This book is a prequel to the Bad Girl- Anaisha, but can also be read as a stand-alone novel. Though reading Anaisha first will be a bonus and help connect, you guys, more to the characters. To simplify I have also added the family tree in the Preview chapter, so please check that out.

This is a work of fiction, so please take it as one. Also, it is set in the era 1950s, 1955-1960 the timeline of this book. Things were different back then so, yeah, keep that in mind, my lovelies. With all that said, let's begin our journey.

❝ Dil ko teri hi tamanna
Dil ko hai tujhase hi pyaar
Chaahe tu aaye naa Aaye
ham karenge intezaar ❞

(Yahudi- 1958)

❝Hawaaon mein bahenge

Ghataon mein rahenge

Tu barkha meri

Main tera baadal piya ❞

- (Kalank)

Picture credits to the respective owners. Since this story is set in the 50s, I wanted you guys to visualize it better.

Era 1950s,

Jaipur Rajasthan 1955

Chaos ensued in Agarwal's ancestral mansion as maids and butlers ran around searching for one girl. Their master, Iravati Devi, was fuming with indignation. She sat on her divan, cracking open walnuts. She had turned red with fury and was struggling to keep the cap of her bottled-up anger tight shut.

"Ma'am." A huffing and puffing maid stood in front of her. She lowered her head. Iravati paused, waiting for her to speak. The housemaid drew a large gulp.

- "Choti Malkin isn't at home. We searched everywhere."

Iravati cracked the nut with such a force that the maid almost fainted. Slowly, she looked up and let out a sharp breath, - "Where is her friend? Go, get her." She gestured with her eyes and the maid agreed.

In the next few minutes, she brought a young lady in presence of her. Iravati rose, stuffing away everything. The girl had turned pale white. Her Malkin stayed her ground, with a death glare in her eyes. The girl couldn't meet her intense gaze. As soon as she lowered her eyes, Iravati grabbed one of her braids and jerked it. She yelped in pain.

"Where is Anahita, Dhani? You not only work for her but also her friend. Tell me the truth." She jerked her hair. Dhani struggled to speak while denying she knew where she was. In her mind, she prayed for Anahita to return soon.

Not far away,

The summer of Jaipur could be scorching, but today the weather was rather pleasant. A middle-aged man dressed in ragged Kurtha and dhoti carried a tray with two glasses of juice. He wiped his face with the ghumcha that was around his neck. The natural marble flooring cooled his feet as he walked with steady feet towards the backyard of the mansion.

The summer of Jaipur could be scorching hot, but today the weather was rather pleasant. A middle-aged man dressed in ragged Kurtha and dhoti carried a tray with two glasses of juice. He wiped his face with the ghumcha that was around his neck. The natural marble flooring cooled his feet as he walked with steady feet towards the backyard of the mansion.

Two girls sat at a white round table, with books in their hands. One had her head buried in the book, while the other scratched her head with a pen in her hand.

"Nausheen, this one is important. I remember Kanwar Sir say so."- She pushed aside hair strands from her dampened forehead.

The other girl, Nausheen, looked up from her book, gaped at her friend and laughed, - "Anu, you have got ink all over your face." She fell against the chair and continued her snorting laughter. Anahita made a face and was about to counter her when the servant arrived with their drinks.

"Malkin!"

Nausheen gasped for breath and nodded. As she reached out for her drink, she was startled by Anahita's loud yelp.

"What happened?" She flinched, as splashes of the cool drink fell on her white shirt.

"It is going to be evening,"- Anahita leaped from her seat and quickly began to gather her books, - "Mother will kill me." She chirped, stuffing them into her handbag. So, she speedily gathered her hair and tied it in a bun, sticking a pencil into it as she couldn't find her hairband. Nausheen kept calling her, but she had turned around and ran.

The sound of her anklet resonated through the long hallway and tall pillars of the British era mansion. The crepe curtains at times brushed against her on her way. As she approached the main door, her hair came loose, cascading down till her waist. Suddenly, a shadow of a person appeared, like a man holding a suitcase. Anahita was in high speed, and in the struggle of stopping herself, her Jhuti got tangled with her flowing mustard yellow long skirt, and she tripped.

To halt her fall, she grabbed one of the white crepe curtains. It tore with a screech, and she fell face front over the person. He didn't know what had hit him, but it was someone soft and petite. Together they fell. Her bag and his luggage flying in the opposite direction and the curtain landed over them.

Anahita propped herself with her palms and looked at the man crushed under her; it was unclear as her flowing, lustrous hair carpeted their faces. He tried to push away her hair, but his fingers got tangled instead. She blinked at him, making out only a little of his features. Some butlers arrived, and so she snapped from her trance.

The man gently shifted, and she pulled herself off him. Swiftly, they moved the curtain from themselves.

"Who?" He paused to spit hair strands from his mouth.

"Sorry,—" Anahita stilled, looking at him. He was someone she had seen only when she was young, and he was too. He should be Nausheen's elder brother. Most of his feature matched her, exactly. Both the siblings had inherited beautiful Pashtun features from their father's side and European look from their British mother.

Like his sister, he had fair complexion with light brown hair. Though he had curly short hair, much like his mother and not his father's silky straight hair, which Nausheen had inherited.

Anahita blinked at his bluish-grey eyes. He was gorgeous, like an angel. She was a kid when he had left for London to study law and now; she was a young adult, but her heart skipped the beat even today, after a long gap.

"Bhaijaan!"

Nausheen rushed to the scene, looking confused and worried. Immediately, she went to help Anahita stand up. Her brother also stood, patting off dust from his loose stripped shirt, then tugged it inside his high-waist trouser. Anahita kept staring at him with dreamy eyes, but soon adjusted her expressions.

"Anu, I think you should go; you are getting late. Asif Bhaijaan has just arrived from London; he will need much rest." Nausheen helped her tie her hair into a braid. Asif frowned at the girls, and, stopped as he passed by his sister and whispered, just audible to Anahita.

- "Please control your junglee friend."

Anahita snapped her head towards him and glared at him. He passed a hand through his hair, adjusting it and marched away from the girls. The butlers hurried and picked up his briefcase. Anahita twisted her lips, tossing her dupatta on her shoulder.

- "Your Bhaijaan has become so snobby. He has returned from London doesn't mean he is superior, and we are his slaves."- She turned, and exclaimed at his retreating figure, - "India isn't slave of the British anymore. We are our own kings now." She knew he heard her because he stopped on the spot just for a second, before continuing to walk away.

"Anu, calm down."

Anahita huffed, flinging her bag on her right shoulder.

"Bawlo!" She spat, twiting her lips. 

❝Chup chup khade ho zaroor koyi baat hai

Pehli mulakat hai yeh pehli mulakat hai

Sajan ki baat par gussa jo aa gaya
Zulfo kaa badal galo pe chha gaya

Galo pe chha gaya ❞

-Bari Behen (1949)

How was their first meeting, guys? Iravati seems to be strict, wondering why she is so upset.

Guys this was the first Chapter. Please drop your comments, based on which I will be posting the rest. Next updates, next friday, you guys!! Stay Tuned, my lovelies and add the book to your library.

PS: In the meanwhile, check out Anahita's granddaughter's story; The Bad Girl- Anaisha ;)