The Queen of Hearts

The Indian Royals 2.0

Bhavini K. Desai

Asha K. Desai

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 Contents

Title Page
The Queen of Hearts
Disclaimer
Acknowledgement
Blurb
King Shantanu & Satyawati: A Brief Recollection
PART I: THE COMMONER
1. Front Seat
2. Outside Of This Island
3. New Year
4. Rawal Saheb
5. Ashes & Phoenix
6. Neverland
7. Reality
8. The Resolution
9. One Last Time
10. Gone
PART II: THE KING
11. The End Of The World
12. I’m The Boss
13. Drake Passage
14. Take The Plunge
15. Companion
16. If
17. The Dance
18. What Will Our Life Be Like?
19. Time To Go Home
20. Friction
PART III: A QUEEN
21. You Can’t Live Life Only On Love
22. The Meeting
23. Neelambaag
24. Arranged Marriage
25. Dear Tara
26. Nawanagar’s Kunwar Saheb
27. Here’s My Chest
28. The Wedding
29. Storm
30. A Marriage Based On A Lie
PART IV: THE QUEEN OF HEARTS
31. Trigger
32. Predictions
33. The Unwanted One
34. Nine Months
35. Tarmac
36. Reluctant Queen
37. Rawal Is Gone
38. The Queen of Hearts
39. Can You Still Read My Eyes?
40. Back Seat
Epilogue
Translations: Folk Songs of Gujarat
Other Books by the Author
Excerpt from The Queen’s Eyes by Bhavini K. Desai
About the Author

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 The Queen of Hearts
A Novel

THE INDIAN ROYALS 2.0

B H A V I N I K. D E S A I

Copyright © 2024 Bhavini K. Desai

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 Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names,
characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either
the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely
coincidental. In addition, the publisher and the author assume no
responsibility for errors, inaccuracies, omissions, or any other
inconsistencies herein.
This work does not intend to hurt any religious or cultural sentiments of any
person or community or the like.
This book’s story and characters are fictitious. Certain long-standing
institutions, agencies, and public offices may be mentioned, but apart from
their mentioning, the event(s) concerning them are all a work of
imagination and accordingly, fictional. Furthermore, this book in no way
intends to run down or bring disrepute to any of the aforementioned
institutions in any way.
The use of this book hereby implies your deemed acceptance of the above
disclaimer.

Copyright © 2024 by Bhavini Desai.

All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems,
without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief
quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places,
events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously.

The Queen of Hearts

Author: Bhavini K. Desai
Publisher: Asha K. Desai
Cover Design: Bhavini K. Desai
Legal Counsel: Adv. Dushyant K. Desai
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 Acknowledgement
The author would like to thank her mother — Asha K. Desai for being the
source of unending knowledge — of the folk, lore and stories of Saurashtra,
of the songs of Paan bai, Jhaverchand Meghani and Narsinh Mehta, of the
science of the universe and the almighty beyond.
The author would also like to thank Ms. Leena Bohra for her constant beta
reading support.

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 Blurb
When a lowly Devgadh girl — Tara Thakker meets a stranger on the banks
of a river in Baroda, her life takes an unexpected turn. The stranger,
seemingly older, wiser, and certainly too arrogant for her taste intrigues and
annoys her in equal measure. Unaware of his identity, Tara finds herself
drawn into a day of kayaking, bantering, birdwatching; and a deep,
unexpected spark of connection that takes her whole being by storm.
It’s only when the day ends that she stumbles upon the truth — he is
Siddharth Sinh Solanki. The divorced, father-of-a-teenager King of
Nawanagar. Scandalised, Tara runs as fast as she can. As far as she can. But
their paths cross again. And again. And they continue to cross — in secret
meetings and hidden trysts, from their own kingdoms to far-flung Antarctic
expeditions, between passionate nights and adventurous days. And slowly,
their hearts become tethered by the invisible strings of fate.
But back in the confines of their reality, love alone is not enough. Because
when Siddharth asks her parents for her hand in marriage, they demand
more than just love. They demand the impossible. And even as Siddharth
refuses, his son, in a reckless moment, makes a dangerous oath — an oath
that would cast a long shadow over all their futures.
As Tara’s fate becomes bound by this teenager’s oath, and her new role in a
resentful kingdom becomes tenuous, tragedy strikes again. And all eyes turn
to her. Will she stand for justice, for what’s good and right? Or will the
weight of ambition, fear, and insecurity destroy a pure love, budding bonds
and a dynasty that was on its way up?

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 King Shantanu & Satyawati: A Brief
Recollection
There once was a noble king named Shantanu, ruler of Hastinapur, a
dynasty that traced its lineage to the gods. Tall, regal, and renowned for his
wisdom, he governed his kingdom with a just hand. Shantanu had known
love before—his first wife, the river goddess Ganga, had borne him a son,
Devavrata, who would later be known as Bhishma, the most fearsome
warrior in all of Bharatvarsh. But Ganga had left him long ago, and in her
absence, Shantanu’s heart remained untethered, longing for love.
It was on the banks of River Yamuna that his fate would change. There,
Shantanu met Satyawati—the daughter of a fisherman, raised on the river's
edge. Her dusky beauty was unmatched, her presence as intoxicating as the
river’s gentle flow. She carried a mysterious air, known as the
Matsyakanya, the fisher-girl who had once lived beneath the waters.
Shantanu was smitten. He could see no future without her by his side as
queen.
Yet, love in royal courts always comes with conditions. Satyawati’s father, a
lowly fisherman, demanded a price: her children must inherit the throne.
Devavrata, the rightful heir, would be set aside, an unimaginable betrayal.
Torn between his love for Satyawati and his duty as king, Shantanu
hesitated. But Devavrata, ever loyal to his father, made an oath—a terrible,
binding vow that he would never marry, never father children, and forever
relinquish his claim to the throne. Thus, Bhishma was born—a man of
legend, but a man doomed by sacrifice.
Shantanu married Satyawati, but this union came at a cost far greater than
the crown. Her ambition drove their lineage towards doom. For even when
her sons were gone and there remained no heir in sight, she did not compel
Bhishma to break his oath. Did not push hard enough for him to reclaim the
throne. Satyawati’s hunger for power remained insatiable. And her
decisions, rooted in a desire for control, planted the seeds for a fractured
future. The throne, once stable under Shantanu, would become the stage for
generations of conflict, culminating in the bloody war of Mahabharat.
And so, while love and desire brought them together, it was ambition that
would tear apart their descendants. When faced with choices like
Satyawati’s, will Tara choose differently? Or will ambition once again
cloud love’s purity?

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To those who come from the dark, but don’t take the dark along…

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PART I: THE COMMONER

— TARA —

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 1. Front Seat
She zoomed her Scooty at breakneck speed. It wasn’t new, zooming
scooties down the wide open roads of Baroda. Only, this road wasn’t open.
It was packed full of slow-moving cars — fancy, expensive cars. All racing
towards the Mahi Waterfront. Abhi’s ‘small get-together’ seemed like a
massive party. Tara frowned, peering from the opening of her helmet at all
the rich and wealthy kids in their parents’ rich and wealthy cars with their
rich and wealthy friends. Ha! They would have to go slow, while she would
weave and zoom past them all.
She idly wondered — if this was the real race of life, she would win. And
win big! She accelerated, sending a poof of smoke behind her as she cleared
the stretch of packed cars and turned the corner of the pakka service road. It
veered right into a kaccha farm road that led straight down to the
waterfront. The Mahi River was a beacon of glinting blue-green at the end
of the open parking lot. Tents, cafe, open-top activity centre.
Tara parked her Scooty and pulled off her helmet, feeling the sun bright on
her scarf-covered face and head. She unwound the white scarf from around
her head and shook her curls free just as the fine cotton slid from her cold
skin. The winter wind slapped her face and she tipped her head up into the
sun, her curls skimming the seat of her Scooty. Tara shook her head,
soaking in all the heat. December in Baroda was cold. But December on the
outskirts of Baroda with Mahi’s cold winds bunched up from the waves was
freezing. She grinned, rubbing her hands together and transferring the heat
to her face.
She turned her Scooty’s handle until she was fully reflected in her side
mirror and peered at her bare face. She wasn’t too big on makeup. Frankly,
she didn’t know much about it. Did foundation go before powder or the
other way round. Did you apply mascara on the lashes only or use it for
your eyebrows too? Were lip tints different from lipsticks? All useless
things to fill into your brain when you had ontology and Kant and Aristotle
and Vivekananda to stuff in there for the next test.
Tara thumbed her thick, naturally curved eyebrows to settle down, then
reached for the one and only lipstick in her bag. Some red-pink shade that
her best friend had forced upon her god knows how many months ago. She
rolled it onto her round lips, hoping it would create some magic contrasting
with her dark skin. She turned her face from side to side, tracing her light
brown eyes down her extra sharp nose to her soft, almost heart-shaped lips,
to her jawline. Her face was a weird face — soft eyes, sharp nose, soft lips,
sharp jawline. The symmetry was out of place.
Forget it. She clawed her curly hair back from her forehead, hating the big
halo. The day she had a steady stream of massive income she was going to
permanently straighten the hell out of it. For now though, she collected the
mass and bunched it up in a messy bun on the top of her head, hoping the
tiny clip would hold it into place.
Tara nudged the Scooty on its stand and swung her leg out. The denim of
her pants stretched with the move, puling the hem up. She leaned down to
pull it back into place, feeling the frayed edges of the ankle-cut-offs with
her fingers. She smirked. Fashion and styling weren’t her biggest suits
either, but she knew a thing or two about turning an old full-length jeans
into an ankle-length one without spending a rupee.
She straightened her favourite short red kurti and began striding down the
parking. The cafe and the bank were already buzzing with activity, some of
her old college friends visible in the heavy crowd. People had so much free
time on a weekday, in the middle of the day, even if it was 31st December!
But then, so did she, Tara shook her head, smiling as her eyes met familiar
faces.
“Hey, Tara!” “How’s MPhil going?” “Hi, want a mocktail?”
“No, thanks. I’ll say hi to Abhi first,” she hollered back. “MPhil’s good.
Last year! Hey, did you see Kashvi?”
“Your best friend is partying it up near the kayaks there.”
Tara turned. And sure enough, as expected, her best friend was taking a
detailed inventory of the bright yellow kayaks lined up on the bank of the
river. She was the biggest sceptic out there. If self preservation had a
Gujarati girl name, it would be Kashvi. Tara strode down to her, bypassing
the cafe platform where the rest of the group was dancing and socialising
under the sun.
“So you are saying that if this kayak gets lost from the group it has enough
food and water for me to survive for five days.”
“And then infinite more,” the kayak company worker pointed. “You will be
on the river, so lots of sweet water and fresh fish.”
Tara laughed, but Kashvi didn’t find humour in that. “What if something
pierces this kayak and it drowns…?”
“Then I’ll save you!” Tara cupped her hand around her mouth and yelled.
“Ugh! I don’t trust you to pull me swimming all the way to the bank…”
Kashvi turned to her. “You didn’t put any makeup?!”
“Go, go!” Tara whispered-shouted to the frustrated worker behind. He ran.
“I put lipstick,” Tara pouted her lips as she reached closer. “See? The same
one you gave.”
“The only one you have,” Kashvi rolled her eyes, turning back to the kayak
she had been dissecting. “I am really not sure about this,” she kicked its
body with her foot. It made a hollow sound. “Shit, it’s not in good
condition. Did you hear that?”
“Stop. It. I didn’t want to come here. You were the one who blackmailed
me,” Tara accused. “Now you have to suffer, even if it’s drowning in Mahi
with me.”
“You just said you’ll save me!”
“If I am in the mood.”
“Fuck you.”
“And fuck me too,” Abhi’s stunned voice sounded from behind them. Tara
glanced over her shoulder. The hunky man was striding down from his
party towards them, his designer shirt flapping in the wind, his dark glasses
pushed to the top of his head. He had a loose, cool walk. It was partly due
to his business family’s wealth, and partly due to practise since junior
college. At least two dozen girlfriends of his had gone flat on this walk in
the last 4 years.
He grinned, his light trimmed beard giving way to his brilliant smile. “You
look amazing,” he opened one arm and embraced her, a drink in another
hand. Tara patted his back. “I wore this last week too.”
“And it looked amazing then too,” he pulled back, giving her a respectful
once-over. Tara wasn’t ignorant to his interest. But he had never made it
overt knowledge, even if he tried to flirt with her now and then. Once he got
a girlfriend, the flirting turned into sweet friendship, until he was single
again and it started again. Tara had spent her Bachelor’s in Philosophy at
the Maharaja Sayajirao University of Baroda going through these phases of
Abhi, and now while she was pursuing her Masters there, he was busy
‘running’ his family business, loitering around college campus to ‘meet’ old
friends, and throwing half a dozen parties in a month to ‘just socialise.’ She
was invited to every single one of them, but this was the first one she had
attended this year. The last one too, she noted, seeing as it was 31st
December.
“Abhi, can’t we just play Housie on the shore and forget about this
kayaking thing?!” Kashvi tried.
“No and no,” he narrowed his eyes, throwing an arm around her shoulder.
Tara stiffened. She wasn’t uncomfortable with his touch, but she didn’t
want to give him any signals now that he was single again.
“I’ll puke in the water,” Kashvi warned.
“They are all our people. They’ll understand,” Abhi barred his teeth. “And
you are with me on my kayak,” he shook Tara. “Don’t go with her.”
“Noooo! She is going to save me if I drown. Tara, you are with me.”
“She is with me!”
“No, me!”
“I am alone,” Tara broke their fight, breaking Abhi’s half embrace too. She
stepped between them, her arms outstretched — “I am taking a single kayak
on my own. Nobody gets me, happy?”
“Come on, Tara,” Abhi pouted. He did look adorable when he did that. It
reminded her of their earlier days, when their friendship had been at its
purest. Not that it wasn’t pure now. Maybe it was all in her head. Maybe she
was taking his harmless flirting to mean more when he had been doing it for
years.
She sighed.
“Fine…”
A loud whistle cut her off. They all whirled, only to see the kayak team
assemble by the bank, all the gear and rows stacked.
“Alright, assemble everybody!”
The throngs from the cafe and parking began to gather around. They were
all Abhi’s friends from different walks of his life. She knew most, or at least
many of them. The kayak leader began to run safety precautions, narrating
the drill, their route, how long they would be on the river etc. Tara had gone
kayaking with this leader and his team before, so she just zoned out, her
neck craning to glance up at the massive tree canopies, the birds chirping up
there, loud enough to make themselves audible even over Abhi’s pretentious
rock music on speakers.
“If anybody is scared of riding it with their friend, you can go with one of
our experts…” the leader pointed out.
“I’ll go! I’ll go with the expert!” Kashvi raised her hand the highest. Tara
snorted. But wait, that would mean Abhi would pounce on her. Her gaze
whizzed from side to side, noticing Abhi to her right, getting hit on by some
girl. Perfect. Tara slyly slid away from him, weaving sideways very slowly
until she was on the other side of the crowd. There were around a hundred
guests here. He wouldn’t be able to find her once people started picking
partners and claiming kayaks.
Tara wandered around, behind tree trunks and under canopies, bird-
watching, chasing bright green parakeets, or popats, as they called them.
They made the shrillest but sweetest sounds. Tara smiled, eyeing the
massive family, or was it a community of parakeets, flying around in
infinity loops. A koel was singing, and lots of brown sparrows were
skipping branches around her. It was beautiful, their own little haven away
from the commotion of the bank.
That reminded her. Tara craned her neck to check. The coast was clear. Or
clearer. The buzz had softened. She hoped Abhi had found a partner. Tara
slowly came out into the open, and found the last of the guests getting into
their kayaks. Abhi was already on the water, a girl from his Zumba class
behind him in his kayak.
Phew.
Tara strode down to the team leader — “Hi, I am alone. Is there a single
here?”
“We don’t have any single kayaks today.”
“Accha… then is anybody single here?”
“Everybody just finished pairing up…”
“I’ll go,” a heavy-set voice sounded behind her. It had its own echo, the
sound of it having its own vibration too. Tara wanted to turn and see the
owner of that voice, but something kept her from doing that. What, she
didn’t know. But she just didn’t want to look at the man. Was it fear or
excitement, shyness or trepidation? She wasn’t given to any of those. But
she couldn’t understand why her body remained rooted to the spot.
“Oh, Ra…” the team leader stopped short, his eyes widening. “You don’t
have to, sir. I have arranged for your kayak separately.”
“It’s alright. I’ll take a double with the lady, if she is ok.”
There was challenge there. She couldn’t ignore that.
“Of course I’m ok…” Tara whirled around, and her breath caught. It was
like her body emptied itself of all the oxygen all at once. Why? It was just a
man. A man in a white hoodie, blue jeans and a dark pair of wayfarers. A
white NY cap was snugly pulled down on his brow, giving him the air of
that wealthy guy who didn’t care about getting his whites dirty on a
camping and kayaking expedition. Tara’s first twinges of attraction began to
cool.
“Let’s go then,” he smiled, nudging his fair, clean-shaven chin towards the
biggest kayak on the bank. He looked old, older than Abhi’s average under-
25 crowd. He looked solid, the kind of person a man became only in his
mature years. Maybe in his 30s? Late 30s? How did Abhi know him? He
was known to only hang out with irresponsible humans.
Tara faltered, but accepted her safety jacket from the team leader and
marched to the kayak. She pulled it on and fastened the buckles.
“Do the middle one too,” the man pointed just as she was getting into the
front of the kayak.
“Top and bottom are enough.”
“No, they are not. Do it.”
It was a command. Like he was used to issuing those and having them
obeyed.
Tara began to retort that she had gone on the water with only the top and
bottom buckles fastened many a times when he came and stood directly in
front of her. He was tall. Very tall. How had she not gauged that the first
time. Her head barely reached his chin.
“Do it. Or we are not going.”
“Are you the team leader?” She challenged. He could go issue commands in
his home. She wasn’t bound by anybody, least of all a wealthy snob in all
whites on a campsite.
His face, dark wayfarers and low cap and all, bent towards hers. Just a
smidge. But his mouth remained tight. Something in that stance made her
still, a part of her fluttering, while another part ready to battle it out.
The wind flapped into her face, springing stray curls out of her bun. The
man’s eyes were covered with his dark glasses, but she was sure he was
eyeing her mad curls flopping in the wind. Tara caught them and tucked
them behind her ear. Not now!
His mouth pursed. Like he was amused. Tara opened her mouth to give him
one back when his thick, echoing words vibrated again.
“I am in charge of this kayak, so I will decide our safety controls.”
“No, Mr. I am in charge of this kayak. See? I am going in the front.” She
stepped into the front seat and plopped down, grabbing the paddle and
swinging it like a sword. She had done this countless times. She could do it
in her sleep. Without safety jackets.
Tara glanced up at him and his lips were curved. Just a tiny inch of a smirk.
And again, that oxygen thing happened to her. She couldn’t breathe.
“What?” She snapped.
“If you think taking the front seat is the way to be in charge,” he bent down
to her face level. “Then you haven’t rowed much.”
Snap. Tara glanced down. Her middle buckle had been clicked into place.
Before she could react, he had straightened and stepped into the seat
behind her.
“What’s your name?” He asked.
“Why should I tell you?”
“Because I cannot call you Front Seat.”
“Tara,” she grumbled.
“Good.”
“I didn’t ask for your validation.”
“It was appreciation.”
She swallowed. This not seeing but hearing him so close behind her was
doing something to her. It couldn’t be his curt words. No. The things he said
were harmless things. And yet, nobody had ever said them to her in such a
way before.
The silence stretched between them as their kayak was pushed to the edge
of the water.
“Should I call you Back Seat?” She broke it, for the first time in her life
unable to hold a duel of wills.
“Or Your Highness.”
A snort reached her nose, but she held it.
“You look as old as one.”
“You know many old Your Highnesses, do you?”
“Not really,” she lied, breaking water with her paddle.
She was an active chaperone in the royal family of Devgadh, her family
connections with the royals going back generations. She had seen many a
royal families come and go, met many princesses, queens, chaperones from
all around India. Conversed with them, attended parties and soirees with
them, seen their lives and family wars from close quarters.
“Have you ridden a kayak before?” He asked, hitting his paddle to match
her rhythm. She saw it in her peripheral vision, his paddle going exactly
like hers, at the exact same speed.
“I don’t talk to people without names.” She hit her paddle faster, trying to
catch up with the group of kayaks already launched and making their way
towards the cliffs. That route was the most challenging.
“Sid,” he offered.
“Cute.”
A small, amused chuckle sounded behind her. She was tempted to turn and
see how it looked on his handsome face. Handsome face? Had she just
thought of him as handsome?
“That was sarcastic,” she tried to sound off.
Silence.
Tara hit her paddle faster, making him work for it. And he didn’t disappoint,
matching her rhythm so quickly that they were all smooth sailing on a quiet
river. Mahi was at peace today, the winter sun warming up the cold winds,
birds making their chirpy songs. Tara glanced up, squinting, looking for
those birds.
“You like birds, don’t you?” He observed.
“And you are omniscient, aren’t you?”
“Omnipresent too.”
She frowned.
“Tell me, were you birdwatching out of interest or hiding from somebody in
your party?”
Her paddle froze mid-air. But Tara jerked ahead and launched it with extra
vigour, going faster, making his paddle go just as fast. He did it with
practised ease, making her temper rise.
“Answer me, Tara.”
Again that oxygen thing. What was wrong with her today?
She took a deep breath — “Use your omniscient powers and figure it out.”
Another huff of a laugh. She had to know how this looked. Tara craned her
face to the side and turned over her shoulder. She couldn’t see much except
his wide shoulder, even under the soft material of his white hoodie. What
did this man do? Play sports all day long to look so athletic? Maybe he was
one of Abhi’s Baroda Cricket Association friends? Many of those had
played in the IPL… Tara glanced in front and her paddle stopped mid-air
again.
She whipped her head around, seeing her group far away to the left,
navigating into the tiny channel of water between two cliffs.
“No! We are in the wrong direction, let’s turn!”
“This route is more scenic,” his reply came from behind.
“But I want to do more challenging.”
“Why is that?”
She opened her mouth to answer. Nothing came out. That’s right. Why did
she want to go for a challenging route when the right hand side looked a
whole lot more scenic? Hmm… a question worth pondering. A question
worth discussing with her favourite Philosophy professor.
Their kayak was turning towards the other side, where tiny islands
abounded in the distance. All green and heavy with birds and foliage. She
realised that it was his paddle that was manoeuvring them, not hers.
“I have a knife, huh,” she warned him.
“And this information is important to me because?”
“I am giving you a hint. In case you are a criminal out to harm me.”
“If I was a criminal out to harm you, that would deter me.”
She ignored his jibe. “And I know self defence.”
“Do me a favour, and next time you find yourself with a prospective
criminal, don’t give out all your defence strategies.”
Tara smiled, knowing he wouldn’t be able to see it.
“I can vouch for myself and surrender my ID card to you,” he offered
solemnly. “Take a picture, send it to your friends.”
She stretched her hand back, palm facing up. And what a surprise! He
deposited his driving licence in her hand. Tara brought it in her line of sight
and stared at his picture. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. And old. Born
in 1988, which made him 36. He didn’t look that old. Maybe mature, but
not old.
“If you want to stare, you can stare at the real thing, Tara.”
She shuffled, pulling out her phone and snapping a photo to send Kashvi.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Tara returned his driving license over her shoulder.
“Now tell me, who were you hiding from?”
She sent his license photo to Kashvi, then turned her head partially over her
shoulder.
This time he cocked his head until he was in her line of sight. His lips were
pink, naturally pink, very pink. The shadow of his cap over his forehead and
the tint of his wayfarers added to his mysterious appeal. Even though she
had seen his full face in a photograph.
“A friend,” she clipped out.
“A boyfriend?”
“A guy friend.”
“There’s not much difference where these boys are concerned,” he tipped
his chin in the general direction of her group.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“If you were mine, it would.”
Her throat dried. Silence.
“Let’s go now,” he nudged his chin. “Lead the way.”
Tara turned, grabbed her paddle, and hit the water hard. His paddle
obediently matched her rhythm. But now she knew, it was him who was
directing their boat.

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 2. Outside Of This Island
Their kayak touched land and fumbled with a jerk. Before she could, Sid
jumped out from behind her, knee-deep in water, and pushed the kayak onto
solid ground. The island was thick with trees, all green and lush, birds
calling out to each other in a sweet symphony.
“Don’t get your whites dirty,” she taunted. He smirked, his face right beside
her as he nudged the kayak completely out of the water.
“What do you have against my whites?”
“Nothing. But I don’t know a smart man who wears shiny whites when he
comes kayaking. Unless he has a dozen of these in his gold-plated closet.”
Sid laughed. Like out loud. Her mouth fell open, her body automatically
turning towards him as he parked the kayak under a tree. He hadn’t asked
her to step out and carry the kayak with him. He hadn’t even asked her to
step out. He had just pushed it effortlessly, with her in it.
“Tell me, Tara, your disdain for the wealthy is inborn or it’s grown over
time?”
“I have seen enough snobs in my life to know that those born in blinding
wealth are never worth your time. They pollute the world with their
attitude.” She got rid of her safety jacket and stepped out.
“Your friends?”
“Most, yes.”
“So you hate the wealthy, not the wealth.”
“I don’t hate them. I just…” she searched for the word, soaking all the thick
tree canopies and sunlight sieving through them.
“You don’t like the injustice of it all,” he completed. And she glanced at
him, surprised.
“Yes,” she breathed, taken aback by how easily he had read what she hadn’t
been able to comprehend in herself. “Something like that… I don’t like it
when somebody is blessed with something and they don’t value it. And I do
not like it when they treat the rest of the world like dirt.”
Sid nodded, reaching out and holding a low branch out of her way — “We
need to understand that those born in blinding wealth haven’t seen anything
else. Maybe they haven’t seen the world that you have.”
“Said like one who was born in it,” she smirked, giving him a look. That got
him smiling. He shook his head.
“Why are we here on this island?”
“There’s birdwatching scope here,” he pointed. “I haven’t visited, but it’s a
hotbed for avifauna spotting.”
“What do you do? Are you the owner of this campsite?”
“No. Why would you think that?”
“You know all this… and… you don’t look… I mean, I know Abhi’s friends
and I have never seen you around.”
“You were about to age-shame me,” his eyebrow went up.
“No!”
He turned and stood in front of her, his insistent expression, even behind the
wayfarers, holding her captive.
“Ok fine,” she held her hands up. “I was. But not in a bad way.”
“Then how?” He clasped his hands behind his back, leaning over her. She
tipped her chin up, the challenge between them crossing boundaries of
banter and into flirting territory.
“In a good way!” She stepped around him and began striding forward.
“Is there a good way of age shaming?”
“There is,” she rambled.
“How?”
“Umm… older men are… more,” she glanced at him, instantly having a
dozen traits to extol. But then it would also give away her unreasonable
interest in him.
“More what, Tara?”
Her name, the way he said it. She scrambled to hold onto her thoughts when
his face came over her shoulder, not close, not touching, but commanding.
“Huh?” She blinked.
“Older men are more what?”
“More good looking.”
A smirk. And she realised what she had blurted.
“That was to pacify you,” she added, whirling in a flurry and stomping
ahead. His laugh reverberated behind her and Tara had to shake her head to
clear off the cobwebs that his intense scrutiny wove. It was like he looked at
her and her brain began to malfunction. Her lungs had already
malfunctioned.
Tara looked around, needing to divert her attention. The trees surrounding
her were alive with bird cacophony. She spotted cute fat sparrows, lots of
kaabars, and parakeets. Happy, colourful parakeets!
The sounds of birds amped up as they kept walking, her eyes taking in all
the brilliant creatures flying over them, their amazing sounds making literal
music.
“What do you love the most about birds?” He asked.
“Birdsong.”
“Why?”
“You can’t play and pause it at your will! Nobody has control over it.”
“Look,” he pointed, his finger up at a peculiar black and white striped bird
with an orange head crest. Her feet faltered to a stop.
“Looks like a woodpecker,” she gasped, her head thrown back as it flew
over their heads and circled around a tree. It made a loud ‘hoopoopoo’
sound, drowning out all the other birdsongs.
“It’s a Eurasian Hoopoe. Migrates here during winters.”
Tara frowned, eyeing him eyeing the bird with a single-minded passion.
Something a businessman wouldn’t posses.
“You didn’t tell me, what do you do, Sid?”
His face returned to hers. A beat, then — “I work with the Ministry of
Environment, Forest and Climate Change.”
“What?”
He smirked — “Why does that shock you? Didn’t peg me as the educated
type?”
She felt heat rise to her face. “No, I just thought you owned something… or
maybe played a sport. Like cricket.”
“I do play cricket.”
“Like in the IPL?” She thought he looked familiar…
Rich, heavy laughter sounded. He walked towards her, his face challenging.
“I play all kinds of cricket, but I haven’t played in the IPL.”
“Oh.”
“You like cricket?”
“I like watching it.”
“And watching cricketers, I assume?” His head cocked slightly to the side,
a smirk on his lips.
“No,” Tara tipped her chin. “I am not the average groupie girl, if that’s what
you mean.”
“There’s nothing average about you, Tara,” he intoned, the smirk falling
from his lips. He stopped just in front of her. She breathed deep, again
collecting oxygen. It was abundant around her here and yet, in this silence
with him, Tara thought she would soon be gasping.
She snapped out.
“What do you do at the Ministry?”
He seemed to have snapped out too, because he began to move, walking
ahead of her.
“Currently I am scouting such urban adventure and hospitality riverside
projects, seeing how sustainable they are, environmentally and otherwise.
The plan is to incorporate them nationwide, starting from Saurashtra…”
A loud gong echoed and with a scary hoot, birds took flight and zoomed
straight towards them. “Aaah!” She closed her ears with both hands and
bent just as his big body turned and bent over hers, pushing her down into
the ground, the cawing of birds shriller and louder as they went flying past
their heads.
It was like a storm. The wind cut fiercely, the sounds frightening. Tara felt
her whole body shaking but it was cocooned in his — his arms around her,
his torso curving over her, his head over back. In a jiffy the island went
silent again. The wind settled.
“Are you ok?” He straightened from over her, grabbing her shoulders and
pulling her up. She kept her eyes down, breathing, getting over the shock.
They were both kneeling in the mud now, their faces close, their breaths
heavy.
“Tara.”
Tara still couldn’t look at him, but the concern in his voice and the grip of
his fingers were all that she needed. Her mouth opened, panting, not even
sure what it wanted from him.
Sid’s hand slid over her shoulder and up the column of her neck, the touch
of his skin warm. Her spine tingled. Tara felt her mouth fall open further,
her eyes going to the tight line of his mouth. It was pursed.
“Tell me,” his thumb brushed her lower lip.
“What?”
“To stop.”
She blinked. But couldn’t utter those two words. She opened her mouth
wider to start, but it remained frozen. Nothing was clear. Nothing made
sense. And then his mouth was on hers.
Tara gripped the back of his head, her fingers digging into the hair at the
nape of his neck, her body snapping towards his even though she had never
done this. She had never imagined it would be like this. To be kissed for the
first time. To be kissed by a man like this. And even as a part of her was
confused by the turn of events, the biggest part of her wanted this. Wanted
him.
“Fuck,” he pulled back. “How old are you?”
“Twenty two,” she uttered in a haze. His hand slid away from her face.
“I am sorry. I shouldn’t have done that…”
She fell back, the momentary spark of desire extinguished. Yeah, a man like
him, handsome and wealthy, couldn’t kiss a girl like her. Tara pushed to her
feet, turned and began to stalk back towards the kayak.
“Tara, I am so sorry…” he came after her. “I don’t know what came over
me. You are so young… from a whole different generation. I shouldn’t have
taken advantage like that…”
“Please feel free to also mention our class differences,” she pointed with a
sneer behind her shoulder.
“What?” He snapped, grabbing her wrist and whirling her around. “That’s
not what I thought!”
“Leave my hand! And remove your fucking sunglasses! It’s not sunny
here!” She raged.
He reached up and tore off his glasses. And there went her oxygen again.
Dark eyes, looking kinder than she had imagined, denser than she had seen
in his license, more piercing that any needle she had known.
He waited, as if gauging her reaction, his nose snarling even as his eyes
were hesitant.
“Tara,” he searched her eyes.
“Let’s just leave,” she turned.
“No,” he whirled her around and into his arms.
“Sid!”
“Your class has nothing to do with this. I don’t even know what your ‘class’
is! For all I know you are the daughter of a tycoon and hate other rich kids
that are snobbish!”
She began to retort when his hand cupped her cheek — “Or you could be
the daughter of a hardworking common man and building your life your
own way. Either way, this would not change.”
“Then what?” She swallowed.
“I am… there’s nothing here.” He pointed at himself. “Alright? Nothing. I
am 36, have lived a life already, and cannot do anything for you outside of
this island.” His eyes softened, his fingers squeezing over her cheek — “I
couldn’t control myself for that one moment. But that was on me, not you.”
She swallowed. Nodded. “Ok.”
“Alright.”
“Let’s go, then.”
“You don’t want to do more birdwatching?” He asked, his eyes amused.
“The birds are out for Tara-killing, so no thanks.”
He laughed, stepping back from her and falling in step behind her. She
noticed how he was protecting her back.
“Front seat or back seat?” He asked.
“I’ll take back this time. Old men can’t be trusted with directions after
dark.”
“Careful, Tara. Don’t provoke me.”
She turned back and gave him a toothy grin. Now that she knew nothing
was going to happen between them, she was going to make the most of it. It
would be a good story to tell her grandkids some day. That she had gone on
an impromptu kayaking adventure with a handsome man, kissed him, got
him blushing, then left him behind.
“How did you control our kayak’s direction from the backseat?” She asked,
all fangirl and batting eyelashes.
“I know what you are doing,” he warned. “And I suggest you knock it off.”
“What am I doing? I am asking you to teach me how to ride,” she threw out
innocently. She had never done this. Never talked like this. And yet,
something in her was coming alive.
He stepped closer, his chest to her back — close but not touching, his face
in the crook of her neck — right there but not there. His mouth came and
stopped an inch away from her ear — “Had you been a decade older and a
whole lot world-wiser, I would have taught you to ride something else,
Tara.”
Her stomach clenched. So much for trying to fluster him.
Tara scoffed and resumed her marching, stomping over foliage. The sun
was low in the sky, its orangey rays hitting her directly in the eyes now as it
was reaching the river’s horizon to set.
“You control a kayak’s direction from the back,” came his Kayak 101
lecture from behind. “And you control its speed from the front. In effect,
some control rests with both the passengers. When both work in tandem,
speeding and steering become easier. I’ll show you once we get on it. I
matched your strokes to steady our kayak. Now when you sit in the back,
you will be able to steer us by reversing the stroke to how I am going.”
Tara heard it all, learned it all, then turned again, eyeing his cap. This had to
work.
“What?” He frowned, suspicious.
“Just checking if you are wearing that cap to hide greys.”
He snarled, half annoyed, half amused. Then reached up and pulled off his
cap, revealing a head full of lush, dark, frankly beautiful wavy hair. It
sprung forth in all directions thanks to his sweat. And made him look like
some long-lost traveller, dusty and worn from his journey, but still ready to
grab his woman and kiss her.
“Maybe you have visible greys in your beard then,” she tried again, peering
at the clean, fair skin of his jaw.
“Only when I grow it out,” he thrust his cap on her head, not even blushing
a little bit. Tara grunted, reaching up to pull off the cap. But he held her
wrist.
“Keep it. My cap looks good on you.”
“I don’t need it, my skin can’t tan any more that it is,” she pointed.
“Yes, it can’t get any more beautiful.”
Tara stumbled. His hand closed around her bicep — “Watch where you are
going.”
“Yes.”
“And look forward. We will reach the shore and talk more.”
His command swept over her, as if it was a spell binding her. And then his
hand bound to her wrist. Her stomach clenched, dropping down. She had
never experienced something like this before — a man holding her wrist.
And the feeling so… intimate. Tara inhaled, thrashing her traitorous body to
peddle back. But her falling, clenching innards kept warring with her brain.
There went her mission to make him blush.

OceanofPDF.com
 3. New Year
The evening was darkening as Sid jumped out of his front seat and began to
push the kayak up the slope of the shore. Tara felt a pang. True, nothing was
going to happen between them. And true, she was not a girl to wish for
more time with a boy. But this wasn’t a boy. This was… Sid. And he had
been uncannily quiet through their ride back. This time, she had had the
perfect view of the back of his head. His broad shoulders, his arms as he
used his paddle, the sliver of his fair neck visible above his hood, his dark
hair, not a grey in sight, a cute little cowlick standing to attention, ruffling
with the winds.
Tara snapped out of his thoughts as his face came in her line of vision —
“Come,” he opened his palm to her. She startled.
“Oh… umm,” she set her paddle down and took his hand. His fingers
instantly closed around hers, as if he didn’t want to give her a chance to let
go. Or was she going crazy this evening? Tara stood to her feet and stepped
out of the kayak. Onto solid ground. Her legs felt like jelly after so long on
water. But his hand kept holding hers, his grip more than enough to keep
her steady.
“Your friends are back,” he pointed. She peeped over her shoulder, scared
that they would come down here and break this… whatever this was. But
no, they were all up on the cafe platform, far away, clueless. Kashvi knew
she was out with a man named Sid, and even though she was a worrier, she
had been pushing her to go out with a guy. Maybe she was celebrating
‘Tara-Gets-A-Life-Day’ along with New Year’s.
“Oh, R… sir!”
Tara turned back at the sound of that voice. The team leader was back and
parking their kayak for them, his eyes flitting to Sid, then between them
where her hand was still in his. She began to pull away but Sid gripped it
tight.
“Is my car here?” He asked.
“I had kept an eye out for your kayak, but I didn’t see you coming. I’ll have
your car come around the back right away.”
“Thank you.”
The moment the team leader turned, Sid let her hand go — “Never act
guilty when you have done nothing wrong.”
She swallowed — “But we did… umm, forget it.” Tara recovered, feeling
her hand warm from his and suddenly new. Crazy, crazy Tara!
“It was nice meeting you, Tara,” he nodded, a small smile playing on his
lips. His eyes were hooded again in the dark of the shore now, a few strung
lights not enough to fully bring his face to her. But she liked it, it recreated
that mysterious element. Made it easy to forget him tomorrow as some
phantom. Some dream.
“You too,” she nodded back, reclaiming her aloof tone. Yes, recovering,
getting there, she breathed, finally feeling like herself again.
“I didn’t get a chance to ask you, what do you do? I assume you are
studying?”
“MPhil.”
He did a double take.
“Why?” She raised a brow. “Didn’t think I’m the MPhil types?”
He laughed, stepping closer and peering into her face — “I think you are
your own type. You could have said you study black magic and I would
have believed it.”
“Then why the shock?” She folded her arms across her chest.
“I didn’t expect you to give a straight answer,” he smirked. And she
snorted. True. She wouldn’t have given him a straight answer a few hours
ago. Tara shook her head — “I do normal things too, huh.”
“Like going on kayaking tours with strange older men when your friends
have a New Year party?”
“Like kissing the said strange older man,” she challenged. And yes! Yes!
Yes! Yes! His jaw reddened. Even in this dark Tara could see the ruddiness
spreading up and onto his nose. Nose! Yes! She could sleep easy tonight
knowing that she had returned the favour.
“Happy? You’ve done it,” he shook his head, pinching a thumb and
forefinger over the bridge of his nose, a begrudging smile on his lips. Tara
now noticed that his eyes crinkled on the sides, with tiny lines that made
him look… not old but intelligent. His eyes were mature, but those few fine
lines on the sides… crows feet, they made him look like he had conquered
mountains and beaten storms. He had said he had lived a life already.
“Can older men recover from blushes as easily as younger ones?” She
tested. And he snapped, his eyes piercing into hers with a warning —
“Alright, enough. You are on shaky ground now.”
“I have great balance.”
“If this one breaks, you are drowned forever.”
Tara shrugged — “What can you do? Your car will be here soon… oh, it
is!” She pointed behind him. The team leader was sprinting down the slope,
huffing and puffing as if he had run a marathon. Was Sid that important? He
was from the government, the Environment Ministry no less. But the starry-
eyed celebrity treatment…
“Sir, your car is ready.”
“Thanks, tell him to wait, please,” Siddharth answered, still looking at her.
Tara gaped wide-eyed as the leader turned on his spot and ran up.
“What? Why?”
“I hear older men can make their own decisions without being answerable
to anybody.”
Tara bit the insides of her cheeks.
“Come,” he held his hand out. Again. And without a moment of thought
Tara took it. Again.
————————————————————
They walked down the shore of Mahi, away from the party. Camping tents
were lined up on this side, twinkling lights strung up above them to create a
festive mood. He had initially held her hand as they walked, but once the
terrain had risen to rocky slopes, he had left her palm and snared her wrist.
In complete control. Tara, the one who had always controlled herself and
the world round her, hadn't stopped him. She should have been appalled.
Should have jerked her wrist free. Hadn’t.
Sid reached into a tent and grabbed a blanket, some bottles of juice and a
pack of nuts, then led her up the cliff and onto a platform seating. It was
high up, higher than everything else on this site. The lighting here was dim
but the view was splendid. They could see the dark river, the darker sky, the
big fat moon and some glow from the party, making it all magical.
She didn’t even have to lift a finger. He spread the blanket, set the snacks
and then again, took her hand and helped her down, away from the edge of
the platform. Tara crossed her legs and let out a sigh of relief.
“Tired?”
“Water is great, but solid ground is solid ground,” she patted the rock on
both sides of her, the blanket a soft barrier. “Are you a water person or land
person?”
“I am happy anywhere. But land is where my responsibilities are, so land.”
He lowered himself beside her, enough space between their bodies to turn
towards each other and talk. Tara took off his cap from her head and
released the tiny clip holding her bun together. She shook her hair out,
running her fingers through the mess until her head began to feel lighter.
When she turned, his eyes were fixated on her, something heavy in his gaze.
“What?”
His eyes flicked from her eyes to her fingers still clawing the sides of her
hair up. Sid’s hand reached up and caught her wrist, pulling her fingers out
of her strands. Then he clawed his own fingers through them, combing them
for her. Her insides tightened again, feeling the intimacy of that gesture,
feeling the heat from his fingers tingling down her skull to her spine to all
the parts of her she had not experienced with a man by her side. He took a
curly lock and twined it on his finger, pulling it taut, then releasing until it
sprung free.
“You are the most beautiful woman I have seen in my life,” he croaked, his
eyes coming back to hers while his fingers anchored into the hair at her side
again. Tara inhaled. No, nothing was happening between them. Nothing
could happen between them. This was just a few hours of fun, talking to
him, enjoying his company, doing something out of her comfort zone.
“How many women have you said that to?” She smirked. His fingers
tightened in her hair, making her insides clench again. He pulled her face
close to his.
“If I say something, I mean it,” he intoned, his eyes holding hers hostage.
“Remember that.”
She blinked.
“Ok?”
She nodded.
“Say it.”
“Ok.”
“Good.”
His fingers slid down her long, curly mane, his eyes appreciative as they
trailed the path of his hand. Then he turned and stared at the river in front of
them, silent. Tara went silent too, throwing her palms on the surface behind
her and resting on them, trying to collect oxygen. She would need a whole
month to recover from the things he was doing to her by just sitting beside
her.
“Tell me one thing about you that you are ashamed to tell everybody else,”
his voice sounded from beside her, his eyes on the river.
“If I won’t tell it to anybody else, why would I tell you?”
“Possibly because you won’t ever see me again.”
“If I tell you, you have to tell me too.”
A small half-smile formed on his face — “Why do you think that I will take
all your secrets and run without telling you some of mine?”
“Experience,” she shrugged.
His steely eyes caught hers — “Who betrayed you?”
“Nobody in particular. But… I have grown up in a difficult life. I still go
back to that life from time to time. So I know that you are never safe in this
world, not even with those who you thought were your family.”
His face softened.
“You are safe with me.”
She started. They were seemingly common words, with zero weight in her
world of trust issues. Then why did they feel heavy when coming from his
mouth? And why did she want to believe them?
“As are your secrets, if you tell them,” he added, pulling all those words
down with that last ball rolled into her court.
“Only one,” she bargained.
“Only one,” he agreed.
“And only if you tell yours.”
He chuckled, his eyes closing as if in amused exasperation — “Let me go
first then.”
She perked up, turning her whole body towards his.
“I want to live again,” he said. “I tell everybody that I am done. That it’s
over. That I’ve had my fun, seen my sunshine and shadows. I tell myself too
sometimes that this is enough, my present is good enough. But then I see
happy people around me and realise that it’s not. That I am not enough on
my own, even if I can live it all alone. I have never said this out loud even
to myself, forget to somebody else. But I want to live again, have a go at it
again. If only in thought, but I want to.”
It was convoluted, his rant. But Tara somehow understood his dilemma.
Maybe his shame too. She wanted to ask him if he had been married?
Widowed? Divorced? Was this because of a love gone sour? But this was
one day together and she didn’t want to pry into his life any more.
“I have grown up being the defender,” she started. “Always defending my
family against attacks. Always, always fighting, waiting for the next bomb
to drop. I have grown up with so much… masculine energy in me that I
don’t think I ever felt feminine. Until I started dancing. I learned Kathak
very late in life. Simply because I saw somebody doing it and felt that’s it.
That’s the way to feel like a woman. And I did. When I dance… that is the
only time I connect with my feminine side. But I don’t do it in the open.
The world has seen me as a tough, smart girl for so long that I am ashamed
to become soft and feminine in front of it. Maybe even a little scared that I
will be taken for granted, attacked, destroyed again.”
His thumb reached the corner of her eye and swiped over the wetness.
That’s when she realised that a tear had escaped. Tara smiled — “This is a
stupid game, Sid.”
He smiled too, his thumb caressing the apple of her cheek — “I like you
calling me Sid.”
“That’s your name. Is it short for Siddharth?”
He blinked.
“Nobody has called me Sid in a long time.”
“Who called you Sid otherwise?”
“My mother.”
“She must be a beautiful woman.”
“How do you say that?”
“The apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree.”
He smirked.
“It’s a little old now but still red,” Tara added.
“Careful.”
“It’s true,” she laughed.
And he laughed, making her feel all tingly inside. She shivered, rubbing the
sleeves of her cotton kurti. The moon was rising fast and the last night of
the year was turning colder. She didn’t even know what time it was, hadn’t
even deemed to check the clock on her phone. This morning seemed like an
eternity ago. Or maybe a lifetime ago. Tara quivered, her jaw suddenly
chattering.
“Here,” he reached up and tugged his hoodie over his head.
“No, you’ll need it…” she trailed to a stop. Along with his hoodie, his thin
white T-shirt bunched up too, revealing smooth toned muscles of his
stomach. Tara looked away.
“I’ll be fine,” he dropped the neck of his hoodie over her head and Tara
automatically reached her hands into the sleeves until his huge hoodie had
dwarfed her. She eyed her side in time to see him settle his tight white T-
shirt over his chest and abs, not even a little affected by the temperature.
Tara inconspicuously sniffed the neck of his hoodie, her stomach clenching
again. The scent of her middle buckle snapping into place. The scent of his
body covering hers from the bird storm. The scent of his kiss. The scent of
his fingers in her hair. It was spicy, woodsy, like fresh greens in a rainy
forest. Tara inhaled, filling her lungs with it to bursting. Maybe she would
never smell anything as good as this again.
“Now you are in all whites,” came his amused jibe.
“I’ll definitely get it dirty.”
“Then I’ll get you another from my gold-plated closet.”
She chuckled, folding her knees up and resting her chin on them — “You
are funny for an old man.”
“This is the third time, Tara. The fourth time you won’t have breath left to
say old again,” he warned. “So be careful.”
She clamped shut, knowing in the heart of her hearts that if she just called
him old again… no. This was not going anywhere. Soon she would have to
get up from here and go. Or he would be the first to go. His car was still
waiting.
“Wait!” She sat up. “Your car must still be waiting…”
“I texted my driver long back.”
“Oh.” She liked that answer. If he had said the car would keep waiting, Tara
would have up and left faster than he would have had time to blink.
“Did I pass some wealthy snob test?” He smirked.
“You barely got through,” she clawed her hair back and fluffed it. That is
when the first yells of countdown started in the distance. 10, 9…
“Do you believe in all this New Year thing?” She pointed her chin at the
madness unleashing down below.
“Not really. But it’s a good way to get people together, hype them up, bring
hope. That it will still be morning tomorrow as usual, but it might be a little
special because it’s going to be in a new year.”
“I like that thought,” she smiled, tucking her chin on her upturned knee
again, hoping she wasn’t looking at him with too many stars in her eyes.
3, 2, 1… Happy New Year!
Screams, shouts, hoots went up. Just as the first booms of fireworks
sounded, their sparks brightened the sky. Tara didn’t turn from his eyes,
neither did he as his face closed the distance between them. He pushed the
curtain of her hair away from her cheek, then leaned in to press his mouth
there. Warm lips to her cool skin. Tara closed her eyes.
“Happy New Year,” he said into the skin of her cheek.
“Happy New Year,” she whispered, the vibrations from her voice travelling
into him.
Sid let his forehead fall on her temple for one weak moment, then pulled
back. The sky lit up again and again, the loud booms of fireworks shaking
the platform beneath them. And Tara found her body leaning into his. He
pushed back, taking the support of the cliff behind his back, and slowly
pulled her body until she was resting back on his chest, their legs
outstretched in front of them.
That’s all that touched — her back and his chest. And it was a touch too
much already.
“Do you want to go now?” He asked, even as her body relaxed into his.
“You say.”
“Let the fireworks end.”
————————————————————
Tara startled awake, the dark night coming into focus first. Sounds of
crickets came next, the cold seeping into her legs and up her body. She
shivered, rubbing her palms that had retreated into the long sleeves of his
hoodie. Tara sat up, her back toasty warm from his chest.
She glanced surreptitiously back at him, only to find his head resting on the
cliff behind him, soft snores emanating from a tiny slit in his mouth. She
smiled. Would it be a good idea to tease him about snoring like old men?
Then his warning words came booming back and she sobered.
What time was it?
She pulled out her phone and lowered the brightness. It was past 2 am. Tara
peered at the cafe space in the distance. Some music and noises were still
ripe. Abhi’s party would go on until the wee hours of the morning. She
shook her head, a little happy that she would get to sit here with Sid until
sun-up at least.
Tara decided to update Kashvi on her whereabouts. Knowing Kashvi
though, she would be stretched out on two chairs on the side, dozing away
the New Year. She was an early-to-bed kind of a person.
Tara opened her chat and began texting, when her eyes fell on Sid’s driving
license that she had sent her earlier. Eager to see his face again, in good
lighting, she clicked open the photograph. It was a recent photograph, he
didn’t look much different from how he did now, only, there was no easy
smile or smirk on his face. It was a straight, tight, expression. Commanding.
But then, when had the RTO ever taken happy photos of applicants? Tara
snorted, raising her focus to his name.
Her chest stuttered. And her heart began to pound like a rattling train. No.
She glanced back at his photograph. No Way! How could it be? She should
have recognised him. No, this couldn’t be him.
Tara whirled around and peered at whatever was visible of his sleeping
face. Sharp nose, eyes crinkling in the corners, pink mouth… but she had
last seen him almost a decade ago. With a heavy beard. He always kept a
beard.
Her breaths came in gasps. No. What had she done?! He was married… or
had been at least. He had a… son. And he was a…
Tara quietly got to her feet, took slow, silent steps back, then carefully
climbed down from the platform. She kept glancing back until she was far
enough from him. He was still sleeping. She went down the rugged terrain,
not even checking if she was stepping right. Once she had successfully
reached flatland, she squinted at her phone again. Confirming. One last
time.
Siddharth Singh Solanki
Rawal Siddharth Sinh Solanki
The King of Nawanagar
Tara took one last look at the platform, turned and ran.

OceanofPDF.com
 4. Rawal Saheb
1 Month Later

Devgadh

Tara stepped out of the bathroom and marched towards her adjacent room
— “I’m going to the palace!” She hollered down from the alley.
“Tell Raniba I will not be able to come for a few days!” He mother hollered
back, her voice reaching up from the open courtyard. Tara peered down
from the balustrade, checking if her mother’s feet were up. And sure
enough, they weren’t.
“Feet up!” She ordered. Her mother’s lips pursed. She glanced up from her
perch on a chair on the verandah. Defiantly she pulled another stool, lifted
some of her saree and set her feet on the stool. “Good,” Tara smirked,
giving her mother a mock salute through the bars of the courtyard ceiling. It
wasn’t a ceiling per se, but just bars of steel that allowed light, and rain
(when it rained) to penetrate into their courtyard.
Their ancient house was built around it — the rooms, the kitchen, the hall,
all around this centre of their home. It had seen many a celebrations —
Diwali, Holi, Navratri, Katyayini Pooja. And it had also seen many a battles
— abuse, verbal assaults, allegations, threats. Tara shook her head,
admiring the peace of the courtyard now as she walked into her room, threw
the towel over a chair by the sunny window and began to comb through her
tangled curls.
She looked at herself in the mirror, and startled. She looked exactly like she
had looked that night in Baroda when she had reached her hostel. The same
red kurti. Ironically, she had also pulled on the same frayed jeans. Her hair
was just as disarrayed, as if the mess his fingers had made had never been
detangled. Tara shuddered, going at it with double the force. She sneered at
her reflection as she went on detangling her hair, willing her mind to forget,
to abandon that thought, to move on.
“If you can’t come back by lunch then tell me, I’ll make rotlis!” Her
mother’s holler came.
“You will not move from there!” Tara threatened back. “I’ll come on time.”
“I had made ghee-godd laadoo for Yuvrani saheb, don’t forget them. They
are in the kitchen!”
“I will not!” Tara gathered her hair up in a ponytail and wound it up in a
high bun. Whatever she did, it wouldn’t look neat. So she let it resemble a
messy bun. At least it looked a little stylish.
“And take a shawl, it’s cold today!”
Tara huffed, pulling open her ancient wooden cupboard and searching for a
shawl. Ok, it was a little cold today outside. She shuffled her piles of
clothes, most of her good ones back in Baroda. She made a mental note to
go back and get those, now that she was in Devgadh for the long haul. Her
mother’s knee needed a few weeks to recover, and that meant she was here
to cook and take care of the house. Her professors had been incredibly
helpful in letting her attend lectures online.
Her fingers snagged on the white hoodie. His white hoodie. Tara recoiled,
as if she had touched a live flame. She swallowed, then like it was a deadly
snake, she approached the piece of clothing slowly, hesitating. She could
already smell it, smell him. Woodsy and forest-y, all spice and rain. Her
hand closed around the material and Tara pulled it from the back, bringing it
to her nose.
She inhaled. No, this was madness. She set a hand over her forehead,
bringing herself down from this obsession that hit her in idle moments.
Thinking about him, about that night, about those few conversations and a
whole lot of intimacies was… detrimental.
Tara steeled herself, raised the hoodie and threw it over herself, pulling the
hem down. For the last time. Face this temptation, exhaust this memory,
and then, for good, move on.
She decided that she would wear it today, then at the end of the day she
would give it away. It would end her misery.
————————————————————
“Jai Ambe Maa ni, Kaka!” She greeted, walking into the palace family
kitchen. The palace had three kitchens — one for the royal family of
Devgadh, one for the staff, and one that opened only when there was a party
or an event, which was very often. All the kitchens were massive, but the
third one was a catering delight.
“Jai Ambe Maa ni, dikra,” came the head chef’s grinning reply. He was
finishing the tempering on Rawal saheb’s mid-morning masala chaas.
“Yuvrani saheb no naasto leti jaish?”[1] He asked, pointing to the tray ready
with Yuvrani saheb’s breakfast. It was mid-morning, but ever since the
daughter-in-law of the family and their crown prince’s wife had gotten
pregnant, she couldn’t eat much in the morning.
The news was still embargoed, even though she was almost 5 months
pregnant. From what Tara knew, they had been waiting for some tests on the
baby, for which the couple had also visited London. But then lightning had
struck here. Not literally, figuratively.
Tara picked up the breakfast tray, covered it with a lid and wove out of the
kitchen, greeting and smiling at all the chefs at work for lunch, their loud
mouths gossiping as usual. Their topic of conversation nowadays was ‘The
Bill.’ The one that had been the figurative lightning on the royal families,
not only of Devgdh but all over Gujarat.
‘Royal Family Inheritance Bill,’ now popular as the Women’s Inheritance
Bill.
Tara hadn’t read much about it, she had been in Baroda when the initial
news had come. But her mother had told her that it was a huge family
debacle. The king — Rawal Ratan Sinhji and his wife Raniba had called
their elder daughter Niyati Kumari from her marital home in Gandhinagar.
Their son and heir Yuvraj Maan Sinh Devgadh had flown down from
London with his wife at jet speed. And they had all assembled in grave
tension behind closed doors.
After all, this bill passed in Gujarat’s Assembly had altered the line of
succession. It had changed the right of the throne’s inheritance from eldest
son to eldest child. In this case — the princess of Devgadh. Not her younger
brother who had already been crowned the heir.
Everything was in disarray ever since. The palace was buzzing with
activity. PR experts, politicians, family consultants, business heads…
everybody was around. Tara had never seen the palace so full on a regular
day.
She turned down alleys with ease, the ways etched into her mind like the
back of her hand. She had played in these alleys as a child, come to
Raniba’s chambers to grab the sweets she always kept on hand for all the
kids. Tara smiled, thinking about their kind, sweet queen. Her and her
family had given them a lot. Financial help, yes, like they gave to all their
subjects. Even scholarships like they gave all the children worthy in their
kingdom. But the family had given them acceptance.
Tara reached the chambers of Yuvrani Samriddhi Sinh Devgadh and waited
outside the closed doors. Her guard, Hari Sinh, one of her childhood hide-
and-seek friends, gave her a wink, then announced — “Yuvrani saheb, Tara
aavi chhe.”
“Aavo do!” Came their Yuvrani’s sweet, eager voice. Tara smiled, pushing
one of the doors open with her shoulder while Hari took care of the other.
“Good morning, Yuvrani saheb…” she stepped into the chambers and her
smile widened, as did the pleasant surprise on the other face. Devgadh’s
Yuvrani, Samriddhi Sinh, sat on the sofa of her living room, beautiful as
ever in a simple deep emerald sari. She was a stunning woman. Just
phenomenal. Tara had fangirled over her the moment she had married into
the palace — pretty almond-shaped Bambi eyes, a bright happy face, a soft
smile always in place that had now started turning naughty from time to
time with her husband. And sometimes her too.
Yuvrani was truly a person to have in your corner — kind, jovial, and
always ready to share a joke. And now pregnant, she had become cuter in
her waddles, thick dark-coloured saris and a perpetual tug-of-war with their
Yuvraj saheb regarding her eating habits.
She gave her a brilliant smile, which immediately dipped into a frown —
“Why haven’t you gone back to college yet, Tara?”
“Mummy wasn’t well, so I stayed to cook,” Tara replied, passing on the tray
and making sure it was steady in her hands before stepping back.
“What happened to Meena ben?” Yuvrani set her tray down on the coffee
table. “Did you call the doctor?”
“Her knee has been bad for months and she didn’t even tell us. I finally took
her to the orthopaedic doctor in Baroda. He has advised rest for at least
three weeks to get the swelling down. We have banned her from entering
the kitchen.”
“As you should. But that doesn’t mean you have to stay back here to cook.
We will send tiffins from here every day. Your studies shouldn’t suffer.”
“Oh… ummm…” Tara pursed her lips, her throat suddenly full. Emotions
were not her best friend today, they were all over the place since this
morning. “Thank you…” she managed, “but we cannot accept that.”
“Arey? You can come here every day to serve us, without asking or
expecting anything in return. And I can’t even send food to your house in
time of need? It doesn’t work like that.”
“But Yuvrani saheb, it’s just a matter of a few days,” Tara argued.
“Nothing doing. You are packing your bags today and leaving. I don’t want
to see you in Devgadh tomorrow.”
Tara shook her head. This is why she was indebted to this family. Not for
anything else, but for their ability to think, and care. Tara smiled, feeling the
corner of her eye become heavy. She wiped it on the shoulder of her hoodie
just as a knock resounded.
“Yes?”
“Yuvrani saheb?” It was Bhanwar Sinh, Yuvraj saheb’s Man Friday,
bodyguard and basically his second pair of eyes in the palace.
“Aao, Bhanwar Sinh,” Yuvrani set her food down.
The door opened, and in strode Bhanwar Sinh. Tara knew him since they
were kids, having grown up playing in the palace together while their
mothers sat in Raniba’s chambers. He was tall, lean, lanky, with a skin tone
as dark as hers and features razor sharp. Everything about him was loud,
except, his expression. He always kept it blank, like there was no life inside
him. And that was not true. Tara had known him to be a chatterbox growing
up. But ever since his admission in the palace guard and then special
training deployments, he was a changed man.
“Jai Amba Maa ni,” he folded his hands to Yuvrani. “Yuvraj saheb requests
your presence in the Shalimar Hall. Nawanagar’s Maharaja — Rawal
Siddharth Sinh Solanki is here.”
Tara’s stomach flipped.
“He has come to be a part of our team or the opposite team?” Yuvrani
asked. Tara couldn’t hear what was said next as her ears began to roar.
“Alright,” Yuvrani rose to her feet. Tara’s ears cleared.
“Eat first, Yuvrani!” She garbled.
“No, let’s see the Maharaja first. I am anyway not in the state to eat yet.”
She began to walk. Tara stayed put, her head still not clear.
“Tara?”
“Huh?”
“Aren’t you coming?”
“You will go like this?” Bhanwar Sinh gave her a look. Tara glanced down
at herself. No! She couldn’t have chosen a worser day to purge herself of
this hoodie!
“Ok, Tara, get out of your hoodie. And take one of my shawls if you feel
cold,” Yuvrani called out.
Tara couldn’t get rid of it fast enough. She pulled it off, folded it with shaky
fingers and deposited it on a chair, finally able to breathe. The room was
suddenly too hot for a winter day. She looked down at her red kurti and
gnarled. It would have to do. The jeans… she bent down and tucked the
frayed edges of the hem in. Maybe he wouldn’t remember her or recognise
her. Or if he did, as the king he wouldn’t want to look at her, forget even
acknowledge her. But as a lady behind Yuvrani, she couldn’t look shabby.
Bhanwar Sinh led their way to the Shalimar Hall. It was a semi-formal
sitting area done in accents of rich emeralds and deep browns. The doors
opened for them and Tara kept herself behind Bhanwar Sinh, peering at the
scene in front of her.
Their Yuvraj sat on one side of the long sofa. And on the other was… she
gasped. Was this Sid? Her Sid? He looked… huge. One month shouldn’t
have done this to him. Thick beard, broad, defined shoulders, muscles
highlighted by his white kurta. Even while he was mid-laughter with
Yuvraj, he was poised. The brown shawl around his neck was spread over
his powerful thighs as he sat like a king. He was a king…
The moment they heard them, they stood to their feet, their faces turning to
Yuvrani at once. Tara hid behind Bhanwar, trailing, hoping that she would
camouflage in all the chaperones, courtiers and servants already peppering
the hall.
“Come, Samriddhi,” Yuvraj called out, “you remember Rawal Siddharth
Sinh Solanki, Nawanagar’s Maharaj? He was at our wedding.”
Was he? Tara didn’t remember seeing him. But then, there were more than a
thousand guests that day.
“Of course,” Yuvrani said. “How are you, Rawal saheb?”
“Delighted to meet the lady who has besotted Maan.”
Tara couldn’t see him now, completely behind Bhanwar. But his words, his
voice, that thick echo still strong in it — they reached inside her and settled
deep down. She was done with this. Tara began to turn and slip out of the
door when his words boomed again — “Please accept a few gifts from
Nawanagar, Yuvrani.”
Instantly a team of his chaperones stood in front of her, their arms full of
trays and packages wrapped in brocades. Tara glanced around her. Nobody
from the palace was available to accept these.
“Take them,” Bhanwar nudged, and she extended her arms until they were
full of gifts. The rest, Bhanwar accepted, while some were still carried by
Nawanagar’s chaperones. Tara began to turn, the perfect excuse to leave,
when her eyes rose one last time. And stilled. Because his piercing gaze was
on her. Tara blinked, and when her eyes opened again, his gaze was gone,
back on Yuvrani. It was so quick that she wondered if she had imagined it.
She definitely had, Tara thought as the three royals settled on the sofas, Sid
getting comfortable chatting.
As Tara led the way to deposit the gifts outside the hall, she felt hot. Like a
laser was focused on her back. She didn’t turn, her breaths coming in slow
pants as she escaped his orbit. She led the chaperones to a spare office,
where they deposited the gifts. Just as she was closing the door and
planning to make a beeline for the other side of the palace, her phone
chimed.

YUVRAJ
Did Sami eat?

Tara snorted, her tension broken with this sudden burst of sweetness from
Yuvraj. She had known him all her life, and never had he acted so tender.
Yuvrani called it overbearing, but Tara knew better.

TARA
No

YUVRAJ
Come and take her to eat first, make some excuse

Tara’s smile died, her steps faltering. She began to type back to say she had
some work. Then stopped. That wouldn’t sound good. She glanced around,
aiming to catch somebody and have them go in to call Yuvrani. Ugh!
Nobody.
She took an about turn and marched back towards Shalimar Hall, bracing
herself. Enter, make an excuse, summon Yuvrani, leave. No looking at him.
She ran the drill in her head over and over again, reaching the open door.
“How old is he?” Yuvrani’s voice reached her.
“He is 14, going on 40.”
Tara stalled.
His son. He was talking about his son. He had a 14 year-old son! She had
known it, of course, but hearing it from him made it real. She had spent a
day with a man with a 14-year-old son!
“Yuvrani?” Tara entered the room. All eyes turned to her, but she kept hers
steady on Yuvrani.
“Raniba requests your presence in the workshop.”
“Yes, thank you, Tara.” Yuvrani instantly got up, thank god. The men got up
too.
“I hope you will keep coming to the palace more often now, Siddharth,”
Yuvrani folded her hands. “I look forward to hosting you and your family
for dinner.”
Tara stiffened. Her eyes surreptitiously glanced at him, and again found his
lingering gaze passing over her as his smile fell — “With this bill, I guess I
will be here longer than I thought. But let’s make the best out of this
adversity. I look forward to eating the spiciest South Gujarati food here.”
Yuvrani turned and strode down the hall and out into the alley, quick steps
marching towards the workshop. Tara diverted her — “Breakfast, Yuvrani.”
“Mummy isn’t calling me?”
“No. Yuvraj saheb messaged to ask if you had eaten. I said no. So he had
me call you out and feed you.”
“Stop ganging up with Yuvraj saheb,” she scolded. But her tone lacked heat,
as always. Tara couldn’t help but grin.
————————————————————
It was half an hour later that Tara hightailed it out of the palace. Bundled up
in the god-awful hoodie, she almost ran down the long, round driveway. It
was lunchtime, most of the staff stowed away in the kitchen to eat. The only
guards were stationed at the main entrance. Tara quickened her pace, her
chest feeling lighter and lighter as she left the palace farther and farther.
Her wrist was snagged and the next second she found herself pulled into the
tall bed of bushes. She opened her mouth to scream but a broad palm
clapped over it. Her eyes opened wide, staring at Sid’s angry face. That’s
what he looked like — angry, intense, bearded. The crinkles around his eyes
were still there but even they looked enraged.
“Don’t scream,” he ordered. She swallowed.
“Nod now if you won’t scream and I’ll take my hand off.”
She nodded, her whole body shaking. Even amid this intensity, his hands
found her arms and rubbed up and down — “Breathe now.”
She took a deep breath, her heart pounding so hard she knew it would come
out of her mouth if she didn’t leave here soon. Tara startled, realising what
they were doing. Her stomach flipped again. She began to push back to run
but he yanked her arm and turned her until she was plastered between his
body and the wall.
“Let me go.”
“I haven’t held you to force you.”
She stared at him, shocked, feeling the bands of his arms on either side of
her head — to keep her, not to force her.
“You are free to go after you answer me.”
“Answer what?”
“Why did you run?”
“Because we are in the palace! Anybody can see us…”
“In Baroda,” he clipped, his expression now leached of all anger. Which
looked even more lethal.
Her mouth opened, then froze. She didn’t have an answer to that, or if she
did, she didn’t know if he’d like it. His eyes fell to her mouth, and his
tongue came out to wet his lips. Tara felt that inside her. Her stomach
tightened. As if he had sensed it, his eyes snapped back to hers.
“Tara.”
That word. Her name. On his mouth. She hadn’t realised how much she had
liked it when he had kept calling her that. She had replayed the sound of it
in her mind all these days, thinking about him, then hating herself for
thinking.
“Why did you run from me?” His face leaned closer to hers. “Why didn’t
you wake me?”
“I realised who you were.”
“And you couldn’t have woken me up and made another joke about it?”
“It’s not a matter to joke about,” she looked away.
“I told you, class does not matter to me…”
“You are a father. You are married…”
“Was,” he thundered. She bit her lip, fear and excitement mingling like
some poison inside her. And then his nose dipped into the neck of her
hoodie. His hoodie. He inhaled. Tara’s eyes squeezed shut.
“How many days have you worn my hoodie and smelled me?”
Her hands reached out to push him away but they only met hard,
immovable chest. Muscles and tight bones. He didn’t even budge. On the
contrary, a smirk formed on his ridiculously pink mouth. It shone like a
beacon now, from the dark, full beard and his tanned caramel skin. He was
right, when he grew it out, it was interspersed with a few greys. But they
suited him. Made him look even more handsome.
“Answer me, Tara.”
“Rawal saheb, it is…”
“Sid!” He cut in, fire sparked in his eyes again. “You call me Sid, Tara.
Remember that.”
She shook her head, took a deep breath, then ducked out of the cage of his
arms.
“Phew. Ok. Sid, it was wrong, what we did that day. I didn’t know who you
were. And it’s not just that. We were anyway about to say bye and leave
after the fireworks. It doesn’t matter if I left first,” she smiled, convincing
herself of it with every new word, reaching for the hem of his hoodie and
pulling it off. “It was a good day, let’s leave it at that.”
Tara held it out to him.
“It was a good day, was it?” He grabbed the hoodie and yanked her to
himself with it, his mouth on hers. Tara clamped up. But her traitorous
mouth opened and his tongue invaded her, like a deluge. She didn’t have
anything to defend with, so she drowned in its flow, letting him lap her up,
letting his arms wrap her tight, letting her stomach collide into his thighs.
And him.
She had to push on her tip toes as he kissed her, going deeper than he had
then. His actions, his touch, his mouth was so much surer and more
insistent than it had been then. Tara experienced what a real kiss felt like
then, from a man who meant it, who wanted it. She gasped.
He let her go to get a breath. He wasn’t out of breath though, his hand
travelling up her back, to the nape of her neck, cradling that delicate space
between her neck and the back of her head. Again, in total control. Even if
she wanted to, she couldn’t look away from him.
“Do not lie to yourself,” he hissed. “Or me, by calling it a good day. Meet
me here tomorrow again, we are going to talk about this.”
With that he stepped back and was gone.

