Yeh ghurne wale kya jaane niharna kya hota hai,

yeh duniya ko sab kuch maan ne wale kya jaan ne,

ek saaye mein apni khushi dhund na kya hota hai,

yeh shareer ki raag mein lipte huye aashiq kya jaane,

ke rooh ka deewana pan kya hota hai

Rudraksh descended the grand staircase, his steps silent and purposeful. He had ensured the door to his bedroom was locked securely, a final, possessive act to protect the precious cargo he now held captive. His face, usually a canvas of emotion, was now a mask of cold, unyielding resolve.