports bashing Deep’s anger towards an ugly skinny looking woman would soon turn later into Deep having found the most beautiful woman in his life!” Ravindra Singhania, “Who do you mean?” Deep, “Ms. Tara Raichand!”

Kashyap House

Aarohi looks back towards her drawer seeing her father making his statement while looking at the mouth organ, goes near it, takes it out in her hands and says, “I know Pa that now they are way far away from us…” then she slowly takes out a long chain from her drawer, puts it through the mouth organ and hangs the mouth organ around her neck where she had once hung the lamp locket (the chain containing the lamp locket was now around Tara’s neck) and now this (pointing towards the mouth organ around her neck) will always remind me that I am NOTHING in front of DEEP SINGHANIA! Once she finishes saying that, Rakesh Kashyap looks sadly at his daughter.

The scene freezes on the faces of Aarohi and Tara with the chains of lamp locket and mouth organ around their necks on the two sides of the screen, while the face of Deep in the middle.

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To be continued.

Excellent Story.Hope to see you continue and conclude the same.

I'm tagging some of my new friends here. This is a fictional story written by me.

If any of you find time and like reading, then please do tell how is this story written.