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Your story is vivid and rich with character dynamics, but there are a few grammatical and stylistic errors. Here’s a revision with corrections:

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The legacy of Begusarai was infamous for its sand mafia and "Gundaraaj." The Choudhary family is known for bringing this reputation to Begusarai.

As the most influential and powerful family in Begusarai, they ruled the place with one hand full of wealth and the other covered in bloodshed. They would wash their bloodstained hands in the holy water of the Ganga, hoping it would cleanse their sins.

The morning was beautiful; the chirping of birds could be heard when two men knocked on the large iron gate of Durga Bhawan. The guards standing outside asked the men their reason for coming to the Haveli, and upon hearing their story, one of the guards hurried inside.

A roar came from within, accompanied by the giggles of a baby. The guard returned to his post as a short, stocky man emerged from the door, holding a happily cooing baby in his arms.

Raising his head in the direction of the voice, the first man finally caught his breath, only to lose it again when Mithilesh Chaudhary stood before him. "Who stole your sampatti that you came here crying about it?"

The second man noticed his friend's tight-lipped reaction. "M-malik Ram Ram," he stammered, bowing and joining his hands in a pranam. "M-malik, our apologies for disturbing you so early—"

"Keep the buttering for your wife and say what you came to say," Mithilesh snapped, cooing back at the baby in his lap.

"It's about Chote Babu. Our apologies, Malik. W-we were on our way to our field this morning when we saw Chote Babu lying there."

Nathu got no reaction from the other man. "Uhm... lying in the middle of the field, covered in mud and fertilizers, with a katta in his hand. We tried to wake him so we could bring Chote Babu here, but uhm... h-he put the katta to my head and threatened us to leave, or else he would—"

"MADARCHOD, WHAT THE FUCK WAS HE THINKING, DOING THIS IN BROAD DAYLIGHT, BASTARD—"

And, to no one's surprise, Mithilesh kicked a decorative vase with his left leg before storming inside.

In the courtyard of Durga Bhawan, Durga Devi sat on a swing. Near her feet, Rukmani Devi, her younger sister-in-law, was cutting areca nuts into small pieces and placing them in a paan daan box.

"The sun hasn't even risen yet, and the action sequence has already started," the younger woman said, nudging the elder's feet.

"What happened now, Mithilesh?" Durga Devi asked lazily in her heavy Bihari accent before spitting into a nearby cuspidor.

"Amma... THAT- PIECE OF SHIT—" Mithilesh began, but was interrupted by the sound of anklets and the scent of incense. A young woman, dressed in a heavily embroidered yellow saree, covering her head with its loose end, and holding a pooja thal in one hand and a ghanti in the other, came into view.

"I swear she spends extra time on these rituals just to delay breakfast and starve me," Durga Devi remarked dramatically.

Dramatic as it was, Rukmani chuckled. "A bit of starvation is good for you, Jiji. Besides, Badi Bahu has already briefed Maharaj Ji about breakfast."

"ACHINTYA, COME HERE NOW!"

"That day is not far when he will rupture his vocal cords with all this yelling and shouting."

"Not to mention, by then, half of the haveli will surely be deaf too."

Sighing, Durga Devi asked, "Who put fire in your ass?"

"Who else but Sundar Babu?" Mithilesh's face was red with anger and frustration. "Fucker drank more than his liver could handle and crashed in someone's field. What was that bloody idiot thinking?"

"Of course, he wasn't thinking, Bhaiya. What's new in that?" Guddi, the youngest of the siblings and Phoolan Choudhary's only daughter, commented on her way to get ready for college.

"ACHINTYA, COME HERE!" Mithilesh yelled again. His daughter, Laxmi, giggled at her father's tone, finding enjoyment in his misery.

Achintya descended the stairs, looking at the scene before him in confusion. There were many reasons his short-tempered elder brother could lose his cool, but since Nupur Bhabhi and Chavi were in view and he was still shouting, things must be serious.

"ACHINTYA FUCKING... WHERE ARE YOU? COME HERE... RIGHT NOW!"

The baby in his arms, now seeing her mother, began fidgeting.

Seeing his daughter's beautiful, smiling face helped tone down some of Mithilesh's anger. He handed the baby slowly to Nupur's open arms and was about to yell again when Achintya stood before him.

"You know, Bhaiya, some people actually prefer waking up to the sound of nature or an alarm."

"Knowing you, the alarm would be the moans of the girl you were with last night," Mithilesh retorted, but a gentle shush from Nupur as she applied the red tikka on his forehead stopped him. "Do not speak of such things, Achintya Babu."