OceanofPDF.com
 5. Ashes & Phoenix
It was easy to douse fire. Throw water over it, and the flames died down.
But what about the ashes? They remained. And kept taunting you, a phoenix
in their depths, threatening to rise.
As Tara got down at the Devgadh Bus Station, the ashes of her last tryst
with Siddharth came flying back, the phoenix in there lifting its baleful
head. Ten days had passed to that clandestine tryst. Ten long days where she
had kept running away from him and his thoughts. Yes, she had ghosted
him. She had not presented herself in his exalted presence as per his order
that day.
Tara had convinced herself that was so because Yuvrani had warned her to
go back to Baroda for her lectures. ‘I don’t want to see you in Devgadh
tomorrow.’ Tara kept telling herself she was just following her playful
orders. But she knew that wasn’t true. As she brisk-walked to her house to
deposit her bags for the weekend, Tara felt her body heat up, even under the
cold evening wind. The sun had almost set, leaving a dusky orange hue in
the sky. Pretty, if she was in the mood for it. Which she wasn’t in.
“Mummy!” She called out from their door. Their tight lane was packed with
passersby and neighbours, their chatter with her never-ending as they asked
about her classes, Baroda, and the big palace feast. That latter was what had
been heating her body.
“What is it?” Her mother came barreling out. She was a petite, thin woman.
Tara owed her body’s lean structure to her mother, as she did her features
and hair. Just not the colour. Her mother was ‘wheatish’ while her father
was ‘fair.’ Her paternal family had spent a whole lot of energy wondering
where did she come out ‘so dark’ from?
“It was a trick question,” Tara bantered. “Why are you walking around?”
She picked up both her bags in both her hands and climbed the five stairs
leading up to the main verandah.
“My knees are much better, see?” Her mother picked up the hem of her
saree just enough to show her ankles and did a rapid jog on the spot. Tara
laughed, setting her bags down just inside the house, on the alley running
around their courtyard. The flat swing was already groaning with her
father’s big bellied perch.
“Home early today, Papa?” She slapped her hands on his back, giving him a
quick free-trial massage. He laughed, patting her hand — “My dikri was
coming home, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Your dikri has to go but,” Tara rounded the swing and sat down beside
him. “Yuvrani saheb had called. She needs me for some work.”
“For the feast? What are they planning to achieve by gathering all royal
households?”
“I don’t know… maybe it’s some unity plan? If they all gather together and
protest, something might happen.”
“Hmm… let’s see. You go, go. If Yuvrani has called, go quickly. She has
been the kindest to us, sending not only lunches and dinners but so much
breakfast and snacks. It’s too much for your mother and me, half our lane
has been eating palace food.”
Tara grinned, patting his knee and getting to her feet. Her father was a loyal
man, more loyal probably than anybody in the world. If somebody did him
some good, he would remember it for life. And keep repaying it, even after
the debt had been repaid. At his age though, he had repaid all of his debts,
running a quiet kids clothing shop in the main market. It wasn’t a whole lot
of income, but they had never really vied for that as a family. A simple,
happy, moral life. Built and lived on joy, especially after the last tumultuous
decade.
“Will you eat here or at the palace?” Her mother asked, passing her by on
perfectly synced feet.
“Here, here. I’ll come in an hour.”
Tara grabbed her shoulder bag, checked her reflection in the ancient framed
smoky mirror by their door and set off for the palace.
————————————————————
Turned out, Yuvrani did not want her for the palace. She had wanted her to
entertain royal guests that had already arrived for the weekend’s feast. It
was Friday, and a few royal families had already come, including the niece
of Baroda’s king, who was staying at Ratan Vilas.
Tara didn’t know why she was chosen to entertain this particular guest until
Yuvrani saheb had pulled her into a corner and instructed — “Sheetal
Kumari saheb of Jamnagar, she is the favourite niece of Baroda’s Maharaj
and we are trying to woo him to support the cause. From what I hear, she is
very… spoiled. I cannot think of anybody but you to deal with her. Please
go, Tara. Give her these gifts, spend some time with her, make her happy.”
That’s how Tara found herself at Ratan Vilas, one of Raniba’s favourite
palaces converted to host the royal entourage from Jamnagar. As soon as
their palace car entered the gates, Tara’s eyes widened. Her vision was filled
with massive banners and flags of a different colour flying high.
Nawanagar. The emblem was a roaring lion’s silhouette, stamped in red
atop a sunny yellow.
“Why are there Nawanagar flags here?” She asked Bhanwar who was
driving the car beside her.
“Because this is Nawanagar’s Maharaj’s accommodation.”
Tara sat up straight, cursing her fate and her lack of investigation. Bhanwar
flashed his all-clear entry pass and drove through to the main gate.
“How long will you take here?” He asked.
“If I can manage, I will just give her the gifts and run,” Tara grumbled.
“You heard the Yuvrani, spend some time with her, make her happy.”
“I am not the flattering, yes-ma’am type,” Tara turned to him.
“And this is why Yuvrani sent you. Spoiled, entitled people are rightly
flattered when people like you give them the real treatment.”
Tara huffed. “Fine, then you also come.”
“I’ll carry the boxes.”
“No, you also be there.”
“I will not stay in the ladies’ area. I have to hand over some documents to
Rawal of Nawanagar.”
“He is here?” Tara’s eyes widened. “I mean… I thought he was at the
palace with Yuvraj saheb all the time.”
“He is here. Now let’s go.”
Tara got out of the car and just as she was closing the door, her eyes fell on
a silhouette in a window. A man’s silhouette. A bearded silhouette. Her body
tautened.
Somebody tapped her shoulder. But she couldn’t break away from that
silhouette. Bhanwar’s fingers wrapped around her neck and gave her a
playful shake.
“Huh?” She turned.
“What’s wrong with you?” He frowned, passing her a light-weighted gift
package.
“Nothing…” Tara turned again to the window. The silhouette was gone.
She straightened her kurti, another short one, this one thankfully not red. It
was dark blue, with a pair of black leggings, perfect to get lost in the crowd.
Tara patted her messy top bun, tucked the lose curls behind her ear and
marched inside the bungalow.
“My name is Tara, and I have come from the chambers of Yuvrani
Samriddhi Sinh of Devgadh. She sends these gifts for Sheetal Kumari
saheb,” Tara announced to the lady chaperone in the main receiving hall.
“Yes,” the chaperone gave a curt nod. “We got the call. Wait here.”
Tara waited. Waited. Waited. These were the kind of people she hated. The
snobs. The entitled bitches. The ones that thought others were dirt beneath
their feet, who wielded their ‘blue’ royal blood like it was some elixir
granted from god.
“Don’t look like you want to kill her,” Bhanwar whispered in her ear.
“It’s been twenty minutes!” She hissed.
“Our job is to wait.”
“Your job. You get paid to do this, I am just a volunteer out of my love and
respect.”
“You are here, which makes it your job.”
She snorted, thinking about that rebel Bhanwar from her childhood who had
turned into this straightjacket version.
“Talk like a normal person some time, Bhanwar,” she turned to face his
profile with a smile. “Or your mother will forget all the abuses you yelled in
the street outside our houses while playing.”
One side of his lip curled. Just one. Tara chuckled, taking that as a win.
“Rawal Siddharth Sinh Solanki ane Kumari Sheetal Jadeja padhare chhe…”
Tara turned back and stood to attention, just as Siddharth entered the hall,
with a beautiful woman behind him. Like last time, he was in a simple
white kurta-pyajama, no shawl this time. And yet he exuded the glow of a
king. His face was still the same, but this time, it was unapproachable. Tara
though, did not meet his eyes, instead, focusing her attention on the princess
behind him. That’s when it hit her — why was she staying in his
accommodation if she was the niece of Baroda’s Maharaja?
“Samriddhi seems to be trying too hard with Kaka Maharaj,” the woman
behind him snickered, setting her red-nailed claws on his bicep. Realisation
dawned, and Tara’s internal thermometer skyrocketed. He was keeping a
woman? And that too a royal woman? How did her uncle allow this?
“Accept it, Sheetal, she has sent it with affection,” Siddharth commanded.
And like his obedient little girlfriend, she stepped up and touched the
packages in a gesture of acceptance.
“Thanks,” she rolled her eyes, all doled up in layers of flawless makeup.
She wore a chiffon saree, the pallu lose, and the bright, smooth skin of her
midriff extra visible. It was also visible how promiscuous she was. Tara had
known enough stories of royal debaucheries from the olden days, but this
just took the cake.
I dodged a bullet, she thought disgusted, not even glancing at the wall of a
man beside the spoiled Kumari. Tara gave a respectful nod, handed the gift
in her hand over to a maid and took three steps back, all plans of ‘wooing’
the princess forgotten.
“Rawal saheb,” Bhanwar’s voice made her look up. “Yuvraj saheb sends
this for you, and awaits your presence after dinner tonight.”
“Yes,” Siddharth accepted the sealed dossier. “Please inform Yuvraj that I
will be there by 10. I want you to pick up the corresponding documents
from my office,” he pointed towards an alley. “My PA already knows it.
And please eat dinner before leaving, both of you.”
“Thank you, but I have to be elsewhere. You know how tight the prep needs
to be.”
“I understand. You can stay and eat,” he aimed this one at her. Tara startled,
tricked into meeting his eyes. They were hard, but impersonal. “We have
our chefs from Nawanagar here to cook.”
“Thank you, Rawal saheb,” she replied. “I need to be elsewhere too.”
“At least accept sweets from Nawanagar.”
Siddharth’s chin nudged, and instantly the princess’s maid stepped back and
darted away, probably towards the kitchen. Bhanwar Sinh bowed his head
and began walking towards the alley, probably leading to his office. As if
his commands were his spells, he made them all do his bidding without
even uttering them out loud.
“Call Yuvrani and thank her for the gifts,” he ordered his girlfriend, his
mobile phone outstretched.
“Do I have to…?”
“Do it.”
And even though she made a face, Sheetal Kumari grabbed his phone and
darted back the way she had come, leaving the two of them alone in the
huge hall.
Tara focused her attention to a point in the distance, the tip of a gilded
frame, to be accurate. It had the portrait of their Bade Rawal saheb, the man
who had singlehandedly been responsible for bringing opulence to Devgadh
after independence. Schools, colleges, hospitals, the fire brigade. He had
changed the fabric of their society.
“Do you only know how to run away?” Came Siddharth's steely voice, low
enough for only her to hear. Tara glanced at him, and he was a few steps
closer, enough to keep their conversation private without ringing alarm
bells.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
His face hardened, a cruel smirk forming on his lips. Those pink lips that
had kissed her senseless the last time they had been this close to her? They
taunted her now. Tara fumbled, her feet automatically tingling to go closer
to him. To taste him. To smell him and see if he still smelled like that man
on the kayak. Like that white hoodie? Like spices and forests?
“I didn’t peg you for a coward that first time.”
His words cut that dreamy thought off. Her blood boiled.
“You gave me the impression of a strong woman. A young one, but strong
enough to put an entitled stranger in his place, even when she was alone
with him.”
Her chest warmed. That felt like the best compliment to her.
“I was wrong.”
She gnashed her teeth, frustrated at the way he was swinging her emotions
from one end to the other. Standing so far away, hands behind his back, chin
tipped up — all he was doing was speaking, and her whole body, her whole
mind, her whole heart was swinging from hating him to… coveting him.
“As you say, Rawal saheb,” she replied meekly, knowing how he had
triggered at that title from her mouth the last time. This time though, he
remained as impassive as he had been a moment ago when his girlfriend
had groped his bicep.
“Good. You know the protocol,” he held his head higher, as if playing the
same game to enrage her. Tara gnashed her teeth harder, her nostrils flaring.
If only they were truly alone… she would tear this man apart with her bare
hands and then kiss him like he had kissed her, sucking his soul out… No!
What was she thinking?
“What is he to you?” He tipped his chin towards the direction Bhanwar had
disappeared in. Tara feigned ignorance — “Who?”
“The man who had his hands all over your neck.”
So that silhouette was him.
“Tell me,” he commanded, his voice rough now, heavy. “What is he to
you?”
“The same that that woman is to you,” Tara smiled. “Rawal saheb.”
His answering grin was sudden. And breathtaking. Tara frowned.
“That woman…” he took a step towards her.
“I’ve spoken to her, Bhai!” Came a piercing holler from the inner chambers,
making his grin widen. “I did not time that.”
Tara flushed, feeling all the heat of the world flow up her body and into her
face. She didn’t need to hide her skin, it didn’t blush. But she knew for a
fact that she was speechless, unable to form a word, forget a sentence. She
looked down, away, anywhere but at him, desperately seeking a way to run.
Again!
“Tara.”
As if her ears were conditioned to his voice now, her eyes automatically
whirled to his.
“You can tell your cousin,” his smile fell, his eyes piercing hers, “to keep
his hands away from you. I do not want to see him touching you again.”

OceanofPDF.com
 6. Neverland
The palace was lit up. The grounds behind the palace were lit up. A concert
was planned, so was a party. But this one, the first of the series, was a
welcome party, an ‘Undhiyu and Barbecue’ night in the orange orchards of
their palace. Tara hadn’t known the details of the planning, but it looked
like their Yuvrani had gone all out in creating one of the best experiences
for the incoming royals.
The sun was still hovering over the horizon, ready to set, when Tara entered
the palace gates, dressed in a black saree shining with silver leheriya lines.
It was her mother’s, very old-school. But Kashvi had suggested that a set of
chunky oxidised silver earrings and a black bindi would make it
contemporary. And it had worked. Tara pressed a finger between her brows
to check if her bindi was in place before tucking her loose bun tighter. Her
mother had forced her to add a circle of fresh mogra flowers to it, and
against her better judgement, Tara had let her. This wasn’t her, but she also
knew that as a lady with Yuvrani today, she had to look like a ‘lady.’
“Are you going to Yuvrani saheb?” Bhanwar met her halfway.
“Yes, why?”
“If she is ready, bring her directly to the orchards. Guests have started
arriving.”
“Right, and where are you going?”
“I have work, Tara. Work,” he stressed, marching across her. She laughed,
shaking her head and quickening her steps, her eyes on the pleats she was
holding up to make way for her feet.
Bam!
“So sorry…” she stepped back, only to raise her eyes to the Maharaja of
Nawanagar. In all his glory. Tara took another step back, eyeing him
looking even bigger than he had appeared yesterday. How did he become
massive with each passing day? Or was it perspective that was making him
into an enigma, bigger and bigger with each encounter?
He shone right now, glorious under the dappling rays of the sun. Hair
slicked back, beard settled, a navy jodhpuri on a pair of white pants. His
kingdom military medallions on his chest. A king. Tara bit her lip,
remembering their joke about whites. That joke didn’t fit here, or anywhere
near this version of him.
“Good,” he intoned, stepping to the side. She frowned. taking steps on the
path he had opened. She glanced at him, perplexed, holding the pleats of
her saree up again. Tara glanced back at him as she quickened her steps
towards the palace, only to find his gaze trained on her. His hot, possessive
gaze. And it struck her. Bhanwar. She rolled her eyes, making it clear to him
how much she appreciated his ‘praise.’ And he laughed. Seriously laughed,
turning around and striding towards the orchards.
Tara began climbing the three steps to the main atrium when she noticed
Yuvraj, standing there, hands behind his back. He was dressed in all-whites,
his jodhpuri embellished with his own Devgadh medallions. But there was
something in his gaze, as it followed Siddharth into the garden. No! Could
he suspect? Did he know?
“Good evening, Yuvraj saheb!” She greeted with forced cheer. His gaze cut
to hers. He had been doing that a lot lately, looking at her with these side
gazes. Was it because he suspected something?
“Good evening, Tara. Do you know the Rawal of Nawanagar?” He gestured
with his chin.
“No,” she replied. It wasn’t a full lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either.
Yuvraj saheb nodded. She couldn’t read if he believed her or not.
“Can you see if Sami is ready? We need to get going.”
“Yes, I’ll go get her.” Tara took the opening and ran, hearing the click of her
tiny heels on the shiny palace floors. She turned the alley and the voices
brought her up short.
“What are you doing here?” It was Yuvrani’s voice, shocked, angry. Tara
began to move.
“Representing my family, of course.” Sangram Sinh’s voice sounded. Tara
walked faster, knowing what a trouble-maker Yuvraj’s cousin was. He had
debauched his way through half of the palace staff (which was ladies) and
had preyed on many a chaperones like her too. She hadn’t been on his radar,
maybe because she wasn’t as attractive as the others. And thankful she was
for that, considering what a cockroach the man was.
“I don’t have a sister to claim anything, but I am third in line to inherit.
Unless… you give us a little prince and knock me to four.”
Tara turned the final corner and stopped, seeing how he was leering at
Yuvrani, his sister-in-law. A very pregnant sister-in-law.
“Yuvrani saheb?” She announced loudly. “Yuvraj saheb waits for you at the
main door.”
“I’ll be there,” Yuvrani called back without a hitch. “Chattar Sinh,” she
addressed the guard standing beside her. “Clean up this space. It’s gotten
dirty.”
Tara swallowed her laugh. Yuvrani whirled and power-walked towards her,
looking ethereal in a deep purple saree. Tara fell in step behind her — “Are
you ok?”
“I am. Thank you.”
“Yuvraj saheb is ready and has been asking about you.”
“Don’t tell him about Sangram.”
They walked out to the main atrium.
“There you are,” Yuvraj gave his wife an appreciative glance. Tara saw even
Yuvrani stagger a moment at the sight of Yuvraj. As he extended his hand
for her and they flirted their way to the orange orchard, Tara replayed how
she had staggered at the sight of Siddharth. It wasn’t the same. In no way it
was the same. And yet, something in her felt soothed. That it was ok for a
woman to stop short at the sight of a put-together man.
Tara ventured into the orchard behind the couple, taking in all the enchanted
beauty. The sun had almost set, leaving the sky dark, and the big twinkling
lights strung around the orange orchard bright. Lamps were lit, the music
was soft, and tempting wafts of fresh Gujarati fried savouries made the
evening feel inviting. Tara wove through the crowd of kings and queens,
princes and princesses with practised ease. Some she knew, most she didn’t.
And those she knew, she conversed with a natural flair. After all, underneath
their veneers of royal garbs, the good ones talked like normal people.
At one point, Yuvrani stepped aside to talk to a princess in private. And Tara
was left with nothing to do. So she stood underneath a lone orange tree and
stared up at the branch hanging low with fruit. Ripe, full oranges, smelling
fresh and citrusy. She could taste them. She had plucked them as a child and
had run from the gardeners — she and many of her friends.
An orange fell from somewhere high above, and Tara instantly caught it,
throwing it up in the air and catching it again.
“Nice catch.”
She glanced up. And it was a boy. Not a boy really, but not a man either. He
was almost as tall as her, but his face was young, maybe 12 or 13? He was
in a cream jodhpuri on white pants, his unmistakable stance announcing
that he was a prince. A handsome, young prince. There was something
familiar about him though, and she suspected she knew what that was.
“Kunwar saheb,” Tara nodded, her head bowing in greeting.
He smiled, and surprisingly, bowed his head back.
“That orange fell from almost 10 metres high up,” he praised.
“I have some practise,” Tara grinned, examining the orange.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, when we were children here, we would come to steal these
oranges. Our mothers would be in Raniba’s chambers, and we would plan
raids here. One of us climbed up and threw them down, the rest of us would
catch.”
“And if you were caught?”
Tara looked at the prince and laughed — “I don’t get caught.”
“Never?” He seemed impressed. For the maturity in his voice, there was
something very child-like in him.
“Twice, or maybe thrice,” she admitted hesitantly. Then broke into a small
laugh. “You know, it became a game after the first time we were caught and
presented to Kunwar saheb… Yuvraj Maan saheb now.”
The prince nodded, curious.
“So the first time he decreed that we all be locked up in the dungeon.”
“Maan Bhai?”
“He was a teenager, and in hunt for entertainment,” Tara defended. “He
didn’t mean it. But we didn’t know that. So the moment we found an
opening, we ran for our lives, hightailing it out of the palace. It was like we
had cheated death!”
“I should try that in my palace too,” the prince smirked.
“Your kids prey on your trees too?”
“There aren’t many trees to prey on,” he laughed. “But it’s a fun way to get
to know them all, establish myself with them.”
Tara stood back, impressed. For all the boyishness, and the longing for
these antics, he really was mature.
“Did you meet my son?” Siddharth’s booming voice startled the naughty
camaraderie building between them. Tara glanced to the side, swallowing at
the sight of Siddharth walking towards them, hands behind his back.
“The lady gave me a brilliant idea,” his son decreed.
“I’m sure she did. She is a special companion of Yuvrani Samriddhi saheb.
Tara, is it?” Siddharth feigned ignorance.
“Yes, Rawal saheb,” Tara folded her hands, her head bowed.
“This is my son and heir, Kunwar Samarth Sinh Solanki.”
Tara turned her folded hands to the prince, to which, again surprisingly, he
returned the Namaste. He didn’t need to, societal norms placed him above
her in stature.
“Maan is looking for you,” Siddharth addressed his son. “He wants to
introduce you to his old polo teacher.”
Samarth bowed his head to his father, nodded at her and stepped away. “It
was a pleasure meeting you, Tara Devi.”
“Likewise, Kunwar saheb.”
He walked away from the tree canopy, leaving them alone. Again. The party
was in full swing in front of them, and yet the tiny fairy lights and the scent
of fresh citrus in this small cocoon made her uneasy. In a good way.
Then Siddharth turned fully towards her, hands still behind his back, chest
out taut. “What did you think about my son?”
She smiled, surprised by the seemingly civil start to their conversation.
They hadn’t had many of those since they met.
“He is mature for his age.”
“He is.”
“But…”
“But?”
“There is also a small boy hidden somewhere inside him. A boy he doesn’t
like to show to the world.”
Siddharth’s expression was startled. And then a curtain fell over it, leaving a
polite smile in place.
“Don’t do that,” she blurted.
“Do what?”
“Ask me something, then act polite if you don’t like the answer.”
Again, that startled expression. He stepped towards her, not close enough,
but enough to cover her view of the party. All she could see now was him,
his broad chest, his strong shoulders, his determined expression.
“Come.”
This time it wasn’t his hand that was outstretched. And yet, Tara found
herself nodding.
“Is there a place where we can talk without being disturbed?” He asked.
“Behind the party, where the orchard extends into the orange grove.”
He nodded — “Meet me there in 5 minutes.”
————————————————————
Tara stole out of the party, holding her pallu and pleats up as she tried to see
her way. The lights went fainter and fainter, leaving only the moonlight to
guide her path. This part of the orange orchard was virtually jungle. But a
safe jungle. It was part of the palace property, which meant no wild animals
or dangers. She just had to see her way.
She stumbled, and a strong arm lifted her over his shoulder.
“Sid!” She shrieked, feeling him before seeing his back.
“Quiet,” he laughed. “I can’t wait for an hour for you to navigate in this
saree.”
“I can navigate very well in sarees,” she fought back, feeling her smile
widen as heat flowed down her face and into her chest. She swung upside
down over his shoulder, a first, and yet she felt all the mirth of the world
bubble inside her. “Where are we going?”
“Here,” he stopped under a tree and set her on her feet. Tara latched onto
the bark, getting her bearings together. They were deep enough into the
grove, all the orange trees surrounding them, moonlight sieving silvery
white through the canopies.
Two hands cupped her cheeks and he pulled her face until their noses
touched. Tara stilled, her eyes meeting his — soft, strong, desperate,
adoring, possessive. There was so much going on there that she didn’t get a
chance to even check where this was going.
“I want to kiss you like I want my next breath,” he panted on her lips. Tara
felt her own mouth open, her lips widen, anticipating his. But he didn’t
close the distance. Long moments passed, their breaths mingled, but he did
not close the distance.
“Are you so old that you are winded by carrying me a few steps?” She
taunted. And like lightning, he reacted. A smirk, and then his mouth crashed
on hers. Tara inhaled, like life force was being pumped back into her. She
disliked being like this, and still she clawed her fingers into his hair and let
her body crash into his. He was as unhinged as her tonight, one hand
circling her bare waist, the other going into her hair until he had pulled her
bun down.
His mouth didn’t leave hers, giving her a few seconds of breath before he
was back again, his fingers playing with her hair, his body pushing her
farther and farther back into the tree. The cold wind hit her, blew her hair
over both their faces. She didn’t care. Neither did he.
“Sid…” she croaked between his kisses, swallowing hard, looking up into
his eyes. The intensity in them softened. He slowly relaxed his hold on her
until she was back down on her feet. Her heels put her closer to his chin,
but she had still needed to be suspended on tiptoes for his kisses.
“You look ethereal,” he stroked his palm down her cheek. Tara swallowed.
That was the exact same word she had thought for Yuvrani tonight. And by
his expression, and his self-confessed truth, she knew he meant what he
said.
“If you ask me a stupid question like how many women have I said that
to…”
“No,” she cut him off. “No, I take it. Thank you.”
“Good.”
His forehead fell on hers, his eyes closing — “I know this is not lasting
between us.”
She nodded, her own eyes surrendering and drooping at his delicious scent.
She had thought she wouldn’t ever smell him again.
“But I can’t stay away from you. I cannot be in your vicinity and not… be
with you.”
“Can I tell you a secret and have you reciprocate it?” She asked.
“Always.”
“Me too.”
She felt his smile. And her eyes popped open.
“Seeing you talking to my son, in that way, made me very happy,” he gave
her his own secret. And she grinned — “He is a good boy. Really. I didn’t
mean to offend you when I said that…”
“No, you are right,” Sid tucked her hair behind her ear, his fingers combing
through her wild curls. “He is mature, talks like he is already an adult, but I
see it too. He craves being a kid sometimes.”
“But he is also so much like you,” Tara clasped her hands behind his neck,
seeing his expression preen. “Kind, thoughtful, conversational, respectful.”
“Thank you.”
“I would say he is the man you would have been had you been younger,”
she remarked, tongue in cheek.
“Careful, Tara, or you’ll be screaming my name right here on this forest
floor.”
She clamped shut. He reached down and pecked her lips, then as if he
couldn’t resist, deepened the kiss.
“Do you have any duties now?”
“I didn’t have any duties to begin with. I am here to be with Yuvrani if she
is alone or needs me to do any damage control. Everything looked fine
there.”
“Good.”
He took her hand and lowered them both on the roots of the tree.
“You will dirty your white pants,” she quipped. He sat down and tugged her
in his lap — “At least we’ll save your black.”
Tara laughed, trying to keep herself on the edge of his knee. He just
snapped her back — “Sit.”
“What if you fracture your hip?”
“I’ll keep you as my nurse,” he bit her earlobe. That relaxed her. She let her
body loose then, forgoing all the reasons why this was wrong, short-lived,
painful in the long run. She took all those reasons and shoved them in a
corner marked ‘Tomorrow.’ If this was all they had, then she would live it.
It was better to burn once than think about burning every day. And maybe,
just maybe, she would find him abhorring and get over the enigma she had
built of him in her head.
“This place is as beautiful as the one I first kissed you in,” came his soft
voice in her ear. Her head was on his shoulder, making it easy for him to
just whisper the words and have her catch them. Tara nodded, feeling his
lips pucker on the side of her head.
“It’s like some magical land… Our orange orchard was always beautiful,
but Yuvrani made it something like a… a…”
“Neverland.”
“Yes!” Tara whirled her eyes up to him. “Exactly.”
He chuckled — “Samarth called it that when he first saw it.”
“The place where nobody grows up,” she smiled. Then it turned naughty.
He seemed to have read her before she had even made the joke and his
mouth clamped hers shut. She laughed, holding the back of his head and
taking him, enjoying this, feeling like the world itself was dancing around
her.
His tongue lashed with hers, punishing her. And she pleasured in it, unable
to part, even if to breathe. It was him who let her go at last.
“Why do I like talking to you more than anything I do lately?” He
wondered aloud.
“Because I am that smart.”
His body shook with laughter, his breath making the baby hairs of her
forehead fly. Tara relaxed, getting comfortable in his arms. She had never
felt like this, like she could belong to somebody like this, even for a hot
second. In this moment, even if just for a moment, she felt like she did. Was
it the boiling blood of her youth? Maybe. But she wanted to be reckless
about it for once.
“Tara?”
“Hmm?”
“I have two days here.”
“Hmm.”
“They are going to be packed with meetings and parties and negotiations.”
“Hmm.”
“You will also have your duties, or whatever it is that calls your attention.”
“Hmm.”
“But everything in between, I want.”
Her breath stalled.
Siddharth’s warm hand cupped her cheek and turned her face up, his eyes
insistent — “I want to spend this time with you, whatever we get this
weekend.”
“And then?”
His insistent eyes turned dark, then sad, if that was even possible. Helpless.
He shrugged. She got it. Even she didn’t want anything beyond this
weekend. Because what was there beyond this weekend? Becoming his
dirty little secret? That wasn’t a life she envisioned for herself, a footnote in
the chronicle of his life.
“Nobody can find out,” she warned.
He nodded.
“Yuvraj already asked me if I knew you.”
He frowned. Then nodded — “I’ll take care of him.”
“No, Sid, you cannot talk about us with anybody.”
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t about to. I’ll manage him another way.”
Tara nodded. And that one action sealed her fate. His arms came around her
shoulder blades, clasping tight, making her feel safer than she had ever felt.
Tara rested her head back on his shoulder, eyes on the moonbeams lighting
up the grove. Crickets croaked, faint notes of music from the party buoyant
on the wind. It must be in full swing by now, and she hoped nobody missed
them. Technically, nobody would put two and two together, except — his
son had last seen them together.
For some reason though, Tara couldn’t fathom that mature teenager doing
anything drastic.
“Has your son always been like this?” She asked, curious.
“Like how?”
“Mature?” She asked, for the lack of a better word.
Silence. She thought he wouldn’t answer.
“Samarth was four, when his mother left,” he said, softly. “He didn’t
understand the whys of it, only that she was gone. We tried to baby talk
him, say she had gone to London to buy him toys for his birthday, had work
in Paris, was visiting the doctor… but I guess, children see through your
lies soon enough. And after a few months, what do you have left to tell
them?”
Tara turned in his embrace, until her legs were laid across his lap. He
tightened his hold on her, his eyes coming to hers from far away.
“He grew up at four, and never stopped growing up. I am guilty every
second of every day for doing that to my son. But I can’t change anything.”
“Did you send her away?”
“No.”
“Then you are not guilty, Sid.”
He scoffed. “In binary, maybe yes. I did not push her away. But… I was
still the other half of that marriage.”
“What happened? And if you don’t want to tell me, it’s ok… you don’t have
to.”
He gazed at her for a few moments, as if debating, as if playing the same
trust-issue game as her. It was on the tip of Tara’s tongue to reveal a secret
of her own. But she didn’t. And it turned out that he trusted her more than
she did him.
“Public knowledge is that we both grew apart and filed for divorce. The
truth is, she left our marriage long before that,” he shook his head, his gaze
again going far away. “We married young, when I was still studying in
America. I was 22, my father had two successive paralysis attacks in a span
of one week, and Nawanagar’s throne needed to be secured. She was a
princess, from our world, understood this life. We met. And like two young,
just-turned-adults, thought that common worlds and fun at the race course
was what built marriages. I finished my studies, returned, married her and
took the responsibility of my kingdom. My father was on the wheelchair,
still is. She and I had a pact, that we wouldn’t have kids until our late
twenties. Which was fair enough, she wanted to enjoy her life for a while,
and frankly, so did I. I wanted to pursue my PhD in Environmental Science.
And babies in this mix, along with running a kingdom, would have been…
difficult. Then she fell pregnant a year later. It wasn’t planned. But I sure as
hell wasn’t about to let her get rid of it. Before we could talk about it
though, the news leaked through our palace walls. And then it was as if the
choice was out of her hands. And she resented me for it. I thought… with
the birth of Samarth, she would understand, love him, get over it. She
didn’t. In fact, she went on becoming aloof. And after a few years of forced
living, she left.”
Tara stared at his hard profile, his straight nose, perfect pink lips, the thick
beard that was inviting her fingers.
“Does she meet Samarth?”
“No. Very rarely, if at all.”
Tara reached up and caressed his jaw, her fingers stroking his beard. It felt
soft, and yet ignited a hard yearning inside her. His face turned to hers,
something lighter in his expression. That’s when Tara made the decision. To
let go of her trust issues.
“I have never felt a man’s beard before, and ever since I saw you again, I
wanted to feel it.”
He smirked, about to open his mouth, when she dished out another secret,
taking her stakes higher.
“And I had never been kissed before that day in Baroda.”
Siddharth’s smirk disappeared.
Silence. The wind whistled between them, making her shiver. Not with the
cold but with his sudden silence. She looked away. Was this a bad thing?
Did he think he had taken advantage of her? Would he up and leave now,
thinking she was trying to trap him with such sappy talks?
“Look at me, Tara.”
She did, hesitatingly.
“You mean to tell me that no other man has ever been this close to you?”
He threaded his fingers in her hair, pulling her face even closer, lapping her
lips with his tongue. She shuddered.
“Tell me,” he commanded.
She nodded.
“No other man has made you feel this?”
She shook her head.
“Have you let another man kiss you since I kissed you in Baroda?”
She shook her head.
“Are you all mine, Tara?”
“For two days,” she answered.
“For two days,” he agreed. And this time, she reached down and kissed him.
His mouth opened, letting her take charge, putting to test all that she had
learned from him. The wind whistled louder, the cold blew fiercer, and she
kissed him like a woman taking charge. Of herself, of her surroundings, and
of her choices.

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 7. Reality
“Sid! This is risky, you shouldn’t come to drop me!” She repeated for the
umpteenth time. And for the umpteenth time he pulled her hand to his
mouth and planted a kiss there, silent, driving single-handedly through the
wide, empty roads of Devgadh. It was way past twelve, and the party at the
palace had been winding down. Tara had taken her leave from Yuvrani and
begun striding out of the palace when on the next curb a dark car with tinted
windows had crossed her path.
Before she could have walked around it, the driver’s side window had
rolled down. Siddharth.
“Sid!” She tried again, nudging her hand on his knee where he had kept it
trapped ever since she sat in his car.
“Tell me, Tara.”
“My lane is very tight, the neighbours’ boys are roaming around late at
night… they’ll see us… or at least see me getting down from a car like
this…”
“If there are boys roaming your lane, why would I let you go alone?”
“They are not dangerous boys!” She laughed. “All my friends.”
His jaw tightened.
“I told you once before also, there isn’t much demarcation between guy
friends and boyfriends in a boy’s head.”
Tara shook her head, anxious. It wasn’t about her parents, they would be
asleep by now. As would most of the lane. But those boys… they were
nosy.
“Tara?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you have to get home at a certain time?”
She frowned. “There isn’t a curfew when I am at the palace, and Devgadh is
safe, so my parents don’t worry. Why?”
He smirked, turning the wheel and taking a U-turn.
“Where?!”
“To eat.”
“Are you mad? This is not Baroda! Nobody keeps stalls open at midnight to
feed His Highness.”
“Keep mocking me. You are not getting any food.”
“What food?”
He grabbed his mobile and pressed some speed dial number, then plastered
it to his ear. “Bimal? Has everyone retired… Hmm… I want you to make
Puri-Shaak for two people and pack it. I am coming to collect it.”
“Where, Sid? If somebody sees us…”
“Shhh,” he ordered, amused, locking his phone and setting it in the console.
“We are going to Ratan Vilas. This was my chef from Nawanagar.”
“What if he talks…?”
“Will he dream that the food he is cooking will be devoured by me and
you?”
“When he comes to drop it he’ll see me, no?”
“You are naive Tara, if you think I’ll let anybody see you.”
That was said in the context of their clandestine meeting, but it felt a whole
lot more possessive. He drove down the Ratan Vilas gates and parked the
car on the kitchen door’s opening. A knock sounded on the window behind
her seat. Siddharth unlocked the car. The gate behind her was pulled open, a
bag deposited, and the door closed. In not even a millisecond.
He turned the car and sped down the driveway, exiting the bungalow as
quickly as he had entered. Tara felt twinges of suspicion rise. Was his staff
so well-versed in this drill because they did it all the time?
“I do not mean this in a mocking or insulting way, but have you done this
before?” She asked, not about to stew in her own thoughts.
“Done what?”
“This…? Bringing women in such clandestine affairs and having your staff
cater to them without asking questions.”
He stopped the car with a jerk. Angry, stormy eyes turned to her. She
recoiled. He must have seen the depths of her insecurity because instantly
his expression softened.
“I have not brought a woman to my palace, or my people like this after my
divorce. Do you believe me?”
She swallowed.
“Do you believe me, Tara?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Because I have never felt the urge to spend time with somebody like
this before. Like I cannot stop thinking about you. Even when you are with
me, I want you closer to me. Even if just to talk to me.”
She nodded. “Let’s go now, I am hungry.”
“Oh, you are not getting any of it,” he put the car in gear, smirking. The
scents of hot fried puris and something savoury — tomatoes and spices
filled the air. Tara’s mouth watered.
————————————————————
“Open up,” he dipped a piece of hot puri in a runny red gravy with floating
pieces of potatoes and tomatoes. She opened her mouth and he blew on the
morsel before feeding it to her. That little detail didn’t go unnoticed by Tara,
as she chewed, the taste so simple and yet so flavourful.
“How is it?” He licked his thumb, eyeing her with a childlike excitement.
Tara smiled, covering her mouth to finish chewing — “Vearryy gooed.”
He laughed, reaching back into the parcel opened on the bonnet of his car.
They had parked by the Town Lake, not on the promenade but in the
marshy area behind, where the lake’s dam gates fell. Nobody ventured on
this side, only the dense aquatic foliage and sleeping ducks on the bank to
keep them company.
“In our families, they make this same shaak with green chillies,” Tara
remarked, finally able to speak after chewing. He had dipped another piece
of puri for himself but fed her instead, making a new morsel again.
“Your South Gujarat gets good rain, and a great deal of water to grow fresh
vegetables all year round. Up north, our food is all dry red chillies and
stored pulses,” he ate.
“Now though, there are dams and more facilities, no?”
“They are being connected. Canals are being dug to support better
irrigation. But it will take time for our farmers to adapt. In fact, one of the
reasons I had come to Baroda was to find out if we can implement a similar
project on one of our dams in Jamnagar. My main concern was avifauna
and local flora, we have many of those endangered…”
“You are very passionate about environment, no?”
“That’s part of my work,” he nodded.
“Right, Ministry of Environment and Forests,” she mocked.
He smiled — “I do work with them.”
“Doing what?”
“I am the Honorary Chairman of the Central Planning & Conservation
Directorate.”
“Just because you’re a king?! That’s cheating!” She ribbed. “Did you even
get your PhD?”
“I got two,” he grinned, boyish in that moment. Tara couldn’t contain the
smile that broke across her lips as he stuffed another bite into her mouth. “It
wasn’t easy, doing it with a young child. I had all the help in the world —
my mother, the chaperones, my own nanny who became his. But I was
always guilty. If I was on kingdom work, I didn’t feel as guilty about
leaving him as much as I did when I was on my PhD work.”
“Because you thought that the PhD was for yourself?”
“Yes.”
“And now? Is Samarth proud of all that you’ve accomplished?”
“He is the son of a king… these things don’t matter much when you have
such a massive title behind you.”
“But surely he would see it, that his father has made something of his own.
Has taken his passion and run with it…”
“We don’t talk about it,” he laughed it off. Tara reached up and swiped her
thumb across the corner of his mouth.
“For a king, you do make a mess eating.”
“If I was eating as a king, I wouldn’t be eating out of Tupperware on my
bonnet,” he chuckled.
“Uhh hmm? So what are you eating as right now?”
“As a hungry man,” he pronounced with a smirk. “With his woman.”
Tara snorted, hiding the flare of blush in her face. The flips and cartwheels
her stomach had performed in the last few weeks of knowing Siddharth
could put a gymnast to shame.
“So beautiful,” his fingers nudged her chin, until she was looking up at him.
He held her face steady on his knuckles, his thumb caressing the line of her
jaw. “You may believe I can’t see when you blush, but it’s not just a change
in colour that signifies it.”
“Then what?” She croaked, hoping it sounded like a challenge.
Siddharth smiled — “You look down. And you, my sassy, fighting Tara,
never look down while talking. You may look away, but never down.” He
leaned in and kissed the edge of her jaw. “Only when you blush.”
She exhaled, pushing his hand away — “Now when are you dropping me
home? It’s past 2!”
“Will you make a king clean all this up?” He eyed his bonnet. Tara reached
out to pack it up but he snagged her wrist. “Sit,” he nudged his chin to the
passenger seat. It was an order. Tara obeyed. And watched as he
meticulously packed up the leftover food, wet a paper napkin and wiped the
surface clean. Like a normal man.
In these moments it was becoming very difficult to remember why she
couldn’t fall for him.
————————————————————
“Please, Sid, I beg you, don’t…” she sat up, desperately eyeing both sides
of the tight lane that he had driven into. It was a surprise he had fit his big
black car into it.
“You are naive and stupid if you think I’ll drop you at the curb at night.”
“Then quick, quick,” she tapped his dashboard, seeing a clear coast but
knowing that it could be a matter of seconds before somebody got up to go
to the bathroom, or drink water, and take a casual stroll on their balcony.
“Quick!”
“Patience, Tara, patience,” he laughed. “Nobody will know who is inside. If
it comes to it, tell them a palace car dropped you.”
“Palace cars have Devgadh flags on them. This one has yours.”
“Tell them Nawanagar cars are also serving on the fleet,” he rolled his eyes.
“Which they are for this weekend. So you won’t be lying.”
“Ugh! Here, just here…” she trailed, seeing the lights in her house burning.
Were her parents awake and waiting for her? No, that couldn’t be possible.
They knew she would come, she always came. Or had something
happened…? Her heart quickened, her hands throwing the car door open
even before he had completely stopped.
“Ta…” she didn’t wait to hear him as she jumped down and dashed up the
five steps. Loud noises could be heard. Voices. Of her parents, and of
others. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. This was going to be that
type of night then.
She pulled out her keys, unlocked the door, stepped in and closed it before
he could see in. His car was already pulling away from the spot.

“Maari dikri have aa badhu nai saambhde!”[2] Came her mother’s bellow.

“Taari dikri e kyaare kai sambhadyu chhe, shu?”[3] Her grandmother. The
woman who, if gotten a chance, would have drowned her at birth. Tara
walked down the alley, the tones of her father and uncle’s voices loud
enough to drown her entry. They were yet again fighting about the same
thing. 22 years and the topic of their battles hadn’t changed.
A dark duckling in a family of fair swans. No sons from her mother. Is Tara
even yours? They had tried to sow those seeds in her father’s mind ever
since their plan to kill her at birth had been unsuccessful. Thereafter, it had
been a battle every single day as she had grown up, abuses to her mother,
threats of throwing her out, mental pressures to give their family a son or
die. Tara had seen it all, heard it all, through years of torture in this very
house.
Her mother had tried to give them their precious heir. To the end of three
painful miscarriages. And then her father had put his foot down. He had
taken massive loans and bought his mother another house — a bigger
house, a better house, hoping she would move out and let peace prevail. But
then his jobless older brother had shifted into that house with his family,
essentially taking over the property and also nudging her grandmother to
come and fight here every day.
For years then, the fights had gone from full day to part-time, and then, at
11, Tara had had enough. Until then she had been a passive listener. Until
then she had just stood to the side and taken all the sneers and jeers and
abuses to her name. She had absorbed all the scary things said to her
mother. Then, as if something inside her had snapped that day, she had
stepped in front of her mother and fought back. Verbally. That had
quietened her grandmother for a minute, before her attacks had turned
nastier.
“You haven’t taught your daughter respect!” “No sanskar in this family!”
“She looks like a lump of coal, at least teach her to be obedient to get her
married!”
Those same things were repeated even now. And a dark, humorous part of
Tara’s psyche wondered — couldn’t her grandmother have gotten more
creative with time? The same old abuses, the same old stories of her mother
sleeping with the local fruit seller. To anyone outside, this would seem
grave. To her, having grown up hearing such allegations and worse, it was
just funny. How else was she to deal with it otherwise, especially when
those same things were said about her as she had grown older?
“Bas karo!” She yelled over their bickering. The four of them stopped
suddenly, all attention on her.

“Aa lo, raatre 2 vaage kaalu modhu haji kaalu kari ne aavi!”[4] Her
grandmother pointed acidly. Yes, she was right about that one — This dark-
skinned girl had ‘darkened’ more of her face so late into the night, so to say.
Tara gave a hollow laugh, setting her bag on the swing. This drove her
grandmother crazy, when Tara pegged her into the ‘absurd' territory.

“Hase chhe shu! Aa tara kharab sanskar chhe Meena…”[5]

“Ek minute,” Tara cut in, all laughter gone. “You will not talk to my mother
like that.”
“I will!” Her grandmother challenged. Yes, she knew her English well. Was
it an irony that she had been a teacher in her time? A respected English
teacher, Tara chuckled darkly. That was enough to teach her a lesson —
noble professions didn't always equal to noble people.
“Go into your room,” her uncle ordered her.
“I will, Kaka, when you and Baa leave. My parents are tired, and they will
sleep now. You must be tired too.”
“Don’t act smart with me…” he advanced on her.
“Daman bhai,” her father warned, stepping between them. “My daughter is
right. Go now.”
“You better think about this boy. He is good, even if he is divorced twice.
She will be well off with him.”
“My daughter is studying. And she will not marry just any man you bring.”
“He is not any man! He is my wife’s nephew. You know him.”
“He is a gambler.”
“He has money. And your daughter is not getting many prospects, forget
ones with money. I will ask them to wait. You three get ready in one week.
We will go to their village.”
With that he walked out. Tara gave him a wide berth, waiting for her
grandmother to follow. She began to open her mouth when Tara glared at
her. The old woman limped off. When fighting, she had the loudest voice.
But the moment she stepped foot out of the house, the witch began to
wobble and limp, gathering sympathy for her non-existent frailty.
Thankfully, their whole street knew who was the villain (or villains) in their
family.
Tara stopped her father from going after them. Instead, she strode down to
lock up, her frantically beating heart finally coming under control. This
always happened during a confrontation with these snakes. Her body would
heat up, her senses would sharpen and her chest would thump so hard. It
took a long time for it all to come back under control.
She reached out to pull the doors left open by her relatives when her eyes
stopped on a shadow on her verandah. A bearded shadow. She immediately
whirled to her relatives, her uncle on his bike with her grandmother behind
him, riding off into the opposite direction. She whirled back, and the
shadow was gone.

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 8. The Resolution
Tara took extra time getting ready that morning. She had never spent more
than a minute in front of the mirror, and now she had spent half an hour
rubbing cream into her skin until it glowed, applying her mother’s mascara
to her eyelashes and getting her one and only lipstick out for her mouth.
Last night’s horror was left in last night as she got another saree, this one a
dusty pink with thick gold border and buttas, draped around her body.
Today was the big resolution meeting. While the men were going to Nazar
Baag, a garden palace one hour away from the city palace, the women
would be having a brunch with painting workshop at Lal Bungalow.
Yuvrani had asked her to come early to Lal Bungalow to oversee the
Picchwai painters from Nathdwara and help them set up.
Tara literally ran. She caught a chakda rickshaw and ran. But the moment
she reached Lal Bungalow, the royal women still 20 minutes away, her
mobile buzzed. Bhanwar.
“Haan, Bhanwar.”
“Where are you?”
“Lal Bungalow, why?”
“Catch a palace car and come straight to Nazar Baag.”
“Why? What happened?”
“Something has happened, I need you. Come.”
“Ok…” Tara quickly raced up into the bungalow, checked with the painters
arranging their workshop, then informed Yuvrani’s PA of the urgent call.
And again she ran, into a palace car and then straight out of town, to the
outskirts, where the grand Nazar Baag rose like a fort with lush gardens on
all its turrets and terraces.
The security here was tight, but somehow, Bhanwar had already informed
them of her arrival. Her car passed unflagged.
She stepped out of the car and right into Bhanwar.
“What is all this urgency?!” She held onto his arms to steady herself.
“Sit in the caretaker office,” he nodded to the back.
“You had me travel one hour out of Devgadh for that?” She challenged,
angry.
“Tara, do as I say and sit there. I might need you soon.”
“Might? You said you ‘needed’ me. As in definitely did.”
“Yes, I will definitely need you. Now please go, there are a lot of people
looking at us.”
That’s when she noticed her surroundings. The venue was ripe with so
much security, of other kings, their courtiers, subjects, chaperones, servants
— all those who had not been given entry into the big meeting inside. Tara
turned on her heels and marched towards the back office, her eyes straying
upwards at the first turret level. And sure enough, a pair of searing dark
eyes, Siddharth’s eyes, were trained on her.
She had felt the heat even before she had seen him.
Tara glanced away and continued to walk, disappearing into the shaded
walkway that led to a state-of-the-art caretaker room. It had ancient
embellishments with modern technology. A long desk was laid with two
computers, a mini security set-up for a normal day on the property. Tara was
just about to take a seat on one of the visitors’ chairs when the door opened
and closed, the lock clicking into place.
She whirled around.
“What are you doing here?! Somebody will see us! Are you mad… did you
put Bhanwar up to this?”
“No,” Siddharth clipped, closing the distance between them in quick
determined steps and yanking her hand until she was in his arms. “What are
you doing here?”
“Bhanwar called me.”
“That’s what I am asking, why?”
“I don’t know. He said he needed me.”
His mouth tightened, his hold on her firming.
“Sid?” She urged. “What’s going on?”
His distraction seemed to vanish then, as his eyes fully fell on her. It took a
moment, but an exasperated smirk curled his lips.
“Where so many kings are gathered, there’s bound to be drama. But don’t
worry about that,” he tugged a stray lock of her hair, come undone from her
low, loose bun. “You look beautiful today.”
Tara looked down, then remembering what he had observed about her
blushing, quickly looked back up and into his eyes. They were shining with
pride, and something else. Something soft. Something… promising.
“You don’t look too bad either,” she patted the stiff shoulders of his black
bandhgala. His kingdom medallions were again on his chest, his only
modern accessory a watch on the wrist that was now in her hair. “Don’t
spoil my hair,” she warned.
In retaliation, he tugged open her bun. Tara pushed him away, but he just
whirled her in until his mouth was on hers. She gasped, her heart rate
quickening, kissing him back. A shot of thrill coursed up her spine, the
heady pleasure of being kissed by him rivalled by the fear of being found
out. They were kissing under a roof where kings were walking.
“Sid…” she pushed at his shoulders, her eyes drooping with the pleasure
coursing through her. His fingers buried into her curls until they had circled
the nape of her neck, holding her face up to his — “Tell me, Tara.”
“What?”
“What happened yesterday in your house.”
All the heady pleasure died. She startled to her senses.
“It’s personal.”
“Not if they abuse you like I heard they did.”
“There’s nothing anybody can do, it will run its course.”
“I’ll be a coward if I take that defence of yours. Tara, I know I am not in a
place to defend you, or order you. But there are forums. Domestic violence,
violence against women… I have people there, I am constantly working
with them for women of my kingdom…”
“You think I haven’t thought about all that?”
“Then stop thinking and do! Or better yet, let me do. Let me send a whole
army to their house…”
“No!”
“What do you mean no?”
“I mean no. Today you will have them what… arrested? And tomorrow they
will be free again, the cases will go on and they will still try to torture us.
Even more. No thank you, my parents have found this hard-earned peace
after decades. Let them have it.”
“This is peace?”
“Yes.”
He blinked.
“And what about this nonsense of marrying you? Are you…?”
“No,” she laughed. “He comes every few months with this proposal. I’m
studying. Don’t worry, I won’t be forced into marrying anybody.”
His eyes hardened. Then his knuckles came to her temple, running tenderly
down the apple of her cheek, in complete contrast to his menacing eyes.
“Have they ever physically assaulted you?”
Tara didn’t think this was the time to tell him about that time when she was
one day old. So she shook her head.
“Your mother?”
Thrusting a bottle of poison in her hand wasn’t physical assault technically.
Tara shook her head. She flattened her palm on the surface of his hard chest,
fixated on how her hand covered maybe the whole of his beating heart. She
wasn’t a romantic, and yet, the steady hum of his heartbeats, coupled with
the forest and rain scent of his, invited her head in. And Tara let her
forehead fall onto his chest. He wasn’t a saviour. He was a passing warrior.
She was her own saviour. And yet, today she had his chest to lay on. Even if
for a day.
Siddharth’s arms slowly came around her, his palm cupping her head and
pressing it deeper into his chest. She felt his mouth press into the top of her
head. And then his phone ring burst through their bubble. They broke apart.
“Yes?” He answered. “Yes. I’m coming.”
Siddharth ended the call and cupped her face — “Are you ok?”
“Yes,” she smirked. “I’m not daunted by such chutku-futku bickering.”
He shook his head, not amused at all, then pecked her forehead — “The
meeting is starting upstairs. I’ll come back to see if you are still here when
it ends. If you are, you are coming with me.”
“But how?”
“I’ll manage. Today is going to be packed, at least we will have some time
in the car.”
————————————————————
Tara sat in that office doing nothing and overthinking about last night,
Siddharth’s words and her own future. She sat there for the better part of an
hour before Bhanwar burst in through the door.
“Now you think you might need me?” She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Yes. It’s Sangram.”
Tara sat up.
“He hasn’t been leaving the meeting room. We tried everything. And until
he is there, he won’t let anything happen peacefully. We need to get him
out.”
“And security won’t work because…”
“We can’t air Devgadh’s dirty laundry in front of all these kings.”
“What will I do?”
“You go and summon him. Say it is his mother, she is having palpitations
and he is required urgently. His parents are his only weakness, he will come
when you call. He doesn’t trust any of my men.”
Tara nodded.
“And don’t worry, I will be around. He won’t do anything.”
“I am not scared of him.”
Bhanwar smirked.
————————————————————
Tara put her appearance back in place, straightened her saree pallu and
followed Bhanwar up the wide sweeping staircase of the property. The
inside of the fort was as quiet as the outside was buzzing. Tara heard the
clicks of her own tiny heels as they climbed the stairs, Bhanwar climbing it
two at a time.
They reached the first floor and he ushered her with an open arm to go
towards the huge double doors that stood closed. Two sentries guarded it.
Very old-school.
“Kunwari Hemlata Devi has sent me, open the door,” Tara lied, taking the
name of Sangram’s mother. The sentries knew her, and with the slight smirk
on one of their faces, she thought they also knew her and Bhanwar’s ruse.
They immediately opened the door.
Tara heard before she saw the loud bickering in the massive hall. She had
never seen a Maharawal Parishad, probably no commoner had. No photos
were ever released. But this was a polished space with the kings all ready to
start wrestling. Her entry put them to rest. All eyes turned to her. Tara
glanced around, Devgadh’s Yuvraj on the presiding chair, with Siddharth to
his right. She did not linger there, instead, honing her eyes on Sangram who
was lounging back and enjoying the show that no doubt he must have
started. Tara waited for their eyes to connect and bowed her head — “I
apologise for disturbing, but Kunwar Sangram, you need to come with me.
It’s your mother.”
And bulls eye. Sangram-the-brute had the softest corner for his parents. He
immediately got to his feet — “Khsama, Rawalon,” he folded his hands to
the gathering. Tara did not look at anybody, least of all Siddharth as she
stood aside and followed Sangram out of the hall.
Bhanwar was nowhere in sight. She panicked. What was she to do next? Put
him in his car and send him to his home in Neelambaag? Yes, that would
make sense. She quickened her steps behind him, ready to answer any
follow up questions when they turned the alley and towards the stairs.
That’s when it happened. Her wrist was snatched into his hand and she was
pulled into a dark alcove.
“So smart, Tara,” he groped her, pushing her into the wall. She pushed back,
sudden fear paralysing her strength. His hands reached the bare skin of her
waist and he squeezed to the point of pain, his mouth smacking over her
neck. She pushed with both her hands, opening her mouth to cry for help.
But he was faster. His hand slapped over her mouth and his forearm pinned
her chest back. Terror gripped her.
“My mother had her check-ups just yesterday. Everything is in top
condition,” he laughed. “But it’s good you called me. At least I got a
break…” he pushed his hips into her, the move threatening her into tears.
Tara tried to knee him but he just laughed, subduing even that.
“How did I never see you before… so exotic, so hot… or you’ve never
looked this good before,” he barred his teeth and went in for her neck when
he was pulled off her. Tara swayed into the wall, in time to see Siddharth
smash his fist into Sangram’s face. She swiped her wet eyes, seeing the
horror unfold as a spray of bright red splashed from his mouth. In just that
one smash.
“Rawal saheb,” Sangram panted. “I wasn’t doing anything… these palace
girls are like that…”
Another punch. Tara flinched.
“Leave here, and do not ever look at her again. I’ll know if you do. And
then, I won’t let you go.”
Sangram staggered up to his feet and ran like the coward he was. Tara
squeezed her eyes shut, unable to believe what had just happened. A sob
broke out of her and she was instantly wrapped up in warm arms. “Shhh,
shhhh,” Siddharth breathed in her ear. “You are ok, nothing has happened.
You are ok, Tara.”
“I am ok,” she panted, trying and failing to stall her tears. It was shock. She
knew it was belated shock.
“Tara?” He pulled back and cupped her cheek until she was looking up at
him. His thumb wiped the tears from underneath her eyes — “Everything is
ok. You need to breathe now. Slow. Steady. With me, alright?”
She nodded, trying to smile, following his lead.
“In, out…” he breathed with her. “In… out. Yes. Very good. Yes. That’s it.”
She relaxed, feeling her body stop vibrating. It was still wired, and she
recognised this feeling from fights at home. This, she could handle.
“Where is she?! Tara?” Bhanwar’s angry voice resounded. And she pushed
herself out of Siddharth’s arms just as he came running into the alcove.
“Tara!” He rushed to her, understanding already ripe in his eyes at her
mussed appearance. He went to touch her shoulder when Siddharth’s
commanding voice boomed — “Do not touch her, she is recovering.”
Bhanwar’s arm froze midway. He immediately turned and bowed to the
king — “Rawal saheb. Did you see it?”
“Yes. Who put her as the bait?”
“It was me.”
“And do you make a practise in Devgadh to use women as your baits? Are
your men such cowards here?”
“I apologise. I relied on his history. He had never preyed on Tara like he did
on other women of the palace…” he glanced at her, remorse heavy in his
otherwise emotionless eyes. “I did not calculate this happening. And I
should have been vigilant.”
“Do not look at her, look at me,” Siddharth commanded. Bhanwar obeyed.
Tara gaped open-mouthed — “I will not…”
“What is happening here?” Yurvraj Maan Sinh’s voice boomed from behind
Bhanwar. Tara shrunk into herself. This was what was missing, making a
scene in front of their crown prince.
“Tara?” His eyes cut to her. “What happened?” He squinted at the two men
in front of him, anger in his voice.
“Your man used her as a bait to draw Sangram out. And he assaulted her,”
Siddharth informed, stepping up between her and Bhanwar. “I didn’t know
you use women to do your dirty work, Maan.”
Tara startled. The hostility in his voice was unmistakable.
“Yuvraj,” she found her voice, bringing three sets of angry eyes on her. “I
am ok. It’s ok.”
His eyes stuttered. “Rawal saheb is right, Tara. I apologise to you. It’s
nowhere close to enough but I do,” he began to fold his hands together
when Tara stepped back.
“No, please, don’t do that. I knew the repercussions, I did it of my own free
will. I only request that this never be spoken about. To anybody. Please.”
Yuvraj nodded.
“Escort Tara to the palace.” he ordered the sentries behind him.
Tara did not look at Siddharth, lest she see something that would weaken
her legs even more. She just passed the three men and exited the alcove,
taking a deep breath of clean, fresh air. It would hit her, what had happened
just now. But for now, she was grateful for Siddharth’s timely intervention,
and her Yuvraj’s reassurance that this would not be spoken about.

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 9. One Last Time
Tara sat in the dark, the music loud and booming. Claps resounded around
her. The whole atmosphere was charged. Gujarati folk songs were being
sung on the stage, by one of her favourite singers no less. Aditya Gadhvi
was now singing her all-time favourite song. But she couldn’t muster the
courage to look up. Ever since this morning, her mind had been a whirlwind
of thoughts. When it wasn’t churning, it was frozen. There was no middle.
“This next song is dedicated by the Yuvraj of Devgadh to the Yuvrani of
Devgadh…”
Tara looked up then. Sitting in one of the side rows, at the very edge of the
concert, she couldn’t see the first rows clearly. But all the lights dimmed
and a spotlight fell to where Yuvrani was sitting. Possibly Yuvraj had come
back, because the cheers were loud.
“Taari aankh no afini, taara bol no bandhaani… taara roop ni poonam no
pagal eklo.”
A strong hand caught her wrist. Tara startled, tugging away, but the hold
tightened, feeling familiar. She wouldn’t have panicked yesterday, but today
was different. Tara glanced up, searching the face through the dark. She
couldn’t see it. But his scent was unmistakable. Tara relaxed. She was
sitting in the corner with chaperones and guests from other kingdoms.
Nobody knew her here.
Siddharth tugged her hand and she got up blindly in the dark, stepping out
of the row and into him. He gathered her close, the complete dark giving
them anonymity.
“Come.”
“Oooo nadi ne, sagar thavana jaagya kod…” Aditya Gadhvi continued to
serenade with a new song, the spotlight still on Yuvraj and Yuvrani. And
Tara just went where Siddharth took her. “Ke saaybo, maro gulab no
chhod.”
She didn’t even keep a check on where they were going, her mind at ease
suddenly now that her wrist was in his. Tara observed blandly how the
strings of the music kept going softer and softer, until they were completely
muffled. And she was in Neverland again. The orange grove.
Today the lights here weren’t as bright, dimmed to only a few stray lamps.
Siddharth tugged her close, wrapped his arm around her and kept walking,
making sure she could match his pace. Tara sighed, inhaling the scent of
him. Her eyes fell closed, matching her steps to his, the rhythm of their
walk eerily similar now.
He stopped. She opened her eyes and glanced around. They were at their
tree again, standing under its blooming boughs.
Warm fingers cupped her chin and gently tugged her face to his — “What is
happening, Tara?”
“I don’t know.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want to go home?”
She shook her head.
“Then what do you want?”
She eyed his chest in front of her, then his eyes, then again his chest. And
automatically her head began to fall on it. Halfway there his arms banded
around her, pulling her in, his mouth pressing into the top of her head. She
lay there peacefully, holding him, secure in his warmth. The cold wasn’t so
cold today, but his warmth made everything better, especially the cold that
was very cold inside her.
He stroked her back, his cheek on top of her head, and Tara prayed that she
would never have to leave this place. Ever.
“Why did you come there, Tara?”
“I didn’t think it would lead to this. Bhanwar is right, Sangram…”
“Don’t take their names in front of me,” he thundered, his arms squeezing
her tighter. “Both of them cowards.”
“Sid,” she pulled back, cupping the sliver of neck visible over his
bandhgala. “I knew what kind of man he is. I still took that risk because
otherwise your meeting wouldn’t have progressed. Did his going out make
a difference at the end?”
His hard eyes softened — “It did. It changed the course of the resolution.
But you brave, stupid girl, it shouldn’t have been at your expense.”
“Nothing happened.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“It doesn’t look like it. Tara, scars are not only physical.”
“I know,” she smiled weakly. “I have been carrying lashes worth lifetimes
on my soul. What’s a few more?”
His expression crumpled, and he tugged her in his arms again, wrapping her
desperately up, as if by doing so, he would be able to protect her from every
bad thing that had happened to her. As if by cocooning her in his big body,
he could save her from all the bad that was still to come. Tara sighed,
smiling at the fierce protective heat emanating from him. Even knowing
that a man had felt this way about her for two days was enough. She had
resigned herself to a bland life. A common girl’s miserable life. She had
never imagined this could exist, forget existing for her.
“Sid?”
“Tell me, Tara.”
“Can you kiss me?”
He cupped her face and kissed her, slow and gentle, taking her down with
him to the roots of the tree. She lay back into the concave of the bark, his
body curling with hers. She knew in a corner of her mind that both their
clothes would be stained and rumpled, that if he had any other engagements
tonight he would be a mess. Still she continued to kiss him, knowing this
was going somewhere from where she would never be able to pull it back.
“Hey,” he pulled back, holding her face. She reached up to continue kissing
him but he held her firmly away — “Tara, no. We are not doing this.”
“Why?”
“Because I do not want to ruin you completely.”
“Ruins are not only physical,” she lamented. If only he knew…
His brows drew together, his eyes searching hers. “I can’t know this, Tara…
don’t tell me…”
“Sid…”
“No! I haven’t told you this since that first day in Baroda… you cannot tell
me this now.”
Her chest stuttered.
“I won’t.”
His forehead fell on hers, grinding over hers, in an agony that she knew
very well. She was going through the same agony, the same dilemma, the
same fear of separation. The inevitable was a few hours, maybe a day away,
and she was dreading the life that came after. Why hadn’t she stopped
herself yesterday when they had started this? Why hadn’t her stupid super-
intelligent brain foreseen this… this… catastrophe?
And if it was a catastrophe in the making now, she would make sure it
annihilated everything. Tara grabbed the back of his neck and took his
mouth, her body squirming for his, making way for his. As if that one move
had annihilated everything, he matched her kiss with equal fervour, his
fingers diving into her hair, bunching the strands to pain. It pushed her to
the limits of crazy.
“Sid, please, please, please…” she cried into his mouth. “Please…”
And he stopped. Tara gaped at him, her mouth open, waiting for him to read
whatever he was trying to read in her face. A long beat passed.
Then, very slowly, he reached down. His fingers snagged her ankle. Tara
floundered, feeling his warm touch trailing up the weight of her saree, up
her bare calf, up her thigh. His eyes remained on hers, as his fingers stroked
her. Her whole body tightened.
“Sid…” His mouth drank up her words just as his fingers entered her. She
twisted into his body, her legs closing in on him.
“Open up, Tara.”
And like her limbs were putty to his command, her legs fell open, her core
pulsing, feeling every one of his strokes. Slow, deep, faster, slow circles.
Tara gasped, feeling her body winding up. Her whole being was tightening,
her eyes closing, pleasure she knew and understood amplified now in his
arms.
“Look at me, Tara.”
Her eyes flew open, meeting the fire in his. His mouth pursed behind his
beard, the hunger in him so openly visible to her. Tara had never understood
another person by just their ticks and twitches. Him, she was reading like an
open book right now. She bucked, strange sounds leaving her mouth,
sounds she had never expected herself capable of. Fierce pleasure exploded
within her. And he threaded his fingers in the back of her head, pushing her
scream into his neck. Tara bit his skin, his fingers going faster and faster
inside her, letting her ride the wave with every last drop.
“That’s it,” he kissed ear. “Shhh… that’s it.”
She whimpered, coming down from the high, and realising she had left an
angry bite mark on his ruddy skin. Tara licked it, “I’m sorry.”
He pulled her back, a sudden massive grin on his face — “You could leave
a hundred of these all over my body and I would worship at your feet.”
She laughed, tears escaping her eyes as he pulled out of her, setting her
saree right. They sat up, the haze of the moment slowly lifting. But even
when it lifted, Tara found herself… not awkward. She easily went into his
chest, lying there just as comfortably as he pulled her over his body,
stroking the mess of her curls, pulling them taut, letting them spring back.
Quiet. Happy. Content.
Long minutes passed. Maybe hours. She didn’t know how long they lay
there quiet, absorbing each other and the events of the last two days. She
inhaled his scent in large, hungry gulps, filling herself with him. He would
be gone soon and she wouldn’t seek him again. Even if they met again, Tara
had made a promise to herself — that she wouldn’t fall into this pool again.
This was proving difficult to come out of. Another time, and she would
drown for good.
“Tara?”
“Hmm?”
“What have you thought about your family?”
“What about them?”
His fingers stilled in her hair, nudging her face up — “I cannot leave you
here in peace knowing that’s what happens regularly in your home.”
She smiled, patting his chest — “It’s happened for years and you didn’t
know about it then. It’s ok, Sid. Go in peace. I know how to deal with
them.”
“Not if something untoward happens… if it becomes violent. If they…”
“Shhh,” she widened her eyes, her smile growing at their role reversal. He
pursed his lips. Tara flipped until her chin was on his chest. “Nothing will
happen.”
He swallowed, his eyes unyielding.
“What if…” he started, hope crackling across his eyes. Was it the same
hope that she had been killing all day today? Siddharth opened his mouth,
as if the words were churning to come out. Tara waited. But then his throat
worked another painful swallow, and it was gone. Those words that might
have become something, now nothing. Tara still smiled for his sake,
burying her head in the crook of his neck.
His arms came around her and squeezed her tight, not letting go, let alone
letting loose. She was pressed for a free breath, but she stayed. Tears leaked
from her eye.
“We still have one day,” he said.
She nodded. The final resolution signing and announcement would be
tomorrow, followed by an elaborate dinner. They had another day. Tara
pasted a grin on her face and pulled back — “Tell me one thing you want to
do with me if we have the full day tomorrow.”
His eyes darkened. And even though she had just experienced a massive
release, her stomach tightened.
“I… didn’t…” she stuttered. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
He smirked — “Don’t ask questions, the answers to which you are not
prepared to hear, Tara.”
“I was trying to get you to smile,” she pushed up from his chest. He
snapped her back by the waist — “Give me a kiss then.”
She held her mouth away, pushing back again. And he pulled her down over
him, taking her mouth, their laughter reverberating into each other.
“Until the moment you walk away from me, Tara, you are mine,” he
grinned. “Remember that. When I ask you to do something, you do.”
“Why would I walk away from you?”
“Because I won’t be able to. You will have to be the one to go.”
“And what if I don’t?” She challenged playfully.
“I know you,” he trailed his fingers down the skin of her temple, stroking
her hair. “I know your self-preservation too. For both our sakes, I know you
will walk when I ask you to walk.”
“You might be the king, but you are not my king,” she nudged her chin up.
“Trust me,” he held her chin and brought it back. “In this moment, I want
nothing more than to be your king.”
“To order me around?”
“To order you with me.”
“Sappy, Sid, very sappy. But don’t worry, old age does that to you…
Ahhh!” She shrieked as he flipped her in a whirl, his hand cupping her head
even in his revenge. Siddharth wasn’t merciful though as he pulled the neck
of her blouse down and suckled, then left it and went to another spot below
it, suckling with a deeper bite. Tara bucked, feeling every scrape of his
teeth, every warm touch of his mouth in the electric sparks of her body. He
left the second spot too, inching down to the centre of her chest, holding her
arms down.
“Sid…”
“You want to call me old again,” he nipped the next spot, inching closer to
the other side of her neck. “See this in the mirror and remember who is
old.”
Tara pushed at his shoulder, but he held on until he had suckled the final
spot on her clavicle and pulled her blouse back in place. Tara reached up
and touched the bites, all hidden, but all in an arch around her neck… like
the beads of a necklace. It was so sensuous, the tiny, almost non-existent
grooves of his teeth marks on her skin. She didn’t know how they looked
yet, and already she lamented their healing.
“You look so beautiful…” he murmured, his eyes on the bites, rapture on
his face. The sky lit up. They looked up in unison.
Brilliant fireworks exploded, one after another, massive showers of
sparkles. Siddharth glanced down at her, and it was like a nod to their first
night together. Only, this time he lowered his head and kissed her mouth
instead of her cheek.
“Do we have to go now?” She asked, glancing back up at the sky. The
fireworks signalled the end of the concert.
“We have to take some kings and princes out for an after-party. I need to
meet Maan before that. It’s better if we leave now before the concert
disbands.”
He got to his feet and helped her up. They dusted their clothes and bodies as
well as they could, then he took her wrist and they set off tracing their way
back out of the grove.
“Orange is my new favourite flavour,” she smiled, inhaling the heady scent
of fresh oranges.
“Can I say orange mixed with you is my new favourite flavour or will you
call that sappy too?” He tugged her close until his arm was around her
shoulder and his mouth was in her hair.
“Yes, sappy, Sid. Very sappy.”
He chuckled, looking up and ahead. And stopped. Tara fumbled alongside
him, her gaze catching the shadow in front of them. Bhanwar.

