Shiva is not a man who blends into the background. His presence is loud, untamed, and impossible to ignore—much like the forest he calls home. Born and raised in a small village surrounded by dense woods and ancient traditions, Shiva carries the wild spirit of the land within him. With sharp eyes, a confident grin, and a fearless attitude, he walks through life as if nothing in the world could ever control him. He enjoys the thrill of Kambala races, late-night drinks with friends, and teasing anyone bold enough to challenge him. To outsiders, Shiva may seem reckless, stubborn, and a little too quick to start a fight. But those who truly know him understand that beneath the rough edges lies a man fiercely loyal to his people, his village, and the sacred traditions passed down through generations.

The afternoon sun hung low over the village as Shiva walked lazily toward Saheb’s large house, dust rising under his bare feet. He had only come because one of his friends insisted Saheb wanted to discuss something about the forest land. Leaning casually against the wooden gate, Shiva’s sharp eyes scanned the courtyard—until suddenly, they stopped. Someone new was there. Near the veranda stood a woman he had never seen before. She was speaking quietly with one of the servants, the breeze gently moving the edge of her dupatta. Her figure was soft and graceful, her presence somehow calm yet impossible to ignore in the quiet courtyard. For a moment, Shiva forgot what he came for. His eyebrows lifted slightly, curiosity flashing across his face. This village was small—he knew almost everyone here. But her… he had never seen before. Shiva straightened slowly, folding his arms across his chest as he continued watching her from a distance. His usual playful smirk crept onto his lips, though his eyes studied her carefully.