"He can do those things, and I can't even speak about them?" Mithilesh gasped, but in front of his loving wife, he didn't raise his voice above a normal octave, even though he wanted to, especially seeing Achintya's smirking face.

Achintya was Mithilesh's younger brother. Both he and Vijay were almost the same age, but the difference in their personalities was as clear as oil and water.

"Anyway... Sundar, the apple of Meenal Kaki's eye, is lying somewhere in some villager's field. Go fetch that drunkard here so I can teach him a good lesson about dragging the Choudhary name through the mud."

Achintya frowned. It wasn't even 8 in the morning, and that drunkard had already created another drama. Why the fuck does that bastard even drink this much if he can't handle it?

"Yeah, fine." Achintya accepted Nupur's blessing as she applied the red tikka on his pale, fair skin. "Bye, Laxmi. Keep your giggles going so your father's temper stays in check." He pinched the chubby cheeks of Laxmi, who made grabby hands at him.

Achintya then walked over to the two women and touched their feet. "Inform Phoolan and Lokesh on your way. If Sundar comes back and Mithilesh acts on his anger, you know what will happen," Durga Devi whispered.

Achintya nodded at the old lady. "Bhabhi, tell Guddi to be ready for college, or I'll leave her behind."

Achintya took out his open Jeep from the front gate, motioning for the two men to sit in the back as he prepared to drag Sundar's drunk ass home.

_

Whenever a Choudhary family vehicle graced any road in Begusarai, people flocked around them. It was like a magnet; no matter what anyone was doing, if they heard the Choudharys were coming, it was their cue to gather around.

It was because of the respect Bahubali of Begusarai, Phoolan Choudhary, had earned from his people.

Achintya's Jeep crossed the main road, where only a few shops were open at this time of the morning. "Such a peaceful morning, now ruined because of that bastard," Achintya muttered.

He had been enjoying his time with the girl he had been seeing for two weeks until Mithilesh decided it was enough.

The Jeep stopped as a man in a white shirt and blue jeans ascended the vehicle. The wind was high, messing up the soft, long black hair of the handsome man. As he walked, the faces of a few workers in the field turned in his direction.

Abandoning their work, the workers stood up, bowing their heads and folding their palms. The man did the same, folding his hands above his chest.

"Bade Babu, please stay here. The field is overrun with water; it will ruin your clothes." Ignoring the man's advice, Achintya, without caring about his clothes, walked straight into the field.

Vijay was sprawled on the ground like a buffalo. His clothes were muddy, and a strong smell of liquor, mud, sweat, and other bodily fluids emanated from him. While the men behind Achintya cringed, he did not.

His head was fuming, and he was in no state to feel anything but anger. He kicked the drunk man's shin harshly, making him groan.

"F-fy- w-who y-uo t-hink..." the man groaned but dosed off again. Boiling with frustration, Achintya crouched, grabbed Vijay's shoulder, hauled him into a sitting position, and slapped him. Hard.

With a start, Vijay opened his eyes. His surroundings were hazy and spinning, and his right ear was ringing. He looked around for the source of the disturbance and stopped.

Achintya's pale face was right in front of him, staring at him like he was vermin. Without thinking, on pure instinct, Vijay pointed the gun at his forehead and drunkenly threatened, "Bastard, I'll kill you—"

"Go ahead," Achintya says, his dark brown eyes fixed on Vijay's mud-covered face. They stare at each other, the tension between them intense, almost cutthroat. The guards look at each other, as if to ask what they should do. They have no authority here, and if they did say anything, who knows which one of them would shoot them first.

A second passes, and Vijay lowers the gun. It could be because, as people say, Achintya is the carbon copy of Phoolan Choudhary, or maybe because Achintya has his father's intense eyes and dominating aura. But Vijay realizes it's a bit hard to match this psycho's stare.

"Thought so." A slow smirk makes its way onto Achintya's face as he smiles—a kind, charismatic smile. "Get up. We're leaving."

Vijay's head is pounding, and the sun is blinding him. He realizes with shame that he is covered in mud and... everything. He sways a bit, unstable on his feet, as Achintya catches him before he falls on his face.

"Fuck... bastard," Vijay mutters, and with that, Achintya drags the still-drunk idiot to the car, covering him with blankets.

Meanwhile, in Durga Bhawan, a silence has spread.

Phoolan Choudhary is sitting on his chair in the middle of the hall, with Lokesh Choudhary standing behind his elder brother, and Durga Devi seated on his right.

The whole Choudhary family is standing in the living room, waiting for the drama to begin.