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 10. Gone
Tara stood outside Yuvraj’s office. She shouldn’t have been here. Siddharth
had asked her to leave immediately as he had forked towards Yuvraj’s
office. They both knew that Bhanwar’s loyalty started and ended with his
Yuvraj saheb. And Siddharth wanted to manage the situation before it was
distorted.
“Leave now, I’ll get in touch with you as soon as this is settled,” he had
assured her. She ought to have listened to him and left. But Tara had still
found herself here, in the garden outside Yuvraj’s office, with both of them
inside, their voices low murmurs. What was Siddharth telling him? Tara
knew for a fact that he wouldn’t throw her under the bus. That much trust
she had in him. But what would Yuvraj think of her? She had a spotless
reputation. Whatever her family had alleged about her and her mother, their
standing in society was clean, their characters speck-free. This… whatever
this was… could destroy that. Tara shivered, covering her shoulder with her
saree pallu and breathing slow. In, out, in, out.
“Are you out of your mind!” Yuvraj’s loud voice boomed. Tara startled,
stepping closer to the glass window that was covered with sheer drapes. She
could see the shadow of a man snapping to his feet. Yuvraj.
“Sit down, Maan. We were talking like civil people.”
“What have you done in my kingdom?! How many like her?”
“Stop.” Another shadow shot to his feet, taller than Yuvraj. Siddharth.
“I have given you the clarification, not because I owe you anything
regarding my personal life but because she is a part of your palace. And she
will not be disrespected. You are doing that now, stop.”
“Fuck it! What were you thinking, Rawal saheb!” That word was spoken
with a sneer. “And with Samarth here? What happened to raising him well
and without any distractions? What if he had seen you doing all this?”
“It was not what you are making of it. None of it is. I told you, she and I did
not meet knowing who we were. It was prior to here. We just happened to
run into each other here again.”
“And you thought what? Let’s rekindle the romance? Look Siddharth, Tara
has grown up in front of me. She ties me rakhi, looks up at me like I can
solve every last problem of the world. She is like my own sister. And I will
not let you ruin her over your two days of nonsense…”
“It is not nonsense and you must watch your tone. You are a prince, talking
to a king.”
“Who is preying on a girl from my kingdom 15 years his junior!” Yuvraj
sounded even more enraged. It sounded dirty, coming from his mouth. But
Tara rewound the time spent with Siddharth. None of that was dirty. None
of that could be dirty.
“Look at your age, and look at hers, Siddharth! Didn’t you even stop to
think once?” Yuvraj’s tone had mellowed.
“None of us did. We knew what we were doing but it is entirely my fault. I
coerced her again when we met here, I restarted it. I was older, more
mature, and I slipped. I only need you to make sure that your man does not
blabber this to anybody. Anybody. Not even your wife. Tara’s reputation
should be intact. She must walk with her head held high because she did not
do anything to be ashamed of.”
“You needn’t have advocated that. I would have made sure of it anyway.
But I want you to leave her alone.”
Silence.
“We…” Siddharth started.
“No. No, Rawal saheb, no ‘we.’ She is a brilliant girl, has a bright future
ahead of her. I will not let her ruin it over you. You will leave here, go into
the arms of your women abroad and forget her. She will not.”
Tara staggered. Those last words, they sounded alien, as if said about
another man. Not Siddharth. Not Sid.
“She is not a woman I can forget.”
“Then what? Will you marry her and taker her to Nawanagar? Make her
your queen? Make her Samarth’s step mother?”
Silence.
“As I thought. Your life is that of a heartbroken lonely king here in India
and a Casanova abroad. And I don’t judge you for it. I know what prompts
you to live it. I understand it. But Tara will not be a part of it.”
“I need to speak to her.”
“No.”
“Maan, I am not asking,” Siddharth’s voice was commanding again. “I am
informing. I would also like to speak to your man who saw us.”
“You will not correspond with my staff. If I give you my assurance that it
will be sealed, then it will be sealed. Take my word for it.”
“And Tara will not be treated differently.”
“Yes.”
“You stand by your promise that Sangram will be kept on leash on her
behalf.”
“It’s already done. He has been punished for what he did this morning by
taking away his mining rights in his land for 5 years. He will not look at
Tara again if he wants them back after 5 years.”
Tara felt tears course down her cheeks. That the Yuvraj of Devgadh, for
whom there were numerous chaperones and staff, saw her in such glowing
light… she shuddered, her teeth chattering. She clamped a hand over her
mouth, turning away.
“And if ever she is in a problem…” Siddharth’s voice softened. “If ever she
comes to you with a complaint, about anything in her life, you will act on it
without asking a single question.”
Tara sobbed, clamping both hands over her mouth. She turned and ran, the
dark giving her anonymity and her steps falling in perfect sync. She had
played pakda-pakdi in these grounds, she could run blind out of here, find
her way out in pitch dark. At least there were a few guiding lamps lit in the
deserted gardens.
“Tara?”
She slowed down. Siddharth’s voice was far away. But the desperation in it
was loud and clear, as if he was standing just behind her shoulder.
“Tara, wait.”
She started walking.
“Tara!”
She quickened her footsteps.
“Tara!”
Tara did not stop, sobbing quietly, and knowing that this was not the time to
stop. Or turn. She had to go because that was what had been decided
between them. She had to go, Tara walked faster, almost running, feeling
his footsteps slow down behind her, until his scent was left far behind. She
had to go, Tara reinstated to herself, and remain gone.

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PART II: THE KING

— SIDDHARTH —

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 11. The End Of The World
10 Months Later

There are decades where nothing happens, and there are weeks where
decades happen. His weeks were left far behind. He was back to living in
the decades.
Siddharth stepped out of the back of his car, the door held open by his
Second-in-Command. The tarmac was lined with his kingdom’s dignitaries,
all standing with their hands clasped in front of them like he was going to
war.
“What is this?” Siddharth clipped to his Second-in-Command.
Ajatshatru Jadeja, a man par excellence, even in his ripe mid-old age,
bowed his head. He had been a Minister in his father’s time, and in the last
few years, Siddharth had developed enough trust in him to leave his whole
kingdom to him when he traveled for his other commitments.
“The king is departing, Rawal,” Ajatshatru folded his hands, his fair white
hair and moustache glinting in the sun. His uniform of white-on-white
safari suit made him stand out among the line of dark coats and suits and
kurtas behind him. Siddharth nodded at them, pulling off his wayfarers and
lifting his hand at their chant.
“Rawal Siddharth Sinh Solanki ni — Jai!”
The plane idled in the distance, running the metre on his carbon footprint.
Siddharth buttoned up his black waistcoat over his usual attire of white
kurta and pyjama, greeting the line on the side. The Town Mayor,
Nawanagar City’s District Collector, ATC Head, Airport Officials… The
line was about to end when a broad chest stepped up at the end. Siddharth
glanced at the figure, and his own chest expanded. He did not smile though,
finishing the line, nodding, exchanging a word with each, accepting their
greetings for his upcoming journey.
“Rawal,” his son folded his hands with his bowed head at the end of the
line. Siddharth nodded, patting his shoulder just as he bent to touch his feet.

“School chhodi ne aavya chho, Kunwar?”[6] Siddharth asked sternly, his

voice reverberating among the small group. He had to act like a king to his
crown prince, show them that for his fifteen year-old heir, his school and
current duties as student preceded everything.

“Rajaa layi ne aayvo choon, Rawal,”[7] Samarth answered, just as

Siddharth had expected. His son had taken leave from his school to come
here. Because his son was a responsible boy. No tantrums as a child, no
obstinacy, no rebellions in his teenage, no truancy, no complaints.
That’s when Siddharth smiled, pulling Samarth into his chest. He had been
at boarding in Dehradun, and Siddharth had met him briefly earlier this
month when he had visited Uttarakhand. But like the dutiful, and emotional
son he was, Samarth had come down to see him off here in Nawanagar.
They talked on the phone every night, and yet these little gestures of his
shook the very foundations of Siddharth’s gumption.
Samarth embraced him, his head reaching him just below the shoulder. In a
year, he would touch his shoulder. Siddharth thumped his back. Then held
him back by his biceps, broad and muscular with his regular polo games.
Samarth’s face was a mirror image of his own, albeit, boyish still. But the
firm smile on his son’s face was all man.
Siddharth nodded back at the line of dignitaries, then ordered his son —
“Walk with me, Kunwar.”
Samarth fell in step beside him, the red carpet flowing from the plane stairs
coming closer and closer.
“Keep a check on Dada Sarkar,” Siddharth reminded his son. “Take care of
yourself. And in worst case scenario, fly immediately to Nawanagar and…”
“Nothing is going to be worst case about your trip, Rawal,” Samarth’s
hoarse voice objected. Siddharth smiled — “We are Kshatriyas, we need to
always be prepared for worst case, beta.”
“Papa, you have gone on this voyage twice before.”
“And one of those times you weren’t born, while the other time you were a
baby. This time you are of age. I know I can tell you to be ready. Can I?”
“Yes, Rawal.”
“Then if something goes wrong, immediately fly to Nawanagar, go to my
study, grab the keys from my secret drawer along with the Raj Sinh Mohar.
Stand tall in the court in front of everyone and declare yourself the next
king of Nawanagar. Do not be ashamed, or embarrassed or think about the
glumness of the timing. Ok?”
“Yes, Rawal.”
“And remember, you won’t have to do that,” Siddharth circled his neck and
gave him a shake. “Even though I am going to the end of the world, I am
coming back.”
His son grinned — “I told you you are.”
“What should I get for you?”
“Nothing. I have everything, Papa.”
Siddharth gave his son a look.
“Really!” His son chuckled. “Ok, I’ll call you if I think of something.”
“You better. Now go, and miss me. We will talk every night, your time.”
They reached the end of the red carpet and Siddharth turned to his son, one
eyebrow raised — “And Samarth?”
“Yes, Papa?”
“What is this I am hearing about Avantika Kumari Raje of Gwalior. Some
classmate of yours?”
For the first time in his life, Siddharth saw his son swell beetroot red. He let
the agony extend for another second, as Samarth opened his mouth, closed
it, then looked anywhere but at him. He clapped a hand on his shoulder with
a quiet laugh — “She plays women’s cricket, that’s what I meant.”
Samarth’s eyes squeezed shut, and he shook his head, laughing softly.
“Get your colour under control before you turn to them,” Siddharth advised
his son. “And be respectful.”
He needn’t have told that last one, but a girl’s reputation was involved.
Even if they were all kids, and at an age where playful romances blossomed
and wilted, even if Samarth was a righteous boy, Siddharth knew something
about reputations and how fickle they could be.
“Yes, Papa.”
“I’ll call you tonight.” He set his palm on top of Samarth’s head, took one
last look at him, and climbed the stairs of his plane. He had been leaving
Samarth and going on work trips all his life. And every time he would think
the next time would be easier. Even now, knowing that his teenage son
would turn and go back to his school, his polo, and possibly his new
girlfriend, Siddharth felt the pangs of guilt burn hot.
But what could he do? Life had to be lived.
————————————————————
The end of the world was a breathtaking place. Siddharth didn’t care.
The end of the world was located at the tip of the South American country
of Argentina. A resort town by the name of Ushuaia. All sub polar foliage,
white snow-capped mountains and Dutch houses. He didn’t care.
Siddharth sat in one of their outdoor summer cafes, working. Their
expedition to Antarctica would leave tomorrow and he had a mountain of
work to dispense off. He pressed delete on his completed kingdom-to-do
and moved onto the mines to-do. A part of him detested the amount of work
he had piled onto himself. But that had been the only way out. For months
now, he had been accepting, or better yet, proactively seeking work from all
facets of his life.
Taxes and accounting checks for the kingdom? The CFA could rest. He
would do it. Menial regularisation reports for the Ministry of Environment
and Forests? He was their man. Jamnagar’s bauxite mine needed a new
JCB? He would have it ordered. The Women Inheritance Bill case needed
somebody to sit in on the meeting with the Legal Counsels? He was
available. Anything that needed doing and was vaguely under his purview,
he would do it.
It came to bite him in the back now as he sat here, at the stroke of noon, on
a cool summer day, knocking off all the work before he disconnected from
all networks. He wouldn’t lose all contact with the outside world
immediately come tomorrow. They would get weak network until Port
Lockroy. But then onwards, for at least two weeks, the ship’s satellite phone
would be his only mode of communication.
Siddharth hit send and felt the satisfying whoosh sound of the email
program pinging with a confirmation. He moved onto the next item on his
agenda, his fingers reaching for the coffee that had already gone cold.
“Excuse me,” he raised his hand to the waitress loitering around the empty
tables. The tourist season in this town would set in in another week.
Summer was just here, the 12-degree afternoon feeling more wintery to his
Indian bones.
“Un café, por favor!” He pointed to his cup. The waitress gave him an eager
smirk before sauntering slowly away. Siddharth pursed his lips and got back
to work. He had been receiving such smiles and smirks and even open
invitations all his life. They had just expanded in scope and frequency in the
last few months. Probably because of his grumpy, aloof disposition. Usually
he was a man prone to doling out greetings and smiles, doing a polite
check-in wherever he walked, even if it was a foreign place and foreign
people. The last few months had made him into a recluse. And maybe that’s
what attracted women in droves.
He typed, his fingers moving with lightning speed, hoping to finish
everything off before lunch so that he could call Samarth, eat something
and go read in his room. Sightseeing was not him anymore. He needed to
catch up on his reading before the expedition set off. As the team leader
from India, he would need to be up-to-date on their source material.
“Still working, King sir?” Subramaniam or Subbu, as he was called in the
Ministry of Environment and Forests sat down in front of him. He was one
of the senior secretaries, and had been assigned on this expedition due to his
experience with the Ministry of Earth Sciences, geology and glaciology. A
very learned, sharp fellow, except, he was always curious about a ‘king’s’
life.
Siddharth rested his wrists on his laptop and glanced up. Subbu was a man
in his forties but was so lean and well-dressed that he could pass for
someone in his twenties. His caramel skin was free of irregularities, his jaw
clean-shaven, his dark hair well-kept. And he was smiling, his pearly teeth
shining in the noon sun.
“Yes, Subbu?”
“Nothing sir, just checking in on you. I left our kids in the post office
sending postcards like crazy. They think this is the end of the world,” Subbu
looked around at the luxurious town. That did bring out a bark of
amusement from Siddharth.
“If only they knew…” he shook his head, going back to his typing.
“How many times have you travelled to Antarctica, sir?”
“Twice.”
“I have done it once, but it’s something else. It’s like you leave everything
behind and come back a changed person. A person with the secrets of life
unlocked.”
“But then you come back to real life and slowly unlearn all those secrets.”
“Until you go back again!” Subbu held his finger up. “And go back on
Ministry money… I’m sure you can afford to build a castle in Antarctica
and stay there but I am definitely grateful you selected me for this
expedition.”
Siddharth didn’t react. He had selected Subbu, but he didn’t need to know
that. The internal ministry politics didn’t need more churning.
“Are we having lunch together as a team or should I ask the kids to eat on
their own?”
“No, I did tell them that we would do a detailed briefing before we meet the
rest of the expedition tomorrow. We will eat together. I’ll book the place
and let you know.”
“Then should I also invite the philosophy troop?”
“Why are they here again?”
“They are our official delegation for Philosophy of Politics in Antarctica or
something like that. The Ministry has tagged them to me.”
“They will not be sitting in on any of our conferences or coming to our
research sites,” Siddharth ordered.
“That’s a no-brainer. They are not trained. But we need to give them the
illusion of them being a part of our team.”
“Sure, invite them. How many in total?”
“Two of us, three of our kids, and two of them…” Subbu counted. “Seven
in total.”
“I’ll book…” Siddharth hit send on another email and glanced up, only for
his breath to be caught. There behind Subbu, a riot of dark curls in the
distance. His whole body suspended.
“Sir?”
He blinked, tearing his eyes away from the curls and coming back to focus
on the man in front of him. Subbu’s mouth moved, words and sentences
falling out of it, but Siddharth was lost in time in that moment. Then he
snapped out, peering at the figure in the distance. She was turned away
from him, her hair long and dark and curly, her body exactly like the one in
his dreams every night. But the lady wore a light blue maxi dress. The
woman in his dreams wore sarees and chunky earrings.
Siddharth willed his heartbeat under control, bringing himself down from
the high. Every lady with curly hair wasn’t her. He had told this to himself
every time he saw one. In the last ten months he must have told this to
himself tens of dozens of times. It was either that life was throwing women
looking like her into his path, or he was so gone now that he was
hallucinating in his ‘sappy old age,’ as she would have called him if she was
here.
He started to go back to his typing when she turned. And fire shot through
his veins. Tara. Tara like he had left her, smiling with stars in her eyes, her
lithe body moving towards a shop of penguin souvenirs. Her smile was
small, he noted, not as big and bright as he had elicited from her. But it was
there, unmistakable, broadening as she touched a hanging penguin stuffed
toy with a flag claiming ‘End of the World >>’
Siddharth stared enraptured, nothing but her in his senses. He could already
smell her light salt and musk scent, feel the smooth expanse of her skin on
his mouth, grip the thick wildness of her curls in his fingers. He could hear
the tingle of her laugh, husky and hesitant, but so warm in his ear. He had
existed in all this and more, every single day. But now it was alive again.
All of it and more.
She pointed to the tiny stuffed toy and asked something to the shopkeeper.
He smiled and pointed to another one beside it. She turned to glance at it,
and in the process her eyes passed over him. A startle, a moment, and her
eyes were back on him. The smile drained from her lips.
Siddharth felt the fire in his veins turn to electricity. His fingers tightened.
Their eyes remained ensnared, his own drained shock now pumping in her
face. She was even more beautiful than he remembered, this new avatar
looking like a whole new facet of her. His eyes didn’t leave hers but he
remembered what she wore down to the last thread. Her dress was airy and
white actually, with fine light blue print all over it. It moulded to her
breasts, flaring in classic Argentinian frills right down to her ankles. Fine
straps left her arms bare to his gaze, the sun like sparkles, sitting on the tan
slopes of her shoulders.
He drank her face in — her big expressive eyes that she kept on leash, her
sharp nose, that kissable soft mouth which was already swollen. It fell
slowly open now, and he knew she didn’t know that. That was one of her
tells when she was in awe, or overwhelmed. Siddharth felt his limbs charge
up, all the force of the earth propelling him up when a man came and stood
behind her. An Indian man. He called her from over her shoulder. She didn’t
hear him. He called again. She still didn’t hear, her eyes on him.
The man reached out and touched her bare shoulder. Siddharth’s blood
boiled.
She started and turned towards him, her small smile springing back in
place. They were familiar. She was talking to him like she knew him. Like
she was here with him. The man cocked his head and took her elbow.
Siddharth wanted to burn something. And when Tara did not turn to look at
him before crossing the road, he wanted to burn the whole world and hurl it
at the man with his hand on her elbow.
————————————————————
He was a stalker. It was official. Siddharth lamented the moment he had
flung every rational thought into the fire that he wanted to set to the man
with Tara and had just up and followed them. To his relief, they hadn’t gone
too far. And she had ventured ahead of the man.
He had stopped at a book store, while Tara was now well on her way to
turning the curb to the next square. Siddharth kept walking, knowing that
she knew he was following. It was in her gait, in the tight lines of her hips
that didn’t sway as smoothly. It was in the way she had glanced over her
shoulder twice. Their eyes hadn’t met, but he knew she knew. Siddharth
didn’t care how this looked. He didn’t care what it would lead to. He just
knew that she was walking, and he had to follow.
Tara turned the corner. It took him a few seconds to turn, and when he did,
she was very far, her legs eating up the sidewalk, almost running now. A
smirk curled his lips. So that’s how she wanted to play this.
Siddharth turned around and took a side alley, strolling down the curved
shortcut. He had been to this town a handful of times, and done enough
sightseeing to know where this shaded alley would lead him. He also knew
it would lead him there sooner. So he went at leisure, imagining her big
eyes going bigger, her sweet breath swelling in shock, imagining what the
air itself would taste like when she would be near. He had never felt this
crackle of air, this static of touch, this ‘magic’ as they called. Before her,
women had been women, passion had been passion. Never this…
obsession.
He spilled out of the alley and onto the deserted turning. The clock tower
was dinging its loud gong. He leaned back on the stone wall, crossing his
arms across his chest. And just as the clock began to strike, Tara appeared,
walking briskly, her head turned over her shoulder.
It whirled back, probably relieved, and she jumped back with a shriek. He
grabbed her arm and pulled her into the alley, slapping his palm over her
mouth — “Quiet. It’s me.”
“Aeyknow,” she garbled behind his palm. He smirked, his head lowering
until his nose was in the crook of her neck. She stiffened. Siddharth inhaled
— salt and musk and her signature self. His eyes closed of their own
accord, his hand squeezing the round of her hip. A sharp pain in the flesh of
his palm and he pulled it back with a jerk. She had bit it!
“I said leave me!” She hissed in his ear. And his momentary shock of pain
subsided. He brought his palm to his eyes, peering at her teeth marks
looking angry on his skin. Siddharth sucked it into his mouth, seeing her
eyes widen. He suckled harder. Her irises darkened, dilating, her breath
becoming heavier.
“Leave me.”
“I haven’t held you to force you,” he squeezed her hip, his grip firm but not
tight. She began to push away when he yanked her around and plastered her
to the wall, caging her in with his arms on either side of her. She could
leave whenever she pleased.
“What do you want?” She spat instead. Her angry eyes were all fire.
Dilated, yes, but lava in black. Siddharth wanted to throw a jar of gasoline
in and flare it into an inferno.
“I need to go! Move!” Tara pushed at his chest. And realisation came
dawning. The man.
“What is he to you?”
“What?”
“The man who touched you. What is he to you?”
She leaned into his face — “None of your business.”
He buried his fingers in her thick curls and gripped the back of her neck —
“You tell me yourself, or I’ll walk up to him, break his hand and then ask
him.”
She reared back, shocked. Even he was shocked at what was coming out of
his mouth. He was never like this.
“What’s happened to you?”
“Is he your boyfriend?”
“What?!”
“Guy friend?” He sneered.
“Are you cra…”
“Tell me, Tara,” he leaned in. Their noses touched. His gaze fell to her
mouth. Red. Redder than he had ever seen it. It wasn’t the glowing scarlet
that women painted on their lips to attract attention. It was a sensual soft red
that stained her mouth. Revealing itself when you looked closely. He
swallowed.
“He is my boss,” she announced. Siddharth’s eyes whirled up to hers.
“Happy?”
“Boss?”
“Yes.”
“When did you start working? Where are you working? Here?”
She gritted her teeth, then clamped them on her lower lip.
“Tell me, Tara.”
Exasperated words started flowing — “He is my professor and I work as his
teaching assistant. We are here for an expedition to Antarctica. Now I need
to be with him for our meet and greet with the rest of the team. Move your
hands.”
Siddharth stared at her dumbfounded. Then grinned, her words falling into
place in this astounding hand of serendipity. He removed his hands from her
sides and stepped back, shoving them into his pockets lest he grab her to
himself again.
“Go.”
She began to walk.
“But, Tara?”
She stopped, right by his shoulder. He looked down, her heels not even high
enough to bring her to his nose.
“Tell that boss of yours to keep his hands to himself. Your team leader does
not like anyone touching you.”

OceanofPDF.com
 12. I’m The Boss
Siddharth walked into the British Seaside Cafe rolling his shirtsleeves. He
had chosen a simple button-down over a pair of white line pants this
morning, not expecting to be in the company of a woman he needed to
impress. It was odd. He hadn’t thought about impressing a woman since he
was a teenager. Now, as he ran a hand through his hair before exiting the
indoors for the table he had booked on the pier, he felt strangely thrilled.
The sun was high and bright, glinting off the sea and onto their full table.
He strode to the head chair, the seating already arranged per his orders —
Tara to his right, Subbu to his left, and Tara’s boss at the far end. It was
petty, but he wasn’t above doing it where she was concerned.
“Sir,” Subbu saw him first and stood to his feet, followed by all of them. He
saw the grimace on Tara’s face before it disappeared. Siddharth smirked.
She had had a good half hour to come to terms with this new reality of
theirs.
“Sir, good afternoon,” Murphy greeted. He was one of the glaciologists on
their team, a young doctorate from the University of Oslo. The junior-most
member. He was superseded by two others — Dalai and Rao, both of them
environmental scientists. They were older and more experienced, both in
their 50s, but Siddharth held more degrees. He also came with a title that
superseded them all, and had the background of politics. Which made him
the team leader, and the boss. He zeroed in on the seventh face on the table.
Tara’s boss.
“Good afternoon,” Siddharth greeted. “Please take your seats.”
They settled around, his own team of four at complete ease.
“Sir,” Subbu broke the ice. “This is Professor Nadeem Shah. He is a
renowned environmental philosopher from our country and has represented
India at various COP summits, is a regular speaker at ICEP and has been on
the latest delegation for the Stockholm Conference. This is his teaching
assistant, Ms. Tarini Thakker. They will be accompanying us on the
expedition and be a part of our delegation to talk philosophy in Antarctic
politics.”
Tarini. His lips pursed. How did he not know this name of hers?
“Welcome Prof. Shah, Ms. Thakker.” Siddharth gave a nod. “Tell me about
yourself.”
“It’s Dr. Shah, actually,” the man smiled, chuckling to himself. He had the
classic personality of a nerd, albeit with some muscle mass on his arms.
With his mop of curly hair, he could pass off as Tara’s sibling but he looked
at her like he wanted to be something else entirely. Not on my watch,
Siddharth thought.
“I am a doctorate in Deep Ecology with teaching experience of over a
decade. I am currently a professor at the Maharaja Sayajirao University in
Baroda and have published a few books, most notably Beyond
Anthropocentrism, which explores the moral dimensions of
environmentalism…”
Siddharth tuned off at that point, his knee brushing hers. He felt her stiffen,
and try to move away. But he took action and pinned her knee to the table’s
leg. The fabric of his pants brushed the fine cotton of her dress, the heat
from her skin feeling electric. She tried to nudge back, but he nudged harder
until her knee was completely locked in.
“Good. And you, Ms. Thakker?” He turned to Tara. She tipped her chin up,
pushed a long lock of hair behind her shoulder and launched — “I am a
recent graduate of Philosophy. I just finished my Master’s in Philosophy
specialising in existentialism. I had the privilege of working under
Professor Shah during my course, and now I’m his teaching assistant. I am
looking forward to learn, absorb and assimilate during the course of this
expedition.”
“Why did you switch your focus from existentialism to environmental
philosophy?”
Tara’s facade cracked. She gaped at him surprised, but quickly recovered. “I
realised I am passionate about this subject and would like to explore it in
depth.”
“This was after your graduation or before?”
“After,” she clipped. After I met you, was what she held back.
“Tara is a godsend. Her grip on existentialism has become an asset to my
own research…” Nadeem intervened, looking at her with more than just
professional appreciation. Siddharth pinned her leg tighter.
“I’m sorry, is it Tarini or Tara?” He pinned her with his eyes.
“My name is Tarini,” she clipped. “But people I know closely call me
Tara.”
“What would you like us to address you as?”
A beat. Then, “Tara.”
“Good. Let us start then…”
“Sir,” Nadeem interrupted. “I’m sorry, but can I just add one more thing?”
“Go ahead.”
“I had heard a lot about you in the scholarly circles. And frankly, I had this
impression that as a king, you would be just an honorary name on conclaves
and summits. When we were asked to come here, I was told that philosophy
is not the core objective of this team. It’s just for namesake, because all
other countries are bringing their experts, India is sending too. I didn’t
expect you would make us a part of your team.”
Siddharth nodded — “This team consists of scientists and
environmentalists, but at the core, we are all passionate about nature. You
may be philosophers, but you share that sentiment. That is why you are
here. I will not differentiate among anybody on this team, but at the same
time, I will make it clear that if I restrict visitation for anybody on any site
or conference, it will be for a reason.”
The lot of them nodded.
“Antarctica is a beauty, but it is a haunting beauty. Despite of all the
luxuries, tech and gadgets at our disposal, we will be at the mercy of the
elements. In this scenario, you are my responsibility. Whatever your
hierarchy among yourselves,” he glanced pointedly between the six faces,
stopping on Tara’s — “I am the boss. What I say, goes.”
“Yes, sir,” Subbu agreed.
“Here’s a list of dos and don’ts that I’d like my team to strictly adhere to.
Most of these would have been in your pre-travel documents from the
Ministry. But there are a few more here,” he gestured to Subbu, who handed
out bunches of circulars. Siddharth observed in surprised delight how Tara
set it down, reached inside her bag and produced a pair of glasses. His
molars bit into themselves at the sexy sight of her putting on those delicate
round reading glasses and scanning the papers in her hands. How did he not
know this about her?
“This says offshore polar gear plus on-site gear,” Nadeem pointed. “We
have only carried one set of polar gear.”
“You cannot wear your offshore gear on the land of Antarctica. We need to
keep the continent pristine and free of our worldly bacteria. The ship staff
will make us sanitise ourselves top to toe, but my rules are that when we are
on our research station, we will wear a whole new set of polar gear. If you
don’t have it, inform Subbu, and it will be delivered to your room before
tonight.”
“And what is this about food?” Tara read out — “You will not be allowed to
carry any outside food on the mainland.”
“That means exactly what you read.”
“But why? It was mentioned in the Ministry list that we could…”
“As I said, the Ministry list and my list are different. If you are carrying any
food, it will be left behind on the ship while we are on mainland. Anything
else?”
Tara’s knee knocked him hard and slipped away. He bit back a chuckle.
“Alright then, let’s order.”
They ordered their food and the mood of the table lightened. Subbu was the
first one to start talking about topics other than their upcoming expedition,
while Murphy engaged the lot in a plan to go see the lighthouse at night.
“What about you, Tara?” Murphy asked her.
“She’d love to join us,” Nadeem answered. Then looked at her with a smile
— “Wouldn’t you, Tara?”
“I would. Yes,” Tara bit into her pasta, her glasses still perched on her nose.
Siddharth had a riot of emotions circling inside of him. A part of him
wanted to pick up this man and fling him into the sea, not only for having
Tara with him but also for treating her like this. Another part of him wanted
to let her see the kind of man her boss was, cycle through any feelings she
might have developed for him, which he was doubtful she had. The biggest
part of him wanted to tug her into his lap and kiss that swollen mouth of
hers that was so uptight suddenly.
“How did you get the time to study so much with your king duties, sir?”
Nadeem’s question to him chimed.
“Less of Shaktiman,” he quipped dryly. And a small but unmistaken snort
of amusement was heard from beside him. When Siddharth eyed her, her
face was a mask of uptight.
“Oh, you were a Shaktiman boy? I myself was a Star Wars nerd. Ever since
then, I understood the philosophical underpinnings of the Jedi Code. I even
tell my students now that Yoda is essentially a deep ecologist—'Luminous
beings are we, not this crude matter,' right, Tara?”
“Right.”
“One of your batches’ favourite things to do was to have me quote Yoda,”
he reminisced, thinking this was impressing him as well as Tara. Siddharth
lamented. This man was not even a threat, forget competition.
“What do you think about Deep Ecology, sir?” The unyielding man chimed
again. Siddharth set his silverware down and patted the corner of his mouth
with his napkin.
“Important,” he answered. “But idealistic. It suggests that humans aren’t at
the centre of the ecosystem, but rather a part of it. It sounds romantic, but
its real-life implications would leave humans far behind in progress. And by
progress, I do not mean massive feats, but simple growth from a solely
land-dependent economy to trading economy. For example, I have had
cases where I’ve had to balance conservation laws with tribal rights. Policy
needs to favour humans. In real-world governance, we have to prioritise
human lives—livelihoods that depend on nature.”
“Hmm…” Nadeem sat back. Either he didn’t have the content to debate
this, or he didn’t have the guts to back that content up in front of a man he
thought was superior. In both cases, he was a coward.
“Dessert?” Subbu asked around.
“Actually, I took the liberty of commissioning a special dessert for
everyone,” Siddharth nodded at the waiter. “It’s their summer take on the
traditional Dulce de Leche.”
Delicate porcelain plates with multilayered slices of vanilla cakes were set
in front of them. The slices floated in a bed of orange dulce de leche, filling
the air with its beautiful citrusy scent.
“This looks good,” Murphy dug in. Siddharth waited for her. Her face did
not show any hint of recognition but there was a slight tremor in her fingers
as she picked up her dessert fork. He shifted his elbow and his fork clattered
to the floor.
“Excuse me, please continue,” he bent his arm down to reach for the
cutlery. His fingers though, shackled her ankle just as she closed her mouth
around the orange cake. Tara jumped.
“What happened?” Her boss asked.
“Umm…” she covered her mouth with one hand, looking down,
“Itsveroygooed.”
Siddharth smirked, patting her ankle before straightening up.
“Do you like orange?” He asked her.
“No,” she recovered.
“But this is an orange-flavoured dessert.”
“I like the Dulce de Leche,” she retorted pointedly.
“Which has orange in it.”
She faked a smile — “Do you like orange, sir?”
“Love it. Wasn’t a big fan, but then I spent some time at an orchard… it’s
grown on me ever since.”
That got her to shut up and eat. Siddharth didn’t indulge in much of his
dessert, he wasn’t a fan of sweets. But he kept an eye out for her, checking
for her reactions. She thought she was good at hiding how much she was
enjoying her dessert. She wasn’t. Whenever she took a bite, which she
would after long intervals, her eyes would shut for a second. Her tongue
would come out to clean her lips of any leftover cream. Her whole face
would relax. Then again she would tighten up.
“Are we going to the lighthouse or no?” Murphy piped up.
“Yes,” Nadeem confirmed. “We will be there at the concierge by 7.”
“Excuse me,” Tara pushed her chair back, getting to her feet. Siddharth got
up, not out of his special affinity for her, but by reflex. He eyed the table
full of nerds. None of them did. And that just churned in his favour as he
saw Tara’s eyes dilate at the gesture.
As she made her way towards the bathroom on the other side of the pier,
Siddharth pulled out his phone — “I’ll be back, gentlemen. Feel free to
continue.”
He went into the direction opposite to hers, then circled the back of the cafe
until he was at the bathroom exit. The pier fell into the water on one side,
making the alley tight enough for her to be barricaded if he stood there.
Siddharth waited, not even feeling a little guilty. Why wasn’t she talking
straight to him?
“What are you doing here again?!” She blanched. He turned around, his
face automatically melting at the scary eyes she was trying to make behind
those cute glasses. He reached down and pulled them off.
“What are you doin…!”
“They’re dirty,” he reprimanded, blowing on the surface before cleaning
them with the hem of his shirt. Tara fumed beside him, making him smile.
“Stop following me. We are here in a professional capacity, I cannot be
caught again…”
He stopped working her glasses. His eyes raised to hers.
“Tara. That night…”
“Will not be discussed.”
He blinked. This authoritative avatar of hers was such a turn on, especially
when he knew he was one move away from making her moan his name
again. Siddharth swallowed, finished cleaning her glasses and fixed them
back on her nose.
“You can pretend that you don’t know me like you do. But I won’t. When
we are by ourselves, you will command my full attention.”
“I don’t want it.”
His voice turned solemn — “Are you telling the truth?”
She began to open her mouth but he raised his eyebrows. She stopped, her
face a storm of thoughts. If she was telling the truth, then he had no option
but to step back. It had been 10 months, and however much he believed that
she too had been left behind in those few days like him, Siddharth knew he
would stop if she really wanted him to.
“What do you expect to achieve out of this, Sid?” Her tired voice
questioned back.
That got him to stop.
As if the day’s haze of seeing her had lifted, he could again see the world
clearly. He could again see their circumstances clearly. This could be the
‘End of the world,’ but their world still waited on the fringes of this
fortnight. What did he expect to achieve at the end of it all?
Tara nodded, moving past him — “Stay away from me, Sid.”
————————————————————
The sun was almost down and he had just finished his visit with the
embassy, walking into their hotel lobby with his jacket flapping in the wind.
The summer cold of south pole was battering now that the sun was softer,
readying him for the frigid days to come.
“Good evening, sir,” Subbu met him by the elevator.
“Good evening. Where to?” He eyed the load of black polar gear bag.
“To deliver this to Tara,” they stepped inside the elevator.
“Did you check on Rao? He was complaining about severe headache.”
“No. When?”
“He called me asking for leave from our post-dinner session.”
“Oh… let me rush up to him and check. Most probably it’s the sudden
changes in temps here.”
“You’re the half doctor among us, you figure out. If it’s serious, inform the
hotel doctor. We don’t want to start the journey with a health issue on our
hands.”
“Sure, sir… Umm, can you deliver this, please? She’s on your floor. I’ll go
to Rao’s room.”
Siddharth glanced at the bag, hesitated, then reached for it.
“Room 306,” Subbu informed, stepping off the elevator on the second floor.
Siddharth continued to travel up to the third.
He walked to Tara’s room, then stood outside it, hesitating again. He hadn’t
planned this. And yet, here he was. If he was to spend a fortnight with her,
he would have to get used to meeting her civilly, interacting with her
without being affected. This was a good start.
Siddharth took a deep breath and knocked on her door.
No answer.
He knocked again. It opened a tiny crack, half her face peeping out.
He frowned — “Open the door.”
“Why are you here?”
“Open the door Tara, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing…” her eyes zeroed in on the bag in his hand. She extended one
arm to grab it but he pulled it back, suspicious. Was her boss in there with
her?
“Open the door, Tara, and that’s not a request,” he commanded. Her nostrils
flared. A second passed, and then she opened it another few inches, half her
body visible. But barely. She wore a… silky white gown? He peered,
wondering what the hell was going on.
“Give it now,” she reached for the bag and he let her pull it.
“Why are you acting like this?” He asked.
“Nothing. Now you go!” She jerked the bag but he jerked it harder, pulling
her from the gap in her door and right into his arms, all warm silky fabric
on the body of his dreams. Siddharth’s blood boiled. She was wearing a
slinky nightie? He saw red.
He pushed her into her room and stomped inside, readying himself to
confront the nerd boss. Instead, he saw an empty bed with a book and a pair
of spectacles.
“What are you doing! Get out!” She came barrelling behind him. That’s
when he turned, and took a good look at her. Hair up in a bun, face without
any makeup as usual, milk chocolate skin shining under the slinky white
material of her lace nightie. It was a gown but barely reached her ankles,
the spaghetti straps thin enough to be invisible on her pretty shoulders.
“Who are you wearing this for?”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Is it for your boss?”
She reached up and shoved him hard, to which he gripped her biceps and
smacked his mouth on hers. Tara made a protesting sound, but her fingers
dug into the hair at his nape, clawing, pulling, punishing, as if asking why
he didn’t do anything that night. In response, his own body fired up, his
fingers grabbed her hips and yanked her up, knowing she was struggling to
remain on her tip toes.
“Sid…” she rebuked in his mouth. He let her breathe for a second, then
took her mouth again, even more fiercely this time, reaching up to pull her
bun down, messing it all up, stretching both of their limits to madness.
“Not again!” She panted, pushing at his chest with both her hands. But the
eyes that met his were drugged, desirous.
“What not again?” He panted too, his forehead on hers. Her face crumpled.
“I cannot get into this with you again, Sid. Please. I will not be able to come
out.”
He pushed back, as if zapped. She dropped her face in her hands and rubbed
hard, clawing her hair back and shoving the mass behind her shoulders. She
looked beautiful. But he forced himself to think straight, to bring himself
under control, to let his mind and not his hormones rule him.
“I am sorry,” he said.
“How will we do this for fifteen days?”
He shook his head.
“Tar…”
Her phone buzzed. She swiped it and plastered it to her ear.
“Tara, come down to the atrium, we are waiting,” her boss’s loud voice was
audible in the silence, even through her tiny phone speaker. Siddharth
glared at her.
“What for?”
“To go to the lighthouse.”
“Oh I completely forgot… I’ll be…”
“Say no!” He hissed. She glared back at him.
“What happened?” Her boss asked.
“Umm… nothing. I said I’ll be right…”
He grabbed her mobile and pressed the end button.
“What did we just talk about?!!!” She pushed his chest, completely
unhinged now, fighting to get her phone back.
“Do you have feelings for him?” He asked her, completely serious.
“What is it to you…”
“This is not some fit of jealousy talking, Tara. I am asking you from a
friend to friend. Do you have feelings for him?”
“Why would I tell you?”
“Because I know that he is trying to get you.”
“What? No! He is just looking out for me… That’s ridiculous…”
“Trust me, I know what a man smitten by you looks like.” I look at him
every day in front of the mirror.
She stilled, silent, as if thinking. Her phone buzzed again in his hand. She
snatched it from him and swiped ‘Accept.’
“Hello?”
“Are you sick? Even Rao has a headache. Do you want me to come up? I
have medicines in my bag…”
Siddharth glanced pointedly at her attire.
“No,” Tara voiced. “I am fine. I was planning to sleep early. You all have
fun.”
“I can stay if you want…”
“No. It’s ok, sir. You go.”
“Ok.”
She ended the call and set her phone on the bed, standing there quietly in
front of him. Siddharth thrust his hands into his pocket and pointed his chin
at the bag — “Check the sizes and text Subbu in case of any changes.”
“Ok.”
“Ok. Good night,” he turned to go.
Siddharth was at the threshold of her room when he felt the protruding
weight in his jacket pocket. He decided to let it be. But then took two steps,
paused, and reached inside his jacket to pull it out. Her eyes widened.
“This is for you.”
He set the tiny penguin soft toy with ‘The End of the World >>’ flag on her
vanity stand and left.

OceanofPDF.com
 13. Drake Passage
Their cruise ship, the Ocean Voyager, was a massive luxurious liner. It was
filled with scientists, researchers, environmentalists and philosophers from
twelve countries. Half of them were also politicians, here on this expedition
hosted by the Antarctica Treaty System to gather intel and influence policy
in favour of their respective countries. Some could even be double agents.
The veneer over their agendas was ‘research and a sharing of thoughts,
knowledge, and assessment on Antarctica.’
Antarctica Treaty System Delegation 2024. Better known as ATSD 2024.
Siddharth took the first half of the day acclimatising himself with the lot.
Some team leaders he knew from earlier conferences, some were new faces.
Their teams were busy getting settled into their rooms, just like his own
was.
He didn’t need much of settling to do. Even though he was used to luxury
living as a king at home, he had survived in a tent pod in the interiors of
Antarctica with nothing but water, nuts and his research equipment for days.
He could survive not putting his clothes on hangers one inch apart in his
suite.
“I look forward to discussing mineral mining with you, Dr. Solanki,” an old
Norwegian policy-maker shook his hand, moving on after their discussion
on second world countries and their rights in resource mining in Antarctica.
Siddharth thrust his hands in his pant pockets and walked to the windows of
the bow lounge. It provided the closest access to the water level via the
deck, making it the perfect spot to watch the tip of South America fall away
as their ship sped towards the white desert of Antarctica. His eyes roved the
screens in front of him, running their current location, navigation stats and
weather reports. He calculated in his head, his mouth tightening at the
result. If they hit the Drake Passage at this speed and with this forecast, it
would be a choppy crossing.
“You look tensed, sir?” Subbu came and stood to his side.
He pointed his chin to the screens. “At this rate, it will be a lashing. Inform
our team to remain indoors after midnight tonight, whatever the
announcements. On paper this looks like a lake, but it’s going to be a
shake.”
Subbu shuddered — “I still get nightmares about crossing Drake Passage. I
had thought of taking a nice big shot and passing out all night.”
“It will be all night and morning,” Siddharth pointed. “Take a double.”
“Right. I came to collect you for our sit-down before the delegation meet-
and-greet. The Ministry pointers have been drafted. But you wil need to
communicate our stands to the team before we let them loose among these
brains of the world.”
“Has everybody assembled?”
“Yes, sir. They are in the conference room assigned to our delegation.”
“Let’s go.”
————————————————————
“…and that’s our stand on India’s carbon footprint policy. Our government
would also like to talk widely about our solar power projects, which you all
have already been briefed on. Aside from this, do not speak in depth about
any of your research projects. There may be people who will needle you
about it. Do not be flattered, they do not mean what they say,” Siddharth
remarked brutally, the five heads in front of him listening with their eyes
wide and ears wider open.
“Now, do you have any questions?”
“No, sir.” “No, sir.” “I’m good, sir…”
He glanced at Tara, her face looking squeamish.
“Ok. Which of you folks is seasick?” He asked. None of them raised their
hands, least of all the girl with a determined expression and glasses sliding
down to her nose. The ship wasn’t tossing yet and already she looked out of
sorts.
“Subbu.” Siddharth commanded. And his assistant upturned a bag of
antihistamines, motion sickness patches and seasickness bands. Siddharth
picked out one of each for himself, pointedly slipping the stuff into his
pocket even though he wasn’t sea sick. After him, all of them reached into
the stash and filled their own pockets. Tara, as he had expected, came last.
“We are going to hit Drake Passage at midnight,” Siddharth went on. “It is
one of the most turbulent sea crossings of the world on a good day. The
forecast shows a smooth sailing until tomorrow but it will not be so. Do not
leave your rooms after midnight.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You have an hour. We’ll reconvene at the meet-and-greet dinner.”
As Siddharth began to wind up and everybody got up to leave, Tara kept
sitting, typing on her laptop.
“Don’t you want to get ready, Tara?” Her boss stopped by her seat.
“I need the WiFi to finish some emails.”
“Don’t be late, women do take long to get ready,” he laughed at his own
‘joke.’
“I’ll be on time,” she gave him a tight smile while Siddharth took longer
than usual to collect his papers.
Once the troop had left, he gave her a look.
“What?”
He shook his head, reached down, and pulled her glasses off.
“What?” She went to grab them.
“Quiet,” he slipped one hand into his pocket and plucked the lens cleaner he
had bought before boarding. “They are dirty.”
She huffed.
“I cleaned them yesterday, how did you manage to get them so dirty so
quickly?”
“I read a lot.”
“Or you touch your glasses a lot,” he smirked, bending to her eye level and
planting them back on her nose with a smile. She looked like she would
scowl, but then a begrudging smile curled her lips. She looked cute, cuter
than she had ever looked.
“Why didn’t you tell me your name is Tarini?”
“I didn’t hide it,” she frowned, ready to go to war again.
“I didn’t say you hid it,” he placated. “I asked why you didn’t introduce
yourself as Tarini?”
Her cheeks puffed, a small smile forming — “I don’t use that name except
on formal documents. It’s just Tara.”
He smiled, their eyes holding. The sea was bright outside the windows, they
were floating away to the end of the world, and the thrill coursing through
his body was from her gracing him with an eye contact longer than a few
seconds. Siddharth knew then, that he had drowned already.
Tara looked away first, rubbing a hand down her throat.
“Tell me the truth, are you seasick?”
“No.”
“Then why are you so down?”
“I don’t know. It’s just the blues. I am excited to do this, but it just hit me
that for fifteen days it’s nothing but this ship and wherever we dock.”
Siddharth nodded — “Either you make the dome your dungeon, or you
make it your glass house.”
Her eyes cleared of the haze they were in, peering at him like she could see
behind those words, and the meaning they held for his own life. Siddharth
straightened up, suddenly conscious.
“I’ll see you at dinner.”
————————————————————
The meet-and-greet dinner was black tie. He buttoned his black tuxedo and
stepped inside the ballroom, the air scented with perfume. The tings of
china and the clinking of glasses were punctuated by the tingle of
conversation. He wasn’t very hungry, having eaten bites here and there. And
he also knew what the night was about to bring. A tumultuous sea and the
first night of passengers onboard… he pitied the scientists and
environmentalists enjoying their alcohol with scrumptious hors d’oeuvres.
Siddharth mingled with them, going around greeting his contemporaries.
Here were some of the sharpest minds in this field from countries like
Russia, USA, UK, France, Japan and Norway, among others. And his eyes
were out for a certain girl from Baroda. He had conversations to make,
agendas to decode, allies to mollify. And yet, all he could think about was
how good she would look in whatever she would choose to wear, and what
a mess he would be fielding men’s eyes and hands off her.
“Hi,” a Brit with long golden hair and wide blue eyes sidled up to him. He
didn’t recognise her but he had seen her mingling in the philosophers’
circle.
“You are the Indian contingent leader, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Hello,” he went to step back but her palm slid up his bicep — “I was
just smitten by how hands-on you were with your team while boarding the
ship… have you done this before?”
“What? Gotten people up a slope of stairs?” He quipped dryly. She
chuckled, squeezing his bicep — “Suave and funny, I knew I had a thing
for Indian men for a reason.”
“Right,” he gave her a tight smile.
“I am Jenny, by the way. I am a Social Ecologist from Glasgow. And you?”
“He is the King of Nawanagar,” came a clipped voice from behind him.
Siddharth stifled his smirk.
“Oh…” Jenny looked up at him with pronounced interest. “Are you?”
He nodded.
“And we don’t touch our kings in India,” the voice pressed, making the
woman step back from him as if burned.
“I’m so sorry if you are offended, Your Highness…” she went to clarify.
“It’s alright,” Siddharth consoled, stepping up and patting her shoulder.
That seemed to relax her. But he could feel the angry glare from behind
him, and the sun itself rose again as that heat came in front of him, in a
simple white satin saree. But what magic it did to her! Siddharth was left
dumbfounded, with the scraps of bows holding her blouse together at her
back, her hair piled up to show all that smooth, milk chocolate skin he
wanted to lap up, and a glare to rival the sun.
“As a mark of respect, we keep our distance from our kings,” Tara educated
Jenny tartly, gave him a scathing look, and strode down the ballroom
towards the balcony.
“Excuse me,” he stepped away from the confused lady and began to follow
her. She didn’t stop, weaving through the guests and nodding at a gleeful
Murphy enjoying his drink, not even caring to slow down to see the stairs.
He was scared she would trip all over them but she climbed them
majestically and literally glided out of the party and onto the deserted
balcony.
“Easy there,” he hooked his arm around her shoulder blades and pressed her
back to him, their bodies in the blind spot of the party. Her breath caught.
“What’s with the green eyed monster, Tara?”
Her chest rose and fell slowly, her mouth that had spewed tart phrases now
sealed tight. Siddharth leaned down and nipped the tip of her ear — “It’s
not like you own me or anything.”
She jerked her ear off his mouth. “It’s embarrassing to see our team leader
flirting at the very first event.”
He chuckled, dipping his nose in the crook of her neck and taking a deep
whiff. Salt and musk and her — “Embarrassing to whom?”
She remained silent.
“Tell me, Tara. Embarrassing to whom?” He nuzzled his nose there,
tempted to dart his tongue out and take a taste.
“All this doesn’t suit you at this age.”
He laughed, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Her body tightened.
He felt the shift in the air from playful to serious.
“Tara?” He pulled back, grabbing her chin and turning her face to his.
“What is it?”
“Get lost, Sid.”
She pushed away from him and left, as if triggered. He stared after her,
wondering what was it that had transformed her from the possessive,
jealous, and somewhat pliant girl in his arms to this reticent woman.
————————————————————
A thud broke his sleep. Siddharth squinted his eyes halfway, feeling the
waves under him. The bed was fixed to the wall, but he could feel the
lurches as the ship hit choppy waters. Drake Passage. He reached out for his
phone, checking the time. 2.48 am.
Siddharth laid back in bed, willing sleep back. But the thuds continued. The
curtains on his window kept sliding back and forth with the thrashing
movements of the ship. He sat up in bed, ready to grab his reading when a
violent lurch threw him off the bed. He saved his head in time, but hit his
back hard. And his first thought was Tara.
He stumbled up to his feet, holding onto the wall until he could cross the
room. Once he was out the door, he ran, keeping one hand firm on a wall.
The ship lurched from side to side, noises from rooms of people falling off,
throwing up, screaming echoing in the alley.
“Hello,” the overhead PA system got activated. “We have hit a surprisingly
rough patch in the Drake Passage. The Captain expects another few miles of
turbulence before we sail into smoother seas. Please hold on to a fixed
surface close to you.”
Siddharth hoped she had held onto a fixed surface. He reached her room
and beat it. “Tara?”
No answer. The ship tossed, sending him across the passageway.
“Tara!” He slipped back, fisted his hand and kept thumping. “Tara! Open
the door!”
No answer. His heart lurched.
“Tara? Are you there? Tara?”
Nothing.
He rattled her door handle and it gave away. Siddharth felt the momentum
of another lurch slip him into her room but the room was empty. Some
furniture had slid around but she wasn’t on her bed. He went to the open
bathroom. Empty.
His heart rate accelerated. Was she injured and at the clinic? He turned and
ran, this time not even holding onto the side, fear gripping him. Siddharth
climbed up to the main deck area and began to make his way towards the
clinic when his eyes fell on a lone figure on the deck. On the deck!
The waves were lashing below, the ship was tossing, and there she was, still
in her saree, her pallu wrapped around herself, sitting on a fixed lounge
chair under the elements. Siddharth lost it. He strode to her — “Are you out
of your mind?!”
She startled up.
“We have hit the roughest patch and you left your room! I had explicitly
ordered everyone to stay in after midnight. You can think whatever you
want about our history or us, but I am your boss here. I am responsible for
you here. I protect you here. And you listen to me!”
She was shivering, looking up at him like he was spewing Hebrew.
Siddharth grabbed the edge of his hoodie, pulled it off and threw it over her
head. She plied her arms through the sleeves until her upper body was
covered from the frigid winds. He felt his own thin T-shirt stick to his skin
with the lashes of sea wind but he endured them, pulling her up by the
shoulders.
“Sid…”
“Are you mad? You were trying to kill yourself here? One wild toss and you
could have been in the sea! How did the security allow you up here?!”
“I was…” she pushed her hair behind her ear and he zeroed in on the spot.
“Are you hurt?” He thumbed her temple, pushing her under better lighting
to check.
“No, Sid,” she held the back of his hand, her eyes for the first time meeting
his without him forcing her to. “I am not hurt. I just wanted to make this my
glass dome.”
He gaped at her. The ship kept tossing on the waves, the winds kept lashing
his back. And she kept gaping at him like a child waiting for her
punishment. He let out a reluctant chuckle, pulling her closer until he had
secured them both under a deck canopy and stuck their bodies to a wall. Her
body cooperated with his.
Siddharth lowered them both with the wall behind him and wove his arm
through a fire extinguisher handle, pulling her arm through the handle too
until they were both tethered to the boat, just in case. She was in front of
him, sitting with her back to his chest, his legs on either side of her.
He pushed his fingers in the back of her head, turning it to him. “Are you
feeling better now?”
She nodded. “I didn’t think it would be this dangerous, or I wouldn’t have
come out.”
“How long have you been here?”
“An hour.”
“And when the ship started lurching and waves started rising, you didn’t
think to go back?”
“I thought if I face it head on, I will never be scared of it again.”
His face softened. Siddharth pressed his mouth to her temple and pulled her
closer into his body, finally able to breath easy. She was ok.
“Why did you come searching for me?” Her small voice chimed.
“I fell off the bed with the patch we hit fifteen minutes ago. I couldn’t help
but come and check if you were ok.”
“Is this type of thing normal?”
“It’s usually the second night when the sea is choppy. The forecast didn’t
show tonight to be as bad.”
“But you warned us.”
“I read the charts.”
“So you know more than the forecast gods?”
His body shook with quiet laughter. “If I said I do, would you listen to me
the next time?”
“No.”
“As I expected.”
“You are not my king.”
“But apparently convenient enough to make your king when in company of
beautiful women.”
Her body tightened. Again. But this time, he had her in the middle of his
knees. He tightened them around her, preventing her escape.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Spit it out right now Tara, or I know ways of getting it out.”
“No.”
“Are you sure?” He dipped his nose into the crook of her neck, pushing her
hair behind. His hoodie barred his access to her skin, so he nipped the edge
of her throat. She shuddered.
“Why did a woman touching me trigger you, Tara?”
“It did not trigger me,” her voice was hoarse.
“Then why did you push past me when I asked you,” he puckered his lips
and left a featherlight kiss behind her ear. “You like to fight with me.”
“I don’t like anything with you.”
“Lie,” he tugged her earlobe gently between his teeth, then lapped it.
“I hate you.”
“Lie,” he trailed his breath up the side of her face, to the edge of her mouth.
Her eyes cut up to his.
“Tell me, Tara.”
“How many women have you already been with on this trip?”
He stilled.
“See? No answer,” she began to pull her arm out of the handle but he
gripped it tight.
“I have an answer,” Siddharth snapped. “Zero.”
“Then on the last trip?” She taunted.
“Zero! What is this crazy question?”
“Why so offended, Rawal saheb? Heartbroken king in India, Casanova
abroad.”
He frowned. What was she… then it clicked. She had heard all of their
conversation that night. Siddharth thought back, all the words spoken
between him and Maan imprinted in his memory. Maan had been angry,
painted him into a heartless womaniser. Some of it had been true. But…
He felt Tara’s body begin to rise out of his and his knees tightened around
hers. “Don’t you dare run away again after throwing this allegation at me.”
“It’s not an allegation if it’s true.”
“And how do you know it is. Were you with me for the last 10 months to
see which woman’s arms I went into?”
She remained silent.
“Were you with me to see which woman I saw in my dreams?”
Her arm twitched, her fingers trying to shove away from his. He squeezed
them tight.
“Were you with me to know what I looked at every time I saw a riot of
curls?”
Silence. He circled his free arm around her shoulder blades and held her
firmly, his voice softening — “I was a man on my own for 10 years. I am
not proud of where I found myself when I went abroad. But ever since I met
you, I have not sought anything but you in my dreams.”
Her chest shivered, even under his hoodie. And he knew this time it wasn’t
the cold. So he pressed her back tighter into him, lowering his forehead
until it touched her temple. Tara’s eyes cut to his again. And this time their
eyes met across a clear path, as if the fog that had hung between them ever
since they had met again had been lifted.
“Do you believe me?”
“I want to.”
He smiled — “Which secret do you need me to share to make you believe
me?”
She chuckled, her head lowering, telling him of how he had affected her.
She didn’t say anything else then, neither did he. And they sat there, in an
alcove of the deck, waiting for the ship to cross this choppy patch.

OceanofPDF.com
 14. Take The Plunge
For the next two days, their time was spent working — his mingling, and
his team’s sitting on conferences sharing limited parts of their research
while they gleaned others’ projects. The philosophers had their own
conferences.
Until they docked on the research station in Antarctica, the realtime work
would not begin. And the choppy waters of the Drake Passage made it
difficult to spend a lot of time on the deck. Whenever there was a stretch of
smooth sailing though, the ship staff would host activities or do trivia talks
and presentations outdoors. People would meet for drinks, chill in the
heated pools outside or just hang out getting comfortable together.
His and Tara’s equation had progressed. It had gone from her cold glares
and angry snarls to cordial pleasantries. They moved around one another
with better ease at breakfast, briefings and dinners. He still did not like
Nadeem having all that crazy amount of time with her, but Siddharth curbed
his basest instincts and rewired that energy into his work. They would be
landing on an American Research Facility in Antarctica to run experiments
on deep-sea exploration on the coast, their potential benefits v/s
repercussions, and how to frame policy for fair distribution of exploration
rights.
Until that time, he had to glean the mood of other countries’ reps, prep
India-leaning policy framework, and consult with the Ministry of External
Affairs. It was a full time job.
He rubbed his temples after a particularly gruelling call and exited his
room. The PA system got activated.
“Hello, this is to inform you that we have entered the Polar Front, which
means that officially, we are in the Antarctic Region. If you get to your
nearest window, you will be able to see tiny, lone iceberg islands in the
distance. We are also thrilled to inform you that we will be running a polar
plunge hour this noon. Those interested to take a dip in the frigid waters of
the Antarctic Circle may sign up at the reception. Thank you.”
Siddharth climbed the steps to the hull and then to the open deck. The buzz
was real, people already discussing the merits and demerits of polar plunge.
He knew for a fact that most of these scientists were either unadventurous
or too old to medically be allowed to jump into -2.5 degree celsius water.
But there stood one particular philosopher, her head thrown back, eyes on
an albatross circling their ship as it sailed.
“Still fixated on birds,” he remarked, slipping his hands in his pants
pockets. Tara’s head swivelled to him, the awestruck expression on her face
amplifying — “This bird has been following our ship!”
“Albatross,” Siddharth eyed it. A massive bird with wings that expanded up
to 12 feet. “They love following ships.”
“It’s like being inside the pages of an encyclopaedia! I have seen these kind
of birds and icebergs only in my childhood books…”
“And now you get to take a dip in it.”
“Are you going?” She questioned.
“Are you?”
Her mouth twisted playfully. It made him step closer to her, hands still
thrusted in his pockets. He didn’t trust himself near her with his hands free.
“Tara?” He raised one brow, and she broke into a grin — “Yes! Of course,
yes. When I got to know that Nadeem Sir was taking me along on this
expedition, I did my research. And this polar plunge sounded…”
“Like embracing Antarctic?” He offered.
“And taking it inside you,” she completed. “Bringing it back home.”
Siddharth grinned — “Did you sign up?”
“I was about to. And you?”
“You think I’ll let you jump into this water alone?” He quipped, taking
steps back, ready to write both their names together.
————————————————————
“Tara, are you sure? This seems like an invitation to hypothermia…”
Nadeem’s annoying voice welcomed him as Siddharth stepped out of the
lowest floor and onto the diving board area. The cold winds were nipping at
his skin, the scenery all blocks of pristine ice islands floating on the bluest
crisp water. What caught his eyes though was not the whites and the blues
of Antarctica, but the woman in red in front of it, winding her hair up in a
bun.
Tara in a swimsuit. Tara in a swimsuit that plunged down to her lower back,
leaving all that skin bare to the elements and his gaze. Tara in a swimsuit
that hugged every curve of her body, making him want to use his hands and
lips to mould down every slick surface.
His body heated up, feeling like a 100 degrees in this cold. Siddharth took a
deep, frigid breath, willing himself to relax, adjusting the girth of his
swimming trunks.
“Oh, sir? You are also going for the plunge?” Nadeem grated. Tara’s eyes
whirled. Not to his face, but to his chest.
He stood a little tall, enjoying the gleam of appreciation in her eyes as they
trailed down his pecs to his torso, running down to his happy trail that
disappeared into his swimming trunks. She swallowed, making his own
mouth water. His stomach tightened.
He was proud of his workout schedule. Few men at his age and with his
workload had the time or the drive to workout. He didn’t have much of a
personal life except Samarth, and even he was at boarding school since
three years. It left him with ample time to give to his body. And it showed
in the athletic build that he maintained with disciplined eating and an
adventurous lifestyle.
“Ready?” He asked her. Dark, desirous eyes were suddenly up and on his.
Tara hesitated, and he smirked.
“Go, King! Go!” Subbu came cheering from behind him, the other team
members trailing close. None of them had signed up. In fact, except the two
of them, only four other guests had signed up. One of them was the woman
from Glasgow. Jenny, was it?
She walked past Tara and came to him, her neon green bathing suit more
skin than suit.
“Your Highness,” she did a pathetic attempt at deep curtsying, her cleavage
making its grand entrance. Siddharth turned his eyes away, meeting the
fuming ones of Tara.
“We don’t curtsy in India,” his lioness hollered.
“Oh,” Jenny quickly jumped to her feet. “Then how do you greet a King,
Your Highness?”
“Like this,” Tara folded her hands in ‘Namaste’ before he could reply.
Siddharth bit his lip.
“Jenny McCree?” The instructor called out.
“That’s me. Are you coming along, Your Highness? They are throwing us
together in pairs.”
“I’ll go with my team member,” Siddharth nodded back at Tara.
“Right,” she chuckled. “I’ll see you on the other side then.”
He nodded, his eyes bugging out as she folded her hands in Namaste and
bent low. Low enough to again have her cleavage wave at him. He looked
away in the distance, folding his hands.
“You could have gone with her,” Tara flipped airily as he crossed the diving
area to her. They stood side by side, looking on as the crew got the tethers
ready.
“Then who would have saved the sea from you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You jump in taking all that heat, you’ll melt my precious icebergs.”
Her chin dipped down. His sappy attempt at a joke/pick-up had worked. Not
bad, he told himself. You’ve still got it.
“For an old man you do maintain a decent body.”
“You checking out an old man’s body? Shame on you.”
“Don’t wilt in there.”
“You warm me up if I do.”
“Or Jenny can.”
“Good idea.”
Her mouth dropped open. Tara turned to face him just as they heard the first
splash, followed by a second. As soon as the first pair had jumped, the
instructors pulled them back to the ship by their tethers and they climbed
the ladders grinning and shivering, cussing, hooting.
Jenny and her partner went next.
“Sid and Tara!” The instructor called out. He felt Tara’s shocked eyes on
him as he stepped up, holding up his arms to let them tie the tether to his
waist.
“Remember, jump in and immediately start swimming back. The water is -3
degrees celsius, not conducive to stay in for more than a few minutes,” the
instructor relayed.
“Go, sir!” His team hooted from far behind. Siddharth raised one hand in
acknowledgement. “Go, Taraaa!!!” They sing-songed and she laughed.
Laughed. The wind was blowing wisps of escaped locks back from her face,
her body already shuddering under that excuse of a bathing suit. She looked
exhilarated.
“Ready?” He asked, taking steps to the diving board for two. She joined
him, her own tether tied. He reached out and rechecked.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me, Tara.”
“How do you know?”
“Your stomach has tautened,” he tugged her tether tight and straightened.
They looked at each other, grinned, then looked down.
“3, 2, 1…!” And they jumped.
Ice cold. Shock. Water. And his hand reached out for hers. Hers must have
reached out for his too because he found it all too easily, her fingers
melding into his as they came up for air together.
“Wheeeeew!” She flung her head from side to side, a wide grin on her face.
“I’ms so collllllddddd!”
“Don’t wilt off,” he laughed, letting the tethers pull them both back. Just
before they were to climb up the ladder he hollered — “Drink it up, take it
home!”
And she opened her mouth to take in a gulp of salty Antarctic water.
Siddharth held her hips and thrust her up the rungs of the ladder, making
her ascent easier, climbing behind her. The instructors stood there with
warming bathrobes open for them and they each slipped in, their teeth
chattering.
“Here, drink this…” her boss came with a shot of vodka. Tara was about to
reach for it when he held her wrist — “No. Alcohol lowers your body
temperature, though it may make you feel otherwise. Come with me.”
He tugged her, shivering and pale, all the way to the special hot indoor
whirlpool opened for the polar plungers. The four previous participants
were already there, submerged, sharing moans and laughs. Steam billowed
out of the water. A glass window overlooked the icy wilderness of the ocean
and the icebergs.
Siddharth closed the door, untied her robe for her and helped her in. Then
followed, sitting down beside her and pulling her closer under the water.
She came willingly, her legs going across over his stretched ones, her
shivering skin feeling cold in this hot water. He rubbed her back, their spot
far away from the others.
“Relax, breathe in, breathe out.”
“What a banger, mate, innit?!” One of the participants hollered to him.
“It was,” Siddharth hollered back, then softly, “In, out. That’s it. Relax your
muscles so that your body can come out of shock.”
She nodded, throwing her head back. He reached out and opened her wet
bun, pushing her head to take a warm plunge. And when she came up, she
was in a much more relaxed state, albeit still cold.
He rubbed her thigh. Her body tightened. Siddharth stopped. He gazed at
her, she gazed back. He glanced around. The pool was huge, everybody
occupying their own spaces and relaxing, all eyes on the vista outside. The
only eyes he was wary of were that of Jenny’s but she had just left looking
like she needed a full-body blood transfusion.
“Siddd?”
His gaze stuttered back to hers.
“Kkkkiss me.”
Siddharth threw caution to the winds and slammed his mouth on hers,
pushing his hand into her wet hair. She clung to him, turning in his arms,
half-straddling his thigh, her swimsuit-clad body moulding to his bare
chest. He could feel her nipples, taut and needy, her wet core moving over
his erection. His tongue lashed out against hers, tasting every last corner in
case this was the last time he ever tasted her. She used her height straddling
him as an advantage and thrust both her hands in the back of his head,
coming at him from above and kissing him harder, using her tongue to
subdue his.
He tore back, enraged — “Who taught you to kiss like that?!!”
She gaped at him, floundered. Siddharth gripped her nape and pulled her
face down until their noses touched — “Who, Tara?”
Her nostrils flared.
“Don’t try to look offended because I haven’t let anybody kiss me since you
did.”
The righteous indignation melted away to give rise to shock. And then, her
chin dipped, or tried to.
“Tell me, Tara.”
“Nobody.”
And he pulled her back, tugging her hair, grinding her hips, surrendering to
her mouth, letting her tongue overpower him. It was the best warming up he
had ever had after a polar plunge.
“Sid,” she pulled back, her gaze going around them, suddenly conscious.
He too glanced around. The three other strangers weren’t ogling them. Yet.
But there remained a thin line between their silent kisses and hissed words
turning into something louder. Fiercer.
“Yeah,” he breathed, pulling her off his thigh and settling her back down.
“I’m sorry.”
“It was to warm ourselves up,” she justified quietly to him.
“Yes, to warm ourselves up.”

OceanofPDF.com
 15. Companion
That afternoon, they docked on the harbour of Port Lockroy. It was an
island with the southernmost post office of the world and the only post
office of Antarctica. If they wanted to make any calls or communication
back home, this was the final post before they lost touch. Here on out, they
would have the weak ship WiFi and Satellite phones, but once they docked
on the research station, even those would be gone.
Their troop took Zodiac boats from the ship and rode to the shore. And what
a beautiful shore it was.
Siddharth sat beside Subbu, Tara way ahead of him in the line on the
periphery of their Zodiac boat. He could see the back of her head and the
tight shoulders under her bright red polar jacket. And the whites and blues
around her looked even more beautiful.
“Look! Penguins!” Murphy exclaimed, drawing all eyes to the line of
penguins paddling out of the water and towards the post office. Siddharth
grinned.
“Gentoo penguins,” he enlightened. “They live around this post and mostly
own it.”
Laughs passed around, the Indian and Norwegian teams in the Zodiac
looking out awed.
“They are not scared of humans?” One of the Norwegian philosophers
asked.
“Those operating this post office are told to keep their distance from the
wildlife, just like we were told before we left. But over time, the penguins
here have gotten used to human life. Almost like friends. As long as we
don’t disturb them, they don’t disturb us. See?”
They all turned in unison, gasping as tens of penguins flapped their feet on
snow, walking in a perfect, disciplined line up the dock, towards the black
and red post office. Some penguins stepped out of the line, mostly in twos,
nuzzling each other.
“Awww…” A Norwegian delegate cooed. “Are they mating?”
“No, they are romancing,” their tour guide explained. “When a penguin
reaches adulthood, it finds its companion, sings unique songs to woo it, and
then sticks to it. Even when they part to forage for food at sea, they always
find their way back to each other, year after year.”
“Wish humans were that loyal,” somebody snorted.
“Half the world’s problems would be solved.”
Siddharth felt a sharp gaze on him. He whirled. It was Tara. Their eyes held,
for a second longer than a moment. Then he looked away.
All their Zodiac boats docked on the shore one by one, and he was the first
one to get off. He held his hand out to help them all, until Tara. She
hesitated.
“Come,” he said, not looking at her. And her cold hand fell into his.
Siddharth clasped it tight, even though the crossing over wasn’t too tedious.
And he felt her fingers grip him equally tight as she braced and jumped
ashore. Her feet landed on the powdery snow and a surprised giggle left her
mouth. He smiled.
“Antarctica.”
Her thrilled, delightful eyes met his — “Antarctica.”
Siddharth helped the rest of the troop over, eyeing Nadeem follow Tara like
a lovesick puppy as their tour guide took them towards the museum. He had
seen it all, so Siddharth went straight to the postage shop. He didn’t know
why he was doing this, but his hand reached into his pocket for some loose
change.
He bought an airmail inland letter, grabbed a pen from the counter and
stood on one of the windows overlooking the museum. Colonies of
penguins were foraging outside. Tara was taking photos of them on her
phone, Murphy, Rao, Subbu and Nadeem scattered around with the other
guests. Nadeem came to her and raised his phone for a selfie, and she
happily posed.
Siddharth set the paper on the windowsill, uncapped the pen and began to
write —
Dear Tara…
————————————————————
He submitted the sealed letter addressed to Tara’s college P. O. Box address
from the team file he had. And then, he paid a small fortune at the counter
to use their satellite phone to make his most important call of the day.
The ringer went on, longer than he had expected. Siddharth checked the
time, calculating. It would be night, he would be in his room. He didn’t
have any practises scheduled now as they inched towards Christmas break.
Where was he?
Just as he was about to hang up, the phone connected with a crackle.
“Hello?”
“Thank god you picked up. I paid a small fortune for this call.”
His son chuckled — “How are you, Papa? Are you already at Port
Lockroy?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Your ship has free WiFi.”
Siddharth snorted. That his teen son kept tabs on his itinerary and made it a
point to know his whereabouts wasn’t unheard of. Yet, it made him want to
jump through the phone and squeeze him to his chest.
“I am the parent, not you.”
“Wasting precious money,” Samarth repeated his own line to him.
“You are talking too quick too much, Kunwar,” he teased.
“Kshama, Rawal.”
Siddharth laughed. “How are you? How was your Geography paper? We
couldn’t talk last night. The WiFi has become very patchy.”
“I am good, Papa. Geography went ok. I’m not very good at it.”
“Your father is an environmentalist and wandering the deserts of Antarctica
and you say you are not good at Geography!”
“It’s too much to rote… all the mineral mines and water currents and
topography charts.”
“I’ll have to give you special tuitions when I come back.”
“Ava is giving me tuitions… I mean, she helps me if I need it…”
“Ava, is it?” Siddharth drawled. “Would her full name be Avantika by any
chance?”
“Umm… yes, Papa.”
He could visualise his prim and proper Samarth squirming red in his
boarding room.
“The cricketer Avantika?”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Are you treating her respectfully?”
“Yes.”
Siddharth let a moment of silence pass, let the gravity of this question settle.
Then — “Good. Now, I will be back on 7th January. How long are your
vacations?”
“My vacations are all through January till February-end this time. They are
renovating the west wing and the other wings are needed for 12th board
exams.”
“What about polo?”
“The club has two tournaments before March but the final schedule is not
out. And the coach says he will oust the list only once he knows the venue
and the dates.”
“Great, so you’ll be home.”
“Yes.”
“Alright. By the way, I’ve bought you the best gift from here,” Siddharth let
out a quiet laugh, turning the pack of ‘baby penguin’ coasters around in his
hand.
“Is it another ‘Bad Boy’ mug?” His son grumbled. Siddharth could see
those two sweet eyes rolled back.
“No!” He protested. “That joke is stale.”
“Wait till I start getting you old man souvenirs, Papa.”
“I am 37 and not old at all.”
“Only when you don’t keep a beard.”
Siddharth laughed, running a hand down his clean-shaven chin.
“You tell me to keep it,” he accused.
“That’s because otherwise you don’t look authoritative enough.”
“Alright, I am running half your inheritance on this call. We can discuss the
merits and demerits of my beard later. I am going to go now, mostly I will
be out of coverage for the next 10 days. If there’s an emergency, contact the
McMurdo Research Station and they will track me down. Ok?”
“Ok, Papa.”
“Ok, then…”
“Papa?”
“Yes, beta?”
“No, forget it. Bye…”
“Samarth?” Siddharth stressed in his ‘father’ voice. “Tell me.”
A pause. Then — “Nothing.”
“I am starting to worry. You better tell me.”
Another pause.
“Samarth.”
“No, I was just talking to Ava about things…”
“And?”
“And I realised that I can talk to her about anything.”
Siddharth smiled. “That’s good.”
“Yes… but then I was thinking that… who do you talk to?”
“To you,” Siddharth grinned.
“You tell me everything?”
He snapped his mouth shut.
“All these years, after Mummy had left, did you have somebody to talk to?”
“Your Dada Sarkar.”
“You told him everything?”
Again, Siddharth didn’t have an answer. He did not lie to his son.
“Papa?”
“Yes?”
“I wish you had somebody to talk to too.”
His gaze flickered up and out of the window, Tara walking in one single line
behind the penguins, adorable in a rare playful mood. It was so strange that
among the crowd of penguins and people in red, yellow and black jackets,
his eyes found her without even searching.
“I did not want to make this weird, Papa…” Samarth’s voice crackled in his
ear. Siddharth startled.
“No, nothing weird about it. I am glad you have a friend you can share
everything with.”
“Yes. I hope you have one too.”
Siddharth’s throat constricted. Again, his eyes darted back to Tara, now
turning the corner behind the penguins, far enough to not disturb them but
close enough to experience their antics.
“Come on now, tell me good bye, I love you and I miss you so that I can
go,” Siddharth joked, knowing another eye roll was on its way from his
grown-up baby boy.
“Bye, Papa. I’ll see you back at home.”
“7th.”
“7th.”
A click, and the call disconnected, leaving him a hefty bill. And a strange
sensation in the centre of his chest. It was like excitement but with fear.
What was this?

OceanofPDF.com
 16. If
After a three-day voyage on choppy waters, they finally docked on the
silent white desert of Antarctica. It was haunting, chilly, but beautiful. The
unforgiving winds, the white expanses of unending ice floors, the crystal
blue sea that could freeze you to the bones within seconds… they were all
telling you how trivial you were. It was like being on another planet, where
nobody knew you, nobody cared about you, and nobody would come to
protect you. Because nobody existed.
The base camp erected was a few miles into the landscape, with a line of
community tents for all the delegates. Twelve special tents were erected
scattered, with personal en suites and larger spaces for the team leaders,
while a host of makeshift facades functioned as temporary researcher
stations.
They would stay here for a span of 10 days, conduct research on the surface
of Antarctica as well as in the deep sea off the shore, run discussions on
ethics, rights and responsibilities in Antarctica exploration, and basically
create a document meant for policy shaping.
As a team leader, Siddharth had to be the pole around which his entire team
orbited. So while he had to help them start their jobs, he also had to settle
them in their respective tents, make sure their needs were taken care off,
and they were ready to function.
The base camp was high-tech in its equipment, but not so much in its
accommodations. The tents erected were spacious enough but with nothing
except a single bed, a writing desk and a washing stand. Siddharth felt
guilty directing Tara to one of those, while he as team leader got a more
luxurious space with better amenities. He also felt uncomfortable that she
would have to share the community bathrooms.
“Tara?” He called out, stopping her before she moved inside her tent. She
stalled, glancing around. It was a hustle, as everybody was getting settled
in. Delegates of all countries were busy carrying their bags and
paraphernalia inside.
“Yes?”
“If you are uncomfortable using the community bathrooms, you are
welcome to use mine. Just tell me and I’ll be out of the tent.”
“Thank you, but no. I am ok here.”
He nodded, stepping back to let her go. The awkwardness between them
was growing like a chasm between two icebergs just broken. It wasn’t too
much in their daily interactions, but in these moments when… when he just
wanted to do something for her and she didn’t even grace him with an eye
contact, it was like she had shut herself off.
Siddharth trudged towards his tent, thinking back to Samarth’s words. His
son had never asked him about these things, and he had never brought them
up. For him as Rawal Siddharth Sinh Solanki, the King of Nawanagar and
the father of Samarth, life was just that. All his companionship needs had
been fulfilled when he had travelled abroad, in secrecy, with women who
understood that he was an unavailable man looking for a few nights of fun.
They had been looking for the same too.
This was the first time that his son had brought up such a topic. Maybe it
was his age, maybe the fact that he himself was going through a teenage
crush or a relationship (Siddharth hoped it was the former because Samarth
was too young to understand the dynamics of relationships). Or maybe his
friend… Avantika, had made him think things that otherwise shouldn’t have
crossed a 15-year-old boy’s mind. In any case, Siddharth sensed it as a sign.
A tiny one.
As his feet moved towards his tent, he began to toy with the idea of ‘if.’ If
Samarth was ok with him marrying again, if Samarth could accept another
woman in his life, if Samarth could not only accept but expect such a
companion for him… then maybe Nawanagar could too. Siddharth paused,
his shoes sinking in a soft patch of powdered snow. If she was a commoner,
would they still accept?
But even Maan had married Samriddhi, and Devgadh had accepted her with
open arms! It wasn’t unheard of for kings in their state to marry
commoners. It was just… unconventional. And as far as he had run from
unconventional since his divorce, Siddharth now was at a place where he
had to choose if the hard-earned stability in his throne was worth stirring up
because he had fallen in love with a girl 14 years younger than him.
His feet sank deeper, and he jumped up. Love. The word was alien. But it
felt so familiar. Like he had been feeling it all along, but gave it a name
only now. Tara. That had been the name of this feeling all along, and he had
thought he had been obsessed with her. He had. But it had been more than
that. If she walked away from him and was happier than she was with him,
even today, he would carpet her path away from him with roses and mogras.
But, he glanced behind his shoulder, eyeing the walls of her tent. But, she
didn’t look like she was happy. He thought back to that night in Devgadh,
under the orange tree, when he had blurted those two words. What if. Hope
had sparked in her eyes.
If he asked her today, would that hope still be living there?
“Siddharth! Team leaders’ meet in 10,” one of the other leaders hollered at
him. He raised his hand in acknowledgement, pulling out of these thoughts.
It was a nice daydream to have. Not so nice if they had to live through the
repercussions.
————————————————————
Three days passed. Three quick days in a blur of work, meetings,
excruciating cold and sun all day and all night long. He did not get to think
about anything else, except, whenever he crossed Tara or sat down in her
vicinity for a meal, his mind would spark with that if.
But then duty would call, and he would be lost in charts and maps and
reports and discoveries.
Then, on the fourth day, it was like the invisible wall between them was
torn open by fate itself. Or a nosy meddler, depending on how one would
look at it.
“Alright guys,” he called them around, the sky snowing soft snowflakes on
them. Their watches showed it was evening but the sun was high up. His
team gathered around him, all of them on a coffee break from their own
gruelling schedules.
“Tomorrow I have to travel inland to an inactive uranium site. I will be out
for three days. In my absence, Subbu will be your team leader.”
“Who is going with you?” Subbu asked.
“Erik from Norway, Nancy from USA.”
“No, I meant from our team.”
“Nobody. It’s a team leaders’ visit.”
“But Erik and Nancy will also be coming with their own people.”
“Yes, their assistants. But you are busy here. Do you want to come?”
“No, I can’t. But I can’t let you go alone either. It’s the third guideline on
our safety handbook. Nobody, not even team leader will venture out on
their own in Antarctica.”
Siddharth glanced at the other five faces of his team, all bundled up, all
tired, all cold. Before he could open his mouth and choose Murphy, the
youngest and most energetic of the lot, Subbu beat him to it.
“Tara.”
“Absolutely not!” Siddharth cut him, feeling all eyes widen.
“We need all — Rao, Murphy and Dalai here at the research station.
Nadeem is the rep for their daily philosophers’ meets. Tara is the only one
whose schedule can be flexible.”
“No.” Siddharth began to step back. “You are the team leader in my
absence, the six of you stay here and stay together. I’ll be back in three
days.”
“It’s not safe to send you alone, sir,” Murphy pressed.
“I will not take Tara into a wild place where we don’t even know what the
conditions are after the site was abandoned.”
“I’ll go,” Tara enunciated.
“The living quarters will be very rudimentary,” he warned.
“I’ll manage.”
“You will not have anything to do there.”
“I can watch you people work.”
Siddharth pinched the bridge of his nose, then glanced at Subbu from the
side of his eyes. He was momentarily gleeful before the veneer of serious
concern fell back. The little shit…
“Subbu, come with me.” He started to stride towards his tent. Subbu ran by
his side, his bright orange parka glinting in the sun. Siddharth threw the flap
of his tent open and stormed in.
“What was that outside?” He thundered. Subbu didn’t even flinch as he
zipped the flap quietly.
“What, sir?”
“I know what you are trying to do.”
“What, sir?”
“Listen, drop the innocent act.”
“What am I trying to do, sir?” He had the audacity to bite his cheeks.
Siddharth advanced on him, and that got him to cower — “Ok, ok,” he held
his hands up. “But all I saw was an opportunity.”
“Don’t poke your nose where it is not needed.”
“But it is needed. You two are like these pining lovers who can’t do
anything. Somebody has to step in.”
He glared at Subbu, channeling all his frustration and rage from the last few
months. This time his assistant didn’t cower. In fact, he stepped up, not
even caring that his height was nowhere close to his.
“It is not obvious, what is happening between you two. But I can see it. I
have worked with you for five years, sir. Even if it is for a fraction of a year
every time, I have worked closely with you. And… you two look like a unit
when you stand together or talk or even do nothing in a room.”
Siddharth looked away.
“I am not pushing this onto you. You are free to take anybody else. Even I
can come with you, if that’s what you wish. But if you two need a minute
alone, then take her, sir.”
————————————————————
They boarded a small shaky sea plane. The six of them. Three team leaders,
three member delegates. Their plane took off from the sea because the
powdered shore was unfit. But it would fly a hundred miles inland and
would land on a thick ice sheet that was as close to a runway as they could
manage.
The small talk and the chatter inside the plane was about the uranium site,
its history and what could be done to create better transportation inland
without disturbing the ecosystem here. He remained quiet except when
asked, and Tara had nothing to contribute so she spent her time looking out
of the window. Siddharth wanted to look at her, but he couldn’t. She was
too good to see, even the little bit of her that was available. She wore her
red polar jacket, her curls open and all around her to keep her face warm.
No makeup, no embellishments, nothing but her. Just her.
And again that if came out to play. If he introduced her as his queen, what
would the result be? If he took her to Samarth as his step mother, what
would he say? But then… what would she say? Would she want to be a step
mother at 24? Would she want to tie herself to a man touching his 40s?
Would she want to leave all the fun things she could have done in her 20s to
become a queen with a limited circumference to move around?
And all the ifs blossoming in his mind withered.
Her eyes whirled from the window to him and he looked down. A small
laugh escaped her and he glanced up, seeing a small spark of amusement in
those usually dark, emotionless eyes.

“Su?”[8] He asked in Gujarati to avoid being understood by their group.

“Rawal sharmayı gaya,”[9] she quipped, those plump lips pursing in

amusement. She was accusing him of blushing! His brow went up.
“Tamaro vaaro bi aavse, Maraani.”[10]
Her expression shuttered. And Siddharth realised what he had said. He had
called her Maraani. The queen. Had he thought so much, so hard about her
as his queen in his head? His heart rate accelerated. And his stomach
dropped as the plane veered in a quick spiral, readying for landing.
He did not glance at Tara again.
————————————————————
As he had expected, the accommodations on the closed site were
rudimentary, even if made of stone. There were cottages made of wood
right beside the closed facility, but the interior was a big vacuum.
Thankfully, they had carried inflatable mattresses and Mylar thermal
blankets along with portable heating systems.
Siddharth got together Erik, the Norwegian team leader and the two
assistants who were men to set up the cottages, while Tara and Nancy
started unloading their meals in a common area of the facility. It took them
two hours before they put their heads together to restart the computers and
systems on the site.
“Why was this site abandoned?” Tara asked, wandering around the small
building with large slanting windows that brought sunlight in.
“The Russians and the Americans got into a tiff, or was it the USSRians
then?” Erik asked tongue-in-cheek to Nancy. She whacked the back of his
head. At 57, she could do that to the 40-year-old Erik.
“It was due to a conflict of ‘if the Uranium extracted here would be shared
by the two said countries mining it or the other ten countries of the
Antarctica Treaty System would also claim a share.’” Nancy explained.
“And now?”
“First we have to find if Uranium occurs here in industrial scale quantities
warranting …” Nancy trailed, the large screen in front of her booting to life.
Siddharth stepped up behind her, observing the system boot up. He saw
from the corner of his eye Tara wander off.
“Pitchblende,” Erik pointed. And they got to work tracking the depth of the
ore.
Siddharth didn’t realise where the time went. When he came up for air, the
sun was still there in the sky but Tara wasn’t in the building. He walked the
length of the slanted wall of windows, searching for her. He couldn’t find a
trace in this white desert. Nothing red.
“I’ll be back, guys,” he hollered, stepping out of the building and into the
stormy wind. It wasn’t snowing yet but the sky looked capable of wrecking
havoc on a day when they had just about settled at this camp.
“Tara?” He called out.
No answer.
“Tara?!” He strode down the building and towards the cottages. The
second-last one was assigned to her. He knocked. “Tara? Are you there?”
Nothing.
“Tara!” He rattled the door, its hinges so weak that it opened up to her
sleeping on the mattress.
“Hmmm?” She groaned. Siddharth felt his breath come easy.
“Are you sick?” He rushed to her, pushing her hair back to feel her
forehead. She was warm, but the sleepy kind of warm, cozy in her bed.
“Close the door! It’s cold…” she complained. And he kicked the door shut.
The only source of light in this one room cottage was a small glass pane at
the head. But the sun was out all day, illuminating the space like a summer
verandah.
“Why are your sleeping? It’s still evening,” he climbed on the mattress
beside her and crawled to her.
“I got bored and didn’t have anything to do,” she garbled, pushing her chin
into the collar of her red jacket, her hair all over her face. She was adorable.
Siddharth reached out and gathered her in his arms. She was still half-
sleepy, maybe that’s why she came willingly, her warm bed-head resting on
his chest.
“I told you you’d have nothing to do here.”
“I got some reading… but I was too tired,” she cleared her voice. “It’s like I
am on some other planet. This actually feels like Antarctica.”
“I would tell you that I’ll come entertain you any time you are bored, but I
have to go back in a few minutes.”
She laughed, the sound like the best music.
“Go, Sid. I can entertain myself. I came with you willingly.”
Those last words gripped him by the throat. They weren’t said in that
context, but nowadays his mind only veered there.
If. If she came willingly with him to his kingdom. If she came willingly to
his Nawanagar and became its Maarani. If.
“Why did you come with me?” He asked.
“Because I couldn’t let you go alone.”
“I will go back home alone too.”
Tara blinked.
“Sid, what are you trying to say?”
“That…”
“No, don’t say it,” she got up and pushed back from his arms. He let her go.
She pushed back until she was on the other side of the double mattress.
“Hear me out before I lose courage, Tara.”
A hollow laugh left her lips, her fingers clawing the mass of curls back from
her face — “Go to work, Sid.”
That did it. He got to his knees, grabbed her by her shoulders and pulled her
to him. She had no choice but to come on her knees too, her hands coming
to push him away. He held her firmly.
“I want you.”
“As what? Your kee…”
“Shut up!”
“I will n…”
“As my wife!”
That took her words away. Tara shook her head, raging to push away from
him. He circled an arm around her waist and tugged her until their bodies
were plastered together.
“Before saying no, hear me out.”
Her forehead fell to his shoulder, her voice so small — “We are away from
the world, it feels like a bubble… but in real life this cannot be, Sid. Please
don’t make me believe it.”
“Ok,” he soothed, stroking her hair. “Ok. Let’s talk hypothetical.”
Her head shook on his shoulder.
“Tara, listen,” he commanded. She stilled.
“We are apart in age, in social status, in economic status,” he analysed
brutally. “And yet, all I have thought about in the last ten months is you.
And how I can trick time to have you once again in my arms. It is not a
bubble. It is not because we are away from the world.”
“Then why didn’t you ask me this ten months ago?” She muffled, her words
so low that they were only vibrations in his shoulder. He pulled her head
back — “Because I did not know I could.”
“And now?”
“Now, I see hope.”
“What do you mean?”
“Samarth… he,” Siddharth chuckled. “That boy. My mature, intuitive son,”
he shook his head. “On a recent call he insinuated that he was ok with me
having somebody again. What insinuated? He literally pushed me to think
about my life, my companion again. I never brought it up with him, never
made it so that he would feel my life is lacking. But maybe he is beginning
to grow up… and like all things Samarth, in this too he thought about me.”
“And what about your family, your court, your kingdom?”
“I am ready to take them on if it comes to it. As long as Samarth is happy,
and you are happy, I am ready to take on everybody.”
Tara shook her head, unsettled.
“Look at me,” he framed her delicate face in his hands and nudged her eyes
up to his — “If I asked you to be mine forever, be my friend, be my wife, be
my queen — would you be?”
Her breath hitched. It was audible in the silence of the cottage. Moments
passed, moments that felt like an eternity. But no answer came from her.
Siddharth gave a nod. “I come with baggage. I come with a son, a kingdom,
my people and a life full of responsibilities. I have been thinking about this
for long days. It is unfair of me to ask you to answer right away. But Tara,”
he smiled. “I am ready. I want you to know that whenever you come to me,
I will be ready. I am the older of the two of us and I want you to know that I
will be ready even after a decade if you come to me. Say no if you want to.
Say yes. Say it whenever you want to. I will be ready.”
She looked even more conflicted. Siddharth reached down and pressed his
mouth to her brow, then got to his feet.
“I’ll be at the facility. The guys have planned dinner at 8.”

OceanofPDF.com
 17. The Dance
Siddharth got no answer from her. So he threw himself into work. The next
morning, he opened the facility before anybody else and tried to divert his
mind. How difficult would it be to take her ‘no?’ How shattering would it
be to see her go? How excruciatingly painful would it be to have her turn
away when he was ready to fight? But then, it was her choice. And he was
going to respect it.
He would spend more years searching for her face in dark curls and wander
more continents seeking solace from her memories. Siddharth chuckled at
his dramatic thoughts. He had a busy life. If she walked away today, he
would convince himself that she was happier without him and get on with
his kingdom and his life. It would seem impossible at first, but he had
known many impossible situations before that turned around eventually.
Parts of him had chipped off from time to time, but he had gone on.
“Where were you at breakfast?” Erik asked, stomping snow off his shoes
and stepping in.
“Wasn’t hungry.”
“Tara didn’t make it either. Is she ok?”
“Yes,” Siddharth frowned.
“Alright, what have you been doing?”
Siddharth got him up to date, just as the rest of the team filtered in. Once
they were all rolling and diverted, he stepped out. What was this hunger
strike just because he asked her to marry him? If she was acting the pricey
martyr then he was going to give her a lesson, Siddharth raged, striding
with double the speed towards her cottage. He knocked. She didn’t open the
door, as expected.
“I am coming in!” He warned and barged inside, only to find her room
empty. His temper swelled.
Siddharth began to turn away when he heard faint hints of music. He
stepped inside the cottage, looking for a phone or a laptop. But the music
was coming from behind the cottage. He rose on his tiptoes to peep out of
the high glass window. And there she was, on the white sheet of ice,
dancing.
He took quick steps back and dashed around the cottage. But did he have
the heart to blast her?
No.
Because she was dancing with abandon. One with the wind around her.
Siddharth stood mesmerised, his eyes filled with the most beautiful sight he
had ever seen. His ears filled with the most beautiful music he had ever
heard, one that even trumped her laughter. Her ghunghroo. She had carried
her dancing anklets with her?
He stood yards away from her, but she didn’t even notice him. She was
spinning in a whirl, in her red jacket, her hair tied in a tight bun, her heavy
anklets resonating with the music blaring from her phone. The usually tight
lines of her body swayed in the grace of kathak, her arms swirling, her face
so expressive he didn’t believe this was his Tara.
A song of raas leela was weaving through the air, and her feet, clad only in
socks, were thumping down on the snow. Like sparkles, snow dust spread in
the air around her feet, transforming her into some other-worldly nymph,
dancing on this continent far far away from people whom she couldn’t show
this side of hers.
Siddharth couldn’t feel his breath. He couldn’t feel his face. All he could
feel was his heart, beating just like it had beaten at his first sight of this
woman.
“Bahe pawan mand sugandh sheetal, Bansibat tat nikat Jamuna…
Vrindavan ki, kunja galin mein, Radhe gopi umang… niratat dhang, niratat
dhang, niratat dhang.”
She halted, her arm up and arched over her head, her feet at attention, eyes
closed in bliss, panting hard. He stepped forward, one step, two steps, three
steps, his feet speeding up with every step closer to her. She sensed him
then, because her body tightened. But her eyes still remained closed.
Siddharth took her wrist and tugged her sock-clad feet atop his shoes,
reaching up to pull her bun down. She panted, her eyes slowly popping
open.
“You are all the forms of feminine I have ever wanted and ever will want,”
he confessed, fluffing her hair around her face until it covered her from the
elements.
“I have felt more feminine in your arms than I did in all my dances
combined,” she confessed back, still panting hard, her eyes just as awed as
his voice. Hope stuttered back to life in his chest.
He bracketed her cold face in both hands — “Do I have you, Tara?”
She blinked.
“Do you want me, and all that I will bring — the good and the bad?”
She swallowed.
“Will one day come when you will want me?”
“It’s today,” she breathed, throwing her forehead into his shoulder. And he
felt everything — every burning breath, every little bristle of the wind on
his face. His heartbeat settled. Siddharth smiled, threading his fingers in her
hair, squeezing her waist to himself, snuggling her close like the precious
thing she was. His precious thing now.
“Tell me,” he urged.
“What?” She pulled back.
“Would you be?”
“Your queen, your wife, your friend?” Her wide eyes were full of awe at
every word.
“Mine.”
“Yes,” she smiled. “Yours.”
He leaned down and closed his lips around hers. It wasn’t like their
previous kisses, nothing urgent or hurried about it. Nothing was hurrying
them anymore. Nothing was hurrying him anymore, as if in her one yes, his
own life’s pace had come to a languid trot. Was this how it felt to be home?
Before this, he had only ever known what it felt like to be at the palace.
She circled her arms around his neck, pulling him down, her tongue
tangling with his, her cold face stealing warmth from his. Siddharth
laughed, picking her up and twirling her in circles. She giggled, the rarest of
the rare sounds from her, in complete abandonment, her hair flying, her skin
burnished gold.
Siddharth held her suspended in the air, her mouth again coming over his,
her hair a curtain over them. He carried her back kissing into her cottage,
kicking the door shut, their greedy mouths snapping back to each other after
every little breath they stole.
“Take off everything,” he commanded, tearing off his own jacket. She
looked down, then shyly reached for her jacket, the zipper making a shrill
sound in the silence. Siddharth stood back in just his thermal layers, seeing
her slowly peel layers off one by one, her movements shy but so sexy in her
ignorance of her own sensuality.
But then she stopped.
“You take off yours first,” she sassed, holding at exactly the same layers as
his. He grinned, fair was fair. And if it earned him her unconditional trust,
he would surrender everything first in this relationship.
Siddharth reached for the hem of his thermal T-shirts and pulled them all off
in one swoop. The cottage was toasty with the heating system, their bodies
producing the rest of the heat. He observed her eyes go to half mast, taking
in his chest, his arms, trailing down to his abdomen. He unbuttoned his
thermal jeans and pushed all the layers down, stepping out to be completely
bare to her eyes, giving her everything before he expected the same of her.
Her eyes were wide, her mouth open, and he swelled painfully hard seeing
that reaction. To be a woman’s first and to be her last. And for that woman
to be your everything. It was a high of its own. And he knew he would carry
it to his deathbed.
“Tara?”
Her eyes whirled up to his.
“Off.”
She swallowed, then reached for her own layers, slowly peeling them off.
His throat dried. She was… breathtaking. More than he had ever imagined.
All smooth, milk chocolate skin that shone under his gaze.
“Come,” he held out his hand. She took it, shivering, stepping closer and
closer until he had her in his arms. Electricity crackled through his entire
body at the touch of hers.
“Did you feel that?”
She nodded, reaching up to kiss the slope of his shoulder. He tautened. Tara
kissed her way up the column of his throat, to his stubbled cheek, to his
mouth. And he snared her there, crashing their mouths together and pushing
her down on the mattress.
She went willingly, her body lying there in languid ease. He had once
touched her blind in the dark of the night, but now she was in a continent
where the sun was high up day and night, illuminating her to his eyes.
Siddharth trailed his fingers down her taut, lithe body, his knuckles playing
her goose pimples, circling her pert nipples, down her navel and into her
sweetest part.
She closed her legs on him, turning into her side.
“Lie back,” he commanded, pushing her legs open, lowering his mouth to
the place that had already drenched his fingers.
“Sid!” She moaned just as he took a long lap, about to close her thighs
again.
“Open,” he held them back, his eyes on her, all of her.
“Come up here, this is too much.”
“We are going to be everything, Tara. There is nothing like too much
between you and me now.” He took another deep taste of her. “Tell me, did
you touch yourself in these ten months?”
“Yes!” She grumbled, her muscles already tightening.
“And thought about whom?” He circled her with his tongue.
“You!”
“And what was I doing?”
“Things…” she panted, moving her hips in tight circles under his mouth.
“What things?” He held her thighs steady.
“Sid, please!”
“What things, Tara?”
“You were holding me down and fucking me, daring me to come before you
asked me to! Happy? Now leave me!”
He grinned, suckling her one last time before giving her exactly what she
needed. And she came with another wild abandon. Just like she danced, but
better, because now she was naked and under his fingers.
“What else was I doing?”
“I don’t remember,” she panted.
“You want me to lap you up until you are ready and then hold you down
again? This time I won’t let you come.”
Her muscles shuddered.
“Tell me and earn your next reward, Tara.”
“You were… fucking me from behind.”
“Good.” He crawled up her body, his fingers trailing up her skin. “I will
fuck you from behind, and in a lot of ways, but today we’ll keep it simple.
You are not used to it, and the last thing I want is to hurt you.”
She nodded. He cupped her chin, tenderness threading into his voice —
“You can say no, Tara. You can ask me to wait and I will.”
“I want it. I want you. You are the first big decision of my life. The biggest
in fact,” she eyed his length with trepidation. He laughed out loud.
“Old men can hold their erections then…” she wondered aloud, trying to
stomp all over that ego boost.
“Make as many old man jokes as you want, Tara. The joke’s on you now,”
he poked her with his rock-hard length. “You are stuck with this old man.”
“Nudged too.”
He shut her up with a searing kiss, his hand reaching out to grope for his
wallet. He found it falling out of his jeans and pulled out a condom one-
handed.
“You said you hadn’t been with anybody in 10 months?” She tested.
“And condoms have a shelf life of 3 to 5 years. These have been in my
wallet longer than you have been in my heart.”
“Oh no! Only you can be so tacky and so sappy in a single sentence, Sid!”
In response, he covered himself and nudged her. She stopped short, her
thighs automatically widening for him.
“Ready?”
She nodded.
“I need you to relax.”
“Yes.”
“Do it. Now.”
“It doesn't happen with your command, Rawal!”
He bit her cheek and reached down a hand to toy with her. She gasped, her
body immediately slackening.
“That’s how it happens with my command.”
“Aah… Sid!” She gave a sharp cry. “Wait wait wait!”
“Ok, I’ve stopped… breathe,” he held himself suspended over her, his
length throbbing to be completely inside her. Her walls were tight,
squeezing him hard.
“No more old man jokes now?” He joked, making her vibrate with mirth.
And her legs relaxed again. Siddharth reached down and took one pert
breast in his mouth, his hips circling her gently just like his tongue circled
her nipple.
“Ooohhh… that feels… Sid that feels good…”
“Do you want me to move?”
“Mmmm…”
And he thrust, biting her nipple hard, hard enough to take away from his
penetration. She screamed, but screamed in pleasure, her fingers clawing
into the hair at the back of his head, pulling, twisting, gripping.
“Are you ok?”
“Yes!” She moaned. “Yes. Move. Please, move.”
And he moved, slowly thrusting out until she was empty of him, until she
grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back.
“Sid, move!”
And he flung his control out of the window, grabbing her wrists in his
hands, spreading her arms wide up, holding her down and fucking her just
like she had fantasised. Her head thrashed, her mouth spewed moans
dripping with his name, her whole body moved like a wave beneath him for
more and he let it go to the edge and back twice before he surrendered.
With twisted snarls they came, following each other, their bodies finding a
rhythm as if they weren’t a few hours old but a few centuries old together.
Siddharth collapsed on top of her, catching his breath.
No sounds. No noises. Nothing. Just them. And bliss.
“Are you really mine?” She asked softly, her arms squeezing his back.
Siddharth got to his elbows, hovering over her. He could see the clouds of
mistrust, so faint, but so there, passing through her eyes. His heart twisted
for this girl, now his girl. He wanted to burn the world that had made her
like this. So soft and vulnerable one moment, and then collecting sticks and
stones to start building walls around her heart again.
“I have hungered to leave,” he confessed. “All my life, I have thought
‘What’s next?’ My mother used to say that’s my nature, springing from one
place to another. The only time I have not wanted to leave a place for the
next was when Samarth was in my arms, and… with you now.”
Tears leaked from her eyes.
“Hey,” he clamoured to wipe them away. “Are you in pain?”
She shook her head, smiling through those tears. “This is sure now, right?
Us?”
“Tara I don’t know how more sure I can make this now. I am going to marry
you, I am yours. You are mine. We may have a few hurdles when we leave
here, but I am in. Nobody, not even you can tear me apart from you now.”
Her smiled widened, the tears still there but now he knew that they were
tears of her overwhelmed emotions. Then, very slowly, she held his face in
both her hands and pulled him down — “I love you, Siddharth.”
He startled. His whole face softened, reaching down to press a kiss to her
eye. Her lips puckered, the kiss landing on his jaw. How had he forgotten
this? She was so young, even if her outlook was so mature. And he was
inviting her into a life of opulence and uncertainty, palaces and snakes. She
had grown up in one, and that is why she probably foresaw that the cons far
outnumbered the pros. She would be forgiven time and time again to be
distrustful of him, his background, maybe even his intentions.
Siddharth sighed, holding the top of her head in his palm and turning to his
side, caressing his thumb over her forehead.
“I promise to you that I will always have your back. Anywhere. Whatever
happens, you will always have me. Hmm?”
“Mmm…” she sniffled.
“What now?” He nuzzled her temple.
“You didn’t tell me that you loved me,” she joked. “But I guess it’s a young
people think to say that to each other…”
He rattled with laughter, turning and pinning her arms over her head again,
his hips moving between her legs — “I love you,” he thrust, not even inside
her. “I love you,” he suckled the apple of her cheek, leaving a small mark.
“I love you,” he nipped the sweet flesh of her collar.
“I love you too!” She grinned, so adorable and cute that he wanted to go for
another round. But Siddharth glanced at his watch. It was already an hour
since he had been away from the facility.
“I need to go now. Or they’ll think something’s happened to the both of us.”
“Something did happen,” she was still grinning, playful.
“You hold that mood,” he commanded, jumping up to his feet. “I want you
exactly like this when I come back from work.”
“And I’ll what? Cook you your meals like a good little wife?”
“See? You are learning already,” he laughed, getting dressed. She threw her
balled-up jacket at his head, covering her beautiful body with a Mylar
blanket. Siddharth caught her jacket, unraveled it and folded it — “Come to
the facility if you’re getting bored here.”
“I have my reading to finish. I promised Nadeem sir that I’ll do the final
reports because he has to do all the talks without me…”
“Good for him. He should learn to do everything without you now.” He ran
his fingers through his hair — “You’ve made a mess of my hair!”
“And you didn’t make of mine?!”
He grinned — “Fair,” bending down to steal a kiss. “Finish your reading
and come. And don’t dance alone. If you are dancing, I want to watch.”
She looked away.
“What’s there to blush about that?”
“Are you going or no?”
Siddharth laughed, pushing the door of her cabin and exiting through a
small slit so that no frigid air entered. As he walked down the snow,
replaying the last hour in his head, after long years, he wanted to jump in
joy. The battle back in India notwithstanding, he was going to have Tara in
his life. Forever!
————————————————————
“Fast, Sid, fast…” she laughed, holding onto him as he moved at a languid
pace. The sun was still in the sky, albeit at an angle, signifying night. They
didn’t care. Ever since they had returned after dinner, they had been at it.
And he would have felt bad about keeping her up but she was clawing his
back and scratching his arms, urging him on. What could he do?!
“Wrap your legs around me,” he commanded, coming on his forearms. She
did as she was told, so eager. He tried to glare at her sudden perky attitude,
but a chuckle left him — “It’s like I am creating a Frankenstein’s monster.”
“Scared you won’t be able to keep up in your old age?” Her crossed ankles
dug into his lower back. He flexed, making her mouth fall open.
“You were saying?”
Her head fell back, her long, lithe neck opening up to his eyes and mouth.
Siddharth pushed the mass of curls away from her neck and lowered to
nibble, just as his hips picked up pace. He thrust and nibbled, finding a new
spot, recreating the necklace of love bites from their last night at the orange
orchard. She came even before he had finished nibbling the last bead at the
end of her throat. And he followed, sweat dripping from his forehead, her
arms embracing him to her bosom as he collapsed there, catching his
breath.
Even the air inhaled from her skin was sweet. Peaceful. Blissful.
“After I left Devgadh in January,” she said, her voice small. “I cried. I have
never cried like that. I cried without any reason. I would be on a roadside
stall with my friends, waiting for the samosa sandwich we ordered… and I
would think of you. Without any trigger. Without any reminder of you. It
was… like burning but in something worse than heat. Was it like that for
you?”
Siddharth lifted his head from her chest, meeting her wide, innocent eyes.
“I stopped thinking. After you, I could not get myself to think anything
other than my kingdom or Samarth or work. My teams hated me because I
did not stop working. If I stopped, I was scared I wouldn’t be able to start
again.”
He came up and lay on his back, taking her body on his chest.
“I should not be talking about her right now, but I need you to know that
what I feel here, with you, what I felt with you on our first night on that
cliff in Baroda… I did not feel with her. It was never this… real. In
hindsight now, I think we both knew it. And she was braver in saying it
aloud. Although, she left a small Samarth behind in her bravery and for that
I cannot forgive her. But I am today eternally grateful that when I met you, I
was a free man to pursue you, Tara.”
“Did you never sought to… marry again? In all these years…”
“I told you. I was done. I had lived my life. I didn’t want to show interest in
royal women prancing around me.”
“Heartbroken king in India…” she chuckled.
“Casanova abroad,” he completed with a bitter laugh. “Maan doesn’t mince
his words. On one level he is right. But on another…” Siddharth turned his
head and met her eyes — “I have never sought anything more than a night,
or a few nights with a woman. And it’s not as if I was out to break hearts. It
was… dry. A clinical exchange. I didn’t want to build a life again. And
yet…”
“And yet what?”
“And yet as I sat there paddling behind you on Mahi, listening to you yap
about my age, seeing you admire birds dancing over your head… then sass
back at me like I was a criminal out to harm you,” he smirked, “I had this
insane urge to have you go on and on forever. I did not want to move to the
next place. In fact, I hated moving away from you.”
“You won’t have to move away from me now, huh!”
He grabbed her hip and wrapped her thigh around him — “Anybody who
tries will face my wrath.”
She looked down, a soft, shy smile on her lips. Her head settled in the crook
of his shoulder, and he ran his fingers through her curls. Soft and playful
and unique, just like her. They sprung back however taut he pulled them,
snapping around his fingers, claiming him back. He loved it. He loved
everything now. The silence of an Antarctica night had never felt so
soothing to his senses. Knowing he wouldn’t have to move away from her
again was putting something elemental in him to rest.
“Will Samarth really accept me as a part of your family?” She asked, giving
him her big, skeptical eyes. “What will our relationship be like?”
He took a deep breath, hoping what he was about to say would come true,
word for word.
“He will accept you. Not because I’ll tell him to or because he is just that
good of a boy. He will accept you because you are wonderful. I have seen
you with strangers. And then I have seen you with the people you genuinely
care for. If you are the akdoo who doesn’t talk to strangers, then you are the
angel that keeps giving and doesn’t stop when it comes to your own people.
I have seen you with Samriddhi, I have seen Maan’s admiration, adoration
for you, I have seen how that palace lights up with you in it.”
“You give me too much credit. You are biased.”
“Not about this. Why can’t you see how perfect you are? You charmed my
son in that first meeting. You know he brought you up again with me?”
“When?”
“A few weeks later, when he came to ask me if he could start a mock-court
of his own with the youngsters and kids. He said, and I quote — ‘Tara Devi
told me a story and gave me this idea.’ And I said, ‘Who?’ Because I clearly
wanted to hear your name again. And he described you as the smart lady in
pink saree who was under the orange tree.”
Tara chuckled shyly, hiding her face in his neck again.
“Who else is there in your family?”
“My father, Bade Rawal Sarkar. He is the titular king for only ceremonies
because he has been paralysed and on a wheelchair for the last decade. His
condition has deteriorated over the years… but his mind is sharp.
Nowadays he has begin to forget though… sometimes he forgets the year or
which season it is. But that’s age…” Siddharth consoled himself, knowing
his father’s body was already gone, now his mind was going away from him
too.
“Will he fight you on this?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then?”
“It’s his sister, my Foiba Sarkar. She has grown stronger recently with this
Women Inheritance Bill. She may use our marriage, the age difference, the
fact that you are from a common clan and not even one close to our circle to
instigate the kingdom.”
“And?”
“And what? I won’t sit quietly and let her, of course!”
Tara sighed. “I have seen all this in our palace in Devgadh, I have grown up
surrounded by petty domestic politics, schemes hatched in the court,
underhanded dealings… all of it. In the last year especially, with this bill,
the palace has split into two. I don’t want to bring that atmosphere to your
palace.”
“Our palace,” he corrected. “And you are right. We will try our best to
smoothen as many ruffles as we can. I am not an impulsive person when it
comes to my kingdom, Tara, even though I may seem like that when
traveling. Don’t worry, I have thought hard about this. If I had even the
slightest inclination that we wouldn’t work, I wouldn’t have confessed to
you.”
“What would you have done?”
“Watched you go away and prayed that you remained happy.”
Her eyebrows shot up — “Sappy again, Sid. Sappy.”
He laughed, dragging her up and over his body. She was so tiny when he
held her like this, so delicate. “What would you have done?”
“I would have taken a photograph of you…” she started.
“Stalker!”
“Says the man who stalked me down the streets of Ushuaia!”
“You knew I was coming after you. How dare you walk away with your
boss?”
“You got me to say yes to marry you, what are you jealous of now?”
“I will be jealous of every gaze that lands on you when mine can’t.”
“But yours can now.”
“Yes,” he ran his eyes over her body, reaching between them to fondle her.
“Mine can. But back to you. What would you have done with my
photograph?”
“I would have spent… I don’t know how many weeks or months or years
looking at it, trying to get over it. Then one fine day, I would have burned it
and moved on.”
“Ouch. You are such an anticlimax.”
“Tough girl right here. If I don’t move on, I would go crazy,” she got up and
began to pull on her thermal T-shirt. His smirk fell.
“Tara?”
“Hmm?”
“Did your family trouble you again after last time?”
“Just the usual.”
“What does ‘the usual’ entail?”
She flipped her hair out of the neck and turned away, reaching for her
thermal jeans. “It’s nothing I can’t handle…”
Siddharth reached out and tugged her back to him. She gasped.
“Listen now, Tara, it’s not I anymore. We. And I am sure it is nothing we
can’t handle together, but I want to know if they abused you or harmed you
again.”
“No,” she lowered her eyes.
“If I discover they have, and you have lied to me, then you have had it
before them.”
“Arey! What is this gundagardi?!” She began to push back in mock
indignation but he just rolled over, trapping her under him. His naked body
over her clothed one.
“Take all this off! What is this? Where is your nightie from Ushuaia?”
“In my bag at base camp.”
“I won’t be so mean as to ask you to wear it here…” he nuzzled her neck.
“But once we are back in warmer places, you are wearing that and lots more
that I get you.”
Her chin dipped again.
“How are you such a tomboy and wear silky night gowns at night?”
She bit her lip.
“Tara?”
“Hmm?”
“Tell me.”
She growled. His tiny, delicate, kathak dancer of a fiancée growled!
Siddharth smirked.
“I started wearing them… after… after being with you.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to.”
“That’s not the answer I am looking for, try again.”
“We cannot all please you, Rawal saheb!”
“Try again, you can.”
If she wanted to be a brat, he had all the patience to handle one. Tara glared
at him, he glared back, not backing down. The stare-off lasted a while.
“It made me feel like I was with you,” she muttered.
“What did you say?”
“Being… girly like that… in silken night gowns, I felt how I felt in your
arms, with you. Not exactly the same, but it came close.”
Siddharth reached down and pressed his mouth to hers. Her long lashes
fluttered closed, tickling the skin of his cheeks.
“All your feminine forms are mine now,” he declared. “Only mine.”
“Yes,” she surrendered. “Only yours.”

OceanofPDF.com
 18. What Will Our Life Be Like?
After their relatively safe trysts at the inland facility, life back at the base
camp was going to be… difficult. Siddharth had anticipated it, but the
reality of it was getting on his nerves. It had been half a day back with
everyone else, and already he had lost sight of her. True, they had always
been at the opposite ends of the camp, hardly ever crossing paths except to
eat. But now things were different. Instead of avoiding her like the plague,
he wanted to tie her to his side and taker her wherever he went.
“It’s just three days,” she had consoled him the moment before they parted
at the base of their sea plane, their teams ready to welcome them with
cheers.
Yeah, three days, he scoffed now, leaving the final meeting on uranium
deposits as everybody broke for lunch. Siddharth wandered across the
camp, to where the philosophers held their regular talks and conferences. In
his humble opinion, they were here on an all-expense paid trip to ‘think’
and nothing else, but if he said that out loud, especially to his fiancée, he
might not have a fiancée come tomorrow.
He scouted the area — people, jackets, red jackets. It was strange that when
he wanted to stay away from her he found her without even looking. And
now?!
“Looking for somebody, sir?” Subbu’s annoyingly happy face came in his
field of vision. Siddharth ignored him and continued stomping, the snow
dust flying around with his heavy steps.
“She is eating with Nadeem in the dining hall.”
His nostrils flared. Siddharth didn’t grace his pest of an assistant with the
glare waiting to emit. He had another target for that — a gorgeous, 5 foot 2
nymph with dark curls.
“Oh you are also going to eat? I was also going there only…” Subbu power
walked to keep up with him, his glee audible in his voice.
“Tone it down,” Siddharth glowered.
“What, sir?”
He kept walking, reaching the massive hot tent and barging in. There were a
host of round tables peppered with lunch guests. His eyes honed in on the
farthest one, his nymph sitting with the ogre, laughing. Laughing? When
did she start laughing with other men?!
Siddharth wove through the tables, nodding at greetings, clapping hands,
with a snickering Subbu behind him.
“… and then I said to her — 'Patience you must have my young Padma.’
Did you get it?”
She nodded.
“I didn’t know you are a Star Wars fan, Tara?” Siddharth announced from
behind her, his fingers curling around the back of her chair, his knuckles
pushing into her hair. She stiffened.
“What are you saying? She gets all my Star Wars jokes!” Nadeem
enunciated.
“I have watched snippets here and there,” his fiancée defended as he
stepped aside and pulled the chair beside her.
“Oh,” Nadeem’s face fell. “But Tara, I told you in your first year itself, Star
Wars is the best take-off point to learn environmental philosophy.”
“Yes… But I just never got around to it.”
“Then here’s your next assignment as my Teaching Assistant. You have to
watch it, the full series. Better yet, I’ll watch it with you.”
Siddharth’s knee tightened, nudging hers under the table. She nudged back.
“Where, at college?” Subbu interjected, taking the fourth chair and poking
his nose again where it didn’t belong. “Look, King sir, they are watching
Star Wars at work. And you make us draft reports until our eyeballs fall
off.”
“You are free to cross over. Actually,” Siddharth turned towards Tara and
trapped her knee between both of his, making her choke on her water. “Why
don’t we do this… Subbu assists you and Tara assists me for one whole
day.”
“No!” Nadeem laughed, incredulous. “No way. Subbu sir is senior to me…
how can he assist me?”
“He can, he can,” Siddharth side-eyed him, muttering, “he needs an
imposition anyway.”
“I can, I can.” Subbu-the-sport nodded eagerly.
“No… Tara won’t be able to keep up with you. I am a very lenient boss.
You are…”
“I am what?” Siddharth leaned back, pushing Tara’s knee closer to his
groin, keeping her thigh firm between his own. Her knee tried to caress him
but he tightened his hold.
“He means you are very intense,” Subbu completed.
“Am I intense, Tara?” He asked the silent nymph beside him, a slight hitch
in her breath that only he could feel.
She remained silent.
“Tell me, Tara,” he commanded, in that tone. She swallowed, her big eyes
coming to his, the hidden glare visible only to him.
“Ummm… a little.”
“Then let’s see if you can take the intensity. You spent three days inland
with me and survived, you can survive this too,” he smirked.
“Not the whole day!” Nadeem panicked. “I need her for the evening debate.
I need you, Tara…” his pathetic puppy dog eyes made it to her.
“Half a day,” Siddharth agreed, pushing to his feet. “Come on, Tara, I have
to get to a research meeting. Then there’s a kayaking expedition planned for
the afternoon. Subbu?” He turned bland eyes to his assistant who would be
rolling on the floor laughing if not for the company.
“Yes, sir?”
“Enjoy the extracurricular that I do not give you.”
“You too, sir,” the pest retorted.
Siddharth shook his head, turning and striding out, Tara on his heels.
Fuming. He could feel the fumes all the way over his shoulder.
“Where are you going! That’s the living quarters…!” She yelled, not even
realising he had led her to his tent until he yanked her hand and pushed her
in before zipping it shut.
“Si…” He cut her off with his mouth, pushing his hands into her hair and
holding her head to the angle he wanted. She began to protest, but the hands
she raised to push him away ended up circling his neck, her body rising to
his on tiptoes until he held her half suspended, kissing like he hadn’t kissed
her just this morning before leaving her cabin.
“Oof, Sid!” She pushed back, half pleased-half exasperated. “You don’t
have any meeting, liar!”
“I do,” he grabbed her hip and squeezed her buttock. “With my very naked
fiancée.”
Her face pulled back in shock. There was an incredible little smile on her
lips, but the shock prevailed.
“What happened?”
“Fiancée means engaged to be married,” Madam Philosopher enunciated.
“Yes,” he reached down to kiss her throat.
“Engaged to be married means everything is fixed.”
“Mmmm…” he went down on his knees on the carpeted tent floor, zipping
her jackets off and reaching for the hem of her thermals. She complied,
getting rid of it, leaving only her simple black bra on.
“But…” she panted slowly, her skin popping up with goose pimples as he
left featherlight kisses along her navel, bearing down on her waistline.
“But?” He took the delicate skin between his lips and suckled.
“Nothing is fixed yet Sid, not even close to fixed…”
He bit hard, making her choke on a moan.
“Everything is fixed between us. Our families will have to agree. If I had it
my way, you would return to India as my wife.”
“But…”
“I have you for half a day, Tara, and the majority of it is packed for us. So
shut up and get rid of everything.”
She looked at him for a second, then let out a laugh. Her actual sweet laugh.
He didn’t have to tell her twice then, because within moments she was
naked, he was naked, and his cool double bed was steaming with their
moans.
————————————————————
“Front seat or back seat?” He asked her, squinting in the bright sun. Tara
had the audacity to look thoughtful, tightening the neck of her thermal
kayak suit.
“Back seat,” Nadeem piped up from behind her. “She doesn’t know
kayaking!”
“Doesn’t she?” Siddharth smirked. “Didn’t you tell him of that time you
went kayaking with a handsome man you had a crush on?”
It was a sensory overload. Should he see Nadeem’s bugged eyeballs, Tara’s
amused but exasperated face or Subbu snickering. Siddharth settled on Tara,
of course. That’s where his eyes would always settle.
“So, what’s it going to be?” He grabbed two paddles from the bank just as
his colleagues began to line up in front of their kayaks. They were taking a
work-cum-adventure expedition to the Cuverville Island. They needed
bedrock sedimentary samples and the adventurous of their team leaders had
decided to make an afternoon out of it.
Needless to say, he was in. Especially if he got to escape with Tara.
“Front seat,” she announced. “You’ll know the navigation better.”
Siddharth hid his proud glint, walking towards her and checking her kayak
suit with the life jacket.
“I’ve buckled everything,” she muttered rebelliously.
“You better,” he tightened the strap, pulling her body closer. The crowd
behind them was honed in on them so he let her go, holding her hand until
she was safely in her front seat. He took the back one, and along with the
five other kayaks, got launched into the freezing crystal sea. The sun was
glinting though, creating a shimmering silver-gold over the water’s surface
as they journeyed north from their base camp. His compass, just like
everybody else’s, guided them. But they also had a pre-planned route.
“This is mental!” Erik pointed from his kayak ahead. “Look!”
Their eyes snapped sideways and there, in the distance, a black humpback
whale jumped up from the sea and back in.
“Ooooh…” Tara gasped, as did everybody else. The creature was massive,
massive enough to flatten them all had it jumped over them.
“We are in for more of these on our route!” Nancy, the most experienced of
their lot announced. “And penguins. Lots of penguins. Come on!”
They paddled, eyes still on the massive creature bidding them goodbye as
their paths forked.
“I really want to see more penguins…” Tara wished over her shoulder.
“You do look cute waddling behind them.”
“You saw that?” She banged her head in her shoulder. He laughed.
“Complete with the flapping.”
“Oh no! Don’t talk. I want to drown here.”
He shook with laughter — “Look, your buddies.”
They turned a massive iceberg and there was a whole district of penguins
on an ice cliff.
“What are they trying to do?” Tara squinted, pointing at the few penguins
flapping in the sea under the cliff, jumping up and falling back when they
couldn’t latch onto the high cliff. “Trying to come home?”
“Or playing a game. You’ll know. Do you speak fluent penguin?”
“Aww, trying to impress me by being funny now?”
“I have already impressed you, you are mine.”
“Not until I am married to you.”
“Listen Tara,” he leaned forward, their kayak slowing down. “You are mine.
Married or not. I am just quiet here because we haven’t spoken to your
parents and my family yet. I wouldn’t want anything to leak that is not in
our control. Understood?”
She gave him her shyest smile over her shoulder, and nodded.
“Good. Now look ahead.”
“What will our life be like?” She paddled, his strokes guiding them around
another little pristine iceberg, this one blue. Nature was truly spectacular
here.
“After we marry, you will be the Maarani of Nawanagar, and will have to
take the duties that come with it.”
“The mother queen?” She translated.
“No, the ‘great' queen. Maa doesn’t stand for ‘mother’ but is a local
shortening of ‘Maha.’ In our kingdom, the matriarchs have been the real
rulers. My mother was one, my grandmother was another. There are many
stories you will learn about them when you come to Nawanagar. That how
our women, in spite of not sitting on the throne, have navigated Nawanagar
through turbulent times.”
“Will I be able to continue my work?”
“If by work you mean following Nadeem around, no.”
“Be serious.”
“I am serious. Nobody will stop you from working, or travelling for work,
because even I do and I will stand behind you. But truth be told, in the
beginning, duties as a queen, of our family, will feel full-time.”
“Family?”
“Family.”
“And what about children…” she hesitated. “I mean, do you want more?”
He smiled — “Are you asking or offering?”
She turned and gave him a glare — “I want to splash you so bad right now
but I am not as mean as you.”
He laughed, navigating them again, keeping their kayak at the tail end of
the line of other kayaks.
“I want children if they come with you. Samarth was all I ever had. He was
all I ever imagined. But that’s the thing with love, it opens new horizons of
hope. You have opened mine.”
“You can’t do that! Make me angry and then make me so…”
“Sappy?”
“Shut up!”
“I want babies like you. In fact, now that I think about it, I want a girl like
you, sassy. But we need to be quick. I want to be able to play cricket with
her before my back starts giving up.”
“It isn’t already?” She quipped.
“I am taking note of your indiscretions, and remember, tonight you are
mine.”
“Who said?”
“You are sleeping in my tent. If you don’t come on your own two feet I will
come and take you over my shoulder. Let the whole delegation see.”
Her neck bent.
“What’s there to blush about that?”
“I am not blushing!” Her tone was high-pitched.
“If you say so, liar.”
“But, Sid,” her voice turned solemn.
“Yes, Tara?”
“Isn't this all going too fast? I mean… when we return to India, will we still
feel the same?”
“I need to ask you that. Will you feel the same for me in the real world,
between our own people? Because I am 101% confident that I will feel the
same.”
“Why?”
“Because I have been feeling this for ten months now. In whichever corner
of the world I went, I have been taking this feeling along.”
“Docking there!” Erik hollered from up ahead and Siddharth sat up,
directing their kayak parallel to the rest as they all reached the icy bank of
the island at high speeds.
“This is it for me, Tara. Remember I told you on that cliff that I have been
thinking about a life for myself. You are my life for myself.”
They slid up the icy bank and he immediately jumped out to control the
speed of the slide. Tara scattered ahead, holding on, until he had gotten their
kayak to stop.
“Come,” he held his hand out. She took it, pushing up and onto her toes
until her mouth was in his ear — “You are my life for myself too, Sid.” She
left a kiss on his earlobe before skipping out of the kayak and shuttling off
with the group. He knew he was smiling like a teenage girl then, seeing her
go. But he couldn’t stop.
————————————————————
Siddharth paced the length of his tent, checking the time. It was 11.45 pm
already. The sun was mild, the sky was blue, but it was midnight. And he
needed Tara here before 12.
The revelry outside was loud, a few of the younger crew huddled around to
party. The others had retired, too tired after a long day and the fatigue of the
last week of stressful work and even stressful living conditions.
Siddharth kept pacing, checking the time again. 11.46 pm.
Where was she?!
If her boss had monopolised her time again with his Yoda jokes… he began
to put on his jacket to go grab her when the entry zipper shuffled. He
peered, her unmistakable silhouette on the other side. Siddharth reached out
and zipped the tent open, pulling her in and zipping it shut.
“Where were you?! It’s almost 12!” He complained, pressing a kiss to her
cold lips. She opened her mouth, kissing him back, her cold arms pushing
into his jacket lapels and to his back, warming herself up.
“I was on my way twice in the last hour…” she pulled back. “But both
times Subbu sir saw me. He knows something or what?”
“Or what,” Siddharth snorted. “He is so getting it from me tomorrow.”
“So he knows?”
“He knows. Not the details, but he set us up for the inland trip.”
Tara’s eyes widened.
“Oh no! Don’t embarrass me any more by saying that he has known all
along!”
Siddharth chuckled, pushing her back until she was horizontal on his bed.
He climbed over her, pressing his hips into her belly. She just covered her
face with her hands, shaking her head — “What will he think about me?”
“That you are fucking your…”
She slapped her palm over his grinning mouth — “Don’t say boss.”
He nipped her palm. “I was about to say future husband.”
“You told him that also? Sid!”
“No, Tara, I have not. But the moment it is official, I am sending our first
wedding invitation to him. After all, he is the one who got us together, even
if by his gleeful twisted means. “
She sighed, rolling her eyes. He took her wrists and pinned them over her
head, glancing at the watch on his wrist. 11.59.
“You know what date it is today?”
She frowned — “It’s 31st. That’s why the public outside is still up
celebrating!”
“And?”
“And wha…” she trailed, realisation dawning. Her eyes widened. Siddharth
smiled, leaning down just as the minute hand of his watch touched 12 and
giving her a slow, leisurely kiss. She drank it in.
“Happy New Year!!!” Cheers resounded from outside.
“Happy Anniversary.”
Her face softened, that rare innocence returning to her eyes. “But we
haven’t been together this year…” she choked.
“I have been with you ever since I opened my eyes on that dark cliff and
found you gone.”
Her breath hitched. “You can’t be so good to me.”
“And who are you to decide how good I am to my fiancée?” He grated out.
“You’ll always be this good to me?”
“Yes.”
She smiled, pulling him down by the back of his head — “Kiss me, Sid.”
“Oh, I am about to do more than that.”

OceanofPDF.com
 19. Time To Go Home
After a not-so-brief sojourn of 10 days, it was with mixed feelings that he
bid the surface of Antarctica goodbye. One one hand, the White Continent
had given him one of the most precious gifts of his life. On the other, he
couldn’t wait to take her back to the world and declare his love for her. A
part of him, as he stepped up and into the Zodiac boat, had already begun
missing spending time with her in their cabin, in their tent, in their bubble.
But another part was looking forward to seeing what they would become in
the real world, in the midst of their own people.
And if he was honest with himself, he was itching to fight it out, get it over
with, and take Tara home to Nawanagar.
What’s next? Bringing his queen home.
“What are you thinking?” Her whisper sounded in his ear. Siddharth
startled, turning away from the massive block of ice in the distance where
only minutes ago they had been. Their Zodiac was filled with the Indian and
Norwegian teams but he had managed to plop down next to Tara, Nadeem
on her other side.
“I’m thinking how soon will we be able to get married. This month?”
She elbowed him. “Shhh.”
“You asked,” he smirked, sitting back and extending his arm behind her.
Their Zodiacs kept pumping away from the shore, the tiny icebergs, lazing
seals on them, the birds in the sky, all falling away as the waiting ship rose
to view in the middle of the sea.
As they began to ascend the rung of the ship’s ladder, Siddharth turned one
last time to touch the water of Antarctica. Strangely, he had never felt so
emotional leaving a place before, not even the first time he had left this
continent. Maybe it was the effect of being in love for the first time, he
thought, eyeing the curly-haired woman climbing in front of him. Maybe it
opened your senses fully, making you able to think things you hadn’t
thought before, experience things you hadn’t even counted as experience
before. Like right now, he sneakily laid a hand on her buttock and squeezed,
knowing it would elicit a scowl and a blush together.
It did, and her pretty face whirled over her shoulder.
“What if someone sees?!” She hissed.
“Now they definitely will,” he grinned. Her heel kicked his chest and she
quickened her pace.
“Alright, ATSD 2024,” Nancy clapped her hands together. “Welcome back
and well done to all! We have accomplished 9 out of our 10 objectives,
which makes this expedition a success. Now, it’s time to celebrate!
Wohooo!”
Claps and hoots went around as Siddharth jumped aboard behind Tara. The
cruise staff was ready with trays of drinks and hot snacks, banners of
‘Welcome Back ATSD 2024’ and streamers everywhere.
“But first,” Siddharth hollered at them, pointing to the sanitising station set
up in front of them. “Sanitise yourselves. We are not taking any virus or
bacteria home.”
————————————————————
Siddharth rubbed a towel over this head, sitting down on his bed, feeling
clean after days. He didn’t even pull on his clothes, just tightened the knot
of his towel on his waist and grabbed his phone to get the satellite network
activated. It took a minute for the satellite internet to boot and he swiped
down his Mail app, getting it started. This was one thing he suddenly wasn’t
looking forward to.
“Why did I take all that work!” He groaned, pulling open his Favourites and
dialling Samarth.
“Papa!” He picked up on the first ringer. “Are you back?”
He laughed — “Yes, beta. How are you, how is everything there?”
“Everything is fine. Just as you left.”
“Dada Sarkar?”
“He is also good.”
“And you? How were the rest of your exams?”
“All good, Papa. How are you? Did you finish all that you set out to do?”
Siddharth blinked, gazing out of the window overlooking the passing
icebergs and the pristine sea. He achieved something he hadn’t set out to
achieve in the first place.
“Yes,” he smiled. “Yes. How was your New Year’s?”
“We had a bonfire here at school, the secondary sections did. Not the
primary. It was fun.”
“And how is Ava?” Siddharth squinted.
After two rounds of ribbing, his son seemed used to it. This time he just
chuckled — “She is also good, Papa.”
“Good. Now, I will be in Argentina by 3rd. I plan to extend my trip by
another day, which means I will be in Nawanagar exactly on 7th when you
come…”
The door to his suite opened and in sneaked Tara, freshly showered, all her
polar layers gone. His mouth dropped open.
“And,” he closed it and continued. “I have something I need to speak to you
about.”
Tara’s brows rose at him. He pointed his chin at her.
“Who is it?” She mouthed.
“Samarth,” he mouthed back.
“What, Papa? Is it something serious?”
“It is serious, but it is about something good.”
“Ok…”
“Don’t sound so skeptical,” Siddharth teased. “I think you will like it too.”
It? Tara sassed, looking herself up and down in the mirror. He shook his
head — “Come home, Samarth, we will talk then.”
“Yes, Rawal.”
“Bye, beta.”
“Bye, Papa.”
Siddharth ended the call and rose to his feet, stepping behind her and
curling his arm to pull her back to him. Their eyes met in the mirror, the last
of the Antarctic sun lighting them up. He buried his face in her wet curls,
trailing his fingers down the simple beige sweater that covered her
incredible body.
“I told you I want that nightie.”
“It’s day time!”
“It’s always day time here,” he kissed the alcove of her neck. “Doesn’t
mean I don’t get what I want.”
“What did Samarth say?”
“About what?”
“About me.”
“He said it is very mouthy.”
She jabbed her elbow in his torso.
“Ow! It also hits its king.”
“You are not my king.”
“Yet,” he tasered her eyes with his.
“Yet,” she agreed, her irises darkening.
“I want to extend our stay in Argentina by one day.”
“Our?”
“Yours and mine. The rest of the team can head home.”
“Why?”
“I want to take you out, on a proper date, take you shopping, do the
whole… pre-engagement thing. Once we are back in India, we won’t get to
do this.”
“I am not a shopping person.”
“I know. But I still want to buy you things.”
“I’ll feel uncomfortable if you buying me things…”
“Why?”
She shrugged. He took her chin and tilted her face up and over her shoulder
— “I know. I understand. And I love that about you. But with time, and
after our marriage, you will get used to it.”
She pursed her lips, looking unsure.
“Don’t make that face. Because I am still buying you things. I haven’t given
you a single gift in this last year.”
“You gave me that End of the World penguin.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“Why not?”
“Because I said so.”
“You gave me your hoodie!”
“Which you returned.”
“Which you again gave me on that Drake crossing night.”
“Ok, Tara, let me explain this slowly — a gift, that is not used by me.”
She shoved her shoulder into his chest.
“Hmm… let’s make this easier. What would you like me to buy for you?”
She thought hard. Then — “Books?”
“Ok, books,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple. “But that is a gift
you asked for. Now I can give you a gift that I want to give you.”
“Only one,” she raised a threatening finger at their reflection in the mirror.
“Only one,” he nipped the tip of the said finger, earning a poke to his nose.
“So it’s a date. You, me and Buenos Aires.”
“What will I tell my parents…?”
“Now, I am a father myself and not one for children to lie to their parents…
but, maybe you can tell them that you need to stay back for a day of report
filing? It’s not unheard of.”
“Hmm… you are a bad influence, Rawal saheb,” she turned in his embrace,
locking her hands behind his neck. “But wait! What will I tell Nadeem sir?”
“To hell with Nadeem sir.”
“Sid, I can’t just leave like that. We came here together.”
“Correction — you came here for work together. Not together together. So
he can find his own way home. He won’t get lost.”
“What will I tell him?”
“That you are meeting your future husband for a day out in Buenos Aires.”
“Be serious.”
“I am serious. He has to know at some point, it’s better to break his heart
sooner rather than later.”
Her big eyes blinked rapidly, thinking.
“Stop thinking and come to bed,” he grabbed her face and kissed her. “I
have to make you scream here like I didn’t make you there.”
He whipped off his towel and threw her on his bed, eliciting her excited
shriek.
————————————————————
They had to sneak off separately when the ship docked at Ushuaia. He
didn’t like it, but let her handle it her way. The fact that she had agreed to
extend her trip with him was more than enough.
“I’ll be in touch about the final report filing,” Rao shook his hand.
“Sure. I’m going to be in Nawanagar for the foreseeable future. Subbu can
coordinate for any meetings, sit-down or remote.”
Siddharth turned to his assistant, who was vigorously hugging and shaking
hands with the members of the delegation as they were getting off the ship.
The dockyard, in fact, was filled with emotional goodbyes. After all, they
had spent a good 14 days with nothing but each others’ company and their
shared objectives in a remote land.
“Ready, sir?” Subbu moved towards him.
“Yes. You all head to the hotel. I have to leave for another engagement.”
“So I’ll see you for dinner tonight or straight at the airport tomorrow?”
“Neither. I will be returning at a later date. You make sure that you take
everyone back and file all the paperwork.”
Subbu smiled, looking behind him. He followed his gaze, zeroing in on
Tara as she carried her own bag in one hand and pulled her boss’s trolley
bag with another while her boss walked by her side, talking a mile a minute.
“Need some help, Tara?” Subbu hollered. She changed tracks and came to
them, her boss’s voice louder now — “Are you certain you will be able to
get a flight back on time? You will not even get to sleep off the jet lag. It
takes 3 to 5 days to start functioning normally. Our semester will begin…”
“Umm… yes, sir. I will be back on time.”
“Where are you going, Tara?” Subbu asked.
“I have a friend I am going to meet and spend a day with.”
“Oh. Where?”
“Buenos Aires.”
“What a coincidence, even Siddharth sir is going to say goodbye over here
only…” Subbu laughed.
“What a coincidence, indeed,” Siddharth caught on. “I am going to the
airport directly from here, do you want to tag along?”
“Oh… yes, I mean, thank you for the lift,” she looked down. He would
have to teach her to lie a little more convincingly. For now though,
Siddharth reached for the bag she was carrying with one hand, and passed
the handle of the trolley from her to her boss with the other — “Let us carry
those for you.”
“Oh, yes, I told her she didn’t have to pull my bag!” Nadeem muttered,
looking longingly at his fiancée.
“Alright, it was a pleasure working with you all. Have a safe trip home and
update on the group when you land in India,” Siddharth stepped back,
pulling his trolley in one hand and carrying her bag in another.
Tara waved, stepping back with him — “Bye, guys.”
“Bye!” Murphy, Dalai and Rao waved. Nadeem looked heartbroken. Subbu
was jumping out of his shoes in glee.
Siddharth took one last look at them all, the ship behind them, then turned
to Tara — “Come.”
————————————————————
“Twenty four hours in Buenos Aires,” he pulled her along down the lively
Florida Street, replete with its early 20th Century heritage buildings and
opulent fur, leather and gem shops. “I know what I want to do. What do you
want to do?”
“Just keep walking and looking!” His fiancée hunched her shoulders up, her
face in a rare mood of childlike excitement. The sun was heavy on their
heads, the temperatures warm for summer. The streets were full, the hustle
real with live music, smell of steaming tamales and tourists out to explore.
“I could hold your hand all day and do this walking and looking routine, but
we are shopping and you cannot make me change my mind!”
“Sid…” she dug her heels in, trying to hold him. He kept pulling her,
without breaking a sweat.
“Sid, Sid, Sid! Ok. Let’s get a book.”
“Book? Sure,” he tugged her in the direction of a book shop. He could
clearly see it was Spanish and that she wouldn’t find much English content
in there, but hey, who was he to interfere?
Tara skipped in behind him, extra excited as she began scouting the aisles.
He grinned, turning and scouting down the other side, remembering this one
book he wanted to find. He checked the nomenclatures and wove through
the book shop, his eyes scanning Spanish titles that he half-understood. He
had an understanding of spoken pedestrian Spanish. The intricacies of the
written word… not so much.
“There it is,” he picked up the small hardcover, opening it up to the Index
page.
“What is that?” Tara’s head popped from around his bicep, poking into the
opened pages.
“Are you ready to see?” He flipped the page to the Dedication.
She snorted — “You are saying it like it is a ghost manual…” her words
fizzled out. Siddharth smirked, the page now turned to the first chapter, and
the first illustrations. El mejor Kama Sutra, the Spanish translation with
detailed illustrations of Kama Sutra.
“Hey Bhagwan! Put it back!” She snapped it shut and stuffed it back in the
shelf, pulling him out. He roared with laughter, following her out of the
shop and into the sunny street. She was red. Her neck was red. He had
never seen it happen with her blushing but this was Tara literally turning
red. Even the open back of her dress was red. He bent and kissed the middle
of her back.
“Sid!”
“It’s red too.”
“Behave,” she circled his wrist and tugged him down the street.
“Why? You wanted to buy books. I was going to buy you that.”
“I don’t know Spanish,” she muttered.
“I have one in English, and an ancient one in Sanskrit if you want.”
She rounded on him, in the middle of the street.
“Say that again? Why do you have Kama Sutra?”
“Why not? It’s an ancient Indian art form,” he splayed a hand on her open
back and tugged her close. “Do you have anything against our culture,
Tara?”
She shook her head — “You are…”
“I am?”
“So…”
“So?”
Her face was swollen, red, and so pretty in exasperation. He couldn’t help
it. He grabbed her cheeks and smacked his lips on hers. She pushed his
chest first but did circle his wrists and rise on her tiptoes to deepen the kiss,
forgetting all her inhibitions in the middle of a busy street.
“What are you?!” She pulled back with a lost, wondrous expression. “When
I first met you, you came across as an intense businessman. Then, I thought
you are a man with a tragic, broken past. Then in Devgadh, I saw the quiet,
uptight king. In Antarctica I met the adventurous leader and the unyielding
scientist. And just when I thought I had seen all of you,” she shook her
head, smiling. Her fingers ran across the hair at his temple — “I love this
Sid the most. The one I met after we…” she looked down.
“After we what?” He quirked an eyebrow. “Watched Tom & Jerry
together?”
“Ok, I also hate this Sid the most!” She turned and began to walk.
“Excuse me? Decide. Love or hate?” He caught on, ruffling the top of her
curls. She jabbed a finger in his side making him squirm away. Tara gasped.
Her eyes zeroed in on the vulnerable spot just below his armpit, her fingers
rising.
“No,” he warned, taking steps back. He ran into an elderly man and
apologised just when Tara’s tickling fingers jabbed into his side. He
jumped, stepping up and off the lane, running towards the sidewalk.
“Ha ha ha!” She evil-laughed, looking like such a spectacle running after
him. Siddharth ran faster, weaving through the crowd, keeping a lookout for
her and at the same time honing in on an alcove. He ducked when he hit a
particularly dense stretch of the sidewalk and ran into the alcove, peeping
out to see her hunt for him. She was walking slower now, her brows
furrowed.
And when she crossed the alcove, he shot an arm out and pulled her in,
slapping his palm on her about-to-open mouth.
“Siood!” She blustered.
“Hi,” he waggled his eyebrows.
“Leoavve moe!”
“I do love you,” he kissed her forehead. She bit his palm, making him jerk
back.
“You have turned violent lately,” he suckled the flesh of his palm, and not
because it was burning. He wanted to see her irises darken again like that
morning in Ushuaia. And they didn’t disappoint.
“You have turned into a certified stalker.”
“You were running behind me — a helpless man in a foreign land, and I am
the stalker?”
“Hey Bhagwan! I just can’t argue with you today!” She looked amused and
exasperated and so, so happy as she took his wrist again and pulled him to
the middle of the street. They walked for a while then, observing the whorls
of fur in a plethora of colours, leather jackets in myriad designs, and
gemstones that delighted the eye.
“Come,” he nudged her towards one particular shop.
“No! Where now?”
“You didn’t get books because you don’t know Spanish. Now it’s time for
my gift.”
“Sid that’s a jewellery shop!”
“So?” He dragged her inside and greeted the ancient-looking jeweller in a
suit — “Hola, Cómo estás?”
“Estoy bien! Tú?” He groaned up to his feet, a big smile on his face.
“Quiero un anillo para mi prometido.”
“What did you say?” Tara frowned.
“I asked him for water.”
“Liar,” the jeweller laughed. “You made her your prometido by begging and
cheating?” He botched up the English but it was enough for his smart
fiancée to catch on.
“Hola!” She smiled at him. “What did he just ask you, Señor?”
“He asked me for a beautiful ring for his beautiful fiancée,” the old man’s
shrewd playful gaze moved between them. “That would be you, Señora?”
Tara chuckled and glanced down, her eyes smiling up at the man. But she
nodded, her first public acceptance. He wanted to throw his hands up and
pump the air.
“Let us look what we have…” he began to pull out velvet trays filled with
precious gemstones, from rubies to emeralds to diamonds to sapphires.
“No, no!” Tara protested. “It’s not official yet. And we are not… I mean,
you have beautiful stones but, thank you so much.” She began to push him
out but Siddharth held his ground.
“How is this one, Señor?” He leaned on the glass case, eyes honing in on
nothing in particular.
“Very pretty,” the shopkeeper nodded solemnly, seeing his sales slip.
“Sid,” Tara warned.
“What? I agree, we don’t have a tradition of engagement rings, but look at
these… oh wow, what’s this?”
She threw her head back, letting out a loud, angry groan.
“How can something so manly come out of something so delicate and
girly?” He wondered aloud, holding up an emerald ring and squinting at it
like he understood jewellery.
“I am going to throttle you today.”
“First choose, then throttle. How is this?” He held the emerald ring out to
her. She pursed her lips, not even looking.
“Fine,” he set it down, picking a sapphire stone set in a platinum-like metal.
“This?”
She turned her head.
“Your prometido difficult to please,” the old jeweller smirked. “Good luck
son.”
Siddharth smiled. Indeed. His fiancée was difficult to please. He eyed the
collection of precious gemstones and rings on the velvet trays. Nothing
stood out. All the gemstones looked rich, and had hefty price tags. She
wouldn’t appreciate those.
Siddharth scanned the shelves, the display cases, looking for something that
would be her. Unique. Pretty. Tough. His eyes caught on a swirl of colours
— rose and whites and beiges and blood reds. It was a riveting oval opaque
stone set in a ring of tiny diamonds.
“This one, can I see this?” He tapped on the display case.
“Por supuesto! Rhodochrosite, our national gemstone!” The jeweller
exclaimed, picking the ring and holding it out to him. “Like Patagonian
desert on sunny day. We call this Rosa del Inca.”
Siddharth plucked the ring from his fingers, the hue reminding him of the
blushing middle of her back that he had just kissed.
“Rhodochrosite is Stone of the Compassionate Heart,” the jeweller
enlightened. “It empowers one who wear it to heal past and past life
problemas, attract love, romance… and nurtures inner child.”
Siddharth reached for Tara’s hand and slipped the ring on her ring finger.
When he glanced up, her eyes were on the rosy ring, something unreadable
in her expression. Did she like it? Because he loved it. This ring was her.
Period.
“Do you like it?”
She blinked, her eyes still on it. He held his breath.
“Tell me, Tara?”
Her eyes snapped up to his.
“How much is this for?” She asked the jeweller.
“Only thirty six thousand dollars.”
“That is…” her eyes rounded in conversion. And the penny dropped. She
immediately began to remove the ring — “No thank you…”
“We will keep it.” Siddharth reached for his wallet.
“No!” She held his hand, hissing — “Sid, this is as expensive as my
parent’s house in Devgadh.”
“You like it?”
“No!”
“I am buying it anyway. If you don’t like it, don’t wear it. Keep it in a box
and remember this day.”
Her face turned to pleading— “Sid… please, haji kayi bi nakki nathi,”[11]
she switched to Gujarati, reminding him that nothing was fixed about their
engagement.

“Lagan ni taarik sivaay baddhu nakki chhe,”[12] he countered. For him,

everything was fixed except their wedding date. “Have, tame aa perso ke
dabba ma rakhso?”[13] He asked, giving her that look.

“Peris,”[14] she sulked, giving him the satisfaction of knowing that he was
right. She had liked the ring. And she would wear it, not stow it in a box. He
smiled, leaning down and kissing the top of her head.
“Here,” he handed his card to the jeweller.
————————————————————
He had planned a romantic dinner that night, but the fatigue of Antarctica
and their walking-tour of Buenos Aires all afternoon had done her in. She
was bone-weary by the time the sun set. And he didn’t have the heart to
drag her to a fancy place while she was feeling so down.
“Are you sure you want to order in?” He asked for the last time.
“Yes,” she sighed, sitting on the lounger of their hotel terrace, in nothing
but a robe after her shower.
“I am placing the order, Tara, last chance.”
“Yes.”
He shook his head, calling the restaurant and ordering their dinner. When he
showered and returned, she was lying back on the lounger, looking like she
had slept. He stepped out to check, only to find her wide awake.
“You’re awake,” he bent on his haunches and pushed her hair back from her
forehead. Beautiful light brown eyes turned to him. And smiled.
“Today was so good.”
“I couldn’t take you out to dinner.”
“Because I was tired. And it doesn’t matter where we go. Dinner here in our
bathrobes is my ideal dinner, in case you are out to impress me,” her lips
quirked tiredly.
He pecked them, getting up and settling beside her. She immediately rolled
to make space for him, then rolled back until she was half atop him, her
hands playing with the smattering of hair on his chest.
“The ring is very expensive, Sid. I can’t take it with me.”
“We discussed this. You take care of what’s yours.”
“And what if I can’t?”
“It’s insured, you were there at the shop.”
She made a puffing sound that reverberated across his chest. Then lay there
silently. He too went quiet, stroking his fingers in her hair, looking at the
mild Buenos Aires sky ripen with stars. The warm summery wind, the
luxury of being in a foreign land, and the solace of having her in his arms.
He sighed.
“What is your life usually like?” She asked. “In Nawanagar?”
“You mean a routine day?”
“Yes.”
“This last year there has been no routine. I have been a nomad throwing
myself into different projects.”
“Why?”
“To forget you.”
“This expedition too?”
He nodded. “After Vaibhavi… Samarth’s mother left, I vowed to never
undertake any expedition like this again. It’s not dangerous, what we do, but
where we go can flip in one second from beautiful to horrifying. And I
knew that I was all that Samarth had. I was all that Nawanagar had until
Samarth grew up. This time when the offer came, I declined again. But my
son, with his magical spying techniques got whiff of it.”
“I can’t imagine Samarth coercing you. He looks too obedient to nudge a
stubborn father.”
“Don’t be fooled by his obedient manners. When he wants something, he
can go to the ends of the world for it.”
“And he wanted to jet you off to the end of the world?” Her voice was
laughing.
“Something like that,” he smirked. “And he made valid arguments. He was
away at boarding, he had grown up, and nothing would happen. I knew
nothing would happen but deep down I always harbour a fear that if
something happens to me, what will he do? He kept pushing me and
pushing me, even sweet-talked my Second-in-Command in Nawanagar to
send a letter of acceptance on my behalf.”
“That’s… sneaky!”
Siddharth glanced down — “I told you, he can do it. But the letter wasn’t
sent, of course. At the end, I mailed it.”
“You did good,” their eyes met.
“I did good… there was another reason for me to come.”
“What?”
“I wanted to lose you in Antarctica. Prior to this, in my two other
expeditions, I came back a changed man. Both times, I came with
something fundamental in me altered. I had been going around with so
much rage and misery this last year that I thought if I go, I would lose your
thoughts there and come back a saint, focused on my kingdom, my son and
everything else.”
“So you only accomplished 9 out of 11 objectives, sir.”
He grinned — “Yes. I only accomplished 9 out of 11. And I am delighted to
have not accomplished the 11th one.”
She smiled, pressing a kiss to his abs.
“So now, when you go back. What will your routine be?”
“Running my kingdom in the day. The court is from 9 to 1. Post lunch, I
take the businesses. We have mines, oil refineries, and now we are also
venturing into sustainable infrastructure projects. And there is this Women
Inheritance Bill case. I may have remote meetings with the counsels and
other kings. Twice a week I have designated to the Ministry. Now until we
wrap up the reports for this expedition, I will be keeping my schedule open
for them all week.”
“And what about evenings?”
“My day runs into late evening. If it ends early and Samarth is in the palace,
I spend time with him. If not, I go to our Cricket Stadium and watch our
club players practise, sometimes play.”
“I’ve heard you play well.”
“I am ok.”
“Modesty is not your best suit, Sid.”
He grinned, eyeing her challenging eyes — “Yeah, I am the best. I defeated
your Devgadh and your Yuvraj saheb thrice in a row when I used to play for
the club.”
“I know,” she grinned cheekily. “I was there during one of those matches.”
“When?”
“It was ten years ago, in… 2014? I was in school and we had gone to watch
the match that you played in Devgadh’s stadium. Me and Bhanwar and the
other palace kids.”
“Don’t take his name in front of me.”
“Sid…”
“No. I am not going to listen to you defend him.”
“He is not a bad person.”
“Then what was he doing using you as bait in front of someone as
horrendous as Sangram?”
She sighed.
“That reminds me… did Sangram ever trouble you again?”
Tara’s face softened. She shook her head — “You and Yuvraj saheb made
sure of that. I never got to thank you for it.”
He pushed her head close to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her sweet skin,
his hand reaching her waist to hold her steady on him, slipping down to her
stomach. What would it be like to live a complete life with this woman? To
have her come into his palace, to have her become the kind queen his
people deserved, to have her give him more children…
“Do you want children?” He asked, remembering their half-finished
conversation from the kayaking afternoon. “You asked me, but didn’t say
what was in your mind?”
“I… like you said, before that day and before we became serious, I hadn’t
thought of kids much. I mean, I was still studying. But in my head it was
always once I had made something of myself. I want my kids to know the
accomplishments of their mother, to be proud of them, to take inspiration
from that and grow… but.”
“But?”
“But you want them earlier?”
“Tara,” he cupped her cheek. “That was a joke. Yes, ideally I would like to
have our baby while I am in my thirties or early forties. That would give me
more healthy years with them. But not at the cost of your choice. You
decide.”
She nodded.
“And if you are ever thinking about your accomplishments,” he held her
jaw up to keep her eyes on him — “Remember — if you didn’t have what it
took to be a good leader, I wouldn’t have proposed to you, however much I
pined for you. I not only got the love of my life but also Nawanagar’s
Maarani.”
“I am far from that, Sid…”
“Yes you are,” he proclaimed. “Right now. But you won’t be that forever. I
see the potential in you because I am talking from a place fourteen years
away from where you stand. You will change Tara, you will grow, and one
day you will look back at this day and agree with me. Your
accomplishments don’t begin when you achieve something, they begin
when you start working towards it.”
“Still…”
He lifted her up and completely over him, widening his legs to let her make
her niche there — “Trust me. One day you will be the person, the queen
you are meant to be. And that day you will remember my words.”

OceanofPDF.com
 20. Friction
With a heavy heart, he walked her down the Ahmedabad International
Airport. He had foregone his charter in favour of a commercial flight. The
news of Tara’s arrival in his life deserved to be announced, not leaked. And
even if he swore every crew member to secrecy and got them to sign NDAs,
the world would still be a gossip centre. News would leak, and leak in nasty
ways.
“How long will it take for you to reach Nawanagar?” She asked, matching
his steps, under his arm. He was already starting to feel withdrawal
symptoms.
“Two hours. My flight is in 45 minutes.”
“You don’t have to come till baggage claim, Sid,” she stopped. “Go to your
terminal.”
He smirked. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that the flight would wait
for him all day if he decided to frolic with her.
“It’s alright,” He ran a hand down her back. “Let me make sure your bags
have arrived safely. The car will be right outside. You call me once you are
seated.”
“I am not a child.”
“I know,” he held her chin and kissed her forehead. “I still like to take care
of you.”
They waited on the baggage claim belt, hand in hand, soaking up the last of
their private moments.
“Tara?”
“Hmm?”
“Will you talk to your parents right away or wait?”
“What do you want me to do?” She gave him an evil smile.
He leaned in, with an eviler smile — “I want you to call them up from here
and tell them that your fiancé is taking you home, to come there for the
wedding.”
She laughed. “Ok, I got it…” her eyes fell on her bag and she began to lean
down when he pushed her back, reached out and grabbed it.
“I’ll talk to them today or tomorrow… I’ll have to break it slowly. You are
not just any boy…”
“No,” he bent to grab her other bag. “I am not just ‘any’ and definitely not a
boy.”
“When will you drop the bomb in your palace?”
He snorted — “You and I are a bomb now?”
“We are definitely not a petal shower.”
He leaned down and pecked her temple — “That we are not.”
Siddharth pulled a trolley and loaded her luggage just as she began to reach
for her ring.
“What are you doing?”
“Sid, all the emotional talk aside, you please keep this for now. I really
can’t take this home. And not just for fear of losing it… I can’t let it show
before I have told my parents…”
He stared her down. She stared him up. It was a pretty long stare-off.
“Alright,” he huffed, “if you want, take it off. But you are keeping it.
Wherever you wish to keep, keep it. But wear it the next time I see you.”
“And when will that be?”
“When I come to speak to your parents.”
She looked down.
“What’s there to blush about that now?” He bit his smirk. Her eyes rose to
his, all crackle and challenge — “You go now. You have to talk to lots more
people than I have to.”
“Samarth. He is my priority. My kingdom will accept you, if not
immediately then eventually. Ok?”
“Ok.”
“When are you leaving for Baroda?”
“Next week. Nadeem sir extended my leave by two days.”
“How sweet,” he hissed. She laughed, pushing at his chest — “Go now.”
“Call me when you reach.”
“Yes.”
“Let’s wrap up your work commitments and get everything together with
our families. I am coming for you by this month end.”
“Yes,” she smiled. “Now bye.”
He pushed the back of her head to his mouth and pressed a long kiss. “I’ll
see you.”
Tara laughed, leaving him with that joyous sound as she turned around and
pushed her trolley.
————————————————————
Nawanagar was just as he had left it. His palace, just the same. His son was
right, nothing was amiss. As Siddharth descended from his car at the
entrance of his palace, the staff, guards and chaperones lined on one side
with the courtiers lined on the other, it looked like he had not been gone at
all.
He straitened his plain white kurta that he had changed into at the airport
before boarding. The shawl around his neck was a much-needed warm
weight as the wind blew cold. He glanced up, soaking in the Renaissance-
like grandeur of the light-coloured stones that made up his giant palace.
They shone in the late-noon light. The domes, the arches, the pillars, the
windows… he now wondered what Tara would think about them all? How
long would it take for her to explore the whole place. It was three floors
plus the domes with a staggering 81 rooms arranged around the court,
armoury, ballrooms, terraces and indoor courtyards.
The only thing missing here was the lush greenery of her hometown. There
were trees and greens, but they were lighter, drier, a little arid.
“Jai Dwarkadhish, Rawal,” Ajatshatru folded his hands and bowed his head,
his white safari suit also just as he had left it. With his white hair and white
moustache, he had always given off authoritative vibes. A good bad cop to
have.

“Jai Dwarkadhish. Kem chho, Ajatshatru?”[15] Siddharth nodded.

He slipped a small smile, nodding. That was his signal for ‘let’s talk later.’
This was his USP, talking in signs and gestures, a skill Siddharth had
learned from him.

“Samarth kyaa chhe?”[16]

“Aavi gayo, Rawal,”[17] his son came charging from around the palace, his
muddy whites sticking to his sweaty skin, no doubt from his practise at the
stables behind. Siddharth grinned, eyeing his son grown a little much, even
though he had seen him just two weeks ago. Children did grow quickly at
this age.
“Kshama, Rawal,” Samarth folded his hands in front of him, bent down and
touched his feet, the whole court witness to their bright future right here.
Siddharth preened. He had seen a whole lot of storms in his life, but this
one silver lining had tided him over. He knew his kingdom, his people, his
throne and his legacy were safe.
He grabbed his son’s mildly brawny arms and pulled him up and into his
chest, thumping his back. Samarth embraced him tight, laughing.
“I thought you are coming in at 7, Papa…” he pushed back.
“I took a flight instead of the road. Now, do you have to go back to practise
or you are coming inside?”
Samarth grinned — “Inside, of course. Dada Sarkar is going to be so happy
to see you and I want to see that.”
————————————————————
“Bade Rawal,” Siddharth folded his hands, entering his father’s chambers
behind Samarth. The old, wrinkled man on the wheelchair looked nothing
like the man of Siddharth’s thoughts. His father, the Rawal of Nawanagar,
Ranjit Sinh Solanki, had been a man full of life. He had played cricket until
the day before his stroke, driven fast cars, run his administration with an
effortless flair and made sure that Nawanagar opened its doors for all the
modernity that the world had to offer.
Now though, he was a shadow of himself, literally and figuratively. At just
68, he looked like he was a 100, with gaunt, wrinkled skin, wiry arms, and a
perpetual blank face with his lips twisted to the right. He sat in his
wheelchair, gazing out of the wall of window in his room that opened to the
artificial lake Siddharth had commissioned just for his sake. He had loved
the pool, had swum laps at the club every day even though they had three
swimming pools in this palace.
“You get to meet everybody and your mother gets so jealous of those
foreigner tourist ladies around me,” he used to tease.
Siddharth lowered himself in front of his father, waiting for their eyes to
meet. As soon as they did, his father grinned.

“Aavi gayo?”[18] He lifted his right hand, barely. Siddharth lowered his
shoulder until his father’s hand was on it. Two weak pats — “Kya
hato?”[19]
“Antarctica, Papa.”
“Samarth is so small!” His father rebuked. Then stopped, his eyes cutting to
his grandson, a teenager, standing right beside him. He blinked, then began
to chuckle sadly.
“Again I forgot,” his father shook his head, or tried to. Siddharth smirked,
“You don’t forget eating ice cream every night.”
“That’s the secret of living life. I’ll die before I forget that. Now only if I
got some rum with it…”
“Once a year,” Siddharth warned. “On your birthday. We had a pact.”
“When? I don’t remember…” the old eagle tried to act innocent.
“Oh wait, no. It was once every five years,” Siddharth frowned. “You don’t
remember.”
“It was once a year, you little rascal. And my birthday is coming in three
months.”
“See how Dada Sarkar remembers, Samarth?” Siddharth nudged his chin.
“What are you showing him? He talks more to his Dada Sarkar than you do
to your Papa Sarkar.”
“I was in a no-network zone, Papa.”
“I know. Was it ok?”
“Yes. Only mild turbulence in Drake Passage…” he lied.
“That’s expected. How were your experiments?”
Siddharth grinned, seeing his father’s faculties sharpen with conversation.
This was often the case with him. Once he began talking, he recovered
quickly and became his older version.
Siddharth settled on the floor in front of him, leaning back on the glass
window behind, as he began the long tale of his voyage (sans Tara). He
needed to first speak to Samarth before he broke the news here.
————————————————————
“Yes, Ajatshatru,” he nodded, rounding his large desk in the King’s Office.
The surface was spick and span, just as he had left it. He did not like his
desk piled with items, even if they were something as sleek as a laptop or
tablet. Everything went inside drawers or filing cabinets.
He set his phone on the desk, thrust the two ends of his shawl aside and sat
down on his chair.
“You have come from a long journey, Rawal, this could have waited.”
“I saw your look outside. Let’s get this over with. How is everything here?”
“Everything is fine in Nawanagar, Rawal, but Devgadh underwent an
internal coup.”
Siddharth’s blood cooled.
“Yuvraj Maan Sinh and his family?”
“All alive and very well.”
“Sangram?”
“He is in police custody.”
“Last I knew, Yuvraj had him.”
“Two days after you left, Yuvraj Maan Sinh handed him over to the Police.
Two days after that, a negotiation ensued in Rawal Ratan Sinh’s court.
Giriraj Hukum sat from Yuvraj’s side.”
“Let me guess, Niyati brought her reptile of a husband.”
“Yes. The negotiation didn’t go in favour of the Yuvraj and he announced
that he was stepping back from public duties, handing over the reigns to his
father and leaving for Neelambaag.”
“It’s been what… ten days now?”
“Yes.”
“Has he left his palace?”
“Yes, as per our sources, Yuvrani Samriddhi is pregnant again but this time
on bed rest. The family is in Neelambaag, while Niyati Kumari and her
husband have shifted into the palace with their children.”
Siddharth nodded. “You should have left me a message about this.”
“Your orders were clear — only family or kingdom emergency. This did not
warrant either.”
“You are right. Is there anything else?”
“I have left every day’s highlights in your email as usual. Your Foiba Sarkar
has been in and out of the palace every three days.”
“Any special reason?”
“The Women Inheritance Bill.”
Siddharth sat back, half amused-half exasperated. How was he to explain to
his father’s older sister that her right to inherit the throne under this bill was
not valid. His father had already been the king for decades and now he was
the king. This bill was not retrospective.
“Alright. Let me take a look at everything. We will sit down after court
tomorrow and talk more.”
“As you wish, Rawal.”
Ajatshatru closed the door behind him, plunging the office into silence.
Siddharth plucked his phone and dialled Maan’s number. It rang and rang.
He checked the time. It was 7.30 pm. He was about to hang up when it
clicked.
“Hello?”
“Maan? I just got back from Antarctica and got your news.”
“You were out on voyage again?” His voice didn’t sound of a prince ousted.
It sounded happy. Amused even.
“Yes. What are you laughing at?”
“Ragini is climbing Sami like a mountain again… no, Rags! Hang on,
Siddharth…” shuffling noises and his daughter’s whine were heard before
he was back again — “Sorry, she has become a handful since she began
crawling.”
Siddharth smiled, imagining Maan’s life when that would turn into super-
speed crawling and then into walking. Babies were dumb and ran into literal
disasters.
“You call her Rags?”
“Sami has made it stick. I told her it’s not a decent name but that’s what she
is hellbent on calling her.”
More whispered words in a feminine voice.
“It’s Siddharth,” Maan hollered. To his wife, most probably. The shrill
sound of steel clattering to the floor echoed.
“What’s that?”
“I was cooking,” Maan replied, huffing. “With a six-month-old trying to
chew my collar,” he laughed. “Sorry, Siddharth, the family is still settling in
at Neelambaag.”
“No, I understand. I called to ask if you needed anything.”
“No, we are all good. In fact, I was going to call you once I got the house
settled. It’s about the Bill.”
“We can talk later whenever you are available.”
“Yes, that would be great.” His daughter began to whine again and
Siddharth heard the cringiest baby talk from his friend. He had half a mind
to put it on speaker and record the Yuvraj of Devgadh telling his baby
daughter ‘Awww no, Rags, that’s a chhi chhi towel now. Here, you want a
wah wah one?’
“I want a wah wah one too, Maan,” he smirked.
“You come to Neelambaag, I’ll give you a wah wah. You haven’t met
Ragini yet, huh?”
“I am looking forward to meeting her but why do I think you are looking
for a free babysitter?”
“Sami, he says we are only inviting him so that we can have him babysit
Rags for free!” Maan conveyed to his wife.
“Tell him he will get to tell me all about your lost cricket matches!”
Samriddhi fired back loudly. Siddharth laughed.
“Ok, you did not hear my Yuvrani.”
“Oh, but I did. And that’s a good barter. Tell her I’ll get the tapes too.”
“What did he say, Maan?”
“He said he is not free.”
Siddharth laughed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. How strange was it, that
a situation that had been briefed to him as a coup was the prince bantering
with his princess and handling his daughter with cringy baby talk. He would
have to go see them soon. Maybe if Tara and his relationship was
formalised… they could go together. Now that would bring Maan’s baby
talk to a screeching halt.
“Alright, Maan, I’ll let you go to cook and be your family’s butler.”
“Yes, let’s talk soon.”
“Done. Bye.”
————————————————————
Siddharth lay sprawled sideways on his bed, half on the pillow, breathing
deep. Samarth lay beside him, sprawled on his side, messing on his mobile.
“Your father has come home after a treacherous expedition and you can’t
stop looking at your phone,” he nudged his son.
“Yes, Papa,” he glanced up, his fingers still typing.
“What are you doing?”
His head was buried back into his phone, his mouth smiling.
“Samarth?”
“One minute, Papa.”
Siddharth rolled his eyes. A teenage son was ok. A teenage son with a
girlfriend who was now away from him was… he sighed.
“Done, one minute,” Samarth consoled, still typing, now frowning.
Siddharth reached for his own phone, pulling up Tara’s chat. He felt
ridiculous to be lying beside his teenage son as he texted his girlfriend
while he texted his own. But the moment he clicked on Tara’s profile
picture — a photo of her in that red jacket in the middle of endless whites
of Antarctica, one which he had taken, his reticence died.
He began to type when the loud humph from beside him alerted that his son
was done. He clicked his phone shut and flung it aside, turning on his side
to meet him. This had been their ritual since he had been a baby. For the
first five years after his mother had left, Siddharth had put Samarth to sleep
beside him. Then, at 10, he had reluctantly and on multiple requests from
his brave son, let him have a room of his own. But, in the king’s chambers.
It was only at 13 that Siddharth had let Samarth shift out to his own
chambers. But they had continued with this tradition of theirs — lying in
one bed, side by side and talking.
“What’s going on with Ava?”
“Nothing,” he popped.
“Nothing? Then what was this,” Siddharth imitated his grin, “and this,” he
frowned, “and this,” he squinted. Samarth lay back rolling his eyes,
laughing softly in that treble voice of his which was already sounding so
heavy and horrendous because it was undergoing its most significant
change.
“Everything is good, Papa.”
“That’s your favourite line nowadays,” he reached out and gave the top of
his head a shake. “Tell me the long story.”
“Nothing to tell…” he shrugged. “We have been in the same class for two
years. I enjoyed talking to her when she became my bench partner. And
apparently she liked it too. That was last year. Our groups were different,
and this year we didn’t get to become bench partners. Our class teacher
assigned them, and didn’t let us change. So we spent a lot of time apart but
then we wanted to be together…”
“Hmm…”
“Don’t laugh.”
“Why would I?”
“Just saying,” his son’s eyes, his exact replica, turned to him. They were
now softer, smiling, an innocent adorable expression there that he hoped
sparked in his own eyes too when he talked about Tara.
“I realised that being with her… it just makes things even better. Like if I
won a match I would be happy only for a day. But if she is there too, I can’t
stop being happy for days straight with her. So I asked her, officially, to go
out with me when we get our weekends out. She said yes. That’s it.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“And what about talking to her about everything?”
“You remember that?” His son squeezed his eyes shut, chagrined.
Siddharth’s blood cooled. Did this boy not mean what he had said to him
that night?
“I do,” he nodded solemnly.
“That day I said some things that were… are you angry I asked you that? I
should not have… I told her about it and she said it was ok, I should have…
but we never talk about such things, Papa.”
“Did you mean them?”
“Yes! But was it weird to talk about it…? Let’s just forget it.”
Siddharth shook his head — “No, it wasn’t weird at all. In fact, that sparked
something. I want to ask you, beta, that if…”
His phone buzzed. Siddharth turned to check. Tara. He grinned.
Nawanagar’s new queen would live to be a hundred. He turned the phone
face down and faced his son, both of them with their heads resting on their
palms. He opened his mouth to speak when his phone buzzed again. He
frowned.
She wouldn’t have made that second call if it wasn’t urgent. She knew he
was home and with Samarth tonight. She wasn’t a clingy girlfriend.
“Sorry, beta, one minute,” he grabbed his phone and got out of bed, padding
out of the king’s bedchamber and towards the queen’s bedchamber
opposite. It had been stripped and redone after Vaibhavi had left, and had
functioned as his office space when Samarth was a child. Now it was just
left empty. He knew the woman who would fill it up.
Siddharth sat down on the edge of the bed and swiped to answer.
“Hello?”
“Sid…” her soft, shrill voice sounded. Was she crying? He sat straight.
“Tara? What’s wrong?”
Muffled sounds. Hiccups.
“Tara? Are you safe? Is it your family…?” He got to his feet. “I’ll call…”
“No, no, I am fine,” she hiccupped, clearly crying. “I…” she hiccuped.
“Breathe, breathe first. Drink some water. Are you at home?”
“Hmm…” she must be drinking water. “Sid?”
“Yes, I am listening.”
“My parents said no.”
He blinked. Blank.
“No for what?”
“For us,” she sniffled. “They are… very angry. I just had to tell you tonight
before you told your family. Just… just hold on for now.”
“What? Why?”
“Just… they are forcing me to see other guys for arranged marriage.”
“Over my dead body.”
“Listen, please don’t flare up. Just relax.”
“You are telling me to relax when they are forcing you to meet other men?”
“They haven’t made me meet them yet! That’s just what they said.”
“Did you tell them who I am?”
“That caused the uproar.”
“What’s wrong with me?”
He knew what was wrong. He was 14 years older than her, had a 15 year-
old son, and was a king.
Tara was kinder — “They are upset that I was doing this behind their
backs.”
“Tara, I can come there. I’ll be there to speak to them. If you want I’ll be
there in the morning and we will sort it out…”
“No, no. My father is angry, my mother is… don’t even remind me. Just…
let it pass.”
He remained silent.
“Sid?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t talk about us right now.”
“What if I already have?”
“Have you?”
He sighed, glancing at the sprawling sitting area that connected to his
bedchamber where Samarth waited.
“No.”
“Hmm,” she sniffled.
His eyes squeezed shut. Out of all the friction he had expected, this wasn’t
one. He had expected them to be shocked, demand time to think. But an
outright rejection without even meeting him?
“Sid? Are you there?”
“Yes.”
“It will be fine.”
“Yes.”
“It will be.”
“Yes, Tara. I know,” he announced. “And if it isn’t, I won’t let anybody sit
peacefully.”

OceanofPDF.com
PART III: A QUEEN

— TARA —

OceanofPDF.com
 21. You Can’t Live Life Only On Love
Tara poured a handful of bajra down the round grind, the pinging of grains
on stone soothing to her ears. The silence of her house felt eerie otherwise.
Her father had left for the shop earlier than usual, her mother was in the
garden behind, doing who knows what. She hadn’t ventured this side since
serving tea to her father.
Tara grimaced, tears coming to her eyes again at the thought of what they
would be feeling, what they would be going through. She wasn’t a crier, not
even when things got bad for her. But when it came to them, she was a
literal baby. If they were in pain, she was in pain. If they were angry at her,
even if she was right, she couldn’t function without getting things right
immediately.
Tara worked her hands, grinding the grains sitting with her legs spread out
on either side of the grind. The early-morning sun streamed down on her
from the grill bars above the kitchen, warming the cold air. A tear slipped
out of her eye and she wiped it on the back of her hand. Her eyes were
burning and burning bad. Jet lag of multiple time zones and a sleepless
night with nothing but worry. She felt sleepy even as she ground the grains.
But she knew that if she lay down in bed, she would again overthink.
Worry. Cry.
A wave of shame crept over her. Had her parents lost all trust in her?
Because they were clearly eyeing this from a shameful perspective. That
she had gotten involved with a divorcee king more than a decade older than
her. They didn’t see that that man was so much more than just the tags they
were pinning on him. And how could she make them see it? That he was
Sid. The best man she had known. And she had known her father and
Yuvraj Maan Sinh of Devgadh all her life! Yet, Sid had been the kindest,
most caring, most… hers.
Tears fell down her eyes, and she kept grinding, not even realising it until
her cheeks were wet.
Tara wiped her face on the back of her sleeve, sniffling, reaching for more
grains. Would she be able to explain to her parents that what they had
was… not an ‘affair,’ as they had put it? Would they ever listen? Because
last night it had seemed like they were ready to get her married to the first
man from their community and be done with it.
Tara collected the ground flour into a brass platter and began to get to her
feet when her phone rang. The shrill ring tore through the silent house. Sid.
She immediately answered.
“Hello?”
“Were you crying?” His thick, baritone voice echoed over the phone, the
voice crackling for the lack of good network in this area of the house. Tara
sat back, absorbing his voice, loving the way it soothed her frayed nerves. It
had held that power since that first day. And now, he could read her one of
his boring research papers and she would feel calm wash over her.
“Tara?”
“Yes? I mean… no,” she sniffled until her nose was clear of snot. “I am
ok.”
“Did anything happen after last night?”
“No.”
“Are you parents around and that is why you are giving me one word
answers?”
She chuckled, setting the platter down and sitting crossed legged in the
middle of the kitchen — “No, Sid, nobody is around…” her mother’s saree
hem came in view and then it was her mother. Tara craned her neck up and
there she was, not as impassive as she was this morning. She was livid
again, more than she had been last night.
“Then tell me exactly what happened last night. What are they against? If I
know, I will be able to…”
“I’ll call you later,” she muttered and ended the call, clicking the silent
button on.
“No. Talk, no? You have been doing everything behind our backs. Do this
also. In fact, do it in front of us now.” She began to cross but Tara held her
pallu, “Listen naa, please.”
Her mother stared down at her, her hands muddy from pulling out weeds.
She stood there for long, painful seconds, hurt crossing her face. Then she
turned and went to the sink, washed her hands and sat down in front of her.
“I am listening,” she clipped. Tara swallowed. This was her chance, to show
her who Sid was. It was her chance to bring her mother over. But her mouth
just wouldn’t open.
“There’s no point in being embarrassed now, Tara.”
“I am not embarrassed,” she shot back, fire lighting behind her at that
allegation. She would be anything but embarrassed about Siddharth in her
life.
“Then why are no words coming out of your mouth?”
“Because… ok,” she dragged closer to her mother and took a deep breath.
“I never wanted to make this so hurting for you. But… when I met him for
the first time, I did not know who he was…”
“You didn’t lie to us before Tara, why now?”
“I am not lying!”
“How did you not know who he was?! He has come to the palace so many
times over the years! I have seen him and his son multiple times.”
“But I hadn’t! I had seen him ten years ago and that too at a cricket match…
and he looks different now. I am not lying. I did not know who he was and
we were at Abhi’s party. And… he just stood out, Mummy.”
“Of course he will! He is a king, he knows how to charm women. What was
he doing at your kids’ party?”
“He wasn’t there to party or charm women. He was there to work. He works
with the Ministry of Environment and Forests and he was at Mahi
waterfront for that. We just happened to talk and I have never been able to
talk to somebody like I did to him. But I realised who he was and I left. I
thought about him exactly what you think, Mummy, but he is not that. Why
would he not have women for the last decade otherwise? Why did he not
marry after his wife left otherwise? He has been raising his son alone and
working for his kingdom, environment and his businesses all alone.”
Her mother shook her head.
“Please, Mummy, please. I have never gotten involved with anybody… not
growing up, and not in Baroda when I was free in an unknown town. I am
not that type of girl. You know it! I have grown up only knowing how to
fight and keep my armour up. With him… I just didn’t feel the need to
anymore,” Tara pleaded, feeling tears streaming down her face. “Please
think about this. Siddharth is a man better than any you could find in our
community paper for me…”
“That’s the problem,” her mother lamented. “He is a man. You are 24, you
need a boy.”
“No! I need nobody but him.”
Her mother’s lips pursed. She blinked, staring at her. A minute passed in
silence, two. Tara looked away.
“Hmm,” her mother started. “Say you marry him.”
Tara whirled her eyes back to her.
“Say his royal family, the other royal communities, his kingdom, everybody
accepts you. Then what?”
"Then what?”
“Then one day, like his previous wife, if he makes you leave…”
“He didn’t make her leave! She left on her own.”
“No mother would leave her child behind.”
“She did.”
“There are many stories around that.”
“And I know the real one.”
“You know the one he told you.”
Tara took a deep breath.
“Why would he lie to me?”
“To charm you…”
“He told me this much before we were even thinking about marriage… in
fact, at that time it was a given that there could be nothing between us. He
has been responsible and held back from me until he was sure that
everybody on his side could agree to this.”
Her mother sighed. “What happened to your practical, logical brain, Tara?”
“I am thinking practically too.”
“Huh?” She taunted. “Then what about your children? His son would
become the king and what about your children?”
“They would be his younger children and live like that. Why, royal families
only have one child or what?!”
“Don’t talk like that to me,” her mother warned. Tara lowered her eyes.
“I meant… younger siblings are everywhere, even in royal families.
“And look what happened with Yuvraj saheb.”
Tara clamped her mouth shut. That was a topic best left aside right now
because their Devgadh was in shambles. The town was plunged into a
confusing dark hole while the palace was just… lifeless. That’s what she
had heard. She hadn’t visited yet. What was there to go to?
Tara still couldn’t believe it. She had left Devgadh with their Yuvraj and
Yuvrani in the palace. She had played with little Ragini Kumari before
leaving, even brought her a toy back from Spain. But they weren’t in the
palace any more. The reason? Yuvraj saheb’s elder sister, who had gotten
together with Sangram and tried to kill the entire family. Tara had been with
them then, as Yuvrani had been pregnant and on bed rest. Things had
seemed to settle.
But then, another blood bath had ensued while she was away. And finally,
after a tense negotiation in the court, Yuvraj saheb had stepped back and let
Niyati Kumari take over under her father. He had left for Neelambaag, his
boutique spa hotel in the hills that he had built himself. But that’s all the
news there was in Devgadh. And security was too tight there for anybody to
visit them.
“If blood relatives and real siblings can do that to each other, what
guarantee is there that that king’s son wouldn’t do that to your children?”
Her mother’s voice startled her out of the thoughts of Yuvraj and Yuvrani.
“Samarth is not like that…”
“He made you meet his son?!”
“No! He didn’t make us meet. I met him in passing during the resolution
last year. It was way before this started, Mummy. He is a good boy…”
“Everybody is good when meeting strangers. These princes and kings are
all power-hungry.” Her mother shook her head. “No. I will not let you jump
into this pit. I wouldn’t have anyway, but after what happened in the
palace… no way are you doing this. Your father and I have talked. We will
start seeing grooms for you. You will meet them, start talking to them, and
see that boys your age are much better fit for you. And slowly you will
forget about that man…”
“I will not…”
“It will take time, but slowly you will realise that you can’t live life only on
love. This is all in stories and poems…”
“It is not! I have experienced it…”

“Meena ben! Gaay-vaachharda aavi gaya chhe!”[20] Their neighbouring

kaki hollered from the main door.

“Aavi, aavi!”[21]
Her mother got to her feet, grabbed the bunch of rotlis with jaggery that she
had kept aside for the cows, and left. Tara stared longingly at her retreating
figure, wondering if this was a losing battle already. The tears that had dried
in her eyes began to flow again.
Her phone vibrated by her thigh. She plucked it. 17 missed calls. Sid.
Tara got to her feet and ran up the stairs and into her room, panting for the
first time up these stairs as her throat was dry and panic close. She shut the
door to her room, locked it and sat cross-legged on her bed, crying. The
phone vibrated in her hand but she cried first, letting all the emotion flow
out before she spoke to him.
Finally, after three more missed calls from him in her hand, Tara swiped the
screen and answered.
“What the hell happened?!” He thundered. “Are you ok?”
“Yes,” she breathed deep, rubbing her eyes clean. The salt water was
beginning to scrape.
“Do not do that to me again. Knowing what goes on in your house, I had
half a mind to call my people in the palace.”
“You have people in the palace here?” She tried to divert the topic.
“Don’t try that right now, Tara. Tell me, what happened?”
She exhaled — “Nothing. My mother saw me talking to you and I had to
quickly cut the call. We talked.”
“And?”
“And?” She opened her mouth to lie, that it would be ok, that it would take
time but it would be ok. Like she had done last night when he had flipped
on call. But there was a world of a difference between last night and today.
Last night, her parents had threatened her with arranged marriage meetings
in a fit of rage. Today, her mother had done it with a completely calculated
approach.
“Tara?”
“Huh? Yes…”
“What is it?”
“Umm… Sid?”
“Yes, Tara?”
“Can you come?”

OceanofPDF.com
 22. The Meeting
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The massive grandfather pendulum clock in the hall
of her house made harrowing sounds. The silence between her and her
parents made it spookier. Tara sat still, keeping her shoulders squared. That
had been one of her tactics growing up when she wanted to make herself
feel stronger than she was, bigger than she was, readier than she was.
“Rawal and doesn’t value time,” her father scoffed. Tara glanced at the
time. 8.54 pm.
“We told him 9 pm, Papa.”
Her father gave her a look. Tara refrained from mentioning that Siddharth
had proposed to come in the day, but her parents had changed the time to
night. They did not want the whole street to see this ‘tamasho.’
Tara took a deep breath, praying for him to show up on time. Her father
wasn’t one to fuss over such things. He was the most easy-going man out
there. But this was grinding on his nerves, she could see it.
Headlights reflected into their house and the sound of crunching gravel
whispered outside. Tara got to her feet. She glanced at her parents. Her
mother nudged her chin, allowing her to go receive him. Tara re-squared her
shoulders and took decisive steps out of the hall and into the courtyard. And
there was Siddharth, car parked outside their door, rounding the hood and
climbing the five steps to her small door. Her throat clogged. All the
emotion from the last two days came to her eyes.
No! Not right now, Tara. She rolled her eyes, drinking the tears in and
crossing the courtyard to meet him midway.
“Hi,” she whispered, taking deeper breaths because that’s how much
oxygen she needed. He was dressed in his Rawal avatar — white kurta-
pyajama, a simple brown shawl around his neck, nothing but a watch on his
wrist. He did not say a word, searching her eyes. Then gave a nod.
“Come,” she ushered him, in a role reversal, walking in front of him to lead
him to her parents. Her stomach was tight with butterflies and elephants.
“Jai Amba Maa ni,” Siddharth’s deep baritone echoed through her hall. Tara
glanced back, only to see him step inside her hall with his hands folded to
her parents. She whirled back and both her parents were up on their feet,
their hands folded too. Tara swallowed a smile. That was the aura of
Siddharth. He wasn’t king only because of his blood.
“Jai Amba Maa, ni, Rawal saheb,” her father returned. “You are exactly on
time.”
Tara glanced at the pendulum clock and her eyes widened. Dot 9.
“Please call me Siddharth,” he smiled. “I have come here to ask for your
daughter’s hand, not to be a king.”
Her father nodded, extending an arm to usher him to their only long sofa.
Siddharth took his seat, his eyes not veering from her father’s. Not to check
out her house, and not to look at her.
“You drove all the way from Nawanagar?” Her father asked.
“Yes.”
Another nod. The tick-tocks of the blasted pendulum. Silence.
“Thakker saheb,” Siddharth broke the awkward tension. “My intention was
not to disrespect you by going behind your back. Tara and I have crossed
paths a few times, but it was on our expedition to Antarctica that we got to
know each other. I am aware that there are many other factors at play today
because of our circumstances, my background and my heritage. But one
thing is very clear from my side — I want to marry your daughter, give her
every dignity that is the due of my wife and queen, and make sure she leads
a happy, flourishing life.”
Her father glanced at her, then back at Siddharth. “Marriages happen
between families of the same backgrounds.”
“I am aware.”
“We are not of the same background, Rawal saheb.”
Tara noted how her father had not called him Siddharth. She knew
Siddharth did too. But nothing in his demeanour changed.
“But is the same background all that one sees while getting married?”
“Ours are like the earth and the sky. My daughter is a common girl, I am a
common trader. Even if we wanted it, we wouldn’t be able to match up to
your standards.”
“I am not asking for anything but your daughter in marriage.”
Her father shook his head. “And will your kingdom accept her? Will your
relatives and family members accept her?”
“Yes.”
Tara glanced at her mother, who was equally shocked at the turn of events.
They had expected an entitled king who would be deterred by their
arguments, even offended. Siddharth had brought his calm head with him
today, using that unshakeable cool with which he had mollified her.
“And what about your Kunwar saheb? At 15, will he accept a step-mother
in his house?”
“Yes.”
“Have you spoken to him about my daughter?”
“Not in detail.”
“Then how can you be sure?”
“I know my Kunwar. I am confident that his behaviour towards Tara will be
respectful, welcoming and affectionate.”
“And should my daughter become a step-mother at 24?”
That brought Siddharth’s quick-answers to an abrupt halt. He did not betray
any discomfort though as he glanced up at her for the first time in this
meeting. He must have seen the surety with which she stood, because his
eyes smiled. That tiny flicker.
“When I was sure that I wanted a future with your daughter, I asked her
point blank. I laid all my cards in front of her — my past, my current life,
my responsibilities and my son. And she said yes to all of those. I have felt
guilty from time to time when I think about what Tara deserves. I know that
she deserves a fair lot more than becoming a step-mother at 24. But I also
know that there is a full life that awaits us with my son and our future
children by our side.”
“Hmm…” her father nodded. “You heard what happened with Yuvraj saheb
of Devgadh?”
“Yes.”
“When Niyati Kumari can do that to her real brother, what is the guarantee
that a half-brother will not do it to my daughter’s children?”
Tara saw it then. The offence her father was trying to create. The rage he
was trying to instigate in Siddharth. It was slow, but she could see it. Look
at me once, Sid, she prayed. Look at me once again and calm down. He
didn’t look at her.
“I understand your concern, Thakker saheb. That is why I am not taking
offence on my son’s behalf. He has been brought up with my father’s and
my mother’s sanskar. I have made him a man of righteousness. He will not
cross my word.”
“And when you are not there? Who will be my daughter’s protecter then? If
you are not around one day and your son crushes my daughter and her
children, where will we go?”
“I give you the assurance that that will not happen.”
“In your lifetime, you say. But Rawal saheb, none of us have come with
immortality on our hands. Please forgive me for saying this — your
assurance will not secure my daughter’s future in a strange kingdom, amid
strange people and a step-son…”
“I do not like how you are sneering at my son’s name.”
“I do not like how my daughter has gotten involved in all this.”
“This meeting that you gave me, you did not give it to me to listen to my
side of the story, nor even to mollify Tara. You gave it to offend me so that I
break it off with her,” Siddharth observed.
“I was ready to listen to you with an open mind…”
“Then here’s our side of the story — Your daughter and I have seen more
on this short journey together than most new couples see in years. We may
be apart in age, and I might come with more baggage than her, but we are
ready and committed to marry. It is not a passing moment. It is our lives. I
am sure you will understand your daughter better than me, and know that
she thinks light years beyond her age. She can see what this is and where
this is going. And all she and I want is for you to bless us to go ahead.”
The tide again turned. Tara looked hopeful, staring at her father left
speechless now.
“On one condition,” her mother demanded.
“Name it,” Siddharth turned to her.
“Tara’s child will become your heir.”
Tara staggered. This was the limit now! Her parents must have exhausted
every polite offence in the book to come to this.
“Mummy, we cannot talk about such things…” she began but was cut off by
Siddharth — “My heir is already announced. Samarth is the next King of
Nawanagar.”
“Then you must forgive me for what I am about to say,” her mother looked
the King of Nawanagar straight in his eyes. “But when Kunwar Samarth
will be king, it would mean you are not around. And what would that mean
for Tara and your other children?”
“It would mean that they would be safe and happy under his reign. And if
you are worried about their financial security, I will make provisions for
that from the get go…”
Her mother shook her head, not backing down. Tara had never seen her like
this. She wasn’t one for wealth or ambition. And here she was hellbent on
chasing Siddharth off.
“If you cannot make Tara’s future child your heir then we cannot let Tara
marry you.”
“I do not want that, Mummy!” Tara stepped up. “It is his kingdom, his
throne and Samarth is his firstborn…”
“And when he chases you off the palace would you say the same thing? You
won’t have a Neelambaag to go to,” she fired back.
She went to retort but was cut off again. “Tara.” Siddharth’s heavy voice
reverberated. He nodded at her, showing calm even in cold rage. She
settled.
“Samarth will never do such a thing. And I invite you to say that once you
get to know him.”
Her father shook his head.
“No, I insist. You meet him once and you will know why I am so confident
about my son’s actions.”
“Rawal saheb…”
“Even so, I understand your concern. I will make sure to distribute my
assets equitably. If Samarth is inheriting the throne, I will make sure that
Tara and my children inherit a lot more in wealth. I will make sure that if
such a situation arises, they would have more than a Neelambaag to go to.”
That clamped her mother’s mouth shut. Tara felt a deep breath whoosh out
of her. Yes! He had done it.
“Rawal saheb,” her father said. “I am thankful for all that you have said
today. But my wife and I are convinced that Tara will not be happy there in
the long run. Her and her children’s future will not be secure, whatever you
say, whatever wealth you transfer to them. We live in a modern world, but
the alleys of royal palaces are still stuck in the middle-ages. Brother is
hungry for brother’s blood, and now even sisters have jumped in. In such
turbulent times,” he folded his hands in front of his face, “I request you to
let this go.”
“But, Papa…” she began, only to be cut off yet again by her father’s cold
gaze. She swallowed.
The pendulum clock was again loud in the silence. Those moments so
heavy on her as she gazed at Siddharth, waiting for him to come back with
a rebut. But he just rose to his feet.
“Thank you for listening to me tonight,” he folded his hands in front of her
father. “I hope you can think about this again because I am convinced that I
will keep Tara very happy, and secure in my home. I have spent the
majority of my life alone. I did not want to find a partner in life again. But
in Tara, I found more than a partner. I found a soulmate, without even
looking. I will wait for her now.”
He nodded at them, met her eyes and held a second longer before turning
and leaving her house.
————————————————————
“What now?!” She asked into the phone the moment he picked up.
“Patience, Tara.”
“How are you so calm? And you left like that? My parents already showed
me three bios on their mobiles after you left. I have fought with them again
and I am losing my patience, Sid. I don’t know what’s going to happen
now…”
“Quiet,” he commanded. Her breath swelled.
“Breathe first.”
“Sid…”
“I said, breathe.”
She huffed, taking long, deep breaths like she had with him once before in a
panicked moment. He held on, the sound of the car indicator loud.
“Are you driving?”
“Yes.”
“You are going back to Nawanagar?” She asked, betrayed.
“I am not going anywhere leaving you like this. I am in Devgadh tonight.
Tomorrow morning I am going to Neelambaag.”
“Why?”
“Your parents are not ready to listen to reason, but there is one man they
respect more than any in Devgadh. They will listen to him.”
“Yuvraj saheb?”
“Yes.”
“No! Sid I’ll die of embarrassment. Yuvraj asked you to stay away from
me…”
“So?”
“And you did not!”
He laughed — “Tara, he is your Yuvraj saheb. Not mine. You are thinking of
obeying him, not me. If anything, I trump him in age, experience and status.
Let me talk to him.”
“No, Sid, you will not.”
“And I will listen to you because…?”
“Because I am your fiancée!”
Silence. She clicked her tongue — “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like th…”
“I liked it,” his grinning voice echoed. “I loved it. Stake your claim on me
like this and I will take you home soon.”
She chuckled.
"Tara…” he sighed.
“Hmm?”
“The hour at your house was tensed, and it tanked my mood to a point
where I thought I would have to run in the hotel gym all night to recover.
You just made it all vanish with this.”
A smile curled her lips. “You are sappy and you are turning me sappy.”
“Good thing we will match by the time we marry.”
“Sid?!”
“Yes, Tara.”
“Don’t go to Yuvraj, please. It’s… find another way. What if I…”
“No. You are not doing anything. You are going to go to sleep, it’s late. I
will call you tomorrow once I have spoken to Maan.”
“Si…”
"Goodnight, Tara. Dream about our future.”

OceanofPDF.com
 23. Neelambaag
“Mummy, I’m leaving!” Tara hollered to her mother, slipping her feet into
her mojris.
“Call me when you reach!” Her mother hollered back. “I’ve heard there is
tight security around there.”
“Yes!’
“But since Yuvrani saheb has called you, she would have told them…”
“Yes, Mummy. Bye!”
Tara felt terrible leaving her house with this lie in her wake. But she
couldn’t sit still and let Siddharth open their dirty laundry in front of Yuvraj
and Yuvrani. So she had done what any bad daughter would do. Lied to her
mother that Yuvrani saheb had summoned her to Neelambaag, which
wouldn’t be out of place because everyone knew that she had been close to
Yuvrani in the palace. Tara had also made an excuse of giving the toy she
had brought for Ragini Kumari.
In reality, she was going to stand outside Neelambaag and thwart his car.
Tara ran a hand down her short kurti, boarding the public chhakda rickshaw
that would take her to Neelambaag. It was a heritage fortress on a hill
outside Devgadh, recently converted into a luxury boutique hotel and spa
by their Yuvraj. His baby project. Now he was living there and running it,
establishing his new family home away from Devgadh.
Tara checked her watch. It was 7.30 am. Siddharth was still at the gym
when she had texted him at 6.30. Tara got comfortable between the two
massive kakis on either side of her. There were five other passengers and it
was a two hour journey. She didn’t mind.
She had a lot to think about. Like the fact that after thwarting Siddharth, she
would go straight to her father’s shop and speak to him. She had tried
convincing her mother one-on-one but not her father. And Tara knew for a
fact that her father would successfully listen to her without bringing worse-
case scenarios and emotions into it.
She just had to convince Siddharth first. Her phone buzzed. Sid. She
instantly perked up.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” his voice was lighter, even smiling. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing much… what about you? Did you leave?”
“Yes, on my way… what’s that noise?”
“What noise?” She bit her lip.
“That noise… are you outside?”
“Yes, I came out to get vegetables…”
“Lie.”
“Arey? Really…”
“Chalo, chalo! Raj Marg, Raj Marg!” The chhakda driver yelled,
announcing their next stop. No!
“Where are you?” Siddharth bit out.
“Umm…”
“Getting vegetables in Raj Marg, 45 km away from your house?”
“Umm…”
“Get down at Raj Marg, I am 10 minutes away.”
“No, Sid.”
“Tara, I will not repeat myself.”
She cursed herself, ending his call and shoving out of the chhakda, standing
on the highway stop under the mild winter sun, with the wind blowing hard
over her thin cotton kurti. She had left in a rush. She should have gotten a
shawl. Or that infamous white hoodie!
A honk reverberated and her eyes whirled up. His black beastly car was
zooming down the highway, slowing gradually as it came nearer and nearer,
until it stopped right in front of her. She huffed and opened the door, only to
be greeted by a pair of infuriated eyes. She turned her face away, lifting
herself into the car and shutting the outside wind and noise with the door.
The interiors were warmer, and he immediately turned the heater to high.
“You didn’t have to come,” she said, looking at the windscreen instead of
him.
“Where were you going?”
“To get vegetables.”
“Here?”
“In wholesale, from the farm.”
“Do not lie to me again. Where were you going?”
“To stop you,” she turned on him, catching him by surprise. “I told you
don’t go! Why wouldn’t you listen to me? Yuvraj saheb can’t do anything.
It’ll only make my parents more angry and what will Yuvraj and Yuvrani
think…” her face was pulled by two warm hands and his mouth cut her
words off. “Mmm…” she protested, pounding his chest, but he deepened
the kiss, leaning over the centre console until she had wrapped her arms
around him and kissed him back.
“Now shut up,” he rebuked, pulling back. “And sit quietly.”
“Sid I am not going to let you go…”
He put the car in drive and merged onto the highway.
“Did you eat breakfast?”
She didn’t answer.
“Tara.”
She remained silent.
“Give me the silent treatment all you want, I am doing this my way. Which
means first I am feeding you and then we are going to Neelambaag.”
————————————————————
“Siiiiid!” She screamed, frustrated as he turned the final corner and hurtled
up the fortress that was Neelambaag Hotel & Spa. Tara frowned, shocked at
the heavy security formation leading up to the main entrance.
“Is there a threat to Yuvraj saheb? Sangram is in jail, no?”
“Maan is being careful. Giriraj Hukum has asked to keep the security
beefed up until Niyati and Vanraj are settled in the palace.”
“Nobody is stopping you…”
“I informed ahead.”
She gasped. “Yuvraj knows about us already?! Sidddd!”
“Will you growl at me all our marriage like this?” He asked amused.
“Yes!” She hissed. “If you don’t listen to me.”
“Good. It’s cute.”
“Grrr…” she growled purposefully in his profile, making him laugh. Their
car veered around the main hotel atrium entrance and towards the back.
“Where are we going?”
“They have set up the Commander’s Cottage behind. The entrance to it has
been blocked completely for security reasons.”
“What did you tell Yuvraj about us?”
“I haven’t told him anything except that I want to meet him.”
“Phew,” she sat back. “So we can spin it. You tell him you came here to talk
about some… kingdom talk. Or cricket…”
“Oh yeah? And how will I explain this 5 foot 2 mouthy thing by my side?”
“I’ll sit in the car.”
“Tara,” he parked the car just outside the cottage and extended an arm
behind her seat. “You are brilliant at a lot of things, but not at strategy. So
be a good little fiancée and get out of the car.”
“Don’t talk like that to me or you won’t have a fiancée!” She threw the door
open and steamrolled out of his car, belatedly realising that he had pushed
her buttons to run her out. Ugh!
“Pretty place,” he remarked, rounding the hood and coming to her side.
That’s when Tara took a look around. It was pretty. There was a garden
extending from the main entrance of the cottage, tall mango trees and
gulmohar creepers creating a soft, personal haven. A day bed had been set
up, for Yurvani of course, a long bench swing with a red tiled roof over it
completing the homeliness of the garden. Kumari ’s jungle gym had been
set up under a bright, colourful shade. Tara smiled sadly.
Ragini Kumari had been discriminated against in the palace. The little girl
hadn’t been allowed a jungle gym in the best garden just because her aunt
and grandmother wanted to instate their power over her mother.
‘Come, Tara,” Siddharth opened his hand. She took it unconsciously, letting
him lead her to the main door, her eyes still on the garden that looked like it
had seen many a happy evenings already. The door swung open and her
eyes turned, only to be confronted by Yuvraj Maan Sinh Devgadh in a
simple white T-shirt and black track pants. His night dress in the palace. But
he didn’t look like had just woken up. He looked freshly showered, as if his
day had started long ago. He also looked enraged, his face turned just a
smidge as his eyes cut to them.
Tara blinked, then glanced down at her hand in Siddharth’s. She worked to
pull away but he held it back, holding it tighter, staring Yuvraj down even
more fiercely than he was staring at them, his corrective glasses on. He had
been diagnosed with Stargardt recently, a rare genetic eye disease that
gradually made you lose your central vision. For some, it stopped at a point,
leaving partial sight. For others, it robbed it all. For Yuvraj saheb the
disease was still progressing and nothing was clear. And that had created a
whole lot of storms in his life, from his marriage to a stranger (now their
beloved Yuvrani) to his sister’s coup against him.
“I didn’t plan to tell you like this,” Siddharth said. “But let’s rip the bandaid
right off.”
“Oh yes, let’s do,” Yuvraj clipped.
For a moment, nothing was said. Then — “Tara, go and meet Sami. She is
lying down in the hall.”
Yuvraj didn’t take his gaze off Siddharth’s as he said that. Tara pulled her
hand from Siddharth’s, and this time he let her go. But not before staking
his own claim — “I’ll be there in a while,” he nudged his chin at her. She
bit her cheeks.
Tara passed Yuvraj and walked down the alley, the soft voice of Yuvrani
singing echoing through the house. The sun streamed into the hall, falling in
the middle of the luxurious C-shaped seating area, Ragini Kumari crawling
around in her nightdress of a pink onesie, her curls bouncing. Yuvrani was
lying on the main sofa, singing one of her favourite Hindustani Classical
songs, the one she used to sing often to her belly when she had been
pregnant with Ragini Kumari. Now she sang it to a crawling Ragini
Kumari.
“Koyaliya… bole ambwa ki dalariya…”
Ragini Kumari was the first to see her, and immediately began to thump the
floor, crawling at breakneck speed towards her. Tara laughed, reaching
down and swinging her up the moment she was within reach.
“Hiii…” she swung her around.
“Is that you, Tara?” Yuvrani craned her neck. “When did you come back
from Antarctica?”
“Two days back,” Tara padded around the sofa and in front of Yuvrani who
was in complete contrast to her palace avatar. She was dressed down in a
pair of loose dark culottes and a cute top that swelled just mildly at her
belly. But even lying down on bedrest for her second pregnancy, after
battling the storms that she had, she looked ethereal. And that winning
sunny smile was just as bright on her mouth.
“I thought you were coming next week or I would have called you. How
was your expedition?”
“It was…” Tara stumbled, the expedition playing in front of her eyes in fast
forward. The highlight of that expedition was talking to Yuvraj saheb right
this second. “Good,” Tara pronounced, bouncing a fussing Ragini Kumari
in her arms. She reached for her hair and Tara laughed — “Mummy didn’t
give you breakfast, Kumari?”
“Don’t even say the word breakfast!” Yuvrani rolled her eyes. “She has
become an ever-hungry baby suddenly. Thank god I am not feeding
regularly. Maan is going crazy making her purees every two hours…”
“Don’t you have staff here? Where is everybody?”
“We are by ourselves. We have kept Ragini’s nanny on standby in the
outhouse, but we manage as much as we can with my mother here…”
“Where is Aunty?”
“She has gone to Baroda for today. To pack up the house for the foreseeable
future. She will stay here until I deliver and can get back on my feet.”
“You can call me at any time if you need help, Yuvrani.”
“I know,” she smiled. “And Tara, you don’t have to call me Yuvrani
anymore. I am not.”
“But what else can I call you?”
“Samriddhi? Sami? Take your pick.”
Tara stood back shocked, then chuckled. “No, I can’t. You will always be
my Yuvrani.”
“Once the kids grow up, we don’t want to hear any royal talk. So you better
start thinking of another name to call me. Come sit, why are you standing?
How did you come?”
“Oh… by car.”
“Where is Maan? He said Siddharth is coming. Did he come when you
came?” Yuvrani began to crane her neck again to check behind her. Tara felt
her whole face heat up. She hated Sid for what he had pushed her into. How
could she tell Yuvrani that…
“Right here,” Yuvraj’s voice echoed from the alleyway. Ragini Kumari
began to squirm in her arms and as was the custom, Tara let her down,
pushing her towards her father. And just like she had in the palace, Kumari
raced across the space, wove through the furniture with agile speed until she
was swiped up by Yuvraj.
“How can you miss me in just ten minutes, huh?” He kissed her cheek,
blowing raspberries under her chin. The princess laughed, her curls flying
behind her.
“So this is the famous princess of the famous singer princess,” Siddharth
came up behind Yuvraj, tickling an index finger under her little chin.
Kumari stopped laughing, staring wide-eyed at the stranger. Uh oh! Tara
expected her to start crying any second now. Or turn her head away in
classic Kumari Attitude. She had developed that lately.
She was still gawking owlishly at him when Siddharth bent to her eye-level
over Yuvraj’s shoulder, puffed his cheeks and made a bursting noise. That
got her chortling again, beating her tiny palms on Siddharth’s cheeks. He
made that noise again as if her little palms had burst his cheeks. And she
laughed louder. Tara felt her whole stomach liquify at the sight. Siddharth
reached for her. And Tara noted how Yuvraj relented with ease, giving her
hope that their discussion had been… amicable.
“Hi,” Siddharth held her close to his chest, handling her still-wobbly body
with practised ease, nuzzling her nose. “Rags, is it?”
“See?” Yuvrani called Yuvraj. “Even Siddharth has stuck to Rags.”
Yuvraj snorted — “If he knows what’s good for him he will start calling her
Ragini.”
“Oh, but Samriddhi’s support is even more important for me,” Siddharth
padded into the main area bouncing a happy Kumari in his arms, his eyes
on the little princess, giving her his undivided attention. She was drooling
all over the back of his hand, already half in love. Tara’s heart liquified too.
“How are you, Samriddhi? I hear Rags is getting a partner in crime.”
“You’ve heard right,” Yuvrani turned on her side and Yuvraj was instantly
over her, adjusting the pillows until her bent knees rested on them. “Maan
couldn’t wait.”
“It’s children Maan, not a scoreboard,” Siddharth quipped dryly.
“You want me to start talking?” Yuvraj threatened, still sour. Tara fisted her
hands by her side, waiting for the bomb to drop.
“It’s good you came when you did. After you and Maan finish your
meeting, we can all go out to the garden and have lunch there. This is Tara,
by the way. You must have seen her in the palace…” Yuvrani grinned, but
none of them did.
“What’s wrong?” She frowned, glancing between them.
Tara looked down.
“Sami,” Yuvraj started.
“Maan,” Siddharth stopped him. “Let me.”
Tara took a deep breath, wanting to hide somewhere.
“Samriddhi, I know Tara. She is my fiancée.”
————————————————————
The garden was a good idea. The company great too. The topic, not so
much.
The wind was mild and cool, and the sun crisp. Yuvraj saheb was glaring at
Siddharth, Yuvrani was glaring at Yuvraj, and for the lack of a better thing
to do, Tara was glaring at Siddharth. He did not care though as he sat Ragini
Kumari on his lap and was bursting his cheeks every few minutes to keep
her entertained.
Yuvrani now glowered at everyone from her perch on the day bed — “It’s
been going on for one year and I don’t know? Tara,” she zeroed in on her.
“It’s not been going on for one year, Yuvrani,” she defended.
“But you both met last year as per Siddharth’s story.”
“Just met and talked.”
“And apparently talked so much that Maan had to warn Siddharth off you.
That means something.”
Tara bit her lip to keep quiet. The more she’d say, the bigger holes she
would dig. Siddharth was right, she was a terrible liar.
“And you?” She pointed at Siddharth.
“Yes?”
“What’s your defence?”
He smiled, but his voice was solemn — “As I said before, when I gave
Maan my word to stay away from Tara, I meant it. I haven’t looked back or
come to Devgadh ever since. But what happened in Antarctica was
completely out of my control. Both of our controls.”
How could he do it? Take the wind out of somebody’s sails in just a few
sentences. Tara could see Yuvrani soften. If not ready to accept, then at least
ready to listen.
“Sami, I told him that…”
“Don’t Sami me,” she blasted her husband. “You knew about this and hid it
from me? That day Sangram… how could you let Tara go through
something like this?! And then you let him roam around her freely in the
palace!”
“We will not talk about that day until Tara is comfortable talking about it,”
Siddharth commanded, his eyes suddenly steely on the couple. That was
one rare moment when Tara could see how he trumped them in age,
experience and status. That was the only moment where he asserted it.
“You’re right. I’m sorry, Tara,” Yuvrani shook her head. “If you don’t want,
we will not talk about it.”
“No, nothing like that, Yuvrani. It’s not as if I haven’t gotten over it. And
with Sangram in jail… I have felt like… I am avenged.”
Yuvrani looked at Yuvraj then, with an expression that was indiscernible.
Something like understanding. Or a belated realisation.
“Was this the reason?” She asked him.
“This and many more,” he clipped.
She smiled through the haze of her anger and disappointment. That smile
wasn’t for everyone though, it was just for Yuvraj — “I still wouldn’t have
that sin on your hands. Or anybody’s,” she said cryptically. Yuvraj nodded,
his brows drawn together, as if reliving some horror along with her.
“I told Siddharth that I will not get involved in this. Tara’s father is right, to
an extent. As a father, if my daughter comes with such a man, even I
wouldn’t agree.” He glanced at his daughter, happily chewing on the toy
Tara had got her from Ushuaia.
“I would agree,” Yuvrani shocked everybody. The garden was plunged into
silence.
“Stop thinking from your romantic heart, Sami.”
“I am thinking from my head. If this was a passing fling, they wouldn’t be
rattling all doors, least of all yours after you extracted Siddharth’s word on
staying away from Tara. I want to hear it from you, Tara. What is going on
in your mind.”
Tara froze. In all the time they had spent talking, she hadn’t thought the
spotlight would fall on her. And that too like this. She shut her eyes, praying
for strength. Or a miracle. Kill me, someone.
“If you are embarrassed talking about Siddharth right now with us,”
Yuvrani warned. “Then you will not go far in this fight.”
Her eyes popped open, her gaze going straight to the man in question. He
didn’t look betrayed, but he didn’t look like he was expecting her to say
much either. There was a hesitant look in his eyes, as if he was debating
whether to step in and save her. As if… he thought he wasn’t worth fighting
for.
Tara squared her shoulders and turned to Yuvrani — “I am not embarrassed
to talk about Siddharth. I am proud to be the one he chose.”
She could feel his hot gaze on her cheek but Tara rattled on full speed — “I
am so happy that I get him to understand me even before I figure out what I
am thinking. I met him as just another man in a kayak, not as a king. And in
all the days that we have spent together, even when he has had to act like a
king, his behaviour towards me or anybody smaller than him has never been
like that of a king. I admire him, I am in awe of him. And I know that may
come across as a young woman who hasn’t seen much of the world getting
caught up by a world-wise man, an older man. But that’s not true. I have
seen my share of nasty. And then I have seen Sid. My luck came in his
form. If you ask me today, would I have chosen Sid that first day when I
met him in Baroda, I would say yes. I would have chosen him and not left.”
Tara stopped for a breather, and realised that the three participants of this
discussion were speechless and staring at her. One second. Two seconds.
Three seconds.
“Mum mum mum!” Ragini Kumari burst into angry claps on the table.
“What happened to you?” Siddharth turned her and lifted her on his
shoulder. “Don’t agree with her? Yeah, me too. I am the one who’s lucky.”
He nuzzled his nose with hers, momentarily silencing her rant for food.
“She is hungry,” Yuvraj got up. “I’ll make her carrot puree. Tara, her bib
and spoon are in the hall. Can you get them?”
She got to her feet, making her way inside the house behind Yuvraj. She
went to search for the bib but it was nowhere to be found.
“It’s not here, Yuvraj. Did you put it in the basin to wash after her last
feed?” Tara went into the kitchen where the burst of the mixer punctuated
her words. She waited for him to finish pulsing the carrots, then observed
how he meticulously emptied the contents in a sieve and began to strain it
with a spoon. Tara smiled. Kunwar Maan Sinh Devgadh, the prince who
used to joke around with them younger kids by threatening that they would
be thrown in the dungeon was straining carrot puree for his daughter.
“Are you sure about Siddharth?”
Tara blinked.
“He is 14 years older than you. That wasn’t a lot in one time, but today
generations change every year. Will you be able to sustain a life with him,
when he is sixty and you will still be in your forties?”
Tara had thought that. In the time between his proposal and her acceptance,
she had thought a lot more. And in all those thoughts, she had only ever
seen their wavelengths matching because they were just similar people at
their core.
“Yes,” she replied, getting her bearings together to talk to Yuvraj about this
topic.
He turned, his hands still straining, his eyes cutting to hers — “And what
about Samarth? You have met him?”
“Yes, not for long. But I did.”
“And you will have to step into a motherly role for him. He is a good boy,
but will you be able to accept him?”
“Yes.”
“Tara, it might seem easy thinking he is already a teenager but they are the
most difficult to make connections with.”
“I will try my best.”
“And what about his kingdom? Are you ready to leave the anonymity of
your life behind to become the centre of every unsolicited advise, every
gossip, every curse? You have grown up in our palace, you have seen what
life is like for us. But you have not seen how difficult it becomes to deal
with that life. And I can’t even explain to you other than by saying that it is
not a life I would choose again for myself.”
She took a deep breath. “But would you choose Yuvrani?”
Yuvraj saheb blinked. Then — “Again and again.”
Tara shrugged, hoping he would understand what she was so shy to say to
him one-on-one. That she would choose Sid too. Again and again.
Yuvraj nodded, pointing his chin to the island by her side. “Grab that bib
and napkins. Let’s go.”
Tara’s mouth dropped open. Of course! He had the simplest ruses up his
sleeve to get his bidding done!
————————————————————
Lunch was a simple but tasty chhole-puri that Yuvraj saheb and Siddharth
cooked. Tara was pleasantly surprised to discover that Yuvraj saheb cooked
every Indian delicacy, some even better than Yuvrani (in her own words),
and amused to discover that Siddharth couldn’t boil more than water. He
had though, very bravely assisted Yuvraj saheb, jumping back every time a
puri was slipped into the cauldron of hot oil (in Yuvraj’s own words).
After their tensed mid-morning, the wintery afternoon became mellower.
She put Kumari to sleep in her play pen in the hall and padded out to the
garden, only to find the atmosphere even more relaxed. Yuvraj was splayed
beside Yuvrani on her day bed, while Siddharth sat on the bench swing,
pushing it back and forth lightly with his long legs.
“Come,” he said to her. Tara glanced at the royal couple. Neither looked
sour or uncomfortable. So she passed the baby monitor to Yuvraj and sat
down beside Sid, letting him rock the swing to and fro. White and lavender
bougainvillea flowers burst down in bunches from the tiled roof above the
swing, carpeting the grassy floor in the prettiest myriad of colours. The sun
was warm on the cold day, giving her hope of a better tomorrow.
“And what is Hukum saying?” Siddharth asked, as if continuing their thread
of conversation from before she had come.
“He says Vanraj is drilling mouse holes to escape already. His endgame is
not to rule but to loot.”
“And Rawal saheb?”
“I have not spoken to him since I left. And frankly, even if I do, I would not
want to talk politics. The throne of Devgadh has taken a lot from me. The
giving up of it too, almost took my humanity. I want to steer clear of it
now.”
“And Niyati? Do you think she is fit to be a ruler?”
“No,” Yuvraj answered, point blank. “And that is my complete unbiased
opinion. It is based on the fact that she hasn’t studied or practised any of the
state subjects. She has good people skills, which can be a base for building
up leadership. But until she starts to spend serious time and energy on
learning, she will not be able to match Rawal saheb, forget Bade Rawal
saheb’s reign.”
Siddharth hummed. “I had a call with the legal counsels from Delhi
yesterday. The hearing is next month.”
“I won’t be coming anymore.”
“I figured. But other kingdoms are still at stake.”
“Including yours.”
“Why yours?” Yuvrani asked. “You have a sister?”
“A foiba,” Siddharth chuckled. “My father’s elder sister. She is so far gone
in the race but she doesn’t stop trying.”
“Which brings me to an idea that I have already put forth to Giriraj
Hukum,” Yuvraj started. “That we must add leadership and state subjects
compulsorily as part of our girls education. Nobody knows what the
Supreme Court ruling will be. But if not today then in the future, such a
scenario will arise when, like Niyati, women will inherit the throne. They
should be just as equipped as the men to run them.”
Siddharth nodded — “I agree with you. Why don’t we put it together at the
next Maharawal Parisha…” he stopped, pursing his lips, realising that
Yuvraj will never again sit on their council. He had renounced his royal life.
Fully and completely.
“Don’t look so guilty,” Yuvraj laughed. “I have left you to deal with their
dramas alone. If anything, I should look guilty.”
“You are enjoying this, you ass.”
“Wait till I enjoy you begging your father-in-law for her hand.”
Tara’s eyes widened. “You’ll be there?!”
“I will have to be, since he wants me to be his negotiator,” Yuvraj pointed at
Siddharth.
“Sid, my father will be even more angry if he thinks he is embarrassed in
front of Yuvraj…”
“Your Yuvraj saheb holds sway over your father.” Siddharth consoled her.
“And right now, your parents want a word of reassurance that their daughter
is going to the house of a good man.”
“I am…” her phone buzzed. Tara glanced at the screen.
“It’s Mummy, please be silent.” she warned him before picking it up.
“Hello, Mummy?”
“Where are you?”
“At Neelambaag.”
“With whom?”
Tara could smell the fish. And yet she went on — “Yuvraj saheb, Yuvrani…
and Kumari is asleep.”
“And the man in the black car? It’s Siddharth, isn’t it?”
Tara’s blood ran cold.
What happened? Sid mouthed to her, reading her face.
“It’s not how you think, Mummy…”
“It’s good that Bhanwar informed me or I would never know that my
daughter has started lying to me openly.” She cut the call, leaving Tara’s
heart sprinting. Somebody from security here must have informed Bhanwar.
And he hadn’t lost a single second in informing her mother!
“What happened?” Yuvrani half sat up. “Tara? Give her water, Maan!”
“No, no, I'm fine…” Tara got to her feet. “I need to go home.”
“Tara!” Siddharth grabbed her elbow, standing over her. “What’s going on?
What did your mother say?”
“She knows I came here with you!” Tara whispered, tears coming to her
eyes. “I have never lied to her… never did anything wrong… the one time I
do…” she sniffled, not ready to make a scene here.
“I’ll take you home, come.”
“No,” Yuvraj announced. “You will not go near her house until this is
resolved.”
“I am not sending her alone,” Siddharth hissed.
“I will send a car.”
“Yuvraj is right, Sid. Let me go.”
He seemed conflicted, his eyes angry and helpless and defeated all in one
look. But he nodded.

OceanofPDF.com
 24. Arranged Marriage
“How many other times have you lied to us?” Her mother asked, sitting on
the floor of their courtyard and picking leaves from the bunch of methi. Her
father was on the swing, looking disappointed and tired.
Tara set her bag down at the entrance and went to her father, sitting down
beside him — “I have not lied to you both ever before thi…” her throat
clogged. “Papa, trust me. Never. This is the only time I did and got caught.
And I did not do it out of any bad intention.”
“Then why did you, Tara?” Her father’s solemn question shattered her.
“I… S…” could she tell him that Yuvraj saheb was also involved in this
now? That Siddharth had roped him in to come and convince them?
Her father shook his head, crickets croaking loudly in the silence of their
courtyard. Tara glanced at her mother, but she was coldly picking the
leaves, not even looking at her.
“Nikhil Mody and his family are coming tomorrow to see you,” her father
announced.
“Who is that?!”
“I showed you his bio on my phone yesterday. He is a CA, works in Baroda
and his parents stay here in Devgadh. He is 26 and from our community.
Talk to him…”
“No!” Tara shot to her feet. “No! I am not talking to anybody!”
“You will!” Her father thundered, for the first time raising his voice at her.
Tara shuddered. “You forget Rawal Siddharth on your own or you do it like
this. You are forgetting him. This boy also lives in Baroda, you both will be
able to work together there. He is the perfect match for you. You will talk to
him, and you will start thinking about him seriously after you meet him
tomorrow.”
“Papa no, please…” she burst into tears. “I can’t…”
Her father stood up and left, his own eyes teary. Tara knew he was feeling
miserable too. He had never been like this to her. Never had to.
“Mummy…” she began to turn her face to her mother but her mother too
got up with her newspaper of methi leaves and walked inside the house,
leaving her wanting to howl and bawl.
————————————————————
Tara lied to Siddharth again. This time by text. And maybe she was better at
writing lies than speaking them because he believed her.

What happened?
My mother thought I ran away with you.
What did she say?
Threatened me to stay home.
Maan is going to come and speak to your father tomorrow morning.
You don’t come, please.
I won’t. Now go to sleep.

She felt terrible afterwards. This day had turned her into a terrible, terrible
person, first lying to her mother and then to Siddharth. But what could she
do? If he knew there was this arranged marriage drama tomorrow at her
house he would most probably storm here with Yuvraj. And with the state of
affairs as they were, she didn’t want to instigate her parents any more.
Yes, you too.
Tara didn’t sleep. Couldn't sleep.
————————————————————
“Get ready! What are you doing wandering in these home clothes?” Her
mother scolded her as she sat working on her laptop on the courtyard swing.
Tara had an ulterior motive to do so. She could keep an eye out for Yuvraj
saheb. He had said morning, but it was already noon.
“Why am I getting ready right now if they are coming at night?”
“They are coming in the evening.”
“What time?!” She squeaked.
“Six,” her mother grumbled with a glare, sweeping the ever-dusty floor of
the main threshold. Her father hadn’t gone to the shop today, lying down
with the complain of a headache. She knew it wasn’t headache but the last
two days. Even he was miserable. But why wouldn’t he just understand and
take some time? Just tell her that he would think about Siddharth…
A loud honk disturbed the silence of their street. Tara sat up, keeping too
much hope from springing into her eyes. Her mother couldn’t know that she
had materialised what was about to happen here. She kept working,
preparing her next week’s lectures, side-eyeing the door where her mother
had stopped sweeping and stood gazing outside. Tara saw Yuvraj saheb’s
car lurch and park outside her house, the one with the palace flags still on it.
He got out of the back, his aviators on, in a simple shirt and slacks, the kind
he was known to wear in the palace on a daily basis.
Tara also saw her mother’s whole body light up with joy as if her long-lost
son had come home. That was Yuvraj saheb for Devgadh. Everybody’s
long-lost son.

“Tara! Papa ne bolaao, Yuvraj saheb is here!”[22]

“Kem chho, Meena kaki?”[23] Yuvraj greeted her, pulling off his aviators
just as Tara got down from the swing and rushed to call her father. But he
had already heard the familiar voice and was rattling out of his room, just as
excited.

“Yuvraj saheb aavya chhe?”[24] He asked her in the middle of their house.
“Haa…” she smiled. All headache gone, her father rushed out to the
courtyard, hands joined together, head bowed — “Yuvraj saheb! Aavo,
aavo… you have made this hut of ours a palace by coming here today.”
“Don’t say that now, Kaka,” Yuvraj saheb laughed, folding his hands
together. “I have come here so many times to eat Kaki’s aamli ni chutney.”
He grinned at her mother from the corner of his eyes. Tara reached out and
switched on all the lights in the courtyard, making it easy for him to see.
“Thank you, Tara,” he smiled at her from between her parents’ shoulders.
“Aavo, aavo, Yuvraj…” her father ushered him in as he switched his dark
glasses for his corrective ones. “Meena, Yuvraj maate aamli ni chutney
banaao! Samosa, ane cutlet? Yuvraj ne bao bhave chhe…”[25]

“Na, Kaki,” Yuvraj stopped her. “Aaje beso. I want to speak to you
both.”[26]
Her mother’s glee came to an abrupt halt. Tara saw her connect the dots
immediately as she realised the objective of this visit. Her smile still
remained, but she sat with them as they all settled in their main hall.
“How is Yuvrani?”
“She is healthy.”
“Kunwari too?”
Yuvraj laughed — “Enjoying every available fruit and vegetable in puree
form.”
Her mother’s face melted. “I will send godd ni chocolate for her. I have
made it with desi ghee and godd only…”
“Yes, please. I think Samriddhi will also steal some.”
“I’ll pack them right away. Yuvrani should eat more ghee, godd and methi
again. The baby is healthy?”
“Yes, Amba ni kripa chhe.”
“You should have told us of your arrival, Yuvraj, we would have made more
preparations. Today you will eat lunch here!” Her father insisted.
“Actually, Kaka, I have come here to speak to you about something
specifically. For lunch I will come again.”
Her father sat back, slower than her mother in realizing. Tara stood to the
side, not ready to flare this up if it went the wrong way. But her father’s
conflicted gaze cut to hers and held steady.
“Yes, it’s about Tara.”
“Yuvraj s…aheb,” her father stuttered.
“Please listen to me once, Kaka. Then you are free to make your decision.”
Her father nodded, making Tara’s hope go up a notch.
“I have known Siddharth my whole life. And keeping all your concerns
aside, if I had to see Siddharth as the man for Tara, I wouldn’t be able to
ever see another man beside her. I know there are many things that concern
you, as they rightly should. But Kaka, they have both made up their minds.”
“He was married once, he has a son!”
“And I agree that is a taboo in our society. For a good, single girl like Tara
to marry a man who was married once before. But that marriage wasn’t
what the world thinks of it. He married Vaibhavi Kumari at 22 to secure his
throne after his father was paralysed. They were not happy. But Siddharth
never veered from his marriage. It doesn’t suit me to say this, but it is a
matter of your daughter so you should know — she veered. She left him.
And however wrong it may sound, the truth is that she left Samarth. She
hasn’t looked back ever since.”
“And what about Tara’s future in that palace?” Her mother chimed up. “Her
children will be second class citizens if something happens to Rawal
Siddharth…”
“I do not believe Samarth would ever let that happen, Kaki…”
“But that’s the thing, Yuvraj saheb. Forgive me for saying this but even I
couldn’t believe the things happened to you could have been done by our
gentle Niyati Kumari.”
Yuvraj held his tongue.
“We do not want our daughter to step into the maze of this power and
politics game, with a man who may not be around when she is in her middle
age.”
Yuvraj exhaled — “The final decision is yours, of course. But let me tell
you that if you have any doubt about Siddharth as a man, I am your
guarantor. He will take care of Tara and keep her happy, even at the cost of
his own.”
Her father blinked, at a loss for words. An awkward silence lingered. The
blasted pendulum clock made its ticking noise. Then finally Yuvraj pushed
to his feet — “Please sit with Kaki and talk about this again. Tara is very
happy by Siddharth’s side. And she is an intelligent mature girl, who even at
this age knows what’s good for her and what’s not. Let her make this
choice.” He folded his hands together, making her parents return that
gesture.
Yuvraj nodded at her and began to walk out of the house, his gaze cutting to
the threshold where rangoli material lay scattered to the side.
“Is it a festival today that I forget, Kaki?” He stopped at the place.
“No,” her mother chimed. “A boy is coming to see Tara.”
Yuvraj cut his eyes to her. Then nodded. Tara couldn’t even decipher his
expression as he switched his indoor glasses for his aviators and left.
————————————————————
The ‘boy’ and his family came. They ate samosa, dhokla and tea. Her
parents talked animatedly about what an intelligent girl she was. Her
grandmother sat grumpily biting into green chillies over plates of fafda,
while her uncle made it his mission to make sure that this match fell
through. He had badly wanted her to marry his wife’s nephew. And at this
point, Tara couldn’t help but hoot for him as he tried every trick in the book,
from cutting the boy’s father at every turn to trying to downplay the boy’s
achievements. All openly. All without shame.
Tara smiled inwardly, thanking god that her enemies today had come as her
saviours. Thanks to them, she didn’t even have to sit and talk with the ‘boy.’
His parents politely left within half an hour of their arrival, having enjoyed
a nice snack buffet and her extended family’s sermons.
The moment the door closed on them, Tara breathed a sigh of relief, ready
to break into a dance. Haaash! She had never been one to dance in her
house but today she felt like climbing on top of her terrace and doing the
loosest freestyle dance.
“Don’t show them how happy you are, or your Kaka will bring them back,”
her mother warned her with a glare. Tara sobered up.
“You find these people better than my nephew?” Her uncle turned on her
father.
“Daman bhai, I called you today out of respect. If you keep running
prospects away then I will not call you again.”
“Don’t talk to me in that tone. I am your elder brother.”
“Then act like it!” Her father bellowed, tired and enraged. “They were good
people! That boy was a CA! I want my Tara to be married…”
“What’s the hurry, Jagat?” Her grandmother chimed. “Until last year you
wanted her to study and work and build her identity. Now suddenly you
want her married?” She turned her vile eyes on her mother — “What’s the
matter, Meena? Kaalu modhu kaalu kari aavi tari chhokri?”[27]
Her mother froze before she retorted — “I will not listen to this, Mummy.
You and Daman bhai should go home now.”
Her grandmother began to laugh — “Now I get it, your daughter has
blackened her already blackened face. That is why this hurry. Who is he?”
“Tara?” Her uncle zeroed in on her. She blinked, taken aback. Her house
was doused in a pin drop silence. Her uncle advanced on her, making her
step back.
“Daman bhai!” Her father’s voice bellowed again. But her uncle had seen
something in her face, because he kept advancing, making her step back,
back and back, until her back met with the surface of the main door. Its
hinges rattled as she tried to shrink back but couldn’t.

“Kon chhe?”[28] Her uncle made a menacing sound, his wide-set eyes dark.
Tara gulped, thinking. If she screamed back, chances were, he would
scream back and her parents would get into a screaming match with them.
If she said it was nobody, he wouldn’t believe her. If she gave him a
name…
“I will not ask you again and if you don’t answer right now I’ll break your
arms…”
The door behind her pushed open and she lurched ahead into her uncle’s
chest. Before she could recover though her arm was grabbed in a tight grip
and pulled behind him. Siddharth? Tara craned her neck over his shoulder.
“Who are you…!” Her uncle stuttered to a stop, blinking owlishly at the tall
man standing in front of him.
“Rawal saheb,” her father’s shocked voice echoed, bringing her
grandmother to attention. As well as her uncle, who was squinting and
peering at Siddharth’s face.
“Whose arms were you about to break?” Siddharth asked. Tara shuddered.
His voice was low. Pure menace.
“You are… Rawal of Nawanagar? Siddharth Solanki… tame aiyaan shu
karo chho, Rawal saheb?”[29] Her uncle’s demeanour changed, his tone
altering from that threatening thunder to a meek squeak.
“Whose arms were you about to break, I will not repeat myself.”
Her uncle glanced behind at her parents, then back at her, his slow stubborn
brain still confused.
“This is our family matter…” Siddharth grabbed his shoulder and pushed
his face into a pillar, twisting his hand behind his back.
“Tara close the door!” Her mother shouted and she bolted the main door in
time to see her father come between the two. Siddharth didn’t let go,
pinning her uncle’s neck and face into the pillar, pushing it until he
screamed.

“Rawal saheb… jawa do…”[30] her father tried to dislodge his hand.
“You treat women in your house like this?” Siddharth snarled, twisting the
arm in his grip. A snap.

“Oh baaaa! Naaa, naaa, na!”[31] Her uncle howled, trying to push back.
“Leave him, please, leave him!” Her grandmother tried to dislodge his hand
from the other side. His arm didn’t even budge, her uncle’s eyes bugging
out. “Hu tamara pag padu chhoon…”[32] she dropped in his feet.
Siddharth pulled his foot back and let go of her uncle. He fell to the floor in
a coughing feat, cradling his now limp arm close to his chest, wailing.
“Leave now. If you come back, I will know. And then your farsan shop will
burn first, your house fifteen seconds after you get the news. It would be a
shame if your son is inside the burning shop and the rest of you inside your
burning house.”
Her uncle and grandmother gaped at him.
“Go!”
They didn’t even wait to wear their shoes. They got to their feet and ran.
Tara again bolted the door behind them, and the atmosphere in her house
was just as thick. But this time, her parents were cowering under
Siddharth’s glower.
“Sid…” she started. His dark eyes whirled on her. She went silent. They
whirled back on them — “Is this how you protect her?”
“Sid it’s not their fault!” Tara began.
“It is their fault if they cannot cut off those people from their lives who
threaten to break their daughter’s arms!” He bellowed.
“Low,” she whispered. “Please, the neighbours.”
“I don’t care about your neighbours. I don’t care about anything anymore.
Go pack your bags, you are going with me.”
“Where?”
“To Nawanagar. We will marry there.”
“Tara will not go,” her mother retorted.
“And stay here for more of that torture I just saw?” Siddharth thundered,
making even her mother step back.
“Rawal saheb, you cannot force us or Tara.”
“I am not forcing anybody. I am instating my right as Tara’s fiancé. I am her
protector now and I will not leave her here.”
Her mother’s mouth dropped open — “You are not engaged!”
“We are.”
Her parents looked at her like she had pierced swords into their stomachs.
“Pack your bags, Tara.”
“Do not move, Tara.”
“I said, go, Tara.”
“Dare you do, Tara.”
“I…”
“Enough!” She yelled, bringing both Siddharth and her mother to a stop.
She glanced between them — three people she loved the most in the world.
Her parents looked like they were bad parents in this moment but she knew
they were hurting and not ready to understand. And on the other side was
Siddharth’s call to come with him, marry him, tempting every cell of her
body.
“Sid,” she came and stood in front of him, words fleeing away from her
tongue knowing what she was about to use them for. His blank face
stuttered back to life. His dark eyes, dilated irises, slowly focused on her,
his temper running down.
“I cannot come with you.”
He blinked.
“It is not a betrayal. I am not betraying you. But I cannot walk out of my
house trampling my parents’ wishes.”
“What then?”
She took a deep breath, hating every word that was going to come out of
her mouth.
“I will not marry you.”
“Ta…”
“And I will not marry anybody else.”
He scoffed — “I have seen how your family forces you. And I am not
leaving you alone with them…”
“I am not going to stay here. I am going back to Baroda tomorrow,” she
announced, making plans on the go. Tara turned, so that her parents were
also in her line of sight — “You do not want me to marry Siddharth? I will
not. But I will not meet or marry any boy of your choosing. I will not break
your hearts, but will I not be forced into anything either.”
Silence. The tick of the pendulum clock. Then her father nodded. Tara
turned tear-filled eyes to Siddharth, seeing nothing but broad shoulders of
haze. She couldn’t lift her eyes up to look at his.
“I am sorry.” She lowered her head in front of him. Strong, firm knuckles
pressed her chin back up, up, up, until she was looking into his eyes. Pain.
Pure pain.
“Never bow your head. In front of anybody.”
Those were his last words to her as he took three steps back, as if in
reverence of her, and left.

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 25. Dear Tara
As per her decision, he did not call her again. But his goodbye had come in
the form of her uncle’s empty farsan shop going up in flames the morning
she was leaving for Baroda. Tara did not stop to hear more, her parents
already numb from last night, their eyes guilty. On another day, she would
have stopped to reassure them that Siddharth’s analysis of them was
skewed, that they had tried their best to shield her all her life. So what if
they had failed? They had tried.
But she was too far gone in her own grief that she just nodded, folded her
hands at the temple in their house and left.
She had been in Baroda ever since. Working. Grieving. Existing.
She had imagined a life with Siddharth one day, and the next she was back
in her old life. Like some funny plot from god’s ever-evolving movie. When
such a thought came, Tara would laugh it off. Between giving lectures to
first year Phil students and staring aimlessly out of her hostel room window,
Tara would laugh off the thought that she had actually believed she would
get to live out the fairytale with Siddharth. Her mother was right —this
love, these happily-ever-afters, this life of your dreams… they existed in
books. In poems. In real life, bubbles burst under the pressure of the world.
Last time around too, they had been happy in their bubble in the orchard.
But the moment real world had intervened, everything had shattered.
“Daman bhai had called your father,” her mother told her over the phone.
“To ask for a loan.”
“Hmm.”
“Your father refused. Daman bhai thinks your father has some relation with
Rawal Siddharth and called him that day… but after that your grandmother
or uncle haven’t come home.”
“Hmm…”
“Tara?” Her mother’s concerned voice lowered.
“Yes?”
“Are you fine?”
“Yes.”
“Are you coming tomorrow?”
“No.”
“It’s Holi on Sunday. It’s been weeks since you left… come, it’s the
weekend…”
“I have a lot of backlog.”
Her mother did not ask anything else. She did not show her disappointment
either. Tara was grateful that at least her parents had begin to hear honesty
in her voice again.
“Ok. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
Tara ended the call, just as her room was pounded. Her heart fluttered. Sid?
She patted her hair back from her face, pushing her loose braid off her
shoulder, her heart pounding so hard in her chest. If it was him, what would
she say? What was there to say? The door pounded again, and she rushed to
pull it open. Only for all her fears and hopes to come crashing down.
Kashvi. Standing on her door with a pursed mouth and a plastic bag
dangling from her fingers.
“What’s that?”
“It should have been booze but we live in a dry state and your warden and
watchman are too strict. So it’s ice cream,” her best friend pushed inside.
“Seriously, where are you all day long? I came here in the evening too but
your Scooty wasn’t in the parking so I went back.”
Tara shut the door to her room and padded back in, eyeing Kashvi make
herself at home as she grabbed two spoons from the small counter and
threw one at her. She caught it in time.
“Chocolate or Pina-orange?” Kashvi held the two tubs up, knowing she was
a Pina-orange lover. Tara stared at the orange tub and Kashvi passed it.
They both sat on the opposite ends of her single bed, digging in.
“This is my dessert before dinner,” Kashvi licked her spoon.
“Didn’t your mother feed you at seven dot?” Tara took a bite of her own ice
cream, a fruity flavour with fresh pineapple and orange pieces. It usually
put her in a good mood but she just scooped blankly and kept eating today.
“She tried… what’s this new fad of ‘eat at 7?’ She herself is snacking on
peanuts by 11…”
Tara chuckled. When she glanced up, Kashvi was looking at her a little
weird.
“What?”
“What has been up with you all this month? I haven’t seen you smile, forget
laugh since you returned from Antarctica. And I have to come to see you
now instead of you driving your Scooty to my office. What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Something is wrong, Tara. Tell me now. Ghare kai thayu? Are uncle-aunty
ok?”
“Yes, they are fine.”
‘Then?”
Tara shook her head.
“Say it and let it out. Even if we can’t find a solution, you will be able to
feel better.”
Tara swallowed.
“Is it a boy?”
Tara snorted. Boy.
“Whaaaaaa?!” Kashvi sat up on her knees. “Tara Thakker? A boy?”
She huffed — “It’s not a boy.”
“Then what…”
“It’s a man.”
Kashvi sat back quietly, probably understanding the gravity in her voice.
“I met him last year at Abhi’s New Year party…”
“That driving licence guy?”
“Hmm. He isn’t just a ‘guy.’ He is… Rawal of Nawanagar.”
“Rawal as in king? Like our Maharaja of Baroda?”
“Yes.” Tara glanced at her to see if she was scandalised. If she was, Tara
would wind down the story. Because more scandals were waiting to be
unpeeled.
“Sorry, I don’t know any other royals except ours…”
“He is… 37. Actually, just turned 38 three weeks ago.”
Ok, now Kashvi’s eyes rounded. And some perverse part of Tara went on
still, waiting to uncover all the scandals now — “He was married once, and
has a 15-year old son.”
“Hmm… I am not judging you. But how did you… he must be something
for you to overlook all that?”
Tara smiled, “Yes. He is,” she said proudly. “He is the most kind, caring and
handsome man I have seen in my life. He plays cricket, he is passionate
about the environment, he works round the clock with multiple projects,
like his own kingdom, their mines and industries, the Ministry of
Environment… he adores his son. His mother used to call him Sid. She was
the only one who did. And then he introduced himself to me as Sid and now
I call him that. He wrapped himself around me on our first excursion in that
bird island, protecting me from the storm of birds. He did the same when
we were on our ship to Antarctica and the sea was lashing around us. He
claims to love me but I know he does more than that. So much more than
that. Because when I asked him to go, he went. He told me once that he
does not have the strength to walk away from me but he went as soon as I
asked. Didn’t even ask, didn’t even vent, didn’t even blame me,” Tara was
crying through her smile, tears flowing down her cheeks. She had talked
about Siddharth after long days. His name had come out of her mouth in
somebody’s presence again. It was exhilarating. So exhilarating that she
went on — “It’s night now, he must be with his son if his son is in
Nawanagar. They have a ritual of spreading out on his bed and talking. He
will have a very light dinner, no desserts. He doesn’t like sweets. Tomorrow
is Saturday, so he may play cricket at his club. He is very good, and even
though I tease him all the time that he is getting old, I have seen him play
live when he was younger and still see some reels on Instagram where his
cricket club posts him batting. He was batting last Saturday too.” Tara
laughed. “Look at me becoming a stalker. But I couldn’t help it. That’s all I
am ever going to have of him.”
“Why is that all you’ll ever have of him?” Kashvi slipped closer, her ice
cream abandoned.
Tara shook her head — “My parents don’t want this. All the reasons I listed.
We tried. Both of us. Our Yuvraj of Devgadh tried…”
Kashvi pulled her into her arms and Tara broke down. She had cried before
this. For weeks she had done nothing but cry. But not in somebody’s arms
like this. Kashvi squeezed and Tara cried more, curling her arms around her
neck — “That’s it, Kashvi, that’s it,” she sobbed. “That’s it.”
————————————————————
Tara didn’t have any backlog so to speak. She had been spending her
weekends at the University back to back. If anything, she had created
monstrous backlogs for her students.
“Hello, my favourite teaching assistant!” Nadeem sir’s chipper voice
sounded from behind her. Tara sat forward in her chair before he invaded
the space behind her shoulder. It was harmless — his nerdy talks that she
now knew were to impress her. But Tara couldn’t listen to half of it as she
zoned out.
“Hmm, here on a Saturday again, what do you do?” He tried a Yoda accent
but it crashed. Tara adjusted her glasses — “I thought I’ll work on the final
project ideas…”
“Which you already have done twice. I have three reports from you to
evaluate already!”
“Yes,” she chuckled. “Some more won’t hurt.”
“Do you want to go out for lunch after you are done?”
“Umm…”
“Come on, we will go to that new Little Italy hotel in Alkapuri… I’ve heard
they have opened the Mumbai Little Italy there in a converted bungalow.”
“Maybe next time.”
“Come on, Tara. We haven’t sorted through our Antartica notes yet. I have
to submit a report within this month.”
“Oh… ok.”
“Also, when you get the time please check your PO Box. The peon told me
it’s overflowing.”
Tara had heaps and heaps of time. So she closed her laptop, grabbed her key
and walked out of the staff room. The corridor was quiet. No
pandemonium. No people. No lectures. Just peace. The sounds of happy
koels reverberated as she descended to the ground floor and to the wall of
POBs, hunting hers.
She turned the key and opened the box, only for the contents to flood out on
her. She went down on her knees to collect them all. So many letters, most
from the university. Correspondences, magazines, student club invites,
festival brochures… her fingers froze.
An international airmail envelope, with the red and blue striped trimming.
The stamp of Port Lockroy, the date of their ship’s docking there. From
Siddharth.
Tara held the envelope close to her chest, breathing in. It would smell of
him, wouldn’t it? She brought it close to her nose and like those mad
women in love, she sniffed. Nothing. Paper and glue.
Tara adjusted her glasses, then with shaky fingers she carefully popped the
seal open and pulled out the letter. Her eyes teared up. She clamped her
teeth over her lip and there, on the college floor, on her knees, she began to
read.

Dear Tara,
I am not very good with words. I am good at writing these letters
though. I belong to that generation that wrote them. The ‘sappy’
generation. I don’t know why I decided to write you this letter. Even as
I write it I am at a loss for what to say to you. Why, even after knowing
of the impossibility of this, am I still torturing the both of us? Maybe I
want words to close this off. To pack and seal away what we will never
be able to have.
Standing in this wooden room of the Lockroy Post Office, with all the
beauty of Antartica surrounding me, I am not even close to content.
And I know this will be the case from now on. It has been like this ever
since I had to leave you in Devgadh. But I pray that this is not the case
with you. I hope, and I hate that I have to hope this, but I hope you find
a man who can read your eyes and point to his chest, tell you that that’s
where you can rest. I hope he can clean your dirty glasses without you
even telling him to. I hope he can give you all the beauty of the world
and make you forget anything remotely related to what we had. I still
hate it, but I hope you have it.
When you receive this letter, of course we won’t be together. But I am
going to cherish the rest of these ten days around you. I don’t think I
will ever see you again after this fortnight, I don’t have the strength to
be around you again without being with you. So remember, that
whenever you need something that nobody can give you, you will come
to me. If there’s ever a situation that is beyond your control, you will
come to me. If you are ever in danger, you will call me. I will be there.
And if I am not, my son Samarth will be there. Just show him the
postcard I am attaching with this letter and he will do everything in his
power to help you.
Siddharth.

Tears were blinding her eyes and yet she pushed her hand into the envelope
until it caught on a thick postcard with a baby penguin on it. On the side, in
Siddharth’s neat handwriting were a few words.

Samarth,
Help Tara Thakker with whatever she needs. Make sure she is safe and
taken care of. By any means necessary.
Rawal Siddharth Sinh Solanki
Tara hiccuped. A sob was gurgling inside her but she slapped a hand over
her mouth. This was her place of work! She quickly folded his letter,
slipped it safely into the envelop with the postcard and stuffed all the other
letters back into her PO Box before locking it.
She was about to venture up to the staff room and make an excuse to skip
the lunch when her phone buzzed. It was her mother.
Tara took a deep breath and plastered it to her ear — “Hello?”
“Tara? Can you come home?”
“What happened?” Her heart thudded. “Are you ok? Did Kaka come back
to do something?”
“No, no… umm… Nawanagar’s Kunwar saheb is here.”

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 26. Nawanagar’s Kunwar Saheb
Tara took a cab. And raced back to Baroda. It was a small fortune she had to
pay but she raced, her heart in her mouth the whole way. The two hour
journey was covered in a record one hour-twenty minutes, with her pushing
the driver to go faster and faster and faster until he had to turn and glare at
her.
It was nearing noon when she burst through her door. And stood back
shocked.
Her parents were smiling, genuinely smiling.
“…and then Maan bhai’s mallet snapped into half. Like right there while he
was scoring left and right!” Samarth Sinh Solanki recounted, sitting in front
of them, looking like a mini version of Siddharth, just with a lot more
softness. “I thought he would stop. But…” he chuckled, trying to hold back
his laugh, “he stole the mallet from his opponent by his side and kept
going.”
Her father snorted. Snorted.
“That’s not the end. His opponent was Vaasudev Raje, 5 foot 7. Maan bhai
is 6 foot. The mallet was too short for him, so now he is playing hunched
over his horse.”
Her father chortled.
“He won. And then when they refused to give him the trophy and declared
it a tie, he just turned to us kids and said — ‘At least I taught Raje how to
hit goals with his mallet.’”
The Kunwar burst out laughing, making her parent’s chortles louder. Tara
couldn’t believe her eyes. She stepped through the threshold and set her bag
down on the swing, the tiny sound breaking their little session. Three pairs
of eyes turned to her. She froze.
Kunwar Samarth Sinh Solanki got to his feet, looking like just another
teenager. A more put-together teenager than most she had seen. In a pair of
blue jeans and a white polo T-shirt, he was more formal, more polished. But
the floppy hair on his forehead and the tiny, almost awed smile on his face
spoke of the child in him. She panned her eyes and there stood another
person, a young man, younger than her, behind Samarth. He wore a black
kurta and jeans, but his stance was exactly like Bhanwar’s. A bodyguard.
“Jai Dwarkadhish, Tara Devi,” Samarth folded his hands to her. “Do you
remember me?”
She blinked.
“We met last year in the orange orchard here in Devgadh’s palace. During
the resolution meeting…”
Tara startled out of her stupor — “Of course I remember. Kunwar saheb,”
she folded her hands and bowed her head, remembering her manners. He
bowed his head too.
“I was just telling Kaka and Kaki about Maan bhai’s polo matches. I was so
small but I remember each one of them.”
Tara smiled — “I have seen just two, and those were his practise sessions
here in the palace grounds.”
“I always loved polo, I don’t know how. My Papa tried to make me love
cricket but it didn’t stick, so he finally surrendered me to Maan bhai to
learn.”
Tara’s breath caught at the mention of his father. Why was he here?
“Please, sit, Kunwar saheb,” she offered, her gaze going to her parents to
get some hint. They looked at her just as cluelessly.
“I was waiting for you to come,” Kunwar Samarth said. He did not take a
seat, instead, stepped towards her. Tara realised then that he had grown so
much. In one year he had reached her height. His voice had grown more
manly.
“My father is a man of others,” he started, his eyes on her. “He has given
his life to Nawanagar and then to me. For the first time, he had something
for himself. And even that he gave up.”
Tara’s heart thudded faster. “What do you mean, Kunwar saheb?”
“You would think I should be embarrassed while I ask this, but when it
comes to my Papa, I am not embarrassed. Tara Devi, I have come here to
ask you to come and marry my Rawal.”
She frowned, looking at her parents behind his shoulder. They stood
shocked. Samarth, following her gaze, turned around and stepped towards
her parents, folding his hands together — “I, Samarth Sinh Solanki of
Nawanagar, promise you that Tara Devi will come to Nawanagar as our
Maarani, will be treated with respect, love and adulation, and that Tara
Devi’s heir will rule Nawanagar.”
“Kunwar saheb, no!” Tara startled towards him. “You cannot make such a
promise…”
“I can make any promise that is in my power to give as my father’s son.
The three promises I have given you are alone in my power to fulfil.”
“Does Rawal saheb know about this?” Her father asked.
“He will know once Tara Devi and you agree.”
“Kunwar,” her mother softened. “Don’t make such a promise. No father
will do that to his son. It will not be good.”
Samarth smiled — “Why would you think it will not be good? I will be able
to pursue my polo and travel around the world without the pressure of being
the king. My father knows how much I love polo. He will understand. He
has juggled so much alone, that he would be happy to see his children
divide his responsibilities.”
“And what about your children? Your family?” Her mother pleaded. “Don’t
do this to your future, Kunwar.”
“What family? My father is my family. And with Tara Devi and their
children, they will be my family.”
Tara jolted. “Do not say this, Kunwar saheb…”
“I am not one to commit anyway,” Samarth gave her a little grin. “My rizz
is limited to situationships. My life will be me, my polo and my travel.”
“You are too young to make such decisions. Let’s call your father.” She
shook her head — “I do not want to do this over your birthright.”
“Giriraj Hukum of Mewad says it is not your birthright but your duty when
you are born as a royal. I am fulfilling my duty to my father and my king.
Tara Devi, he is not well.”
She stilled.
“What happened to him?”
“Physically he is perfect. He does everything perfectly. Goes to court, takes
meetings, works, plays cricket. But my father does not smile like he did
after coming back from Antarctica. My Dada Sarkar keeps asking him and
he says it’s the weather. I know now it is not.”
“Who told you about me?”
“I cannot reveal my sources,” he gave her a conspiratorial smile. An
innocent one. For such a confrontation, he looked too comfortable. Nothing
was fazing him. Not even the things he was so easily handing out as
promises.
Tara shook her head — “No, no…”
“Kaka,” he turned to her father. “Please,” his hands folded together. “I
promise you that Tara Devi will always remain fulfilled in our palace. Her
children will be fulfilled. I will make it my life’s mission.”
“No!” Tara snapped, eyeing her father. “Papa, he is young, we cannot listen
to this…”
“Are you questioning the word of a Solanki, Tara Devi?” One dark eyebrow
rose, that commanding tone reverberating. Just like his father’s. It was so
deep that Tara was lost for words.
He took that as his advantage, she could see it, the drive in his eyes as he
strode to the tray of steel glasses, poured water in the cup of his palm and
recited — “This is my oath, that I will make sure that Tara Devi and her
heirs are secure and rule Nawanagar one day.”
Before anybody could stop him, he had titled his palm and released the
water to the ground in a ritual as old as time.

OceanofPDF.com
 27. Here’s My Chest
The sun was just rising in the sky as their car sped down Nawanagar’s
palace gates. It didn’t look like a regular dawn in the town as almost all
houses were abuzz.
“Holika dahan’s muhurat is early morning this year,” Samarth explained,
nodding at the palace guards who folded their hands and bowed their heads
to his car. Like a sentry, he sat in the passenger seat, his bodyguard driving.
Tara had remained silent in the backseat, wondering how this would play
out. She had made very few gambles in life, most of them pertaining to
Siddharth. But this one… what would he do when he got to know what
Samarth had done?
Her parents had been more at peace than the last month when they had let
her go with Samarth. It was decided by unsaid words that this marriage
would happen. And while Tara wanted to be ecstatic with joy, she couldn’t
help but think about the young prince sitting in front of her who had let go
of his future for his father and her.
The palace grounds were huge, if not as green. Even in the days of fagun,
with the onset of spring, the trees were light green. Their car veered towards
the monstrous palace rising in the distance, slowing down as locals began to
pepper the way.
“So many people so early in the morning?”
“We burn a holi in the palace grounds. It is open for everybody to come and
worship,” Samarth glanced at the dashboard clock. “Papa must have set fire
to it already.”
So she would have to meet him in front of all these people? Tara’s heart beat
faster. She checked her attire. Not the most lady-like. In her short sleeveless
white kurti from last night over a pair of leggings, and a duppatta thrown at
the last moment, the only thing tamed about her was her hair settled behind
her shoulders. What would these people think about her? A young ‘girl’
who wanted to ‘become’ their queen. Would they call her a gold-digger?
No! Siddharth was a catch. Even they had to know that. His net worth,
wealth and throne aside, he was the best man to exist.
By the revelry of men and women in dhotis and sarees walking back down
the path they drove, Tara realised that they knew it. Everybody carried
pooja thalis, having finished with their worship of the holi fire.
The car turned again and came to a crawl. Tara sat up. A massive fire
burned in the foreground of the nascent sky. The sun was a small, pale orb
as compared to this fire, around which people circumambulated, pouring
water from copper vessels, throwing coconuts, dhani, and peanuts as an
offering to the fire god.
Tara didn’t have to search for him. He stood out among his people. In
height, stature, and aura. And the traditional royal garb he wore — an
embellished kasumbi turban with emeralds and pearls dripping down the
edge, a pure white angarakha and a jewelled kasumbi shawl thrown over
one shoulder. She couldn’t reconcile this man, with a small serene smile in
place, with the man who used to grin naughtily at her and tease her in the
streets of Buenos Aires. She couldn’t reconcile this bearded king with the
man who had run from her because his armpit was ticklish.
She recognised another man as humungous as him, standing by his side.
Giriraj Singh, the King of Mewad. He was garbed in a white royal
bandhgala and a crimson leheriya turban, a beacon of his own royal state.
But he became background to her. Blur. Siddharth was the focal point.
As he nodded at the people coming to greet him and offer their prasad,
touching their platters in a gesture to accept, Tara was unable to grasp how
this was her Sid. Would he even acknowledge her, forget accept her? She
looked down at herself again.
“Come,” Samarth got out of the car, drawing eyes to himself. Tara watched
from her tinted window as the locals leaving the pooja stopped and greeted
him, smiled, laughed, spoke to him. He was clearly a darling of his people,
and rightly so. He had inherited his father’s charm.
Tara turned her face and her gaze met with his. Sid’s. He stood in the
distance, but his eyes were on her. Or maybe not, as he peered through the
tinted glass of the windshield to see what was going on. His son opened her
door and Tara startled.
“Go around the palace, Harsh. Rawal will meet you in the pergola of Anand
Baag,” his low voice sounded before he closed the door. And as soon as he
did, the car veered down the path, away from the celebration, away from
the people. The young driver, Harsh, took her around the palace bastion, its
high rise intimidating her even from this distance. Tara was no stranger to
palaces and royal fortresses. But this intimidated her because this was
Siddharth’s home. This would be her home.
The car came to a stop in a deserted garden, the sky bluer now as day was
beginning to rise. Tara began to get out of the car but Harsh was quicker,
coming around and opening her door. He bowed his head, but looked just as
expressionless, and not directly at her. He stretched his arm out to a pergola
of marble in the middle of the garden and Tara hesitated. He inclined his
head and she took that as her sign. Did nobody use words here?
She began to walk towards the pergola, the grass here greener, the saplings
here more lush. She glanced around, finding no trees. Only rows and rows
of saplings. Some of those were as tall as her, with reddish flowers
sprouting, beginning to swell. A plaque on one of the pillars of the pergola
looked newly installed. Tara reached inside her kurti pocket, put on her
glasses and read:

“This garden was installed on the day of Holi Danda Ropan on the 20th
of February 2024 by Rawal Siddharth Sinh Solanki and named ‘Anand
Baag.’ The pomegranate saplings were planted to grow into an orchard
around this marble pergola and serve as a cooling canopy of fruits in the
heat of Nawanagar.”

“Orange trees would have disrupted the pH of this soil.”

Tara whirled around. And there stood the Rawal. In all his glory. At dawn.
Leaving his holi fire and his people behind. Looking at her like he was
looking at a stranger.
Tara swallowed. “Can you read my eyes?”
He frowned, momentarily bewildered. Then realisation seemed to have
dawned. Siddharth pointed to his chest — “Come.”
Tara burst into tears. He stepped towards her and pulled her by the nape of
her neck into his chest. She cried there, hiding there, her whole body
wracking.
He let her. Silent. Only her sobs and the birds to punctuate the silence.
“I am sorry,” she pulled back, swiping shaking fingers down her cheeks,
trying to meet his eyes but unable to. “I am so sorry, Sid.”
Warm fingers cupped her wet cheeks and pulled her face up — “Samarth
told me.”
She swallowed. His thumbs wiped her tears and fresh tears flowed — “I
don’t like it. I don’t condone his actions.”
“Sid, I swear I didn’t want it like this…”
“But it’s happened.”
She hiccuped, biting her lower lip to not cry any louder. There were people
around. Even if they were far. She had lived enough of a chaperone life to
know that palace walls did indeed have ears. Tara reached up to wipe her
face with both hands but he grabbed her left one. She startled, belatedly
realising that he had taken her hand in his and his thumb was caressing the
ring. His ring.
“You have come here as mine, Tara?” He questioned.
“Yes.”
“Forever?”
“Yes.”
“There is no way back from here,” he squeezed her hand, his eyes decisive
even if traces of sorrow still lingered. Tara nodded. A small smile dawned
on his lips. He reached out and took off her glasses.
“Have you not cleaned them since I last did?” He reached inside his pocket
and came up with a lens cleaner, using the cotton of his angarkha to clean
them.
“You still carry it?”
“I always carry it,” he swiped her glasses back on her face, making her eyes
begin to water again.
“Enough now,” he tipped her chin and wiped her cheeks. “Tara, quiet.”
She widened her eyes and shook her head — “I have become just as sappy
as you!”
He laughed, pulling her close until their noses touched — “You better not
call me old. I am in my Rawal attire.”
“I can see that,” she held his bearded jaw. “You look very handsome. If you
were young though… Aaah!” She let out a shriek as he lifted her up and
twirled her around.
————————————————————
“I am not dressed for it,” she protested as he walked her down the maze of
his palace alleys to his father’s chambers.
“You are good.”
Tara didn’t even get to look at the opulent architecture or the embellished
antiques and portraits lining the way. She was sure his and Samarth’s
portraits were also there somewhere but her stomach was gurgling with
nervousness.
“Sid!” She hissed low, mindful of the guards and staff members already
milling around. He did not listen, one hand behind his back, walking.
“Let me change… I have a bag of clothes in the car…”
They turned a corner and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her into what looked
like a library. Fresh morning light flooded in through tall windows while
there were two floors worth of books, a ladder and all. A desk sat in the
middle of the massive space, and lots of comfy wingback armchairs were
arranged in a cozy setup by the windows.
“Sid what are you…”
He crushed his mouth on hers, taking her wrist and winding it behind his
neck. She anchored there, pushing on her tiptoes just as he bent, smashing
her against the nearest wall. His turban made her skeptical of moving her
fingers in his hair but he had none of those reservation as he pushed his
fingers into her curls.
“Don’t spoil my hair!” She managed to murmur against his mouth. His
nostrils flared, ready to do just that. “Sid I am meeting your father!”
He smirked, planting a soft, deep kiss on her cheek — “Now have I proved
that you look great?”
“You are biased.”
He nipped the tip of her ear — “Very.”
“Sid, don’t! I can’t look like this when I go to your father.”
“Like how?” He frowned, peering at her face, the king of pseudo-
innocence.
“Shut up!”
He chuckled, giving her another peck on the mouth and turning around to
grab a random book. He pushed it into her hands and opened the door. Tara
frowned, stepping out ahead of him, glancing at the book. Losing Earth: A
Recent History. She turned it this way and that.
“Read it, it’s a brilliant commentary on scientific data that has existed for
decades about environment change,” he nodded, giving her his nerd eyes
while taking an about turn and rounding the corner they had just turned.
Tara realised why he was boring her the moment they found staff eyes on
them.
“Yes, thank you,” she played along, scanning its blurb as he led her to his
father’s room.
“Is Bade Rawal ready?” Siddharth stopped outside a pair of wide-set doors.
“Yes, Rawal,” the guard in ancient robes bowed his head. Siddharth reached
out and knocked, then gently pushed the door open. “Aaoon?”
“Aao,” came an old, disgruntled voice.
“Why didn’t you come for Holika dahan?” Siddharth breezed into the room,
making way for her. His father, a frail old man with a head full of white hair
sat up in his bed. He was paralysed on the left side of his face but the rest of
his body looked better-controlled. He gazed at her, then back at his son.
“Who is this?” He garbled.
Siddharth stepped forward to his father, just as the doors to the room were
shut.
“Papa,” he sat on the edge of his father’s bed, just by his feet. “I want to
introduce you to somebody very special to me.”
His father’s eyes fixated on her. Tara glanced down, a hundred things
storming across her mind. What would he think about her? She was wearing
a regular sleeveless kurti and leggings set, a duppatta thankfully covering
her chest. She had no makeup on. Not even her trusted little lipstick. And
her hair? She didn’t even know what Siddharth’s fingers had done to her
hair!
“She is that special who didn’t let you smile?” His father’s voice made her
jerk her head up. Bade Rawal was looking at his son, a slight smirk titled on
his lips.
“I wondered who encouraged Samarth,” Siddharth patted his father’s leg.
“Tell me you didn’t.”
“I don’t remember what day it is, you think I will?”
Siddharth burst out laughing. Tara didn’t understand why his father’s
forgetfulness was funny until Siddharth said — “There’s a reason you can
still run the kingdom sitting in this room.”
His father chortled — “If I do that, what will you do?”
Siddharth shook his head, getting to his feet and crossing the room to her.
He splayed a hand behind her and ushered her forward — “Bade Rawal,
meet my fiancée — Tarini Thakker. Tara.”
Tara folded her hands and bowed her head, bending to touch his feet. He
extended his hand just a tiny inch and splayed it atop her head, the pat
weak. But when she looked up, Bade Rawal gave her his first smile. An
affectionate, genuine one.
“Welcome, beta.”
Tara blinked, taken aback by such a normal welcome. She had expected
protocol, some sort of… uptight ritual. And here, he dragged his foot to the
side to make space for her. “Sit.”
Tara sat gingerly, aware that she was sharing the same surface as the great
king of Nawanagar, even if retired and in bed.
“What do you do, Tarini?”
“I am working to be an Environmental Philosopher.”
His eyes brightened.
“Then his nerdy lectures won’t bore you to death.”
Tara blushed.
“In fact, they do bore her and she is pretty vocal about it,” Sid pushed her
under the bus. But Tara needn’t have worried. His father laughed softly, the
sound grating but genuine.
“If you ever are in serious danger of choking to death, come and hide
there,” he pointed to an armchair in the alcove that opened into a lake,
complete with greenery around it. “Samarth also does the same. We have a
‘Save me from Papa,’ club.”
Tara chuckled — “Thank you, I think I will.”
“Excuse me, traitor, you forget I am Rawal,” Siddharth’s voice nudged her
from behind.
“Excuse me, Rawal, you forget that I am Bade Rawal,” he threatened his
son, then glanced back at her, a snicker on his chapped mouth — “And I am
easily pleased. A cup of ice cream every night. That’s it.”
She heard Siddharth’s chuckle behind her before her own laugh escaped.
“He is laughing again,” Bade Rawal smiled. “I wish my son had told me
about you on his own.”
Tara sobered up. “Sid and I wanted to, but things didn’t turn out as we had
intended them.”
“Sid?” His father’s eyebrows went up. She clambered, her body going cold.
Was it not allowed to call him by his name here?
“I’m so sorry… I didn’t meant to say his name like that…”
But Bade Rawal just smiled — a soft, almost watery smile. Tara glanced
back at Siddharth, and he was sharing that same smile. That’s when she
remembered. His mother used to call him that.
Bade Rawal reached out and weakly patted her hand, then gave his son a
naughty look — “Now when are we bringing her to the palace, Sid?”
“Bade Rawal, Rawal,” a man about her father’s age entered the chamber,
looking polished to a fault in a pristine white safari suit. He had shining
white hair and a matching moustache, his eyes sharp as they went over
everybody and yet looked like they were resting down in respect. Tara
recognised a vizier when she saw one, and this was him.
“Aao, Ajatshatru,” Bade Rawal nodded.
“Giriraj Hukum has been escorted to breakfast by Kunwar Samarth and he
awaits your presence there.”
“I am not coming out…”
“Come, Papa,” Siddharth coerced. “It is Holi, and Tara’s first meal at the
palace.”
Was she eating breakfast with them? And with Giriraj Hukum — the great
steward of Mewad?
“I will come when she is our daughter-in-law. You both go.”
Siddharth nodded — “Ajatshatru, we will be there.”
“Ji, Rawal.”
“Did you meet my fiancée? Tara, this is my Second-in-Command —
Ajatshatru Jadeja. Ajatshatru, this is Tarini Thakker, my fiancée.”
He folded his hands and bowed to her — “Welcome, Tara Devi.”
She returned his greeting, searching for some expression. Nothing.
“Please inform them that Tara Devi will be joining us,” Siddharth
commanded, and Ajatshatru took three steps back before exiting the room.
“He was your source?” Siddharth asked the moment the man was out of the
room. His father stared blankly at him, no expression. Tara didn’t
understand.
“Papa, he called her Tara Devi when I specifically introduced her as Tarini.”
“News in the palace spreads fast.”
Siddharth’s mouth pursed.
“I don’t like this you and Samarth going behind my back.”
“And look how much you didn’t like it,” he pointed to the smile that
Siddharth had been wearing ever since he had met her in Anand Bang. Tara
was aware how ridiculously handsome he looked flaunting her, beaming,
even though he tried to intimidate his father. Siddharth’s eyes met hers and
that smile widened.
“Sappy,” she mouthed to him. And he laughed.
————————————————————
Tara entered the dining room behind Siddharth, trying and failing to feel
casual. This was Giriraj Hukum — the man, the myth, the legend. She had
seen him from close quarters at their Devgadh palace. He had visited often
during the days of the bill uproar. In fact, he had been the one to resolve the
fight between Yuvraj saheb and Niyati Kumari, pulling Devgadh back from
the cusp of a civil war.
Tara remembered vividly that morning when he had come and sat with
Yuvrani outside while she had started her bed rest. It was a few months ago
now but Tara had observed the enigma that he was, playing with Ragini
Kumari with such ease, chatting with Yuvrani, laughing, then also
becoming solemn by the end. Tara had left for Ushuaia the next day, but her
mother had told her that things had begun to change from that week
onwards. Yuvraj had handed over Sangram to the police, sat down for a
negation with his sister, and basically just declared peace and walked away.
“Rawal,” Giriraj Hukum's chirpy voice sounded from the long table, “I hear
your palace is beaming with some good news!”
Tara stepped out from behind Siddharth and contrary to the shock she had
expected on his face, Giriraj Hukum was smiling indulgently at her. He had
one of the most perfectly good looking faces she had seen in her life.
Siddharth was handsome but he had that lean, rugged, athletic look that was
completely masculine. Giriraj Hukum, on the other hand, had something
very feminine in his face that accentuated the masculine in him. Putting him
in the category of those men whose faces were written in lores.
He looked like he was 30 but Tara knew for a fact that he was over 45. He
had lush dark brown hair that was set in waves combed back from his face.
His chin was sharp, but his lips full. His eyebrows were thick but his eyes
were soft and naughty. He was dark, as dark as her, but he glowed as if his
entire body was smiling.
“Tara, right?” He called out. She blinked.
“Remember we crossed in the palace of Devgadh? When Samriddhi was on
bedrest outside in the garden? You were playing with her little Rags.”
He remembered her? Not just by face but by name? Tara was left tongue-
tied.
“Stop intimidating my fiancée, Giri,” Siddharth quipped. “Come, Tara. I
will introduce you to the man who doesn’t wait for introductions.”
“So it’s official, is it?” Giriraj got to his feet and pushed his chair in, just as
she was delivered to his side.
“Hukum, this is my fiancée Tarini Thakker. Tara. And Tara, this is Hukum
Giriraj Singh Mewad, the steward of Mewad and the darling of all royals of
India.”
“Not lately,” Hukum smiled conspiratorially. “Your own Niyati Kumari
would be the first to disagree,” he addressed her. “But that aside, I am
honoured to meet you, Tara.”
She folded her hands and bowed her head — “It is me who is honoured,
Hukum.”
He greeted her back with his own hands folded. It reminded her of Samarth.
And she realised that Samarth wasn’t just a shadow of his father, but also
carried hints of this man.
“Where’s Samarth?” Siddharth asked, ushering her to the seat beside
Hukum.
“He went to get me his helmet that Facundo Pieres signed.”
“He is going gaga over that one helmet, I think he sleeps with it beside
him.”
Tara let Siddharth seat her. Only then did the two men take their seats,
Siddharth helming the table.
“Mark my words, one day young boys will have Samarth sign their helmets
and hug them to sleep.”
Siddharth beamed, almost shyly. But the pride in his eyes was
unmistakable. “I don’t praise him too much to his face, but the boy is
something else on the field.”
“And now he will focus better with his father busy elsewhere. All the
nagging shifts to you,” Giriraj grinned, looking at her.
“Cut it, Giri. She is immune to all the trash talk about me.”
“Is she?” Hukum gave her a scandalous look.
“Not really,” Tara answered bravely, biting her cheeks to hide her smile.
“You are turning on me faster than I anticipated,” Siddharth threatened,
reaching for his napkin. Tara couldn’t help but laugh, suddenly feeling
lighter. She hadn’t expected her first few hours in this big palace to be so…
full of comfort. And amusement.
“Sorry, sorry…” Samarth’s urgent voice came from behind her before he
was rounding the table, now showered and changed into a white kurta and
pyjama. He leaned across the table and handed a black polo helmet to
Hukum, bowed his head to his father, then, surprisingly, her, and took his
seat to the right of his father.
“I see you are flying two meters above the ground,” Siddharth chastised
him coldly. “Don’t make this clandestine work a habit of yours. I will not
tolerate it again.”
“Yes, Papa,” he looked down.
“Look here at me,” Siddharth commanded. His son obeyed immediately.
“It is neither your job, nor your right to do these things. What you have
done is done, but I will not let you go any further. Concentrate on school
and polo. Leave the palace and everything else to me.”
“Sorry, Papa.”
“You better be.”
“It’s ok now, Siddharth,” Giriraj cut in. “He did it for you.”
“You know the full story?”
“All I know is that your 15-year old son understood that you and Tara were
letting go of something so pure, and acted before it was too late. Now, I
don’t support his means, but he did it out of his love for you. Which other
15-year old would pull his head out of his friends and games to even see,
forget think of his father?”
Siddharth pursed his lips, glancing between the two, then turning his eyes to
her. As if realising the fruit of Samarth’s stealth mission, he shook his head.
“Do not do it again, Kunwar.”
“Yes, Rawal,” his son intoned meekly. While Siddharth and Hukum turned
to the food in front of them, Tara noted the small satisfied smile play on the
boy’s face. His eyes met hers, blinked in surprise, then settled well as she
returned that smile.

OceanofPDF.com
 28. The Wedding
Tara was told good times passed in a blink, the bad ones were a crawl. But
now she realised that anxious times neither went in a blink, nor did they
crawl. The one month between reuniting with Siddharth and their wedding
was a test of her patience.
She wasn’t a girly girl, and yet here was shopping, clothes, sarees,
jewellery, trousseau, hair, skin, makeup. And not just in a regular
household, but by the standards of Nawanagar’s future queen. Until she had
been thrown into this mix, with her mother, Kashvi, stylists hired by
Siddharth and Yuvrani sitting remotely in her home, Tara hadn’t realised
that she was marrying into a position first, to a person second.
With every passing day, her anxiety kept climbing up. Up. Up. Up.
And on the morning of her marriage ceremony, after a host of grand
functions, Bhoj meals for all of Nawanagar, temple visits and a reforestation
drive in honour of their union, Tara felt she would burst. Like a pressure
cooker. It wasn’t the heavy whorls of chunari, nor the white panetar ghaghra
ensemble that was native to their culture. It wasn’t the jewellery, or rather
the jewellery shop that was laden on her. It wasn’t the quiet of the royal
family temple alleys through which she was walked down towards the
venue — the temple grounds.
It wasn’t anything. And yet, as she passed the ancient carved pillars with
Surya, Vishnu, and Skand devta on them, and left the shadow of the main
dome for the bright sunlight and loud noises of the outside, Tara’s internal
cooker was on the verge of bursting.
So many people. She had seen this kind of a crowd, of course. In fact, this
was a ‘small, intimate marriage ceremony’ as compared to Yuvraj of
Devgadh’s. Here were a mere 300 people — the closest relatives, royals and
courtiers, surrounding the natural ancient stone mandap in the middle of the
temple grounds. She couldn’t see Siddharth though.
“Look down at the steps,” her mother alerted her, and Tara immediately
held her ghaghra up to scale slowly down the massive stone steps, a whole
entourage of local ladies behind her. Kashvi brought up her left side and
held the flow of the heavy ghaghra from that side.
“Does he know you are a mess at wearing all this?” She joked in her ear.
Tara bit her laugh. It wouldn’t look good for Nawanagar’s future Maarani to
come laughing to the marriage mandap.
“Now she will have to get used to it,” her mother chimed, helping her down
the temple steps and towards the mandap. There was already a cordoned
way laden with a red carpet for her. No petals. Siddharth and her, both had
been clear — no wastage of flowers. They were to be used only where
prescribed in the ceremony or necessary.
A loud conch blew, making her glance up, and there was Siddharth,
climbing the mandap from the opposite side, a chattra held over his head,
Samarth and a host of other men by his side. Tara shouldn’t have stared, but
she did look at him a second longer before lowering her gaze. He was…
everything.
Tall, large, with a chest that looked broader than she had known, and a
bearded face focused with intensity on her. In his native royal angarakha
tailored to his perfect frame, made of real gold and silver fibres, he wore a
safa in crimson. Tara had caught that his kalangi was a diamond-studded
bird in flight, meant to amuse her. And it had.
And suddenly, like a whistle had blown over that pressure cooker, her
anxiety began to steam off.
They helped her up the mandap and like a dream, she was toe to toe with
him, ready to culminate what they had started on that bank of Mahi river.
“What’s to blush about this?” He murmured, low enough for only her ears.
Tara closed her eyes, drinking in the amusement, feeling all the steam
billowing out. Then she raised her eyes to his, keeping her smile as small as
possible. Because with his teasing, it was impossible to not go all college-
girl grinning.
“Shut up,” she murmured equally low, making his eyes smile. He knew how
to do that, she would have to learn too. As they were handed their varmalas,
Tara knew she was signing up for a lifetime of that learning. Gladly so.
————————————————————
“Rawal Siddharth Sinh Solanki ni — Jai!”
“Maarani ni — Jai!”
A small reception gathering ensued just as they stepped down from their
marriage mandap as husband and wife. It was the royals that descended
upon them first, with gifts and greetings. Tara was introduced to dozens of
them, many of whom she had already known, and who knew her. She
thought she saw disdain in a few eyes, some gave her fake smiles that she
all too well discerned. But most of those royals were polite and kind. Even
Kumari Sheetal Jadeja was polite, who Tara had learnt was the daughter of
Siddharth’s mother’s brother. His first cousin.
She didn’t act high-handed like she had that day, instead folding her hands
and touching both their feet like she was expected to. Tara felt
uncomfortable, having somebody her age touch her feet. But the Kumari
just up and smiled at her — “Bhabhi.”
Tara didn’t even get a chance to digest her shock as Siddharth’s aunt, his
father’s sister was announced. As if she was above all royals, she crossed
everybody waiting to congratulate them and breezed straight to Siddharth.

“Jeevta rhyo, Siddharth.”[33] She smeared a tilak over his forehead and
showered rice grains over him in blessing, turning to do the same to her.
Tara bowed her head, seeing nothing but kindness on her face. Then her
son, a man her own age followed, ready to smear another tilak on
Siddharth’s forehead but he pulled his head back.
“You are younger, Indranil,” he pronounced. Tara gaped as the man seethed,
but hid it behind a small smile as he bent and touched Siddharth’s feet.

“Bhabhi naa bi,”[34] Siddharth pointed to her.

Indranil folded his hands — “She is younger, Siddharth bhai.”
“Not in relation. She is also your Maarani now.”
Tara could see the silent star-off between the cousins for two intense
seconds, before Indranil came to her, folded his hands but did not touch her
feet as he moved on. The sun was over them and Tara was feeling the brunt
of it heavier with these harsh glimpses into her future life.
“Get water,” Siddharth ordered somebody behind them and she was
surprised as a glass was presented in her hand. The line of guests was
cordoned. He had cordoned off the royals?! She turned to him — “What are
you doing?”
“Drink water. We will continue once you feel better.”
“I am feeling better.”
“You can keep arguing and they will keep standing in line.”
Tara huffed and sipped, wanting to down the whole glass but keeping her
queen etiquette intact. She had taken classes.
“My foiba and her son are like that. Don’t worry about them,” he intoned,
before nodding. And the line was resumed in the distance. The grounds
were so huge and the protocol so well done that nobody, not even the
uptight royal guests felt offended for the break. And Tara again pasted that
small smile and folded her hands, greeting more guests.
“So you went to Buenos Aires then, sir?” Subbu came next, grinning from
ear to ear.
“Come, come,” Siddharth muttered to him. “I have arranged special
hospitality for you.”
“Oh? Where?”
“In the basement.”
“Ha ha… anyway Tara, I come bearing this small gift,” he handed her a
package wrapped in rich green paper. “And love from Nadeem.”
“You have two seconds to move or my guards are going to drag you,”
Siddharth joked, his mouth twitching already.
“Your ex-boss and new husband can’t even thank me properly, Tara.”
She blushed. Her husband. That was a first.
“Meet me at work and I will thank you properly.”
“That reminds me, will you still be available for this year or should I cross
your dates off.”
Siddharth’s voice turned solemn — “Of course I’ll be available. Just not all
the time now.”
“Yes, King sir.”
They shared a laugh and he moved on, making way for Yuvraj. Her Yuvraj.
In all his regal royal glory, aviators on to protect his eyes from the sun.
Siddharth stepped forward to make sure he made it ok to the small podium
but Yuvraj didn’t need any help. He could see perfectly well from the sides
of his eyes in good lighting.
Siddharth extended a hand and he shook it, pulling him into a hug. They
patted each other’s backs and hugged a second longer, muttering things in
each others ears before breaking into a laugh. Then, Yuvraj came to her, a
chaperone behind him passing gifts to Nawanagar’s staff.
“Are you happy?” His mouth smiled down at her, his voice low, soft,
concerned. Tara nodded, her eyes tearing up. Before he could fold his hands
to them she bent down to touch his feet. She had done it numerous times
but this one, this one seemed too poignant. She did not care if it broke
etiquette. She did not care if onlookers talked. This was her Yuvraj, the best
man she had known before knowing Siddharth, the man who had silently
been her protector.
Yuvraj’s hand hesitantly came atop her head, when earlier he had patted her
head every time she had touched his feet after rakhi.
“Get up, Tara” he held her shoulders and helped her up. “This is the last
time you touch my feet. Now onwards, you are my equal, in fact, you are
above me. You are queen and I am an ousted prince.”
She shook her head — “You will always be my Yuvraj.”
He chuckled, then glanced at Siddharth — “You have a lot to teach her.”
“I do, but she is right too.”
Yuvraj shook his head, pressing his hand atop her head again.
“Sami sends her love with these gifts. She says she has hounded you
enough these last few weeks to talk even today so she will call you once all
the post-wedding rituals are over.”
Tara nodded. “Please tell Yuvrani that I can’t wait for her to deliver and
come with the new baby and Kumari.”
“I will,” he gave her an indulgent smile, then moved on. Tara discreetly
patted the tear from the side of her eye.
“What is it?” Siddharth whispered from the corner of his mouth.
“It’s like I am leaving a whole life behind.”
“Which you are.”
“Which I am,” she turned to gaze at him. “For the most beautiful life for
myself.”
“The bride is already crying!” Came Giriraj Hukum’s dandy voice. “What
are you doing to her, Siddharth?!”
————————————————————
Tara stood in his chambers. Now her chambers. The night was thick and
dark outside, a sliver of a moon somewhere not enough to leave any light.
She stepped back from the wall of windows opening into the long turret
balcony and turned, eyeing the massive four-poster bed sitting in the middle
of a room that could have been her whole courtyard plus hall combined.
There was a similar room on the opposite side, connected by a royal sitting
area. But the chaperone ladies had deposited her here and left, not telling
her anything. And Tara hadn’t moved, scared she might break some
unnamed protocol. Not that Sid would mind, but this palace was much more
than Sid. It was his father, his son, his courtiers, his staff, his security and
his chaperones. He had told her he would ask the lady chaperones to resume
coming to the palace now that she was here.
Tara didn’t look forward to that. If the lukewarm reception of the current lot
of chaperone ladies was anything to go by, she wasn’t too liked in this
kingdom even if she was tolerated for their king. Speaking of, the king was
with his son. Tara didn’t mind, of course. She knew she would be sharing
him with Samarth.
It was just that… she wanted some sense of comfort in this alien land,
among alien people. Tara began to reach for the heaviest of her jewellery,
the maang tika, to get rid of the weight, when the door to the chambers
opened.
“Started the fun without me?”
She huffed, a smile curling her lips even amid these hot nerves. There he
was.
Tara turned, only to find him locking the door and unknotting his safa. It
was… a turn on. To see Siddharth do that. He stood by the door, unravelling
his head gear slowly, his eyes on her, until he looked again like the man she
knew. His heavy-set shawls and scarves had been already removed, leaving
him in his jewelled angarkha. And even that he began to unknot.
Her stomach clenched.
He unraveled the two sides until the heavy, embellished material hung from
his shoulders, his chest bare to her gaze, those abs making her lose her
mind. Tara turned before she would do something out of character for her,
walking to the mirror instead to remove her jewellery.
“Tara.”
His voice was heavy, his eyes hooded as he came behind her, circling the
wrist that was about to reach for the earring. Their gazes clashed in the
mirror and she did exactly what she didn’t want to do. She became putty to
him, like she always had.
He set her arms by her side and took off those chunky, heavy earrings.
Slowly. Carefully. She still winced.
“Do they hurt?”
“After the long day, yes.”
“Don’t wear them again.” He moved to her necklaces, unraveling the haas
and the satladas, patiently emptying the bunches of bangles and kadas from
her wrists, until she was left in nothing but her ghaghra, choli, and the
chunaris pinned to her shoulders. Siddharth reached for them, tried to tug,
but they stayed put.
She laughed.
“You find this funny, Tara?”
“You ignorant male,” she kissed the side of his throat, making his muscles
tauten. “They are all pinned. See?” She reached up and began to unpin
everything one by one, letting him pull the slinky chunaris off her body.
And then his next target was her hair. This, he managed without her help,
unraveling her intricate bun, jewels pinging to the floor. Tara stared at
herself in the mirror as he fluffed her curls into being, pressing his face into
them.
“Finally,” he breathed, nothing but his nose touching the back of her head.
“Finally.”
His arm snaked around her bare waist and his fingers circled her navel,
pulling her back and into him.
“Life as my wife may be all that we had dreamed of,” he said. “But life as
Nawangar’s Maarani will not be a bed of roses. I know you signed up for it,
but you saw a glimpse of that reality today. Are you still just as ready,
Tara?”
His eyes came up and over her head, staring into hers through the mirror.
“Yes, Rawal.”
He grinned.
“Rawal?” He turned her around and into his arms, her body colliding with
his bare skin.
“You are my king now,” her head dipped. He took her chin between his
thumb and forefinger and nudged it up — “Dance for your king then.”
Tara blinked. Then without hesitation, padded to the bags of her belongings
lined up outside the walk-in closet. She bent down to the hand bag of her
most priceless possessions and because she had packed it herself, she knew
where her ghungroo were. She retrieved them, their weight heavy and
familiar.
When Tara turned, he had grabbed a round pillow and thrown it on the floor
in the middle of the room. In front of her eyes, he lowered himself to the
floor.
“Come.”
She walked to him. He took the pair of ghungroo from her hand, lifted her
foot on his knee and began to tie them. One by one. Slowly. Leisurely. Tara
felt happy. Exhilarated. The one thing that made her feel so real, so soft, so
vulnerable was the one thing she would do for him. All her tough-girl
energy pooled around her the moment he kissed her ankle.
Siddharth leaned back on the pillow, his angarkha pushed farther apart to
show the heart-stopping slopes of his clavicles. Her eyes ran up the column
of his throat, to that thick beard and then those intense eyes.
Tara took ten steps back, her ghunghroo reverberating with each step. She
reached out to her mobile on the bed and found the song. The one she had
danced on in Antarctica. And she hit play.
It was shocking how she had zero inhibitions warming up, going with the
slow words, expressing more than gesturing, using eyes and face while her
fingers made mudras and held still. Then the music intensified and her arms
and feet took over, whirling in the same gestures but at triple the speed, her
ghaghra flowing around her, her hair whirling with her, her arms feeling
like she was in water. When her eyes passed his face, she experienced even
more joy.
Because he was watching her enraptured.
Tara continued to dance, in a whirl of asamyukta hastas and samyukta
hastas, feeling every beat, every word, every mudra until the music reached
its zenith and went out with a blast. She screeched to a halt on the last
mudra, her ghaghra still oscillating around her legs as it took its own sweet
time coming to a stop. She stared at Siddharth, feeling her own wondrous
expression from the song break into a smile. Just for him. She panted.
He got to his feet and covered the distance between them in three steps.
Before she could gauge what he would do he pushed his hands into her hair
and crashed his mouth over hers. She inhaled, her body folding back in half
as he pushed her back over one arm, walking her until the bed was behind
her calves.
“You are my wife now,” he whispered to her, reaching down to pull the
strings holding her blouse together. “My queen,” he tugged the strings
holding her ghaghra together. “My friend,” he pushed her back until
everything was off and she was left naked lying on his bed.
Siddharth stepped back from the bed, eyeing her. Then he pushed his own
angarkha off his shoulders and unraveled his pants until they were both
completely bare to each other.
“You are my life for myself,” he stepped towards her, grabbing her thighs
and parting them to crawl between them. His fingers thrummed her and she
gasped. “You are the woman who made me feel like I was the luckiest man
on this planet.”
“Aaah, Sid…” she tried to close her legs but he held her thigh down.
“And I know you have the power to continue to make me feel that,” he
reached down and kissed her throat, nipping the centre of it as his fingers
wrecked havoc inside her. She bucked, the coil tightening.
“Sid, Sid, Sid…” she screamed, coming with a force of many months
without him, feeling his suckling bites in the arch of her neck.
Tara panted, her mouth open, fisting the back of his head and pulling him
up. He smirked — “I had forgotten how good it felt to be inside you.”
“I need you inside me.”
He nodded, bracing his hands on both sides of her to push up.
“Where are you going…?”
“Condom.”
“No,” she circled her arms around his neck until he was pulled down.
Shocked dark eyes stared at her.
“Tara?”
She swallowed — “I want to wait for myself, but I want you to have
healthy years with our child.”
“We don’t have to decide right away, Tara,” he pushed a stray lock of hair
back from her face, tenderness bleeding from that gesture after the intense
few minutes.
She shook her head — “It might take months to get pregnant. My mother
took two years to have me.”
“You asked her?”
“You want to know if I did?”
“No,” he snorted, reaching down and giving her a slow, languid kiss. His
face hovered over hers, as if trying to read her, as if considering this
decision.
“Decide fast or your back might give up,” she nudged him with her knee.
And that did it. His mouth growled into her neck just as he impaled her. She
bucked back on his bed.
“Sid!” A shriek escaped her but he nipped her flesh, throwing her into a
frenzy of pleasure. It was all soft moans then, as he set a slow rhythm,
pushing her up the bed until they hit the headboard. Like the tender man he
was, he pushed a cushion between her head and the headboard, making her
body dial up. Tara screamed his name again.
“Come, come,” he panted into her hair, kissing her ear. “Come for me,
Tara.”
And she did, blacking out.
When she blinked back to life, he was roaring her name. And then it was
another black out. For him. She felt him deeply. Fully. Pulsing.
Maybe they had started a huge leap between them. It wasn’t a split-second
decision for her. She had been thinking about it for weeks leading up to the
wedding. She wanted her child, her children, to have with Siddharth what
Samarth had. That friendship, that easy camaraderie, that shared interest
over sports, slang and other things. If she waited, it was possible that by the
time her children grew up he would be too exhausted to spend much
physical energy on them.
“You have the audacity to suck me dry and then go into a trance?” He
kissed her cheek. She laughed, bracing as he pulled out of her. Tara thought
of getting up and cleaning up but he was faster, walking naked into the
ensuite and returning to help her.
“What were you thinking?” He asked, coming back after disposing
everything and laying down beside her, pulling her body into his.
“That you might be too old to run and do fielding but you might be able to
be the umpire in our children’s cricket.”
“You are still catching your breath while I am ready to go again. Let’s see
who becomes the umpire, Maarani,” he turned her on her stomach and
hovered behind her, half over her. Her body vibrated, and he pushed her
hair off her back, kissing his way down.
“Sid?”
“Hmm?” He nipped the curve of her waist.
“Will we sleep in different rooms?”
He came back up — “Where would you get that idea from?”
“That other room there.”
“That’s the king’s chambers.”
“Yours?”
“Mine. But this is mine too. The queen’s chambers. It was refurbished years
ago and has served as my office, then as Samarth’s room when he was
small, then as a spare room without any utility.”
“So you can sleep here?”
“I can sleep wherever I want.”
“And where do you want to sleep?”
“Where you are.”
She smiled, flipping over and taking his body over hers. Her eyes were
heavy, a yawn tearing her mouth. And he was a warm, heavy weight,
making her feel more secure than she had ever felt. His arms went under her
neck and held her tight, as if he realised that’s what she needed.
“Sleep in peace, Tara. You will wake up beside me tomorrow.”
“Hmm,” she closed her eyes, hoping that this togetherness would last a
lifetime and then some more.

OceanofPDF.com
 29. Storm
“Mmmm… Sid!” She pushed him off her, working to roll out of the bed. He
just caught her and rolled her back, his mouth latching onto her breast.
“What if somebody comes in?!” She gasped, the sun mild but right in her
eyes.
“Why do you think I locked the door last night?” He puckered his lips and
blew on her skin, then lapped it again. Her fingers went into his hair,
bunching there as he bit her nipple.
“But what will they think?”
“That their Rawal is not old yet.”
She laughed, then slapped a hand over her mouth. “Are your doors
soundproof?”
“Palace doors are never soundproof,” he came over her, grinning. “Or don’t
you know that?”
“Stop teasing me!” She pushed at his chest. In retaliation, he held her wrists
over her head and entered her, making her moan.
“Kiss me,” she whisper-shouted, reaching up to catch his mouth.
“Scream,” he thrust.
“Sid!” She turned her head and caught her scream inside her mouth. He
went harder. She panted, the pleasure and the effort of holding her noises
back warring inside.
“Scream, Tara,” his grip tightened on her wrists. She shook her head, her
eyes challenging on his. He smirked. His thrusts slowed down.
“Don’t stop…” she began to protest but he pulled out and flipped her,
pulling her up on all fours.
“Your fantasies, Maarani,” he murmured in her ear, pushing into her from
behind. Her head dropped, vying to get into the pillow. But he kept his hold
firm on her, preventing her from muffling her sounds.
“Scream now, Tara,” he thrust, pleasure like she had never felt before
coursing through her veins. He nibbled the centre of her back and she
moaned. He kept going and she kept moaning. Then his teeth closed around
the flesh at the nape of her neck, nibbling, working to leave another love
bite. And her body let loose. She screamed, alien sounds coming out of her
mouth. In the back of her head, in some remote corner, she prayed nobody
was close to their chambers. And then her mind went blank.
As she came down from her high, her knees giving away, he tenderly
pushed her flat down and kissed the side of her head. She could feel the
smile of his mouth on her skin. “Don’t challenge your Rawal’s orders
again.”
Tara chuckled, trying to push him off. He rolled over her and out of the bed
— “Rest for a while. I am starting my day. Once you are ready, we will see
about setting your routine.”
“I am ready,” she panted, eyeing him check his phone buck naked. He
smiled, eyes scrolling down the screen.
“Sid?”
“Tell me, Tara.” Eyes still on the phone.
“I am ready.”
He clicked his phone lock and set it down, then reached down and lifted her
up in his arms — “Then shower with me.”
————————————————————
“Rawal, Maarani,” Samarth met them in the dining room, ready in his polo
and jeans, a bag on his shoulder.
“Your flight isn’t before 11, Kunwar,” his father frowned.
“But I am picking up a friend on my way to Rajkot. The detour will take an
hour.”
“Will the name of that friend be Ava by any chance?” Siddharth smirked.
Tara noted Samarth’s eyes blink, disturbed. But he was back within a
millisecond.
“No,” he chuckled. “I have to go meet Dada Sarkar before I leave. Aagya.”
“Your Dada Sarkar is right here!”
They all turned in unison at Bade Rawal being wheeled into the dining
room, his gaunt face smiling like it was the best day of his life. Tara felt
special, that he had kept his promise.
“Aagya, Dada Sarkar,” Samarth touched his feet. His grandfather feebly
patted his shoulder then quipped — “I want my whole family to eat together
here. Come on, eat.”
“But Dada…”
“Samarth.” Siddharth commanded. And Tara watched in fascination as the
young boy pursed his lips in a very, very silent rebellion, then smiled and
pushed his grandfather’s wheelchair to the table.
“Bade Rawal,” she bent down to touch his feet, feeling the restrictions of
her saree. Yuvrani had told her it would take time getting used to. Wearing
one for occasions was different from wearing one on a daily basis.
“Now it is your job to keep this palace and this table full and happy,” he
patted her head. She nodded, smiling at the father-son duo standing behind
him. They looked like such a pair that she had a sudden urge to see another
mini-Siddharth there.
“Come,” Siddharth helped her into her chair and they ate with an easy
camaraderie between them. For her first official meal in the Palace of
Nawanagar, Tara did not feel out of place as the three men involved her in
every conversation, made her laugh, and tried to stuff her with every
possible breakfast item available.
But as soon as breakfast was over, Samarth got to his feet.
“Have aagya, Bade Rawal, Rawal, Maarani.”
Siddharth snorted — “Go, friends are more important than family.”
Samarth came around the table and bent down to hug his father. Siddharth
thumped his back — “Now next in June?’”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Come as soon as your term is done. Let’s plan a trip, the three of us.”
“Done.”
Samarth pulled back and gave her a winning smile — “Bye.”
“Bye, Samarth.”
Tara observed as he literally ran. Teenagers were more prone to friends than
family, but the way he had left made her think. Was he running away from
something? Tara wasn’t one to over-analyse but was he running from her in
his palace? No. He couldn’t have. After all, he had been the one to get her
here in the first place. At the cost of his own future.
“Who is Ava?” She asked Siddharth.
“His girlfriend.”
“The current one?”
He sat back, sipping his coffee — “My son doesn’t go through a rotation.
She is his first girlfriend.”
Tara bit her lip. Maybe he didn’t know about ‘situationships’ or maybe like
every delusional father he thought his son was a good boy everywhere. Tara
didn’t pry into that. And Siddharth got to his feet. “Aagya, Papa. Tara, come
see me in the library after you are done.”
————————————————————
Tara walked down the palace alleys, the guards bowing their heads when
she passed. There wasn’t any other staff yet. Chaperones, she was told, only
came after court, and were mostly men who came to sit with Siddharth or
Bade Rawal.
She was getting used to the alleys, the chambers, the staircases that actually
ran into shortcuts to go to a place on the ground floor itself. The palace was
a feat of marvel. And she felt like a visitor, her shoulders hunching
unconsciously as she admired the embellished walls, the portraits, the line
of family lineage ending with Siddharth and then Samarth’s portrait.
Her feet turned unwillingly away from all those beautiful people until she
was at the library. She knocked.
“Come.”
Tara opened the door, only to find Siddharth leaning back on the desk, a
bundle of papers in his hand, reading.
“What is it? I was planning to go and visit my parents before they leave for
Devgadh…”
“Close the door.”
She did, padding to him. Tara was halfway there when he set the bundle
down, grabbed her hand and pulled her in for a kiss. She laughed, gripping
the column of his throat, kissing him back.
“We left our chambers just one hour ago, Sid!”
“And that’s one hour too long,” he pushed her hair behind her shoulder and
kissed her neck, his perch on the desk giving him easy access.
“You have court.”
“In twenty minutes.”
“Sid…”
“Can you be quiet?” He nipped her jaw.
“Now you want me to be quiet?”
“Only lady chaperones are allowed inside our chambers. Here it’s both men
and women. You think I will allow another man to hear you?” His teeth
grazed her jaw, reaching the apple of her cheek. He suckled there. “Can you
be quiet?”
Her breath hitched. “Not if you keep doing that…”
Three sharp knocks and they broke apart. He eyed her. She stepped back
from him, righting her saree and hair. Then nodded.
“Yes?”
“Rawal, Hira ben is here,” the guard informed.
“Yes, please escort her.”
Siddharth straightened to his feet, striding to the door in a clear break of
protocol to meet whoever this was. Tara peered closely, just as the door
opened and a round, smiling woman with greying hair walked into the
library.
“Rawal,” she folded her hands and bowed her head.
“Aao, Hira ben, this palace has wilted without you.”
The older woman shook her head, righting the pallu of her Gujarati saree on
her shoulder — “What are you charming me for today, Rawal?”
Siddharth gave her a sly smile — “To come back to the palace.”
She pursed her lips, her eyes motherly as she tipped her head to peer at him,
then zeroed in on her standing by the desk.
“For Maarani?”
“For all of us, but yes, for Maarani. Come.” He opened her way into the
library. Tara smiled, folding her hands by habit.
“No, no, you cannot fold your hands to me, Maarani,” Hira ben rebuked.
“Didn’t you have tutors hired, Rawal?”
“I did.” He gave her a pointed smile, making her chortle. “Tara, this is Hira
ben, my mother’s most trusted chaperone. She has run the Maarani’s
chambers and everything else in this palace for decades while Mummy was
alive.”
Tara stepped forward — “How should I greet you if not by folding my
hands, Hira ben?”
“You don’t have to greet me. I have to greet you.” She folded her hands and
touched them to the tip to her forehead. “Welcome to Nawanagar, Maarani.”
“Tara needs to know this palace, this kingdom, our Nawanagar’s history
and culture. Who better than you to teach her all that, to give her a mother’s
hand away from her own mother.”
Hira ben looked between them, took a moment to think. Tara measured how
she took that moment even in front of her king, how she did not answer
immediately.
“Is Maarani ready to learn?”
Tara frowned at that question. Of course she was ready to learn.
“Yes,” she nodded.
Hira ben smiled. “Then I will come.”
————————————————————
Life with Siddharth was all that she had imagined. And more.
In her first weeks at the palace, he had kept his workload light, spending
early mornings, lunchtime and evenings with her. Showing her around the
palace, taking her through the palace gardens, town lakeside, and even the
wildlife sanctuary outside Nawanagar that his father had commissioned
decades ago and he maintained painstakingly.
It was like a honeymoon inside their home.
Simply because there wasn’t much work to do. The palace ran on autopilot.
If she so wished, she could go into the royal kitchen to cook something
special. Or commission new sarees, blouses, jewellery, change the decor of
chambers… all tediously boring work. She would rather read in the library.
Or spend time with Hira ben.
That was one highlight of her day. Even as the common chaperone ladies
subtly snubbed her, Hira ben took her under her wing. Tara steeled her heart
every morning when the chaperone ladies from town would come and sit
with her. They were anywhere between ten and fifty in number, in all
varying age groups. Just like in Raniba’s chambers back in Devgadh.
Only, she wasn’t Raniba. And the chaperones here did not adore her.
Respect, yes. For their Rawal’s sake. They came because their Rawal had
commanded. But they wouldn’t talk much to her. And after trying to initiate
conversations, Tara had given up. One could only take so many one-line
answers.
Tara had begun to detest those hours of her morning. That is why when Hira
ben came for her daily classes on Nawanagar history, she would skip with
extra energy to her. And Hira ben had such innovative ways of teaching her.
One day she would take her for a walk around the palace, showing her
nooks and crannies with their histories, and on another day she would just
sit in her chamber and sing songs between teaching her the indigenous
technique to embroider with hand. Amid those, she spoke widely about
Siddharth’s mother.
“She was the real king here,” Hira ben reminisced.
“So Bade Rawal was subdued to his queen?” Tara asked, curious, pulling
the thread out of the wrong side. It knotted up. Hira ben instantly pushed
the needle back, but the fine cotton thread was knotted tight. She took the
fabric into her hands.
“You need so much patience to do that…” Tara remarked, eyeing her take
the tiny needle back through the holes and loops of the knot.
“Not patience,” Hira ben smiled. “You need belief. You need to believe that
you will open up the knot. Only then you will keep going… like this,” she
unravelled her mess and handed the fabric back to her. Tara smiled, holding
the swatch between her hands.
“What were you saying about Bade Rawal and his Maarani, Hira ben?” She
nudged.
“No, Bade Rawal was not subdued to his Maarani. If you ask about their
marriage, then both were equals. Such love and respect. Your Rawal is this
headstrong, independent ruler because his parents had a solid family behind
him. He tried to give the same to Kunwar Samarth…”
“But it didn’t happen.”
“Why not?” Hira ben smiled. “So what if his mother went away? Rawal and
Rajmata made a solid foundation for Kunwar. Our Rajmata, his
grandmother — she took him with her everywhere she went. She became
his mother. At night, Rawal always made him sleep beside him, but all day,
Kunwar stayed with his Dadi Sarkar.”
“She must have been a solid woman.”
“She was. After Bade Rawal’s attacks, Rawal was very young to start
administration. And when there is transition of power, there are always
vultures ready to pounce. But Rajmata made sure that she stepped in and
held the reigns tight until Rawal was able enough to fully take over.”
“You mean when Siddharth was Rawal, his mother ruled?”
“Behind the scenes, yes. For almost two years he came to her for
everything. Even simple accounts. And after that also, she was his unofficial
Prime Minister.”
“Siddharth told me once, that Nawanagar has been ruled by matriarchs.”
“That is true. Kings have sat on the throne but queens have run this
kingdom. By stroke of fate or by their own interest, somehow queens have
found themselves in decision-making places.”
“I don’t know a single thing about being a normal queen, forget such a
strong one.”
“Do you think our previous queens knew it, Maarani?” Hira ben gave her a
conspiratorial smirk. “Nobody comes learned from their mother’s womb…”
Tara smiled. That gave her hope.
“Maarani,” the guard knocked.
“Haan?”
“You must say — Aao,” Hira ben corrected. Tara winced.
“Rawal has sent message that he has finished his meeting early and awaits
your presence in Anand Baag.”
Tara glanced down at the incomplete embroidery in her hands and Hira ben
still telling her about queens.
“Please tell Rawal I am with Hira ben. I will take another hour.”
The guard bowed and left. And when she turned to Hira ben, she was
silently chuckling in amusement.
“What?” Tara blinked, squirming.
“If the whole palace doesn’t know it already, it will know soon enough how
their Maarani has wrapped their Rawal around her finger.”
“I think that works against me… the women think I have done some black
magic on their Rawal.”
“Haven’t you?” Hira ben leaned in playfully. Tara laughed, continuing the
conversations and the embroidery, feeling like she was acing the theory but
the practical was far from reach.
————————————————————
When she finished with Hira ben, Tara discovered that not one but two
hours had elapsed. She swallowed. Had she kept Siddharth waiting for that
long?
She glanced at herself in the mirror, righted the sliding pallu of her saree,
pushed her curls behind her shoulder and ran. Only to find that Rawal had
left for the Stadium. To watch cricket.
Tara didn’t even hesitate for a second. She had the car called and sped to the
Stadium. She didn’t know how welcome she would be, or how many people
there would be. But Hira ben’s words of wisdom had recharged her. To do
this. To try this. To put herself out there among his people.
The cars (her and the guards’) went directly into the Stadium. She was
shocked to discover that cars could go inside to the turf. From a dark tunnel
the green, bright field came into view, players in whites scattered around,
practise sessions going on with nets erected. The seating of the massive
round stadium was empty, but the field itself was filled with people. They
looked like officials, team members, important people.
Now Tara felt a little skeptical about coming here. She began to second-
guess her appearance too. All she wore was a lipstick that had begun to
fade. No makeup. No embellishments.
“Maarani,” the door opened. No going back now. Everybody was zeroed in
on her car. She took a deep breath and stepped out. And saw in slow motion
the practise sessions stop across the field. Slowly. Like an ice queen had
touched the surface of a lake and it was freezing gradually. She gaped, her
throat drying. Where was Siddharth? Her gaze turned to the officials and
dignitaries occupying the seating at the periphery of the field. His entourage
was nowhere to be found.
A crack and a ball flew high over her head. Tara whirled. And there was her
husband, in a simple white T-shirt and dark tracks, his white NY cap pulled
low, bat on his shoulder. He grinned at her.
“Six!” Somebody called.
“No, Rawal!” The young player next to him whined. Siddharth extended his
hand to the one standing behind him and got a clap. Those around him burst
out hooting and the frozen lake began to liquify. But Tara continued to stand
there, on the edge, unsure of what to do next.
“Let’s meet Maarani first,” Siddharth called out, louder than he ought to.
And as if he had commanded each and every pair of eyes on her by holding
their necks, the boys all began to gather with folded hands, him leading the
pack, bat between his hands, knee pads on.
The boys ranged from different age groups, from those younger than
Samarth to a few matching her age. And yet, Siddharth looked like their
hero leading the pack.
“Maarani,” he nodded.
“Rawal,’ she nodded back.
“My boys want to show off today, since you have graced our club with your
presence.”
She bit her lip, but maintained her small smile — “I would love to see it.” It
was on the tip of her tongue to rib him but she didn’t know if it would be
welcome. And it was good she didn’t, because the boys all bowed, stepped
back and returned to their games. Siddharth came and stood by her side.
“Are you convinced now?” He asked.
“About what?”
“That I will be batting with our kids while you will be the umpire?”
She bent her neck and laughed quietly, unsure of how open she could be
here.
“It’s ok, they are all our boys,” he consoled.
“They don’t like me much…”
“They haven’t interacted with a royal woman in years. They have forgotten
how to behave in the presence of one.”
Tara knew he was lying. Comforting her. He had been doing it often these
days. She was smart, she understood how hard he was trying to get his
people to engage with her, like her, adore her, revere her. But they didn’t.
And then in dark moments, alone, Tara began to think if they didn’t accept
her because she wasn’t worth accepting?
Some old wounds began to feel fresh.
“Have you played?” He asked, eyes on the game.
“Cricket?”
“Langdi.”
She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Don’t act extra cool with your lot… you have to come home to me only,
Rawal.”
He grinned, eyes still on the game. “Tell me.”
Tara bit the insides of her cheek, then launched — “All the time. In our
street, with all the boys. I was the only girl and Bhanwar and I were the best
batting team…”
“Partners,” he smirked. “If you are making stories up to make me jealous,
use the right jargon, Tara.”
She huffed, making his smirk broader.
“I can be a very good partner too,” he flirted.
“Sorry, I only play with people my age.”
That got his eyes to hers, amused and intense.
“I’ll show you about playing with people your age tonight, Maarani.”
“You hit a six right above my head. You’d be lucky if I let you into our
chambers.”
“It was a good shot but.”
“And what if it had hit me?” She challenged.
“Then I would have had to seriously spend the night outside our chambers,”
he nodded gravely. She burst out laughing.
————————————————————
Life in the palace of Nawanagar could be called a bubble. After her initial
efforts, she had settled into that bubble. She only went out when Siddharth
had any official engagements, like inaugurations or events. There were no
restrictions on her movement, but she had resigned from her job to adjust
into this new life. Her parents were in another town, almost on the other end
of Gujarat. Where was there to go?
Everything else came to her.
“Vijadi ne chamkare… motida parovva, Paan bai…” Hira ben entered her
chambers singing, carrying a silver platter filled with sandalwood, a
grinding stone, rose water and a host of other cooling ingredients. The
summer heat was excruciating, and even though the palace chambers were
fully air-conditioned, Hira ben insisted on her own remedies.
“What are these songs you keep singing, Hira ben?” Tara sat up in bed, still
in the saree from last night after Siddharth had left early. The saree was still
lingering low on her bosom and she righted it, feeling the rash of his fresh
whisker burns from this morning. Thankfully, her skin didn’t show burns
easily.
“I keep singing all the time,” Hira ben laughed, pushing the curtains open to
let the bright light enter her room. Tara thew her hair into a loose bun and
pushed her legs out of the bed.
“Yes, and you have a very soothing voice. But what do they mean? I know
they are Kathiawadi songs… this one is almost Gujarati.”
Hira ben set her platter down on the floor by the windows and turned to her,
a smile on her mouth.
“These are our old folk songs, Maarani. We sing them to our children while
raising them. I sang them to Rawal when he was growing, and then to
Kunwar… Vijdi ne chamkare…” she broke into the song again, her voice
turning bass but still so soothing. “Motida parovva Paan bai… Ganga Sati
used to sing this to her daughter-in-law Paan bai while they sat grinding
flour in their verandah. Centuries ago.”
“This song?”
“This and many more. She was an illiterate woman, but the things she
taught Paan Bai have created great men and women in every generation of
Kathiawadis…”
“Tell me the meaning, Hira ben.”
Hira ben smirked, a proud glint in her eyes.
“What happened?”
“Janya re jevi yaato ajaan chey vastu Paan bai, adhuriya ne na kehvay re,”
she sang. “It means, it is not worth telling words of wisdom to somebody
who is not ready for them.”
Tara chuckled, understanding the subtext.
“Vijadi ne chamkare motida parovo Paan bai… achanak andhara thashe ji,”
she sat down on the floor with one knee turned up and began grinding
sandalwood on the stone, sprinkling rose water to make a smooth paste. “It
means, string your pearl in that single moment of lightning in the sky. Life
will give you very few opportunities. It is what you decide to do in those
moments that will determine your future. So in those moments — act. Don’t
sit still…”
She collected the paste on her palm, made a sticky ball out of it and offered
it to her. Tara accepted it, then began smearing the fragrant paste on her
cheeks, behind her ears, on her throat — as was their ritual. Hira ben
insisted that she apply sandalwood to her body before bath. It would help
cool her down for the day, and also settle the breakouts on her cheeks.
“Have you had these pimples every summer, Maarani?”
“No, not since I was fifteen… maybe it’s the change of water. And the heat.
Devgadh was not this hot.”
“Hmm… or is it because of something else?”
“What else?” She frowned.
“Could you be pregnant, Maarani?”
“No!” She gave a surprised chuckle. Then thought. “No… I mean,
everything is regular since the last three months.”
“Maybe you will be soon…” she smiled, making another ball and handing it
to her for her arms and belly. Tara applied it leisurely, rubbing the paste on
her belly, thinking what would it be like if that was true? She had never
thought in detail about a baby. But as she massaged this fragrant, cool
chandan over her belly, she thought about what her and Siddharth’s baby
would be like. What that life would be like, with an infant, a toddler, a child
between them. He was such a good husband — charming, responsible,
goofy, loyal. He was such a perfect father to Samarth — loving, caring,
stern when needed.
A knock resounded from the door. “Maarani?”
“Aao, Uma,” she called, inviting the young chaperone girl in. She was
about her own age, Hira ben’s neighbour. The only other chaperone who
came of her own free will and not because she had been summoned.
“Maarani,” she folded her hands and bowed, “Rawal has sent news that
Kunwar has landed. He asks that you join them for breakfast and keep one
hour free after that.”
“Tell Rawal that I will be there,” she smiled. She could imagine Siddharth’s
excitement. He had been counting down the days to Samarth’s return.
“Rawal has always been this child-like when Samarth comes home?” She
asked Hira ben.
“Always…” Hira ben chuckled. “Rawal did not want to send Kunwar to
boarding. But Bade Rawal insisted. He was right too…”
“Why?”
“That’s how a prince learns to fend for himself. Here in the palace, all he
gets is spoiled.”
“Hmm…”
“You also know the ways of Devgadh palace, don’t you agree?”
“I do… but when it is your own child, how do you let them go?”
“Rawal did. He had to,” Hira ben’s eyes went far, as if she was lost in that
memory. She must have been there to see Siddharth’s pain when Samarth
must have gone off to boarding for the first time.
“Will my children also have to go to boarding school?” Tara asked, her
heart already squeezing at that thought. Hira ben’s eyes came back to her,
but the proud glint in her eyes had doused. Tara didn’t understand why.
“Rawal will make that decision, huh?” She smiled again, and Tara forgot
about that momentary twitch.
————————————————————
“And did you end up scoring a point at least?” Siddharth laughed, popping
the last piece of toast into his mouth.
“No,” Samarth replied sheepishly, glancing between them. “Vishnu played
very well. There was no chance I could beat him that day.”
“Good luck explaining that to Maan.”
“Yuvraj will understand,” Tara piped in bravely. “Even he didn’t win all the
time. Nobody can.”
“No,” Siddharth quipped, glancing at his son. “But he will want his prodigy
to win at all times.”
Samarth drank his glass of milk. Tara had discovered today that even as a
teenager, he drank a glass of milk with chocolate powder instead of tea or
coffee. It was adorable. She was looking forward to discover more about
him now that he was here to stay for his summer vacation. And to try and
talk to him if she could manage.
This awkwardness had to break at some point.
“Rawal,” Ajatshatru entered the dining room. “Everything is ready.”
“Yes,” Siddharth set his napkin down.
“What is ready?” She asked.
“A surprise.”
“For me?”
“For both of you. Come.” He got to his feet, rounding the table to playfully
cuff his son across the back of his neck. “Let’s go.”
Tara followed them, joining the dots. To think about it, he had been
secretive these last few weeks, taking calls even late at night in the king’s
chamber. When she asked him once, he dismissed it as Ministry work.
Maybe it was this…
She tightened the pallu of her dusty pink saree over her back, patting her
hair in place as Siddharth led them out of the palace and towards one of the
many gardens. There in the far distance, a podium was set up in the
foreground of a curtained flex, a dozen media reporters and journalists
filling rows and rows of chairs.
“What is this?” Tara floundered. He gave her a cheeky smile over his
shoulder — “Come.”
“Sid, I’m not dressed for this.”
“You look perfect. Samarth?”
His son turned and smiled at her — “You look great, Maarani.”
A chuckle escaped her lips — “Learning tactics from your father is going to
take you very far in life.”
Samarth laughed, falling back as they came close to the gathering. He
slowed down until she was striding by Siddharth’s side and he was behind
them. Everybody scrambled up to their feet. Siddharth climbed the podium,
then stood in front of the mic set up. He was just in his white kurta and
pyjama, and yet looked dressed to address this… whatever this was.
“Jai Dwarkadhish,” he folded his hands. “Thank you all for coming at such
short notice. This project has been in the pipeline for the last three months
and we wanted to keep it quiet until the last moment. That is why nobody
received a pre-release packet.”
He was such a natural, his voice, his words, his eyes, his body language.
Everything just flowed with him, as if he didn’t need to think twice before
saying just the right thing.
“Ever since I was a child, I have been passionate about nature. Trees.
Wildlife. Marine life… My father, Bade Rawal, in his time, worked
extensively towards conservation of lions, panthers, Indian Grey wolves,
and blackbucks in our region. In my tenure as Rawal of Nawanagar, I was
fortunate to successfully create fifteen major catchment areas and protection
zones for the marine life in our rivers and sea. Now, it is time to create a
sanctuary for the birds — both ours and migratory.”
He turned his head and his eyes zeroed in on her, a moment of connection,
before he looked back at the media — “I met Maarani Tarini Sinh Solanki
on a bird island, and I was pleasantly surprised as well as fascinated by her
fascination for birds. That is why, when this project came up, I knew just
the person to lead it. Now, I would like Maarani to come up and unveil this
project.”
He nodded to her. She glanced at Samarth. He was clapping with everybody
else — “Go, Maarani,” he grinned.
She climbed the two steps to him and held the string of the curtain covering
the flex wall behind him. She pulled it and the green velvet unravelled to
the floor. Her eyes widened.
Tara Aviary & Bird Sanctuary
The applause turned deafening as flashes blinded her. Siddharth invited her
to his side, and once she was there, he spoke again into the mic, thwarting
the applause — “Now since Bade Rawal has had the privilege of serving
the animals of Nawanagar, I have had the privilege of serving the marine
life, it is my wish that your next Rawal — Kunwar Samarth Sinh Solanki
take this honour of serving the birds of Nawanagar.”
The applause again turned deafening and Tara’s body locked. Siddharth
glanced at Samarth across her, nodding for him to come up. But she saw
how he was rooted to his spot. It was a moment of pure panic as she felt
Siddharth’s confusion beside her, saw Samarth’s blankness in front of her,
and experienced her own shock swell like smoke inside of her.
The applause went louder. But Samarth didn’t come. And a storm brewed.
Or had it been brewing all this time and was about to explode now?

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 30. A Marriage Based On A Lie
Solid lava. That was the explosion. That was Siddharth’s temper. He hadn’t
once raised his voice. He hadn’t once rattled his son. Or her.
As the two of them sat in the only fully private space in the palace — the
king’s bedchamber, Siddharth stood with his back to them, gazing out of the
window.
“You thought you would take this oath, hide it from me and go on without
any repercussions?” He turned, his flint-like eyes on his son.
“Papa…”
“How old are you?”
“Papa…”
“Answer me.”
“Fifteen.”
“And are you a major?”
“No.”
“Are you free to make your own decisions?”
Samarth glanced down, then back up — “This was in my hand…”
“Answer me.”
“Not as a regular teenager, but as a Kunwar of Nawanagar…”
“No,” Siddharth clipped, stepping towards him, binding his hands behind
his back. That one action looked threatening, so threatening that even she
reared back along with Samarth beside her.
“As Kunwar of Nawanagar you are answerable to your kingdom and your
king. Did you ask us?”
“It was the only way, I tried everything but Kaka wouldn’t listen.”
“Then you should have come back!” Siddharth thundered, startling her.
“Better yet, you should not have gone! You spied on my matters, went
behind my back, made decisions arbitrarily and then you had the audacity to
lie to me? What did you say? That you talked to them and they agreed? I
told you that day also that I don’t like this. Now I discover that was the tip
of the iceberg!”
“Sorry, Papa, I am sorry that this hurt you…” Samarth tried to get to his
feet.
“Be seated,” Siddharth commanded and he sat back down. Seconds ticked.
Minutes of silence. Siddharth’s eyes on Samarth, Samarth’s eyes cast
downwards.
“Leave us, Maarani,” his voice finally uttered her name. He did not grace
her with his eyes though.
“Sid…”
“I said, leave us.”
It was so cold. That voice. That tone. He had never spoken to her like that,
even when he had thought she was with Bhanwar. Tara stood up before she
broke into tears there and left the king’s bedchamber for her own. The door
closed behind her.
————————————————————
She sat. Quiet. In her bedchamber. There was nothing to do now but wait.
Wait for Siddharth to come. She kept glancing at the clock from time to
time. Nothing but a few minutes had passed each time. So she stopped
glancing. She tried to keep an ear out for any movements outside her
chamber. Nothing.
“Meru toh dage pan jena mann na dage re Paan Bai…” Hira ben’s song
broke the silence. “Mar re bhange re bhramand…”
“Hira ben.” She broke her song.
“Yes, Maarani?”
“Please don’t sing.”
“Yes, Maarani.”
Hira ben deposited her clothes — dried, ironed and piled, into the walk-in
closet and quietly left. Tara felt horrible doing that. But her own body was
whirring. Her mind was another battleground.
The door to her chamber opened and in strode Siddharth. Not enraged, and
hence even more scary.
“What happened? Where is Samarth?” She scrambled to her feet.
He closed the door. Then turned to her.
“You knew about this.”
She couldn’t meet his eyes — “Yes.”
“And you thought not telling me before we married was ok.”
“I did not hide it from you… Sid, I thought you knew… I thought Samarth
told you that morning he brought me here,” tears came to her eyes. “Trust
me, Sid. I was not convinced myself about this. But then you were ok with
it… now I know you didn’t know the full truth, but at that time I thought
you were ok.”
“You thought I was ok with my son, the child I gave my whole life, my
youth, my future to, renouncing my legacy?” His rage built. Tara stepped
back.
“You thought I would be ok with my Kunwar, who is more capable than ten
of me put together, leaving Nawanagar, for what? To satisfy your parents’
misplaced sense of insecurity?”
“Don’t talk about my parents like that, Sid…”
“And they can do anything they want with my family, my son?”
“They didn’t do anything! They didn’t coerce Samarth. In fact, they tried to
stop him, we all di…”
“Then how come he completed his oath and came and so conveniently lied
to me without you or your parents bringing it up? There were 32 days
between Samarth’s oath and our marriage ceremony. We all met countless
times. And not once this was brought up. What should I take this as if not an
intention to trap me?”
“You think that we trapped you?”
He scoffed — “I don’t know what to think right now.”
Tears streamed down her face. Their eyes met, and she saw his startle, his
first instinct to wipe them off. But he stepped back — “You say that you did
not want this?”
Hope shone in this smoke house. Tara grasped at that — “Yes! Yes. I did
not.”
“Then it won’t be a problem for you to command Samarth to take it back.”
“Take what back?”
“His oath.”
Tara blinked. “Of co…” she began, but Hira ben’s observations came back
to her. Was she pregnant? And if she was…
Samarth had lied to his father. Even if to do something good for him. He
had the capacity to do anything he set his mind to. This time it was for
good. What if one day it wasn’t for good. If her mother was right, and with
what she had already seen in this family between Bade Rawal and his sister,
between Siddharth and his cousin… if that came to pass between Samarth
and her child…
She was anyway not accepted here happily. Nobody disrespected her
outright but she knew an unwanted sign when she saw one. She knew she
wasn’t liked much either. If her child was also disliked? And then
discredited? At least as king he would be able to hold his respect.
“Tara.”
“Huh?”
“Tell me.”
“What?”
“That you will make Samarth take his oath back.”
She could not tell him that. She hated herself for it, but she just could not. It
wasn’t only about her anymore. It would also be about her child, or
children, even if they didn’t come immediately.
“Tara?”
“No.”

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PART IV: THE QUEEN OF HEARTS
— SIDDHARTH & TARA —

OceanofPDF.com
 31. Trigger
— SIDDHARTH —
Siddharth signed the final documents on Tara Aviary & Bird Sanctuary, the
name taunting him. He quickly shut the file and pushed it to the side,
Ajatshatru’s practised hand picking it up as he opened the next file on his
desk. The day had started with an earthquake in his life, but it had to go on
per usual for his kingdom’s affairs to run smoothly.
He had attended court, taken his scheduled business meetings and now, at
the hour of sunset, when he would usually find himself with Tara, he was
signing all the backlog documents. Samarth was in the palace today after
months. He had planned to do something with the two of them, a movie or a
trip, anything to break the ice. He had thought it was a natural awkwardness
between the two, expected in such a situation. He had been prepared to
slowly break it by reminding them that they were the same people even if
an a different relationship.
Where was he to know that the silence between his new wife and son
stemmed from an oath. Even the thought of that preposterous oath made his
blood boil…
“Rawal?” Ajatshatru called.
“Yes?”
“Are you feeling ok?”
“Yes.”
“Can I ask your doctor to come and measure your BP?”
“What’s wrong with my BP?”
“Your eyes are red, Rawal. And your sign is also not firm today.”
Siddharth glanced down at the document in front of him. His sign was
slightly loopy. He pinched his eyes together and shook his head — “I think
I am tired. Take these. I will sign the rest later.”
“As you wish, Rawal.”
Ajatshatru collected everything from his desk and began to move out of the
office.
“And Ajatshatru?”
“Yes, Rawal?”
“Summon Samarth.”
Siddharth picked up the glass of water on his desk and sipped, willing his
body to relax. He could not afford a health scare right now. He could not
afford to fall sick. He took deep breaths, the rage, fears, the what-ifs, the I-
shouldn’t-haves warring with each other.
“Rawal?” Samarth’s small voice coupled with his firm knock sounded.
“Come.”
He slowly opened the door and stepped in, his head held high even if he did
not meet his gaze. What was he so proud of?! The rage Siddharth had tried
to settle with water sprung back up.
“Shut the door,” he clipped.
Samarth clicked the door shut and came and stood in front of his desk,
hands clasped in front of him. Siddharth took a deep breath. He hadn’t lost
his cool on his son in his life. Ever. And he was not about to start today,
however tempting it was.
“You are a minor. I still make your decisions, and will continue to do so as
your father until you are a major and then as your king after that, until I am
convinced that you can make them yourself. This oath you swore does not
stand any grounds therefore, so you will forget about it and move on. You
are the heir to Nawanagar’s throne, and I am announcing your
Yuvrajabhishek tomorrow. Once that is done this month, we will put this
behind us.”
“Rawal, I am sorry, I cannot accept that.”
“I did not ask you if you can accept it or no. I command you that this will
happen.”
Samarth shook his head, his head lowering — “You are my king, but I
swore that oath to god, to water. I am sorry, Rawal.”
“What do you mean you are sorry?!” Siddharth shot to his feet, his voice
rattling from the walls of his office. “You think you broke an antique in the
palace? That’s what sorry is for, not for this!”
“I am still sorry, Rawal…”
“You. Will. Be. King. No question about that.”
“I can’t.”
Siddharth stood back, taking a deep breath. “Fine,” he said. “Then let her
go.”
“Let who go? Maarani?”
“Yes. I do not want a marriage over my son, my heir, my kingdom’s
future…”
“You will not talk about Nawanagar’s Maarani like that!” His son roared
back. For the first time in his life he fought back. “We didn’t bring her to
our palace to send her away.”
“I didn’t bring her to this palace to snatch the rights of my son!”
“You are angry, Papa, please calm down. Maarani is a good person, she has
made your life very good. You are angry that is why you are thinking like
this…”
Siddharth sat down, eyeing the desperation in his son’s eyes match the
raging storm in his own. Where had they come? What was the out from
this? Was there even an out? And suddenly there was, clear as day.
“I will not have any more children,” Siddharth decreed. “You will be my
only heir.”
“I have sworn to enable Maarani’s heirs to rule Nawanagar. If you do this,
Rawal, I will leave. I will accept the honorary citizenship that Argentina has
offered me and leave forever.”
“Listen, Samarth,” Siddharth shot back up, pushing his face into the one
that was identical to his own — “Don’t you dare blackmail me.”
“I am sorry,” his head hung low, as if realising what he had said. “But
Papa,” his face raised, tears in his eyes — “I cannot go back on the word I
gave Maarani’s parents. What will my Rawal’s reputation amount to? What
will Solanki’s reputation amount to if I do that?”
And what was left to say to that? Even in this 21st Century, where morals
and ethics didn’t hold ground in the outside world, their dynasty had thrived
on it. Politics was in its place, but where word mattered, a Solanki’s word
was given. And trusted.
Only, it had gone to waste this time, Siddharth thought, looking at his son
standing like a criminal in front of him.
————————————————————
That night, Siddharth traced the path to his chambers with foreboding. He
dragged his feet every step of the way, simply so that rumours weren’t
started in the palace. Their marriage was new, and with the amount of
tension surrounding him through the last 12 hours, most of the staff would
have sniffed trouble.
Until this matter was solved, he couldn’t let word get out.
He pushed open the heavy doors of their chambers and stepped into the
main living area. The lights were on. He eyed the queen’s bedchamber from
the corner of his eye, doors open, lights on too. That had been his sleeping
chamber through their short marriage. Until last night, he had come running
to this same chamber, falling into her open arms and laughing his day’s
stress into her.
His throat clogged. Not only for the loss of a marriage he had thought
would this time last forever but also for the companion he had found in
Tara. There was no point lamenting his choice after all that had happened,
but he could, for once, lament his fate. How had he made the same mistake
twice? First Vaibhavi and then Tara. How had fate led him into the same
honey trap twice?
Hadn’t he learnt, that women only saw their own selfish needs?
Tara’s anklets tinkled and in the lit up entrance of the queen’s chamber she
materialised. Still in her day’s saree, tired, looking as if she had cried. Even
though he hated himself for it, Siddharth wanted to go to her, gather her up
in his arms and wipe her face for her. She looked fragile and delicate, two
things he had seldom associated with her. She was all of 24, in a palace
where she was named queen but not widely accepted or loved. He knew it,
of course he knew it. And he had been taking steps to change that. He had
also told her, taught her, that patience would make hearts grow fonder of
her. She would have to win hearts one at a time, starting with their palace
staff, chaperones and courtiers. The stories of her goodness would ripple
out over time.
His initiative to have her helm the bird sanctuary was also a step in that
direction. Adding Samarth to it would have solidified that there was no
step-son-step-mother drama here. How was he to know there was more than
just drama. There was poison.
“Sid,” she called. “Don’t stand there like that.”
“Have you decided to talk to Samarth?”
Her face contorted.
“I…”
“Have you?”
“I cannot…” she choked. “I know it’s wrong, but I cannot do that, Sid.
My… I have seen fires in palaces before, and I thought it would be different
here but what if it is not? Samarth is… he is very good. But nobody has
seen what the future holds. For our children…”
“Our children,” he scoffed, turning towards the king’s chamber.
“Goodnight, Tara.”
OceanofPDF.com
 32. Predictions
— SIDDHARTH —
“Tell me,” Siddharth commanded, sitting back on his office chair. “Word
for word. What happened that day at Maarani’s house.”
Harsh stood expressionless, but Siddharth knew the tussle going on in his
head. He had been Samarth’s shadow since Samarth was born. Seven years
older to Samarth, Harsh had been like a protective older brother. And now,
he was Samarth’s un-appointed bodyguard.
“Answer me, Harsh,” Siddharth clipped. “I don’t have all day.”
Harsh looked at his father. Ajatshatru did not show his emotions normally,
but even he seemed to sense something was wrong.
“You did something more than convince Maarani’s parents for this match?”
He asked his son. Harsh, the stoic boy who usually looked menacing
enough to scare men twice his age, now cowered. He had trumped his
father’s height and yet when Ajatshatru took one step towards him, he
nodded.
“What did you do?”
Harsh hesitated, then began to gesture with his hands. Slowly at first, then
quicker. Siddharth looked to Ajatshatru for translation, but for the first time,
he saw the man lose his cool. His eyes bulged. He opened his mouth to
speak but closed it, his breaths coming faster.
“What have you done…!” He began to advance on his son who cowered
again but held his ground. His head hung too, just like Samarth’s.
“Repeat, Ajatshatru.”
“Rawal…” his Second-in-Command looked at him with something akin to
sorrow. He had never shown such a range of emotions. “I… Kunwar and
Harsh… I, don’t…” he stuttered.
“I know the gist, Ajatshatru. I want the details.”
“You know?”
He nodded.
“Kunwar… renounced the throne, Rawal! How is that possible?”
“It happened. I want to know what else happened. And Harsh, if you have
left one single detail out, I will take you off Samarth’s entourage personally.
And make sure you never get in.”
Harsh shook his head
“Ajatshatru.”
As if snapped out of his shock, Ajatshatru stood straight in front of him and
narrated — “Kunwar first gave three promises to Maarani’s parents. One —
that she will come to Nawanagar as its Maarani, two — that she will be
treated with respect, love and adulation, and three — that her heir will rule
Nawanagar.”
“And?”
“And…”
“There is something else. I saw your face.”
“And, Kunwar mentioned that he will not marry.”
“Hhhuuu uuu huuu!” Harsh made a protesting sound, shaking his head.
“He said he will not commit,” Ajatshatru uttered angrily. “That’s one and
the same thing!”
“What did he say?”
Harsh, scared that he was being misinterpreted, made quicker hand
gestures. His father shook his head — “He said he is not interested in
committing anyway. He wants to live a life pursuing traveling and his polo
career.”
Siddharth felt his blood pressure hit the roof.
“Leave.” He commanded. Both the father and son turned to go.
“You wait, Ajatshatru.”
Harsh left the office, the door shutting with a click behind him.
“This is my fault, Rawal,” he stepped forward. “Kunwar coerced me for
intel.”
“And did you give it to him?”
“No. But I may have revealed a few sources. Bade Rawal and him worked
together.”
“Papa knows about this?”
“I don’t think he knows about what Kunwar has done.”
“And he shouldn’t know it either! My head is bursting, I don’t want to think
what will happen to him.”
“If I had known… I pegged every possibility but this was never one…
Rawal, I take any punishment you deem fit.”
“Punishing you or anybody will not bring those words back into Samarth’s
mouth. And it is not completely your fault. My Kunwar is the most
unpredictable of the lot, however good he is. I want you to summon
Maarani’s parents to Nawanagar today.”
“Summon?”
“Yes. Summon.”
“Are you sure, Rawal? It… it’s a new marriage. Is Maarani aware…?”
Siddharth flicked his glare to the older man. Ajatshatru lowered his eyes.
Siddharth regretted the things this whole circus was making him do. He had
always considered Ajatshatru his senior, his mentor, even if he held a post
second to him. He had never needed to act like a superior. Never wanted to.
Today he just had to throw around his weight because apparently everybody
in this palace seemed to have forgotten that he was the bloody king!

“Jevi tamari aagya,”[35] he bowed, retreating three steps before turning on

his heels and marching out of the office. Siddharth grabbed his glass of
water and gulped the whole thing down.
————————————————————
“Rawal,” Hira ben bowed to him as he finished court and walked out, his
courtiers behind him. Siddharth nodded, checking the time. Had she
finished early in Tara’s chambers today?
“Going home early today, Hira ben?”
“No, no, I was coming to you with a message from Maarani.”
Siddharth stood back, letting the courtiers leave. When the alley was empty,
he braced himself — “What is it?”
“Maarani has made your favourite Batata-Tameta nu shaak and Puri. She
requests you join her for lunch.”
“I…” he opened his mouth to deny. Then stopped. He had been an eager
participant in Tara’s daily affairs till now, all but hijacking her activities that
weren’t limited to lunch. Sudden shirks would make tongues wag. Even if
Hira ben was discreet, the chefs and the other staff weren’t.
“…was about to come to eat,” he completed, bypassing her and striding
towards the dining hall. He had originally planned to order a glass of chaas
to his office and work it out until her parents came. Now, he would have to
sit with her and eat.
Siddharth power walked into the dining hall, only to find that the two chefs
and one chaperone, the only other one for Tara, milled around the table,
while she plated the food. He pasted a smile on his face — “I hear Maarani
has cooked today?”
All eyes turned to him, including a shocked pair of brown ones. She did not
expect him to come after last night.
“Yes, Rawal.”
“And I hear it’s my favourite,” Siddharth channeled his inner actor,
grinning, taking his seat at the head of the table. He knew once they were
served, everybody would disperse. They believed the privacy would bring
forth romance, which it had until yesterday. Today, it would bring nothing
but silence. But until then, he had to keep up pretences.
“Batata nu shaak,” Hira ben nodded, coming up behind him and directing
his wife to serve him. It was clear that the old wise woman had smelled the
stress between her king and queen. If only she knew the reason for that
stress…
“Go and call Kunwar also,” she asked her assistant chaperone. “Maarani is
a very good cook. If I just discovered, then Kunwar should also get to taste
it.”
His shoulders stiffened, as did Tara’s arm serving puris in his plate.
“No,” Siddharth intoned. “He has gone for a practise session.” The
chaperone walked back. Once he and Tara were settled and ready to eat,
everybody began to retreat. Everybody except Hira ben. Her shrewd eagle
eyes were on them. He sighed, reaching for his puri, tearing a piece
singlehanded, dipping it in the gravy and popping it into his mouth. It tasted
like nothing. He was sure it was delicious but he couldn’t taste a thing as he
smiled at his wife — “If I had known you cook like this too, I would have
proposed to you well before Antarctica.”
Surprised, she gave him a small smile.
“No, I’m serious,” he continued ranting, not even realising half the bullshit
that was leaving his mouth. “I am not a big foodie, I don’t have a sweet
tooth. You know that. But this… this simple stuff is what I need to survive
and thrive. Did you learn this here or you make it like this in your house
too?”
“It’s with green chilies, we make it like that in Devgadh…”
“Yes, that’s what I thought I tasted,” he popped another piece into his
mouth, still tasting nothing. And finally, Hira ben retreated. The hall was
clear. He stopped. Closed his eyes. And breathed.
“Sid?”
“Yes?”
“Why aren’t you eating?”
“Not hungry.”
“But…”
Fire stormed out of his nostrils. He shot open his eyes and glared at her —
“You think this is how it’s going to be ok?” He hissed softly. “By cooking
and eating together?”
“But I…” she blinked back tears.
“We can only go forward from here when you make my son take his words
back. But you apparently can’t.”
“Sid you know I…”
“This is not the place to discuss this. Eat.”
She pushed her plate slowly away — “I am not hungry either.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to rebuke and make her eat. Taking care of
her was his second nature, seeing to her needs his reflex. If this was before,
he would have torn pieces of her puri and fed it to her himself. Now, he just
gave a nod and drank his chaas. It was cool and minty, helping relax his
head.
“Rawal?” Ajatshatru entered the dining hall, their eyes meeting. “They are
waiting.”
He got to his feet, making Tara scramble up too. “At least finish your
chaas!”
“I’m done,” he said, meaning more than his meal, and strode out of the
dining hall. Ajatshatru fell in step behind him.
“They don’t seem to have informed Maarani,” Siddharth observed.
“No, Rawal. The messenger we sent on the plane said they did not want to
create tension. After all… they are the parents of a girl, even if she is the
Maarani of Nawanagar.”
Siddharth scoffed, pushing open the door to his office and coming face to
face with his in-laws. They both startled up to their feet. Even in his rage,
he remembered his manners, folding his hands in front of them just as theirs
joined too.
“Rawal saheb,” her father nodded.
“Sit,” he walked in, Ajatshatru standing out of the room and closing the
door. He would stand guard.
“You called us like this… is everything ok?” His father-in-law asked.
“I spoke to Tara this morning and she was ok,” his mother-in-law added.
Siddharth was glad she hadn’t opened their marital family woes to them,
even if they were the core of them.
“The problem is the promises Kunwar Samarth made to you.”
He saw confusion set in on both their features. Which meant Tara was right.
The family had genuinely thought he knew about it. Samarth had played a
sneaky game to get this marriage concluded. But that didn’t mean the two
people sitting in front of him were innocent.
“I don’t understand what you mean Rawal sa…”
“I want you to make him take them back.”
“What? Back, meaning…”
“Meaning, I want you to tell him that you do not object to him being my
heir. That you want him to remain as my heir.”
Silence.
“What happened?”
“But… it would mean Tara’s children…”
“Tara’s children what?” Siddharth pushed.
“They won’t be secure.”
“And who is the fortune teller of that little fact?”
His father-in-law stayed silent.
“I told you that night too in Devgadh, that I know how to manage my
affairs. I even assured you that Tara and my children would have equity,
would be cared for, safe and secure. If you cannot take my word for it even
now…”
“But why ask this suddenly, Rawal saheb?” His mother-in-law, the shrewd
woman she was, honed in on the heart of the matter.
“Because Samarth is my firstborn, Tara has been accepted in my palace and
kingdom, and everything is on the right track. Injustice must not be done to
Samarth.”
She shook her head — “Tara is not accepted here.”
His mouth pursed. She wasn’t entirely wrong. But he couldn’t tell them that
he had been pushed blind into this marriage either. They would become
even more insecure about their daughter and her future in his home.
Siddharth took a deep breath, praying for all the tact in the world to deal
with these two people. He solved issues every day at court, and dealt with
politicians and diplomats, but these two common, everyday people, now a
part of his family, had been like an Everest he couldn’t scale. Whatever he
did, he couldn’t seem to appease them. He hadn’t been able to then, and he
wasn’t able to now.
“If Tara is never accepted here…” her mother started and he lost the cool he
had prayed for.
“If you had married her into another family, a common family, would you
have had the right to pry into their affairs?!” He shot to his feet. “Would
you have questioned if they or their community fully accepted her? It takes
time. Everything takes time. Tara and I are adults, we went into this
marriage knowing our backgrounds and the societal norms surrounding our
relationship. The same cannot be said about Samarth. He is a teenager, a
child. He made those promises for me, for my happiness, but it is unjust for
us to hold him to it…”
“You still don’t understand us, Rawal saheb?” Tara’s mother lamented. She
shook her head, her headstrong expression melting into one of trouble. Her
eyes, so like Tara’s, met his — “When you came that night, I am sure you
hated us. Two greedy parents aiming for the throne for their grandchild.
When Kunwar Samarth swore that oath, then too you would have thought
they agreed because now they are getting a kingdom out of it. But you
haven’t lived the life of a common man, Rawal saheb. You are right, if she
married into a normal family, we wouldn’t have been allowed to ask if she
is accepted there, what property will she inherit, what about her children.
But we are compelled to do this here because you as well as I know that
royal histories are red with blood. Samarth, your son,” she smiled, “he is a
very good boy. I have no doubt he will continue to be good, even better. But
put yourself in our place and then think. Would you push your child into a
place where you know that the tides can change any minute and drown your
child?”
She scoffed, glancing at her husband — “We are happy on one side that you
and Tara are happy, but every night we think, let’s hope this happiness is not
momentary. We don’t tell this to each other, but we both think it… You are
fourteen years older than Tara. One day, you will be gone and she will still
have a life to live. Without you. Without husband and king. It is brutal and
blunt but it is true. We are common people, Rawal saheb. We have to talk
about such things and imagine worst cases to survive…”
His eyes squeeze shut. He was at the end of his tether. This seemed like the
same argument all over again, and he still didn’t have empathy to offer.
“This means you will not make Samarth take his oath back?”
They didn’t move.
Siddharth nodded, then got to his feet.
“Thank you for coming. You can go meet your daughter now.”
“Should we tell her about this meeting?” Her father asked.
As if that would make a difference. “It’s up to you.”
————————————————————
He wasn’t a big believer of predictions and charts, but what did a man have
when nothing remained? After exhausting all possible ways to get Samarth
to turn back, Siddharth turned towards astrology. As a King, he had to
consult his Dynasty Astrologer on account of various ceremonies, his
birthday, Samarth’s birthday, their year charts and such. He did all of that as
part of tradition and with a pinch of salt. Even though now that he thought
back, much of what Pandyaji, their Dynasty Astrologer, had predicted had
happened, one way or another.

“Kunwar Siddharth has early raj yog, Rawal.”

“I hope he doesn’t usurp my throne!”

“Kunwar Siddharth has dwi-bharya yog, Rawal.”

“What does that mean, Pandyaji?” He had asked as a naughty teenager.
“Two wives.”
“Both at once? Wow!”
“At different times in life.”

“Your Kunwar Samarth has extraordinary planets in sports, Rawal.”

“I’m going to make him the best cricketer there is.”
“See where fate takes him.”

Siddharth startled out of those specific predictions, predictions he

remembered vividly because some had been preposterous and some
ambitious. But all had come true, one way or another.
“Rawal,” Pandyaji entered the empty court. Siddharth sat on his throne,
tired, the dusk light dispersing from the sides. His court was ancient, more
than 700 years old. The seating, throne and lighting had bene updated from
time to time, but the grand double ceiling and carved pillars were still the
same. His ancestors had touched them.
“Pandyaji,” he folded his hands. “Aao.”
He ambled towards him on limping feet. He was well over 80 now, his skin
and body rattled but his speech still sharp.
Siddharth descended from his throne and ushered the Dynasty Astrologer
on the first minister’s seat. It was Ajatshatru’s, but in his absence, the Raj
Purohit or Pandyaji could occupy it.
“What storm has blown in for you to summon me, Rawal?”
Siddharth scoffed — “Should it be a storm for me to know what’s in store
for the future?”
“Who in their right mind would want to know what’s next when they are
living their best life…? Almost always it’s downhill from there.”
“True,” he agreed, thinking back to the last few months of bliss with Tara.
He hadn’t had the urge to know what’s in store for them next then.
“Tell me what you wish to know, Rawal,” Pandyaji came straight to the
point, understanding his hesitancy. Siddharth returned to his throne and
took a seat.
He took a deep breath — “When I got married again, you matched my
horoscope with Maarani.”
“And you asked me to keep the results to myself.”
“Because I did not want the kingdom to know it if our horoscopes didn’t
match. It would be another point against her. And you know how difficult
it’s been to create her niche here. They think she married me for the
throne.”
Pandyaji nodded.
“Now I would like to know.”
“That if your horoscope matches with hers?”
“Yes.”
“What difference will it make now, Rawal?”
Siddharth blinked. “None. But I would still like to know.”
“Then here it is,” Pandyaji smiled. “Your horoscopes match. 18 out of 36
guna match, which is the baseline for matching. But that is not the only
criteria one goes by when analysing.”
“Then?”
“Your Chandra matches, which means your minds align. Your hearts will
align in time. Maarani’s Ketu has kept her under its power, and it will do so
until she crosses the age of 29. In her 30s, she will leave her fears and grow
more confident. You both will blossom into a better understanding in your
marriage.”
If a marriage sustains till that time, he scoffed to himself. He knew he
wouldn’t leave her. He hadn’t left Vaibhavi either. But with what was
brewing between them now, he couldn’t foresee a happy life anymore.
“And children?”
Say no, say no, say no.
“Yog for up to to three children, all boys. This number is not decisive, but
you both will have no more than three.”
“Don’t you have to look at our charts before predicting?”
“I have them here,” he tapped his temple.
“And… what about Samarth?”
“What about Kunwar?”
“When he was born you told me that he has very strong planets in sports.
Does that mean he… he will not be a good ruler?”
“No, not at all. I said that he had extraordinary planets in sports. Which
means he is a spirited player. In any sphere of life, when he competes, he
will compete with grit, and win. Which also means that he will be an
exemplary ruler. Always one step ahead.”
Siddharth’s hope surged.
“He has ruling planets, you mean?”
“Yes, he has raj yog. But that’s natural, since he is born to you. He is
already our Yuvraj.”
Siddharth’s skin turned clammy at that word. If this drama continued, one
day he would have to announce to his kingdom that Samarth was not their
Yuvraj but his and Tara’s son was. Unless… he never had a son with her.
Unless, he never had any child with her. Samarth’s blackmail on one side, if
he didn’t have any more children, then one fine day Samarth would have to
come and take the throne when he passed.
It would be a slow, silent game. But if his son was going to compete with
his version of grit, then he would bring his A game too. Siddharth felt brand
new oxygen surge through his system.
“Though with Kunwar there is one thing,” Pandyaji frowned.
“Yes?”
“His marriage is not certain.”
“What do you mean not certain?”
“It may happen late, or it may not happen at all.”

OceanofPDF.com
 33. The Unwanted One
— SIDDHARTH —
It may happen late, or it may not happen at all.
Those words kept reverberating in his head as he strode towards his
chambers. He had married twice, he had experienced love with a woman…
his son had just begun to see something with… Avantika. And he was still a
teenager going and promising that he would never marry?!
Siddharth, for the first time, felt fear. Real fear. Samarth not inheriting was
one thing, but Samarth not living a full life…? He knew from personal
experience now what life became when the right woman entered it. Tara
had wrecked havoc in his palace and his life in the last two days but… the
joy she had brought to him before had… Uggh! How could he love her and
begin to detest her?
He threw open the door and began to walk towards the king’s chamber
without a glance towards the queen’s.
“Why did you summon my parents?” She came barreling behind him.
Right, it was that mood then? He was in the frame of mind too.
Siddharth whirled, feeling his own face heat and swell with rage just as hers
was. She stopped short of his chin, so close, her nostrils flaring.
“Calm down,” he said it against his better judgement.
“Don’t tell me to calm down! You can’t summon my parents and start
interrogating them like you interrogated Samarth and me!”
“That’s what they told you?”
“That’s what is being going around the palace gossip! They think I did
something and you called to reprimand my parents! They hate me anyway
and now this…”
“Nobody hates you.”
“What would you call them saying ‘Maarani ni Jai’ and not ‘Maarani Tara
Sinh Solanki ni Jai?!’ They hate me. Me. Not your queen!”
“You are paranoid sitting in these four walls. That is why I am going to
have you take complete charge of the Bird Sanctuary.”
“Don’t treat me like a child, Sid!”
“I am not. I am trying to put you out there as Tara and not just the Queen so
that Nawanagar can see you and like you for who you are. If you don’t
engage with people, don’t put yourself in that vulnerable spot then they
won’t ever trust you, like you, or love you!”
“So I am done playing family then? Is that what Rawal commands? Can I
rejoin my work then?”
“If your schedule permits you.”
She scoffed — “Nice, four months into our marriage and already you are
giving me orders.”
“God give me patience, I am not giving you orders, Tara! I am trying to pull
you out of this dark space you have begin to inhabit with your fears and
insecurities. Come out and see, it will be difficult but once you try, you will
be able to make place for yourself in the hearts of our people.”
“And then when our child becomes your heir, again they will start to hate
me, no?”
His eyes squeezed shut. His head was about to explode with the amount of
arguments that had wielded around the same topic and come to zero results.
This one, with this one he was done.
“No thank you,” she went on, “I have heard enough for a lifetime in my
own house from my own relatives. I can remain the aloof queen so that
nobody dares say things to my face. Even if they hate me for what
happened to Samarth and for our child’s accession to the throne they will
not be able to…”
“There will be no child.”
She stopped. Her big eyes blinked at him. Siddharth fortified himself and
decided — like he had done for everything in his life, he would rip the
bandaid right off for this too.
“I have decided I will not have a child with you.”
Her face contorted. His heart contorted with it. He hated this time, this
situation, these words, this helplessness. He hated he had to break her heart
and her future after promising to always nurture it. But he hated a lot of
things he had to do today.
“Sid…” a sob escaped her lips. Then she gulped, her eyes reigniting with
the fire of a fight. Good. That he could manage.
“Tell me,” she clamped her teeth over her lower lip, containing the leak in
her voice. “Are you the only one in this marriage?”
“I know it’s the two of us. But you have left me no other option.”
“So to protect Samarth and his right to the throne, you are threatening me
with leaving our life, our family without a child?”
“I am not threatening, Tara. I am informing you.”
“And my opinion does not matter?”
“Did my opinion matter when you extracted that oath from Samarth?”
“We did not extract it!”
“Then make him take it back!”
“Oooof!” She hung her head in her palms, her shoulders quivering. He
wanted to gather her up. But if she was this close to breaking and making
Samarth take his oath back, if only to have a child with him… Siddharth
felt like the biggest cheat thinking that, but if she was, he would let her and
not feel guilty.
“Whoeat if I aooem preognant?” Her jumbled words sounded from behind
her fingers, her voice liquid. His blood ran cold. Siddharth reached out and
pried her hands off her face, staring at the lowered lids that were now
fringed with wet lashes.
“What are you saying?”
“You don’t want our child,” she lifted her crumpled face up to his, tears
streaming down in a deluge.
“Is there a child?”
“I took a test today. Two. I have to ask the doctor but…” she cried, pushing
out of his hands. Siddharth remained frozen. “I don’t know what to do
now… I thought if you would calm down… in a few days, I would tell
you… I knew with what has happened it wouldn’t be the most welcome
news for you but… I don’t know what to do anymore! I am stuck here with
people who do not want me all over again and now the father of my baby
doesn’t want it either!”
She turned and walked out of his chambers, banging the door behind her.
He could not even hear her cry, so thick were the doors. Siddharth didn’t
want to hear her cry. He wanted to cry himself. God. How did you give
good news wrapped in omens of bad? What was he to take this as now?
Good news of his baby’s arrival or bad news that his first baby, his firstborn
would completely relinquish his birthright?

OceanofPDF.com
 34. Nine Months
— SIDDHARTH —
“Congratulation, Rawal.”
Siddharth glanced at their family doctor as he stepped out of Tara’s
chambers. The man, in his sixties and having served their family for four
decades, now smiled with visible excitement.
“I assume you have been waiting for confirmation to celebrate,” he nodded,
handing him a bunch of papers. Prescriptions, Siddharth eyed them.
Memories of folic acid and iron and vitamin tablets came flashing back. He
had had to be vigilant that time, making sure Vaibhavi took them all on
time. She had been young, and not too keen on doing this.
He glanced back at the open doors of Tara’s chamber. She wasn’t too far
from Vaibhavi’s age when she had Samarth. And the circumstances now
were even worse.
“Thank you, doctor,” he mustered a smile. “Do we need to visit the hospital
for the sonography and other tests?”
“I have taken blood samples for now. It’s definitely positive. Maybe some
time next week, whenever you are comfortable.”
He nodded, stepping back as he began to make his way out. But he stopped
mid-step — “Rawal?”
“Yes?”
“Is everything ok?”
“Yes, why? Is something wrong with Maarani?”
“No. I just thought so. She is completely healthy though, nothing to worry
about. I will get in touch by this evening with the test results.”
“Yes, thank you for coming.”
Siddharth waited for him to shut the door before he turned towards Tara’s
chamber. She was alone there, they both were. He hadn’t wanted anybody
around for this first check-up. Not even Hira ben. Siddharth swallowed,
gripping the thick prescription papers tighter in his fingers. This morning
had turned every last leaf of his plans from last night.
He fortified his chest, braced his shoulders out and strode into her chamber.
She wasn’t on the bed. Or in the lounge. Or on the armchair. He peered at
the balcony. Not there either.
“Tara?” He knocked on the bathroom door.
“Hmm…” came her muffled sound. “One minute.”
She was crying. His eyes squeezed shut. Siddharth counted seconds, soaked
in the sounds of the basin water running, the flush, more basin water. And
finally the door opened and there she was. Her face clean and fresh, her
eyes rimmed red, like this wasn’t the only time she had cried this morning.
“I’ll have these medicines delivered to you. Did he tell you how to take
them and when?”
“Yes.”
“Will you take them?”
Sharp eyes rose to his. Confused at first. Then it must have clicked. Because
her mouth dropped open.
“I mean… do you need reminders?”
“No, Sid, I do not need reminders like your first wife. Neither will I be
careless unless you want me to be!”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know?! You are acting like you want this child suddenly?”
“When did I say I don’t want it?”
She barked a bitter laugh — “What was last night?”
He took a deep breath — “That was before I knew of it… You don’t think I
would not want a baby that already exists?”
She scoffed — “Thank god for that!” And began to move. He held her
shoulder, softening his stance, trying to settle whatever was brewing
between them. Because it was bitter, and if not held right now it would
brew up until they were both under its fumes.
“I don’t want to fight.”
“And you think I want to?”
Siddharth looked away. Then nodded.
“We cannot tell anybody until you are over your first trimester. Some of our
staff will have to know but not everybody.”
“Yes, I get it.”
“If you feel even a little bit down, tell me. Or Hira ben. We will inform her
and she will take care of you.”
“Can I…” she hesitated.
“What is it?”
“Can I have my mother here?”
No! Was his first instinct to retort. She thought like her parents when they
were around her. Selfish and insecure.
“Let a few months pass, once we announce to the kingdom, she can come.
Otherwise there will be more gossip… and not the good type.”
“Hmm.”
“Do you need anything else?”
“No.”
“Alright. I am going to court. Call me if you need anything.”
He gazed at her for a long second, imagining this same moment in an
alternate universe. Where Samarth’s oath and her insecurities didn’t stand
between them. Where he would pull a first in his life, cancel court, and
spend his morning worshipping her and that beautiful, blessed womb of
hers that would give him another child. Right now, he couldn’t even bring
himself to look there. So conflicted was his head.
Siddharth gave another nod, turned and left before he did something
untoward like scream at her for what she had done or pull her and kiss her.
————————————————————
“Rawal?” Samarth’s knock sounded on his door.
“Come.”
He ventured inside, shutting the door behind him, sweaty and muddy right
out of his polo practise.
“How was your session?” Siddharth asked, shuffling his iPad away and
pushing the untouched tray of lunch to the side. His son eyed that tray but
because he knew what was best for him, he did not comment on it.
“Very good, Rawal.”
“Sit.”
“My pants are dirty,” he turned to show him the muddy splotched seat of his
tight whites.
“When has that stopped you from muddying up palace furniture?”
Siddharth smirked. Samarth gave a sheepish smile — “I was a child then.”
Siddharth snorted — “Sit. It will be cleaned.”
Samarth gingerly lowered himself on one of the visitors’ chairs, right on the
edge. Siddharth sat back, clasping his hands in front of his stomach. “When
is your last term starting?”
“Next month.”
“And after that, you said you want to go to London?”
“To Maan bhai’s college.”
“Not to mine?”
His son gave another sheepish smile, looking so much younger than he was.
“They have better polo facilities. And also give sports credits.”
“Alright. But I want to make one thing very clear.”
Samarth perked up.
“You are coming right back here after your graduation and working with me
in kingdom administration. Giving up the throne does not mean you don’t
serve the people of Nawanagar.”
“No, of course not, Rawal. I will do whatever you need me to do. I will
work wherever you want me to work for Nawanagar.”
“Good. You will have to learn everything and be ready…”
“Not to become…”
“Yes, Samarth, not to become Rawal but to teach the next Rawal if I am not
around by that time.”
That silenced him.
“Tara is expecting a child.”
There wasn’t a split second of shock or surprise before Samarth’s face split
into a smile. A real, big one. “A brother or a sister?”
“We don’t know yet,” Siddharth shook his head, amused. His son was naive
even at this age. “In India we wouldn’t know until the baby’s arrival
anyway.”
“Yes, I was just saying it like… I am getting a brother or a sister?”
Siddharth chuckled, nodding. “Either of those two for sure.”
“Wow! When will it be born?”
“January or February. We are not sure of the date yet.”
“I’ll be here by then after my final exams. I’ll get time to stay here until the
semester in London starts in September!”
Siddharth was glad somebody was ecstatic about this baby’s arrival from
the get-go, making plans ahead of its coming. He hoped he and Tara could
have done that too. If only they had Samarth’s naivety and peace.
“Yes, you would have lot’s of time with it. Now go and take a shower. You
are sitting with me on the Bird Sanctuary meeting in one hour.”
“Yes, Rawal.”
He began to get up when a thought struck Siddharth.
“Samarth?”
“Yes, Rawal?”
“How is Avantika?”
He went silent.
“I haven’t heard you speak about her. You still talk to her?”
“On and off…”
“Why? It’s your vacation, you can invite her to the palace with your other
friends. Plan something, it’s summer.”
“She is busy with her cricket practise.”
“She can do that here. Nawanagar has the best cricket facility in India.”
His son was scrambling for words — “Yes but… she might go for a holiday
with her family… and it’s anyway benching.”
“What?” He frowned.
“Benching… like, on it’s way to ending. We don’t talk much.”
“Did you do something?”
“It was mutual.”
“Because of what’s going on in this family?”
“No, not at all!”
His son was so quick in answering that Siddharth knew immediately why
that was. He wanted to break something. His teenager of a son, who should
have been hanging out with his girlfriend and sharing dreams and hopes and
pranks with her was talking about ‘benching’ or ending or whatever it was
they called breakup nowadays!
“Alright. Go now. Shower and come back.”
————————————————————
There are many types of joys. The joy of triumph, the joy of solace, the joy
of excitement, the joy of pride, the joy of love… In his life, Siddharth had
experienced these and many more at different stages of his life, in different
spheres, with different people. It was only at that cliff with Tara on that
New Year’s night when he had experienced bliss. The feeling where all the
joys of the world were contained in the centre of his chest.
Now, as his child grew in her womb and she grew from a solid, fighter
woman into a soft, nurturing mother, he experienced joy again. But that
bliss was missing. Siddharth tried very hard to find it, tried very hard to
give himself fully to his wife and the mother of his child. Couldn’t.
That didn’t mean he didn’t give his 100%.
“Is it kicking again?” He laughed, walking into her chamber after a
particularly tiring day with the Ministry of Environment & Forests. Another
expedition to Antarctica was going this year, and he was sitting back,
planning instead of travelling.
“It hasn’t stopped!” Tara smiled, cradling her massive baby bump. At
almost nine months pregnant, she did look like she was exhausted every
single minute, even if she had just woken up from a nap.
“It is time for Maarani’s evening snack, will you be joining her for tea,
Rawal?” Hira ben got to her feet from the floor where she was busy sorting
through a trunk of heirloom baby clothes. His and Samarth’s. He was
surprised Tara had allowed for Samarth’s baby heirlooms to be picked out
for their child. But then, she had never openly detested him.
“No, I am going to the Stadium. The team is leaving for Ranjhi Finals
tomorrow.”
“You should also leave with them,” Tara pointed. “With the amount of
cricket you have played training them, might as well go bat on the final
day.”
“Trying to get rid of me, Maarani?” He came down on his haunches by her
head where she lay, palming her stomach. The baby kicked hard and he
winced — “Aren’t you sore yet?”
“Don’t ask! He loves it and I can’t even get angry because according to
Hira ben, he is being tortured inside.”
“The baby is being tortured?” Siddharth looked at Hira ben.
“Garbha Samhita says, that as a foetus, one has to experience stomach
acids, fire, heat, tight, closed spaces… at this stage, a soul is so tortured
inside that it prays to god to come out, and promises itself that it will do
everything in its power to never come back in the womb. That is why when
a child is born, it is the purest. Because its soul has understood that the
ultimate goal of this life is to find moksha. Liberate from here. And not
come back for another birth, in another womb. But as life passes, the soul
forgets. It does unthinkable deeds, turns away from the promise it made to
itself. A soul that doesn’t, finds upliftment.”
Siddharth caressed Tara’s bare skin under her saree, stretched taught over
their baby, hoping to calm his child if it was going through all the torture
that Hira ben had just described.
“Will you have to go to Delhi?” Tara asked him, knowing he had been
struggling with the Ministry meetings remotely.
“No,” he kept caressing her stomach, patting it, feeling the kicks go softer.
“Subbu will handle everything.”
“Is Subbu sir going too?”
“Yes. This time under another team leader.”
“You wanted to go, didn’t you?”
He smiled, giving her navel one last pat before getting to his feet — “I have
more important things here. Besides, there’s my whole life to go on more
research expeditions. Where is your mother?”
“She has gone to make tea for me… oh, there she is.”
“Rawal saheb,” her mother walked in, a tray in hand. “I didn’t know you
are coming in early. Will you be joining Tara for tea?”
“No,” he clipped, pushing his hands behind his back. Even after all these
months, he hadn’t been able to completely let go with her parents. Her
father wasn’t here yet, but her mother had come to live in the palace the
moment Tara had crossed the 3-month mark. She wasn’t a bad woman, but
she just reminded him of what Samarth had lost.
“Alright, you ladies have your tea party,” he stepped back. “I’ll…”
“Aaah!” Tara gasped, shooting up from the bed.
“Tara!” “Maarani!” “Beta, su thayu?!”
He rushed to her and braced her back, holding her writhing body steady.
She was pressing down on her stomach, her face crumpled — “Ooohhh….
phew… Mummy… it’s… bad…”
‘Call the doctor!” Siddharth hollered. He didn’t know who called the
doctor. He didn’t even realise when the doctor, the nurses and all the
hospital equipment that had been kept on standby in the palace room was
set up around them in the queen’s chamber, Tara writhing in his arms. Her
mother had given her a drink of ghee and jaggery, Hira ben had made her lie
down and massaged her belly until she relaxed, and now she was again
writhing, muttering unintelligible things, calling out to her mother, then
calling out to him, then asking the doctor if the baby was ok.
“It’s early! It’s early, Sid!” She made a grunting noise, her hair sticking to
her skin.
“It’s not early, Tara. Your delivery date is nine days away,” he consoled her,
patting her head.
“You have to go for your cricket match…”
He laughed — “Yeah, I’ll go once you deliver the baby.”
She laughed.
“Rawal, would you like to step out now?” The doctor asked from the foot of
the bed. Midwives and nurses filled the chamber.
Siddharth glanced down at Tara. He hadn’t stayed the last time when
Samarth was born. Truth be told, he would have preferred to be in his own
chamber this time too, getting updates and the final news. But Tara’s open
gasping mouth and hopeful eyes made him utter those words — “I will
stay.”
He stayed. He stayed through her labour, and he stayed through her gasps.
She didn’t scream. That was his Tara. The fighter. She cried, she bit her lip,
but she didn’t scream. He stayed through it all, holding her hand.
And with a piercing cry, his baby announced its arrival. Tara was still
braced, her teeth gritted, determined to keep going in his arms.
“Shhh…” he patted her head, caressing the wisps of hair stuck to her skin.
“It’s over. Relax.”
“Badhai, Rawal! It’s another Kunwar for Nawanagar!”
Siddharth didn’t allow himself to feel remorse for even a second, even
though the feeling had begun to rise. He quietened it. This child, his son,
this soul — he did not deserve to be welcomed with remorse for what had
gone on before him.
Siddharth smiled, feeling Tara finally relax. He patted her head — “You
heard him?”
“Hmm…” she nodded, her eyes teary and on him, as if waiting to gauge his
reaction. Siddharth grinned, pressing his lips to her temple — “Let’s hope
he has science genes, not too many philosophy ones.”
Her body vibrated, her face turning into his.
“Thank you, Sid.”
————————————————————
Siddharth walked down the court with his newborn son in his arms,
Samarth behind him, all of them dressed in their traditional angarkha,
heirloom jewels and medallions. The baby was swaddled in their ancient
wrap with the dynasty medallion sewed on it in gold. Siddharth hoped he
wouldn’t become too fussy in the heat. At 45 days old, he had a pair of
lungs that could shake the very foundations of the palace.
The corridor was filled to the brim on both sides. Subjects, stakeholders,
chaperones, courtiers — all jumping out of their shoes to get a glimpse of
their new prince. Siddharth was grateful that their remorse for Tara hadn’t
translated to this boy. If anything, the air had softened towards her. If only
they knew the truths he did.
“Rawal Siddharth Sinh Solanki, Kunwar Samarth Sinh Solanki ane Nawa
Nana Kunwar padhare chhe!” The court crier announced.
Today, his father would sit on the throne as the Bade Rawal. Siddharth
marched down the court hall, the crowd of their council of ministers,
courtiers, viziers, extended family and other royal families all pushing to
their feet. Siddharth bowed his head to his father, whose wheelchair had
been laid aside and his frail body, decked to the nines, sat steady on the
throne.
His father raised his right hand, a fraction of an inch, in blessing. That’s as
high as he could go.
“Aarambh karo,” he nodded, giving the court permission to kickstart the
Kunwar’s naming ceremony. As if on cue, the court crier announced —
“Maarani padhare chhe…”
Siddharth turned, his eyes bright at the sight of her walking down the court
in her finery. She had gone to Devi’s temple for a special shuddhi poojan
after her post-natal confinement, and now walked with Hira ben, her
mother, and a few other chaperones behind her. The court was just as
enthralled as he was to see her, resplendent in an orange ghaghra-choli with
duppattas draped artfully around her. She had, like all mothers, put on
pregnancy weight. But it added to her new charm, making her this
curvaceous woman who was more confident in her steps.
She folded her hands to his father, bowed her head to him, then came to
stand beside him. Siddharth noticed Samarth step back as the two of them
sat in the havan for their son’s naming ceremony.
“Rawal, do you have a name for the Kunwar?” Their Purohitji asked.
“We have a few, but just like Samarth, we are waiting for Pandyaji to read
out our little Kunwar’s janam patri. We will decide after that.”
“Pandyaji,” their Purohitji urged. “You can read the new Kunwar’s janam
patri now.”
Pandyaji opened the scroll of hand-painted documents, with intricate
Gujarati script detailing the placement of planets, dasha, antar dasha, yog
etc. He started reciting the placement of planets in the chart. Siddharth
didn’t understand much, but he nodded from time to time, as was expected
of him.
“In essence.” Pandyaji came to the point. “Your younger Kunwar will grow
up to be a man of exemplary intellect. He will inherit your drive to seek,
search, and find answers. His purpose will be dedicated towards mankind,
and he will be very protective of the world around him, especially his
family. His relationship with his mother will be special, he will bring light
to her life. He will be her protector as well. He will also be the protector of
his siblings,” Pandyaji smiled, nodding towards Samarth standing to the
side. Siddharth drank the shot of bile that rose in his body. He hoped the
brothers would become protective of each other.
“His rashi is Kumbh, so it will be beneficial if you name the Kunwar with
letters starting G or Sh.”
Siddharth glanced at Tara. She nodded.
“We had thought of a few names, Pandyaji, but none coincide with the traits
you have outlined. Can you give us a name?”
Pandyaji smiled, his ancient face softening as his eyes crinkled to tiny slits.
“Your son’s planets put him as a protector — of nature, mankind, and his
family. He will be an embodiment of shelter. Sharan.”
“Sharan.” Siddharth pronounced, glancing at Tara. Her knee was busy
rocking their son as he was beginning to fuss, but she smiled. First down at
the cranky baby, then up at him. Siddharth nodded. Then as was their
tradition, he bent down into his son’s ears and announced — “Sharan Sinh
Solanki.”
The court reverberated with seven conches, while the name was announced
loud and wide. The 21-gun salute set off in the grounds outside the palace,
while their dynasty band began to play their anthem, commemorating
Kunwar Sharan Sinh Solanki.
Siddharth smiled, feeling the joy of triumph in having a son whose future
foretold of a good man. He felt joy at the sight of a happy Tara. He felt joy
at the sight of a happy kingdom for now. But bliss was still missing.
Tara began to console a now howling Sharan in her arms and their eyes met.
She gave him a small smile, he smiled back. She was still the woman he
loved, the mother of his child now. But she was also the woman who had
compelled him to become half. She had introduced bliss into his life, then
also become the reason it went away. And he contended himself with the
fact that that bliss, along with the fullness in him, had permanently gone to
sleep.
He resigned himself to a life without it, and never tried to wake it up again.

OceanofPDF.com
 35. Tarmac
— SIDDHARTH —
10 Years Later

There are weeks where decades happen, and then here are decades where
nothing happens. This decade had been like that. Calm, peaceful, medium-
paced. Nawanagar had flourished, his family had lived in contentment. The
only jolt of this decade had been Bade Rawal passing away. It had been a
tumultuous few weeks. He hadn’t had time to grieve. The fire his Foiba
Sarkar and her son had ignited had set him on a path of emergency appeals
and court hearings on the Women Inheritance Bill. It had annihilated the
entire bill in the Supreme Court to reclaim status quo as per their individual
kingdom scriptures, securing the throne for the moment. And when he had
come out of it, his mind had made peace with his father’s going. As if that
tumult had given him a break between the era of his father and the one
without.
Siddharth was just glad that with one generation gone from over the
kingdom’s horizon, the other was stepping in.
Samarth, after his post-graduation, had come back home as promised. And
even though his professional polo tournaments took him away from the
palace and the administration for months at a time, he gave the rest of his
time to the kingdom. Learning, ideating, working. It wasn’t public
knowledge yet, but everybody in the administration and court had an
inkling that Samarth was not his successor. The unsaid secret had travelled
far and wide. Only, nobody spoke it out loud.
At 26, Samarth’s life was all about polo, travel, and Nawanagar. And even
after Siddharth’s numerous attempts at pushing him to mingle at royal
events, he had remained aloof. Short of fixing his marriage with his teen-
age girlfriend Avantika Kumari Raje of Gwalior, he had tried everything.
Nothing had worked. He knew Samarth’s marriage was later in life, but he
just couldn’t help it. The alternative was unacceptable to him. Every time
that thought occurred, it would make him anxious. Samarth’s mother was
far away in some North European country living her own life. His
grandfather was not in the world anymore. And Tara… she had never
connected with him. In the last decade, she had been kind and cordial. Like
a stranger who was either too scared to approach him or too disconnected to
need his company.
Sharan was the only family he knew Samarth would have. The brothers got
along like a house on fire, even with their age gap. It was more to do with
Samarth’s unwavering attention to his younger brother than anything else.
He had spent so much of his prime years on his younger sibling. And
Sharan, the science nerd with a curiosity for everything outside the palace
walls, had stuck like a limpet to his elder ‘cool’ brother who played polo,
lived a jet-set life, and basically came home like a celebrity.
Even so, Siddharth didn’t want to leave Samarth alone in this world,
without a family of his own.
“Rawal,” his driver called out. He startled out of that depressing thought.
“Yes?”
“We are here.”
Siddharth glanced up and out of the windshield, the plane idling in the
distance, the sun bright on the grey tarmac.
He cleared his throat — “Yes. Take care, Kalhans.”
His driver of two decades smiled at him through the rear view mirror. “Yes,
Rawal.”
Siddharth sat up and the door of his car was opened by his Second-in-
Command. He stepped out, straightening his white kurta and nodding at the
small line that Ajatshatru had again collected.
“This is the fifth time,” he muttered. “When will you stop, Ajatshatru?”
“The king is departing, Rawal,” Ajatshatru folded his hands, his fair hair
even fairer after ten years of protocol-fanaticism. Siddharth couldn’t
comment though, because his own hair had begun greying at the temples
and at the top. Tara said it looked good, and objectively he would have to
agree. But nowadays it also reminded him of his age. It hadn’t mattered so
much to him when he had married Tara and had Sharan. At 38, he had
believed himself to be in his prime and invincible. But now, at 48, with his
back becoming stiffer and his muscles feeling sore after a few sets at the
gym, his eyes straining without reading glasses and a general fatigue taking
him by surprise at midday, he was beginning to feel his body’s clock ticking
faster.
“Rawal Siddharth Sinh Solanki ni — Jai!”
As had become customary for him before departing on a long trip,
Siddharth went and greeted the line of dignitaries, the plane, as usual,
running up his metre in carbon footprint.
“Next time do this at the palace,” he warned Ajatshatru.
“Yes, Rawal.”
“Is Samarth here?” He craned his neck to check for any cars coming in
behind his. This had become a ritual too. The three times he had departed
on long research trips in the last decade, Samarth had come to see him off.
“They missed their connecting flight, Rawal.”
“Is Harsh with him?”
“Yes, they were at Dubai Airport, getting on the next flight. They should be
here any moment.”
Siddharth nodded, checking the time. It was late. Later than he would have
liked.
“Rawal,” the pilot greeted him.
“Yes, Captain?”
“We have missed two take-off slots. The airspace will be busy after this. If
we don’t want to wait until tonight, we will have to take the next slot.”
“Right.” Siddharth glanced at the tarmac gate in the distance. Nothing but
clear path. No cars in sight.
“Alright, let’s go. I need to be in Ushuaia by Tuesday and it’s touch and
go.”
Siddharth turned to Ajatshatru just as the honks of a car sounded. He turned,
hopeful, only to see it was Tara’s car. The black beast hurtled down the
tarmac. He frowned. She had been in Devgadh with Sharan for the last
week, tending to her father after his by-pass surgery.
The car came to a crawl just beside his and the door opened even before it
had fully stopped. Out jumped his nerd chimpanzee and ran towards him.
“Papa!” Sharan’s excited cry put a smile on his face. Siddharth opened his
arms, catching the bear hug his ten-year old graced him with. He knew
these hugs were precious, and soon his son wouldn’t even want to be seen
around him. Teenage wasn’t far and Sharan was already reaching his
sternum.
“There you are!” Siddharth laughed, thumping his wiry back. Sharan was as
lean as they came, his body structure along with his science-bug an
inheritance that Siddharth couldn’t deny. His looks too were all him. It was
as if a leaner version of him and Samarth was standing here. “Did you leave
your Nana alone?”
“Nana has Nani!” Sharan quipped, pulling back with his boyish grin.
Siddharth adjusted his glasses on his nose, just as dirty as his mother’s. He
pulled them off and wiped them clean with the hem of his kurta.
“Sharan, clean your glasses, beta.”
He only smiled goofily, just as careless as his mother, as Siddharth replaced
them on his nose.
“We came as soon as Samarth called,” Tara’s voice sounded before she
stepped out of the car. He glanced up, only to be confronted by the woman,
the wife, the queen. She had grown, and grown into herself. Her wild curls
were nowadays tamed in a low bun, her body curved to the perfect
hourglass and accentuated in her sarees, which, she had learned to navigate
in with ease. The flesh of her face had set into her bones, making her even
more beautiful if that was even possible. As a mother, she had shown
immense confidence — in herself as well as the people around her.
Nawanagar had also more or less made peace with her. And yet, the
elephant in their chambers had remained.
He had never addressed it, neither had she. But her subtle hints kept
reminding him that she would always vouch for Sharan on the throne over
Samarth. Siddharth blinked, coming back to the moment as she walked
towards him. This happened to him often, this second of bitterness that
interwove itself into a pure moment of joy.
“Samarth called you?”
“He called me before taking off from Dubai. He may not be able to reach in
time, so he wanted Sharan to come see you off.”
Siddharth smiled, putting his arm around his younger son’s shoulder.
Sharan beamed, leaning in, preening at the compliment that ‘Samarth bhai’
had deemed him fit to see off their Rawal.
“Right,” Siddharth stood his younger one in front of him, and immediately
Sharan’s wiry shoulders tautened. “Kunwar. Between the time my flight
takes off and Samarth bhai’s flight lands, you are the caretaker.”
Sharan nodded, suddenly serious. Siddharth bit a smile.
“Take care of the kingdom, take care of Maarani.”
“Yes, Rawal.”
“And keep the palace birds coming for lunch, but don’t overfeed them.”
Sharan looked down with a hidden smile, that heartwarming trait of his
mother’s. Siddharth set his hand atop his head and shook playfully. “What
should I get for you?”
“Penguins, please!”
Tara laughed, his own snort loud alongside hers.
“And what about their home? Will they survive in this heat?”
“I will build them a polar ecosystem.”
“With what?”
“Ice from all the refrigerators of the palace.”
“And when it melts?”
“More ice, Papa. I will keep refilling.”
“I can get you a penguin keychain if you want.”
Sharan’s mouth pursed, as if in thought.
“Two keychains, one for me and one for Samarth bhai,” he bargained.
“Deal.”
“Deal.”
“Alright,” Siddharth smiled. “I’ll call you, Kunwar.”
“Yes, Rawal.”
He glanced up at Tara, nodded — “I’ll be in coverage until Port Lockroy.”
“I know,” she nodded. After the last three research trips he had taken, two to
Arctic and one to the Amazonian Rainforest, she was used to these long
silences. And this was Antarctica. She had been here with him, knew the
logistics.
“Take care, Sid,” she said low, so low that only he could hear. He nodded,
his eyes blinking for one last time with hers. And for one last time he
looked over her head, at the closed gates of the tarmac. Samarth’s car was
still nowhere in sight.
So Siddharth gave his family one last smile, nodded at Ajatshatru and the
line of dignitaries, and strode to the idling plane. He climbed the stairs, and
turned one last time, hoping to see Samarth. His breath caught, praying,
waiting, seeking. One second passed. Two. And all he got was Sharan
grinning and waving. He chuckled, waved back, and ducked inside the
plane.

OceanofPDF.com
 36. Reluctant Queen
— TARA —
Being queen was a matter of practise, or so Hira ben would often tell her.
But Tara had practised for a decade and still couldn’t get it right.
Leela, the young chaperone stepped inside her chamber with hot oils for
massage. Their scent filled her warm room. The morning was still dawning
outside, and Tara stepped out of her side of the bed. There wasn’t a need to
pick sides because Siddharth would sleep in the king’s chamber. And she
usually slept in the middle of her bed. But when he wasn’t in town… she
just found solace in picking her old side and sleeping there, pretending he
was lying on his side.
It had become extra difficult with Sharan getting his own chambers, which
he had fought and selected close to Samarth’s. And far away from them.
Tara understood, of course. She also understood that her son was entering
into that pre-teen phase where everything but his parents seemed cool to
him. It did not take away from his respect for them, but he did want to
spend less and less time with her.
And when that time was taken away, she did not know how to fill her day.
Being queen… but what could she be in being queen?
As Leela set the platter of hot oils down, Tara sat on the low stool,
extending her arm. It was Hira ben’s orders, that the queen’s extremely dry
skin be massaged through the winter months. She had herself prepared oil
concoctions. But because of her advancing age, Tara had barred her from
waking up so early and coming to the palace to massage her. Instead, this
young woman was sent to the gallows every dawn.
Tara smiled at her, not knowing what to speak to her about. Leela smiled
shyly back, her fingers rubbing earthy oils into her forearm, pulling the
muscles down with practised ease. The drill was to let the oils set in, and
only then go for a bath. An abhyang.
Tara stared out at the dawning sun — a rich, orange orb that was right at the
horizon. Her balcony shutters were made of clear glass and closed, allowing
her eyes to get toasted on the sight but not freeze in its winds.
Leela’s fingers caught on her ring. “Sorry, Maarani.”
“It’s alright, I’ll remove it…” Tara went to take off her engagement ring to
let the woman work easily. Could it even be called an engagement ring?
Siddharth had bought it for her way before they were officially engaged.
And it was worth a fortune, that she had flipped over at the time. Now…
she still valued wealth. But it did not balk her like it had then.
Tara eyed its ruddy sheen, the waves of roses, beiges and reds beautiful on
the surface, contrasted wonderfully with the tiny diamonds rimming it.
Once upon a time in her life, Tara had detested the wealthy who were
snobbish. Now, as she sat quietly in her queen’s chambers, getting
massaged by a lady from their kingdom, not knowing what to say to her,
she wondered if Leela thought the same about her?
Tara had tried not to come across as power-hungry or snobbish. She had
attempted to make inroads with the women of Nawanagar. But the reception
had always been lukewarm. Even after Sharan’s birth. So she had stopped
trying, instead, pretending to be righteous in her own skin, aloof, quiet,
pseudo-confident. And even though she knew they disliked her, she also
knew they tolerated her for their Rawal and now their Kunwar’s sake.
Her phone alarm went off, startling Leela.
“I’m so sorry…” Tara blurted. The silence of the dawn was broken by its
continuous blaring as she pulled back to silence it. She had set it to call
Siddharth. It would be the last point of his ship’s route where he would get
decent network to talk on the phone.
“Thank you, Leela, you may go now.”
“Was there something wrong, Maarani?”
“No, no,” Tara frowned. Then smiled — “It was wonderful… I feel so good
after the massage. I’ll just take a bath now.”
“Yes, Maarani,” she pushed to her feet and began to retreat, opening the
door to exit. Tara began to pull up Siddharth’s contact when the guard from
the open door announced — “Maarani, Nana Kunwar is not feeling well.”
“Sharan?” She quickly got to her feet, straightening her saree pallu and
rushing out, Leela beside her. “What happened to Kunwar?”
“His guard came and informed me that there were vomiting noises coming
from inside his chambers. One of them went in while the other came to
inform me.”
Tara turned and strode to his chambers, Leela behind her. The palace alleys
were quiet this early in the morning. She had called her parents here
because Sharan’s classes were getting disturbed with an extended stay in
Devgadh, and Siddharth wasn’t here to leave Sharan alone in the palace.
But they were accommodated in the guest wing on the other side of the
palace, her father’s recovering heart needing the peace and quiet of the
garden surrounding their chambers.
“Sharan?” Tara burst through his door, only to find Samarth already there,
wiping his tears and pushing his hair back from his forehead. “What
happened, Samarth?”
Samarth smiled indulgently, “Last night’s doodh colddrink, Maarani.”
Sharan gagged — “Bhaiiii!”
Samarth laughed, patting his back — “Relax. You puked out a whole
bucket. Nothing’s left now.”
“When did you have doodh colddrink, Sharan?” Tara glared, checking his
forehead. He was warm but that was from the vomiting. His lean face
looked even more gaunt and at her question, he paled even more if that was
possible.
“Don’t say that word, Mummy please…” he whined.
She took her gaze to the older brother. Samarth put his hands up — “I
wasn’t the delivery man. I just shared it with him.”
“You know it doesn’t suit his stomach, Samarth.”
“I thought he would have toughened up by now.”
Tara shook her head, sitting in front of her son and thumbing his eyes clean
— “You want to have medicine or it’s not that bad?”
“My stomach is not paining this time…” he replied with closed eyes and a
swaying head. “Maybe I am toughening up.” His head fell in her chest and
Tara patted it, eyeing an amused Samarth. She couldn’t help the amused
scoff that escaped her own lips — “Yes, beta, maybe you are.”
“Let him sleep,” she called out to the entourage that had gathered behind
her. “I’ll be here.”
Leela and the guards began to retreat. Samarth too turned to go, still in his
nightdress of a black sweatshirt and tracks.
“Samarth, did your father call you?”
“He called last night,” Samarth suppressed a yawn, rubbing his hands down
his stubbled jaw. He was looking just like Siddharth, except, his hair wasn’t
wavy like his father’s but flopped in a mess of silky strands. “He was
crossing into the Antarctic sea.”
Tara nodded. Siddharth had messaged her. But not called her. She gulped
the wave of disappointment, and if she was honest with herself, mild
jealousy, as she let Samarth return to his chambers. She put Sharan to sleep
and lay down by his side, patting his stomach as he kept groaning in his
sleep.
Her thoughts took a dark turn. She thought about the unhappiness of her
marriage. It wasn’t painful. He did not behave badly with her. Did not…
trouble her. He did not behave in a mean or angry way with her. And yet she
knew he was angry. He had been angry for years. But she did not know
what to do? Her own self-preservation did not allow her to give him what
he wanted. If this was the price to pay for Sharan’s safety and hers forever,
then she had to. Tara stared up at the dark high ceiling of the chambers,
thinking how this decade had passed in a blink. It should have been a happy
decade. She had dreamt of this life with him, a fulfilled life, with them and
their children.
They hadn’t had more children. Not that they hadn’t been intimate. But he
hadn’t broached the topic again and she had been too ashamed to broach it
too. By unsaid truce, they had stopped at one. And loved him immensely.
And yet, that love between them, concentrated on Sharan, was still only a
sliver of what they had once had.
Siddharth gave her everything. Even himself. But he held that himself back
that he had given her in their initial days. And she couldn’t ask for it, or
fight for it, because he did not give it to anybody else either. And every day
of the last ten years had passed hoping that one day, some day, something
would break this invisible wall between her and that Siddharth. Between
her and Sid.
Tara tapped the screen of her phone, lowering the brightness and making
the call.
“The number you are trying to reach is out of coverage. Please leave a
message after the beep.”
He had sailed beyond the last boundaries of South America. Tara
disconnected the call.
————————————————————
“Janani na haiya maa podhata podhata peedho Kasumbi no rang… o raj
ame peedho Kasumbi no rang,” Sharan sang dribbling a basketball around
her.
Tara logged out of her thesis document and set the hood of her laptop down.
The afternoon air was turning colder as the sun was beginning to journey
westwards. She had chosen to sit in the pergola of Anand Baag, amid the
fragrant pomegranate trees while working. She was on the final stages of
finishing her thesis on ‘Environmental Justice and Future Generations.’
“Who taught you this song, Sharan?” She pulled her glasses off.
“Raaj mane logyo kasumbi no rang?” He asked.
“Hmm.”
“Hira ben.”
Tara smiled — “Do you know its meaning?”
“Yes… I drank the colour of sacrifice in my mother’s tummy!”
“And what is that colour?”
“Hira ben says it’s a mix of orange and red and pink. I asked her to show
me and she says it’s in my veins,” her son made an incredulous face. Tara
mirrored it, adoring his sweet eyes just like his father’s and that scrunched
nose a copy of hers. Then shook her head — “What else did Hira ben teach
you?”
“Lots more songs!” He grinned, then saw some bug somewhere and ran
away distracted. Tara smiled to herself, her gaze zeroing in on Hira ben
waddling into the orchard, panting.
“Kunwar?” She called out. Tara glanced back. Her son threw his ball away
and ran.

“Su thayu, Hira ben?”[36] Tara asked.

“Tamara Kunwar!”[37] She complained.

“What did he do?”
“His teacher is searching for him everywhere. He told him he was going to
the bathroom and hasn’t returned for half an hour…”
“I thought his political science class was over?” Tara turned back to nothing
but trees. Sharan was gone. She pursed her lips. “What should I do with
him, Hira ben?! I’ll talk to him and he will sit for the class again. But he
just doesn’t concentrate! Now I have started questioning Pandyaji’s
prediction that Sharan has great intelligence.”
“But he does have great intelligence, Maarani. He just doesn’t have political
intelligence.”
Tara gaped back at the old woman.
“His science sir does not have the same complain.”
“But he needs to study politics and logic and history and…” she stopped
short. She knew Hira ben knew of the undercurrents of inheritance.
Everybody knew. Nobody said anything. And she wasn’t stupid to say it and
have people openly hate her.
“You are teaching him songs?” Tara changed the topic, pushing a smile to
her mouth.
“Yes, Maarani.”
“He seems to love them…”
“That’s why they are made. To make our children love them, repeat them,
remember them, then pass them on. If we don’t keep our history alive, then
who will?”
“Who sang these songs to you, Hira ben?”
She smiled to herself. “My mother, my grandmother… so many saints I met
in my life. This was our television at that time. Aside from playing, we
would gather and ask for these songs from anybody who was around.
Eventually we would learn them and sing along. Then ask for a new song.
Or a new story,” Hira ben’s gaze went far away, a rapturous smile on her
face. “My grandmother used to say — ‘Learn about the heroes of your
culture, learn about the singers and the poets, the kings and the queens, the
warriors and the saints. Learn your music, and your literature, and learn
about your roots. Then keep that knowledge safe within you for your
grandchildren.’”
A memory struck. Tara blinked.
“You used to sing all the time to me, in my chambers… when I married and
came here. But you stopped then…”
“You asked me to stop, Maarani.”
Tara sat up, shocked. She didn’t remember such a time. She wouldn’t ever
dare ask Hira ben to stop something. And something as good as her songs
and stories? She thought back, but couldn’t remember.
“I can’t remember when I asked you to stop, Hira ben. I am sorry. I am sure
I did not want you to stop.”
Hira ben’s wrinkled round face split into a smile — “Sometimes we say
things and forget, but the universe always remembers. That is why it is
taught — say every word with care.”
Tara nodded, ever the student to her, even if she sat on the queen’s throne
and Hira ben stood in a chaperon’s place. Tara often forgot her own days as
a chaperone, so lost life became in the position of a queen. She had never
coveted power, but she knew how its dynamics worked. You had to claim it
to wield it. She had told Yuvrani this once very long ago in Devgadh, and
had to utilise the tenet herself in Nawanagar.
“Will you sing to me again, Hira ben? Teach me the songs you teach
Sharan?”
Silence.
Then — “Kalkalta jharna maa, nadiyu chalkaay chhe ne, nadiyon na vhen
maa sagar malkay chhe,” she sang. “Chanda ne joye sagar jhule chhe gail
maa… dharti no chhedo jayi, aabh maa lehraiye chhe.”
Tara listened to her ancient, heavy voice, holding the tune like she herself
had created it.
“Ho… nadi ne, sagar thava na jaagya kod…”
“I have heard these lines before, but can you tell me your meaning, Hira
ben?”
“You must have heard these lines in a love song.”
“Yes.”
Hira ben chuckled — “There’s more meaning to everything if only you
think about it. In the flow of a waterfall, there is the river that it is about to
become. It thinks so madly about becoming the river that it already is. In
the flow of a river, in its thoughts, there is the sea. And in the sea…”
“There is the moon,” Tara completed with a grin. “The tides that jump for
the moon…”
“The tides that want to become the moon,” Hira ben nodded, pride glinting
in her eyes. “It is when we wish to become bigger than ourselves that
progress happens. A river has to think about becoming the sea. Until it does,
it does not start to flow towards it.”
Tara nodded, internalising her words, feeling the weight of them but unable
to digest them just yet. Even so, she kept nodding. Some day, she hoped she
would be able to digest them.
————————————————————
“Rawal Maan Sinh Devgadh ane Rani saheb Samriddhi Sinh Devgadh
padhaare chhe,” the guard announced. Tara pushed to her feet, adjusting her
saree pallu and taking one final glance around the grand receiving lounge
— Chandi Haveli. Sharan had played here earlier and trashed the carpet
with stains, and she had, with immense pain, gotten the staff to scrub
everything clean until the space shone like silver, as it was supposed to by
its name.
“Rags!” Sharan made a beeline towards the door, meeting Ragini Kumari
and her little brother Kunwar Advait halfway. They were just as eager,
leaving the protocol of entering a royal space and running away with
Sharan. Tara didn’t mind. The kids had been such frequent visitors to her
palace that they considered this their second home.
“Greet Maarani first!” Their mother hissed but they were long gone, leaving
nothing but wind behind them.
Tara folded her hands, laughing, stepping up to welcome her Yuvraj and
Yuvrani. Now Rawal and Rani. But they didn’t look larger than life because
they were dressed down in their usual attires. Dress shirt and trousers and a
pastel saree.
“Rawal saheb,” she smiled at Rawal Maan Sinh. He folded his hands in
greeting, his head turned slightly and gaze cutting to hers. In the last ten
years, his eyesight had deteriorated until he held about 40% of his central
vision. The degeneration had stopped there. His doctors were optimistic that
it would remain arrested and he would be able to see marginally in the
centre and completely from the sides.
“I think I should leave my kids here in Nawanagar, Maarani. They consider
this more of their house than their own palace.”
Tara winced — “Call me Tara, I still can’t hear that from you!”
He smirked, his gaze cutting to his wife. “And here somebody wants me to
call them Rani saheb all the time.”
“If I work more than you, you have to address me as Rani saheb.”
“What work?”
“You don’t know, Tara. Rawal saheb takes great pleasure in flaunting his
newfound dimming vision, which for the record — is perfectly clear at the
sides. He wants me to read him all the letters and correspondences that are
non-braille, even if he can blow them up on his screen and read them fairly
well. And if he can’t, he has his reading program!” Rani saheb strode in and
sat down on the wide sofa set in the tones of peaches and pale silver. Tara
bit a smile.
“Now where will I find such a musical reading program?” Rawal saheb
navigated the space slower, lowering himself in an armchair that had the
sofa in its peripheral vision. That was his usual spot when they visited, and
she, Siddharth and Rani saheb ensured that they all sat in a line to make it
easy for him.
“How is Jagat Kaka?”
“Papa is recovering. He got jaundice due to blood transfusion after the
surgery, but now he is better.”
“Can he meet people?” Rani saheb asked. “Is it ok for us to go and see
him?”
“Of course. He can’t move around because of the drainage cuts and
weakness… What I mean is, he can move around but Mummy and I have
kept him horizontal except bathroom breaks.”
“Where is Samarth?” Rawal saheb frowned, his face turning and gaze
cutting sideways, searching the various entrances to the room.
“He is finishing court. It’s going longer since the last three days.”
“Siddharth has it easy now. Samarth is grown up so he can jet off at will.
Once Sharan grows up, you will also be free to go with him.”
Tara mustered a smile, hoping that would happen. That they would be able
to travel again, just the two of them. They had taken holidays, family
holidays, but each one of them had been packed with things to do and
places to show Sharan. In some, Samarth was there too and those turned
into daredevil adventure holidays or sports-watching ones.
“That is not happening with us,” Rani saheb clued, bringing Tara out of her
stupor. “I cannot think of taking attention away from them, Maan. So don’t
even dream about it.”
“What happened with Ahilya was years in the making, Sami. Her parents
did not want to see it.”
“Still,” Rani saheb turned solemn. “That child was a powerhouse. So
loving, so caring, full of life. Niyati jiji has destroyed not only her family
but also her daughter.”
Tara sighed — “Are you in touch with Niyati Kumari?”
“Maan doesn’t want to be, but I send her gifts on festivals. After all, she is
the daughter of Devgadh’s erstwhile king.”
“And Ahilya?”
“In and out of rehab,” Rani saheb shook her head, rage building on her face.
“Last month they said she had overdosed again. After Vanraj bhai left them,
her mental health has deteriorated even further. And Niyati jiji just doesn’t
want her to get real help. She wants to live in delusion that everything is
ok.”
“Rani saheb…” Tara started. “I have grown up there and Niyati Kumari was
a part of my growing up. She was a very good person once. I don’t know
why she went so blind in her greed… what went wrong. But you should not
hold yourself responsible for Ahilya.”
Rani saheb looked at her, the rage in her leaching to show guilt. Tara knew.
She could see. Her Yuvrani, now Rani saheb, was a woman of
responsibility. And for people she loved, she always held herself
accountable, be that her enemy.
“Does she have money for these frequent rehab visits?”
Rawal saheb’s jaw tightened. “The palace pays the rehab bills. But nothing
else.”
“She lives in a one-bedroom-kitchen house in Baroda, Maan. Think about
it. We can give her a bungalow to live in Devgadh? Or somewhere in
Baroda itself? Mummy would be happy.”
“No, Sami. Did you come here to do this again or say happy birthday to
Tara?”
“My birthday is tomorrow, Rawal saheb,” Tara grinned. “And I am happy to
have Rani saheb put up her court here.”
“Thank you, Tara. Loyalty was always your best suit,” Rawal saheb
taunted. She just bumped shoulders with Rani saheb.
“Rawal saheb!” Samarth strode into the room. Unlike his father, he was
dressed in a more modern avatar for court. In a dove grey dress shirt and
trousers, he looked more like Maan Sinh Devgadh than Siddharth Sinh
Solanki. Except his face. When it split into that excited grin, it was even
more Siddharth than Siddharth himself nowadays.
“Where have you been?” Rawal saheb pushed to his feet, opening his arms
for a back-thumping hug. “I hear you are burning the candle on both ends?”
“Hardly,” Samarth pulled back, folding his hands to Rani saheb. “Where are
the kids?”
“Off with Sharan… but who are you nowadays, Samarth?” Rani saheb
asked with a sly smile. “Interim Rawal in Siddharth’s absence, international
polo star or the swimming sensation of Gwalior?”
Samarth’s face paled. But his smile was back in no time — “That was just
some old school friends one night, Bhabhi.”
“Hmm mm… if you say so.”
Tara frowned. She made a mental note to ask Rani saheb about this later.
“Lunch will be served in half an hour,” Tara got to her feet. “Why don’t you
get settled in your chambers and freshen up before that?”
Shuffling of footsteps and Ajatshatru’s loud voice — “Maarani, Kunwar.”
Tara turned.
“There is news from Antarctica,” he panted, his eyes wide. “Rawal is
gone.”
Her throat dried. The world spun. “Gone…” she managed. “Gone as in lost?
Did they send search teams? Call the Ministry and…”
“Gone, Maarani,” Ajatshatru croaked. “Passed.”
The world went black.

OceanofPDF.com
 37. Rawal Is Gone
— TARA —
“But our embassy is in touch with the Argentinian government…”
“Our High Commissioner is already there at Ushuaia…”
“What about the body?”
Tara’s eyes flew open. The ceiling of her bedchamber.
“No remains are found yet…”
“Would that mean…?”
Her heartbeat picked up. The sheet over her body felt too hot. She threw it
off, stumbling with her feet on the cold ground, her body suddenly feeling
chilly. The voices were soft outside in the sitting area.
“The search operations have concluded. The capsized Zodiac is found in
tatters, body parts of two out of five researchers were recovered. But a
storm is blowing, they have called everyone off.”
“Is there no way there are survivors?”
“Is Siddharth’s body among those found?”
“No. His DNA samples have been found among the dead parts. The
authorities have been searching for 72 hours and nothing more has been
found. Winter is setting in there.”
Tara staggered out of her bedchamber, only to find the gathering.
Ajatshatru, Rawal saheb, Rani saheb, three of Siddharth’s top courtiers, two
officers she did not know, her mother, and Samarth.
“Tara!” Her mother pushed towards her, grabbing her arm. “Sit down.”
“No!” She shook her head violently. “No. Where is Sid? Call his mobile.”
“Tara,” Rani saheb came to her, her face hesitant. Tara did not like it.
“No!” She asserted, pushing Rani saheb’s extended arm off. “No. He knows
all the survival tactics. Tell them to search again. Tell them to search
again!”
“Tara!” Her mother tried to pull her back into the bedchamber but she
resisted. Rani saheb grabbed her shoulders and held her steady, her steely
eyes holding hers — “Shhh, breathe. Tara, breathe…” she scolded, her own
eyes beginning to water.
“No! You are crying! No, Rani saheb. Rawal saheb? Just…” she stopped
short at his face. He was staring at her without any expression. Blank. She
turned her eyes to Samarth. He wasn’t even looking at her.
“Sitting here and talking will do nothing!” She raged. “Ajatshatru, book my
ticket to Ushuaia.”
“I cannot do that, Maarani.”
“Do as I say. Book my ticket or I will book it myself.”
“Tara,” Rani saheb grabbed her cheeks and pulled her face back to her. Tara
stared at her — “It has been confirmed. Blood DNA samples have been
identified in the remains. The water was -4 degrees. Nobody could have
swam or survived.”
“It can’t but… he couldn’t…”
She pulled her into her arms. Tara didn’t cry. She rubbed her back. Tara
didn’t cry. She squeezed her to herself. Tara didn’t cry.
————————————————————
Rawal Siddharth Sinh Solanki, the King of Nawanagar has been
declared dead after a 72-hour and another 36-hour search operation.
The Rawal was on an official research expedition to Antarctica from
the Ministry of Environment, Forest and Climate Change. He served as
the Honorary Chairman of the Central Planning & Conservation
Directorate and this was his fourth expedition to Antarctica. He was
leading a team of 12 scientists. All of them are safe and on their way
home.
It is reported that the Rawal, along with four other team leaders, was
scheduled to visit the remote uninhabited Coats Land on a drilling
mission. Their Zodiac boat is believed to have been capsized between
34°00′W and 36°00′W. The authorities report it was a humpback whale
that led to the capsize. Although complete dead bodies are not found
due to a storm blowing northwards coupled with winter setting in,
body parts of two researchers have been recovered. Blood DNA
samples of the rest of the crew have been identified from the remains
and the water.
Rawal Siddharth Sinh Solanki was 48 years old and is survived by his
wife — Maarani Tara Sinh Solanki, and two sons, Kunwar Samarth
Sinh Solanki and Kunwar Sharan Sink Solanki. Public holiday of five
days has been declared in Nawanagar to mourn Rawal Siddharth Sinh
Solanki. Any further kingdom proceedings will be declared only after
concluding the final rites.
————————————————————
People came. Lots of people. Extended family. Kings. Queens. Royal
families. She did not have the capacity to face anybody. She couldn’t face
herself. Because if she looked in the mirror, she would see hope. That Sid
wasn’t gone. That he couldn’t just be gone like this. But then she would see
the world outside, hear their words, read the documentation that was
continuously coming from Ushuaia. Every word, every evidence, the filing
on his DNA — blood, flesh, skin found.
He was truly gone.
“I don’t want to go!” Sharan came barreling into her chamber, crying,
throwing himself into her body. Tara stumbled back onto the bed, holding
her son’s head into the crook of her neck as he climbed atop her and cried
harder, Hira ben panting behind him. Her face was crumpling too.
Tara felt her own face give away. Those muscles that had remained tight
and tingly through the last ten days began to loosen. Her throat gurgled.
“Mummy please I don’t want to go!” His whole body shook. Tara rubbed
his back, the cotton of his white kurta feeling so like Siddharth’s. It was the
same cloth, these pairs of theirs stitched together. “Tell Samarth bhai to go
alone! I don’t want to go I want Papa, Mummy!”
“Shhh…” patted his head, rocking from side to side to console. Him or
herself, she didn’t know. “Shhh, Kunwar.”
“Please, Mummy!”
She pulled him back and cupped his little face in her hands. Tara tried to
smile for him — “Samarth bhai needs you to hold his hand. He cannot do…
it alone,” she gulped. “Papa did tell you that you are in charge.”
“Until Samarth bhai’s flight lands!” He fought.
“Yes, but still…” Tara thumbed his tears away. “Come on, be a good boy
and a strong Kunwar and go with Hira ben to Samarth bhai. It is only a
small havan.”
“But it means Papa is gone! They are saying it means we give him away to
our purvaj…”
Tara nodded, water coming up her throat and eyes but not flowing. She
licked her lips, taking a deep breath — “This is what we do. We let our
people go when they have to. For them to be at peace. Hmm?” She kissed
his cheek, that same spot he used to complain about when Siddharth
smothered him in kisses and his beard left burns. Tara kissed it a little
harder today, hoping she could leave those burns for their son.
“Go now, be brave and go.”
“You also come.”
“I cannot come right now. I will come tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“That’s how it is. This is the sons’ havan. Hmm?” She kissed his nose.
“Now, go Sharan. Go.”
She released his body and let her palm slide down his back as Hira ben took
his hand. And then he was gone. Leaving silence again.
“Hukum Giriraj Singh Mewad padharya chhe, Maarani!” The guard
announced. Tara stood to her feet, patting her hair back and pulling the
pallu of her saree around her shoulder.
“Aava do,” she called out, padding to the sitting area. The doors opened and
in walked Giriraj Hukum. For the first time he didn’t make a grand
entrance. In a white kurta-pyajama, he quietly closed the door and stood in
front of her. Tara tried to smile at Siddharth’s friend. Couldn’t. So she
nodded, acknowledging him.
“It’s ok,” he said. She shook her head.
“You are ok,” he said. She shook her head.
“You have to go on, more than you had with him, for both the boys.”
She opened her mouth to say something. Anything. But couldn’t get the
words out. She hadn’t been able to speak much to anybody who came with
condolences. Not that many had. Except her mother, Rani saheb of
Devgadh, Rawal saheb and Hira ben, nobody had been allowed direct
access to her. It had taken her a week to come to terms with reality. Now,
with Giriraj Hukum here, she just didn’t know how to speak. And then
panic hit.
“How will I take all the people talking about him to me, Hukum? I won’t be
able to talk to anybody about him again…”
“Sit down.”
She swallowed.
“Tara, sit down.”
She reluctantly lowered herself on the sofa. He sat on the armchair adjacent
to her.
“Siddharth was not alone in living his life. You were his wife, his partner.
The woman he loved and fought the world for. With him going, you have to
be proud of his life and legacy. So if somebody comes to talk to you about
him, don’t talk about his going. Talk about his living. I know it is not easy.
It will not be easy. But if you talk, Sharan will talk. Samarth will talk. Those
boys need to take their cues from you, Tara. Nawanagar’s dynasty has
drawn its strength from its women. You cannot become weak now.”
“All I wanted was a happy life with him…”
“And you had one. You will still have one. Just, a different one.”
She gulped. She was doing that a lot nowadays. But Tara nodded, drawing
strength from the ever-firm eyes of Giriraj Singh Mewad. If he said it like
that, it would be ok.
The doors burst open and Sharan ran in, straight into her bedchamber.
“Sharan?” She called. “What happened?”
No response. She was about to get up and check on him when Hira ben
waddled in — “He is fine, Maarani. The havan is over.”
Tara sat back down, nodding.
“What is he doing inside?”
Hira ben glanced through the open door — “Lying on the bed. He is
sleepy.”
The room went silent. And a few seconds later again the doors burst open.
“See what Samarth is doing!” Her mother bellowed. Tara glanced at Giriraj,
then back up at her mother, who was still panting, as if she had run here.
“What?”
“It’s not even been thirteen full days to Rawal saheb’s death yet and he is
already breaking his oath,” her mother rattled. “He went and locked the
office of the King, then came out with stamps and papers and keys. Tara,
get Sharan and declare that he is Siddharth’s heir. Quick!”
Tara lurched to her feet, astounded.
“What are you waiting for? Where is Sharan…” her mother moved around
frantically. “I told you… years ago I told you this will happen! See now
what is going on! Samarth was a good boy only when it suited him. Now
the moment his father is gone he is showing his true colours…”
“Kunwar Samarth padharya chhe!” Her guard announced.
“No!” Her mother shot out. “Lock the doors to Sharan’s room… what if
he…”
“Aava do,” Tara called. She did not know what would happen. But she
knew Samarth wouldn’t harm Sharan.
“Maarani,” Samarth strode in, the Raj Sinh Mohar stamp of the kingdom a
heavy golden weight carried in one hand, papers and keys in his other hand.
Just as her mother had said. “I need Sharan.”
“Why?” Her mother asked.
“I need to take him to court. We need to secure the throne now that Terma
nu Havan is over. I should have done this that first day, but the confirmation
hadn’t come…”
“What kind of son are you?” Her mother peered at him. “You are not even
grieving fully? Just thinking about throne and kingdom?!”
Samarth’s hard face remained hard — “These were Rawal’s orders. I have
to take Sharan to court and declare him Rawal. Maarani, where is he?”
“I am not going!” Sharan’s angry holler sounded from her bedchamber.
Samarth didn’t wait for her permission but strode in.
“Sharan, get up,” his firm order sounded.
“No!”
“Sharan, we have to go, come on, just ten minutes, come…”
“No! No! No!”
“Sharan you better get up now.”
“No!”
“Sharan!” Samarth yelled. Sharan’s crying. Tara did not move. Nobody did.
More crying.
“No bhai, no!” Sharan sobbed. “I want Papa! I want Papa.”
“What did Papa say about being a Kshatriya?”
“That…” Sharan hiccuped. “We… we are always ready.”
“And are you ready?”
“Samarth bhai…”
“Come with me. All you have to do is sit there. Ok?”
Silence. Blowing of nose. And then Tara saw Sharan walk out of her
bedchamber, Samarth behind him, the paraphernalia in hand. Tara glanced
at Giriraj. He would read her dilemma, wouldn’t he?
“What do you want?” He asked her.
“What do you mean?” She played dumb, not wanting to admit the thoughts
going through her head, even to herself.
“Wait Samarth,” he ordered, making the boys stop at the door.
“Maarani Tara Sinh Solanki,” Giriraj addressed her. “Do you want
Nawanagar to be under a child or under a man who has already proved his
worth?”
“Siddharth had agreed…”
“We all know why he had agreed. He is not here now. You have to decide.”
Silence. She had no answer. Seconds passed. Minutes maybe. She didn’t
know. It was the decision worth a lifetime. Her safety. Her security.
Sharan’s future.
“All those red waves, white waves, dusky waves,” Giriraj pointed at her
ring. Tara held her hand in front of her eyes. “All waves in human mind. All
kinds of waves. All humans have them — small or big, rich or poor, king or
commoner. You know what sets the king apart from the commoner?”
Tara blinked.
“A king will get over their basest thoughts, even at the cost of their own
interest. And choose the greater good. The power to pull yourself out of
yourself and think about others is what makes a human a leader.”
Tara swallowed.
“Samarth will assume the duties of running the kingdom, Maarani Tara. But
should he assume them as your son’s minister or as the King of
Nawanagar?”
“Hukum,” Samarth interrupted. “I have sworn off the throne of Nawanagar.
Sharan will sit on it, and I will be his protector until he grows up and
becomes independent.”
“I am talking to the Maarani of Nawanagar, Kunwar,” Giriraj silenced him.
Tara looked around. At Hira ben. Laagyo Kasumbi no rang… Nadi ne sagar
thava na jagya kod… Vijdi na chamkare motida parovo Paan bai… At her
mother… What about your children… His son would become the king… If
blood relatives can do that to each other, what guarantee is there that that
king’s son wouldn’t do that to your children? At Samarth.
“Decide. You have to decide now, Maarani Tara.”
She startled. Giriraj stood beside her.
“Samarth will be the next Rawal.”
“Tara…” her mother began but she cut her off — “Samarth will become
Rawal.”
“Maarani,” Samarth stepped up to her, “I cannot accept your decision.”
Tara stared into his eyes. They were hard, ready to fight her on this when he
had never fought her on anything, let alone disagree. Her resolve hardened.
“Come with me.”
She did not wait to see if he followed. Tara turned and strode towards
Siddharth’s bedchamber. The King’s bedchamber. His footsteps echoed
behind her.
“Close the door, Samarth.”
He did.
“Do this,” Tara turned to face him. “Do this, Samarth.”
He shook his head — “I assure you that no harm will come to Sharan under
my watch. Or Nawanagar. I promise to rule on his behalf until he grows up.
But I cannot go back on my oath.”
“Your father did not want Sharan to be the king. He wanted you.”
“But he understood why I couldn’t be.”
“He is not here now and this was his wish. Do it for Papa, Samarth. Please,
do it for him.”
He still shook his head — “If anything, I should hold onto my promise
tighter for him.”
Tara made a noise in the back of her throat. “The roof is falling over our
heads! We cannot hold onto our belongings! We have to hold up the roof,
Samarth. Your foiba’s son is waiting to start a rebellion. This is the time of
transition, and more such vultures will come. Nawanagar needs a strong
leader, a king they know and trust. Sharan is not ready…”
“But he will be, Maarani…”
“Please, let me say it.”
“Yes, Maarani.”
“We both know that Sharan is not ready to grow up into politics. Your father
passed on his sports and politics to you, and he passed on his science to
Sharan. He is nine, but it is clear where his aptitude lies. I have been
deluding myself thinking that in time he will learn…”
“You are not deluding yourself, Maarani. He will. At his age even I wasn’t
interested in these affairs…”
“You were holding mock courts and planning ways to make people come to
you.”
“That was childishness.”
Tara folded her hands — “I did this. All those years ago, I did this. I am
sorry…”
“Don’t do this,” Samarth stepped back. “Please, Maarani.”
Her hands slid back down. She stared at him, at a loss for what to do.
“Let me leave with Sharan now. I have kept everybody waiting at court…”
“I relieve you of your oath.”
He stopped. She grabbed the jug from the nightstand, not knowing how old
the water was, poured some in the palm of her — “I, Maarani Tara Sinh
Solanki, relieve you of your oath. And as the Maarani of Nawanagar, I order
you to take the throne of Nawanagar.”
She drank the water, signifying the fulfilling of that oath.
His body stilled. Tara walked up to him and pried the Raj Sinh Mohar, keys
and papers from his fingers, set them on a table and grabbed his face in her
hands. The harshness in his features hardened even more. Those eyes that
had looked like a younger, happier Siddharth’s only a few days ago were
dimmed and empty. She had seen it every day. Even when she had
embraced Sharan and patted his back, she hadn’t been able to do that to
Samarth.
“Samarth,” Tara pressed her thumbs into the hollows of his cheeks. His
bristly jaw left indentations on her palms. He looked down. Tear drops wet
the back of her hands. Tara nudged his face up and the eyes of a boy stared
back at her. A small little boy, without his mother, and now with his father
gone.
“Rawal Samarth Sinh Solanki,” she pronounced. “Papa wanted that. I want
that. And you will do that.”
His legs gave away. For the first time, Tara saw this rock of a boy collapse
in her arms until she couldn’t take his weight and he was sitting on the bed,
his shoulders shaking. Tara pulled his head into her stomach, pushing his
muffled cries in. He could cry, but he couldn’t let anybody hear it. Not now
when he was going to be king.
“No…” his muffled voice was buried inside her. “No, no, no!” He sobbed.
“Papa.” Tara gulped, pushing the back of his head harder, letting him
scream quietly. Long minutes passed. His body stopped shaking. His face
dropped back and red-rimmed eyes stared up at her. Tara caressed his hair,
pushing the floppy strands back. She thumbed his eyes clean. In this
moment, she saw no difference between Sharan and him. No difference
between Sharan’s childish bellow for his father and his mature eyes that
asked her why his father went away like that. Tara hardened.
“Now be a good boy, stand up, and walk with me.”
Again, she did not wait to see if he followed. Tara helped him up, grabbed
the paraphernalia from the table and walked out. The sitting area was just as
she had left it. But she didn’t stop. She exited the chambers and kept
walking, down the alleys and the lounges, with staff, chaperones, subjects
staring at her. With guards standing to attention. She walked, and did not
stop, entering the court of Nawanagar where the ancient throne of
Siddharth’s ancestors sat.
The whole court came to its feet, seats filled, officers bursting from the
viewing gallery. Court ministers, viziers, government representatives,
bureaucrats, magistrates — all in white and mourning the last of Siddharth’s
13 days. Ajatshatru stood by the throne but his eyes widened. Tara knew
why, because she could hear Samarth’s footsteps behind her.
She climbed the steps to the throne, turned and stood in front of everyone.
“I, Tara Sinh Solanki, Maarani of Nawanagar, hand over the Raj Sinh
Mohar of Nawanagar to Kunwar Samarth Sinh Solanki and declare him
your next Rawal.”
Silence.
Tara offered the heavy royal gold stamp to Samarth, whose palms opened to
accept it. She moved aside and gestured to the throne. He hesitated.
She nodded. He moved to the throne, on slow, almost skittish footsteps.
Tara waited.
“Sit, Samarth.” She urged.
And slowly, he lowered himself on the royal throne of his ancestors, the
throne of his father. Tara gulped, but did not weaken. She reached out,
smeared her thumb in the red kunku paste in a platter beside the throne and
smeared it up his forehead.
“Rawal Samarth Sinh Solanki ni — Jai!”
“Rawal Samarth Sinh Solanki ni — Jai!”
“Rawal Samarth Sinh Solanki ni — Jai!”

OceanofPDF.com
 38. The Queen of Hearts
— TARA —
“Rajmata Tara Sinh Solanki ni — Jai!”
“Rajmata Tara Sinh Solanki ni — Jai!”
“Rajmata Tara Sinh Solanki ni — Jai!”
For the first time in Nawanagar, the chants reverberated with her name. As
Tara passed the court, those chants grew louder. Rawal Maan Sinh, Rani
saheb, Giriraj Hukum, so many royals. Her mother, Hira ben, so many lady
chaperones who had come and gone from her chambers over the years.
Pandyaji, Purohitji, all the priests who had come for the havan. She passed
them and kept walking.
She kept her head held high and kept going, heads bowing to her, hands
folding to her — ministers, officers, guards, staff, subjects, chaperones.
Tara didn’t stop. She strode down the alleys and the lounges, through
people’s eyes stopping in their tracks for her, through the deluge that was
building inside her. She hiccupped and turned the last corner, pushed the
library door open and burst in with a sob.
She shut the door with her back and let out a screaming sob. Her legs
collapsed. She thought she was losing consciousness.
One day you will be the person, the queen you are meant to be. And that
day you will remember my words.
“You were right!” She howled, pressing her arms into her stomach and
folding into herself, saliva pooling out of her open mouth. Animal sounds
left her insides, and she kept crying, her whole being shuddering. Because
now she had lost him. Not only him, but all those moments that she would
have shared with him. All those things that he should have known. All those
things that he should have seen. That his Nawanagar was on the right path.
That his Samarth would rule. That he was right. That she had become the
person he had seen inside her.
“Sid!” She cried. “Sid… S…id.”
————————————————————
The first few weeks without Sid were easy to pass. She could convince
herself that he was out on a work trip. In horrifying moments at night,
alone, in his bedchamber, among his pillows and shawl, having cried
enough that nothing came, she could even tell herself that he was being
mean to her just because of what she had put him through for years, and
hiding somewhere to make her repent.
She made many scenarios in her head to get through those nights. So that by
day, she could stand tall for the boys.
Slowly and steadily, Nawanagar began to return to its normal routine. Court
resumed. Samarth took over, like he had already been doing in his father’s
absence. Sharan… after some initial resistance, got back to his home
schooling.
Now she wouldn’t send him to boarding, Tara thought selfishly to herself.
Siddharth had been pushing for it. They had had many a discussions and
heated fights over it. Now, she hated it that she could keep Sharan back at
the cost of Siddharth not being here, but she could not fathom a reality
where her child was away from her. Especially when none of them were ok.
Tara crossed the month after Siddharth’s death with these stories for herself.
What she dreaded was the time beyond that. Because then what would she
tell herself at night? He had never stayed away for so long…
“Rajmata,” Ajatshatru walked down the paved path of Anand Baag. She had
taken to spending more and more time here, among the pomegranate trees
that Siddharth had grown for her. The sun kept her sane and being among
nature made her feel close to the man who had been the biggest lover of
nature.
“Yes?” She turned from her laptop where she had done nothing but moved
the cursor around for an hour.
“There is a letter for you.”
She frowned. “Show me.”
He hesitated.
“What is wrong?”
“It is stamped from before Rawal’s passing. From Port Lockroy.”
Tara’s heart thumped. She stood to her feet — “Give me, now.”
He stepped up into the pergola and deposited the international airmail
envelope in her hand. Just like the last time. She swallowed.
“Leave me, please.”
“Should I send Hira ben?”
“No. Thank you.”
Tara did not look at him. She knew the man worried about her. But if she
was to break down, she would like to do it on her own again. Tara hardened
her stance and looked away, effectively dismissing him. And waited.
Waited. Waited.
He finally left.
Her hands trembled. Tara brought the letter to her nose and sniffed. Paper
and glue. Just like last time. Port Lockroy stamp. His name scrawled on the
side. Just like last time.
She carefully tore the envelope open and out fell his letter. Tara clamped her
teeth over her lower lip, swallowing the sob that was rising. Not now. If she
began to cry, she would never be able to read this letter.
She took a deep breath, then unfolded the paper. His handwriting. Lots of
words, lots of sentences, lots of paragraphs. