Raigad ke shant mahal ke aangan mein shaam dheere-dheere utar rahi thi. Dhoop ki aakhri kiranen pattharon par pighal rahi thi, jaise waqt khud thahar sa gaya ho.

Das saal ka Rudra Pratap Rajput, apni talwar se zyada apni baaton mein garv liye, rawana hone ke liye taiyaar khada tha. Uski aankhon mein ek ajab sa vachan tha—bachpana bhi, aur ek anjaani zimmedari bhi.

Uske saamne khadi thi chhoti si Meera Rajvanshi, sirf chhe saal ki, jiske haathon mein abhi bhi khilone the, par aankhon mein poore raaj gharane ki masoomiyat chamak rahi thi.

Rudra ne halka sa jhuk kar uski taraf dekha, jaise kisi rani ko pranam kar raha ho.

“Meera,” usne dheemi par thehri hui awaaz mein kaha,“jab tum badi ho jaogi… main laut kar aaunga. Aur us din, main tumse shaadi karunga.”

Meera ne kuch samjha, kuch nahi. Par us pal usne sirf itna mehsoos kiya ki yeh baat alag hai… khaas hai. Usne chupchaap haan mein sir hila diya, jaise dil ne bina soche ek vachan sweekar kar liya ho.

Jaate-jaate Rudra ne apne gale se ek chhoti si maala nikali—saada si, par uske liye bahut keemti. Usne dheere se woh maala Meera ke haathon mein rakh di.

“Isse sambhaal kar rakhna,” usne kaha,“taaki tumhe humara vaada hamesha yaad rahe… aur mujhe bhi.”

Hawa chalne lagi. Dhoop poori tarah dhal chuki thi.

Rudra mud kar chal pada—Raigad peeche chhoot raha tha, par ek rishta uske saath bandh chuka tha.

Aur Meera… wahi khadi rahi, apne chhote haathon mein woh maala tham kar, jaise usne sirf ek gehna nahi, balki ek poora vaada apne dil mein sambhaal liya ho.

Woh ek bachpan ka vaada tha par usmein ek poori kahaani likhi ja chuki thi.