Meenal, the wife of Lokesh Choudhary, has her head bowed down, fuming in embarrassment. The condition in which Vijay has returned is so pathetic, and to make matters worse, he was dragged inside like some mere peasant by Achintya, which only added fuel to the fire.

Now, Vijay stands in the middle of the hall, head down, with everyone's eyes on him. "I apologize, Bade Papa, for my behavior. I was with my friends, and we had a bet going, and I—I drank too much." He raises his head to look at the stoic and ever-calm face of the man. His own father's face is red with anger.

"It won't happen. I swear. It won't happen. Please forgive me," Vijay pleads.

"Forgive him, Jethji. He's still young and immature. And mistakes can happen to anyone; it's part of life, and this is how children learn. Forgive him this time. Please." Meenal comes forward in defense of her son. Because in this house, no one else will do that for him.

It is always like that. First, when Mala Jiji was alive, she was the favorite daughter-in-law of the family, the most favored. And then it was Mithilesh, and as if the gods hadn't punished Meenal enough, along came Achintya.

Achintya Choudhury, the spitting image of his father and Bahubali of Begusarai, Phoolan Choudhary. Be it his looks, his personality, his easygoing nature, or his dominating aura.

Mithilesh might be the heir to the throne, but Achintya was the hidden trump card of the Choudharys. And while everything good falls into Mala Jiji's lap, what does Meenal get?

A husband who never once raises his eyes in front of his brother or mother, who never ever takes his wife's side even once, and always makes her feel like an outcast in the house. And a son who is, too, good for nothing like his father.

"Vijay is a bit too old to be considered a child, Meenal Bahu," Rukmani Devi says. She can see what Meenal is doing—sweeping the issue under the rug when it's about herself or her son, but making a mountain out of a molehill when it's about other people in the family.

It's always what she does. Isn't this how she forced Lokesh into buying another kothi for his family and then separating both Lokesh and Vijay from them?

"Of course, Choti Amma. But for parents, their children always remain children to them. I'm sure Jethji understands this."

Phoolan Choudhary raises his hand as Rukmani Devi is about to answer. "Vijay, I'm not angry with you. Yes, we can't forget what you have done, but I'm not going to punish you."

Everyone's head turns toward Phoolan Choudhary. Mithilesh looks at him as if he can't believe his ears. His father, the statue of truth, the man who believes that justice is above everyone, is not going to do anything.

Only Achintya and Durga Devi remain calm throughout the scenario. They are among the few people who understand the hidden meaning behind the words.

Meenal is on cloud nine when she hears this, but then... "-But Vijay will have to apologize to the man whose head he pointed his gun at." And she freezes mid-motion. What?

Vijay looks at him in disbelief. He has to do what? Apologize? To those scum? Never.

"We have power over those people, but that doesn't mean we should exploit it. You were drunk and out of your mind—what if you had indeed pulled the trigger and something had happened? To you, they might be nothing, but to his family, that man is their everything. Their sole breadwinner, their protector."

"And so, I hope you understand what you did wrong and make amends to correct it," Phoolan Choudhary orders. He stands up from the chair and leaves the room.

"Maa... where is our Laxmi? I haven't seen her since morning," Durga Devi shouts for Nupur to bring Laxmi. Phoolan Choudhary takes the small girl in his arms, who immediately pulls his greying beard and then laughs when he tickles her.

Just like that, the spell is broken. Everyone returns to their work. Meenal is still complaining, but the thought that her son got away with it makes her happy. Durga Devi makes her way to her room, followed by Rukmani.

Only Vijay remains in the hall, rooted to his spot, still in disbelief that he has to do something this low. He is stewing in his anger when a figure whistles from the side and says,

"I would say Papa letting you off the hook this easily is such a pity, but then I'm not blaming him. A disappointment like you doesn’t deserve much," taunts Achintya. He still hasn't forgotten the bastard pointing his gun at him like he’s some mere commoner. "If it were up to me, I would have made you work your fingers to the bone."

"But it's not. Do you think that just because you look a bit like Bade Papa, you will share the same authority as him? Ohh... I'm sorry to burst your bubble, Achintya Babu, but it's not going to happen," Vijay sneers back.

Achintya simply smiles and waves his hand dismissively. "Not interested, bro. I have better work to do than that. Unlike you, who better start preparing for your apology because—" Achintya steps closer, his face inches from Vijay's, so close that Vijay’s eyes go slightly cross-eyed as he raises his head slightly. "—you sure as hell owe me one."

And he leaves, leaving an angry Vijay behind.

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To everyone thankyou for reading this.

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This book will contain Hindi words so if anyone don't understand it feel free to ask. To others happy reading.

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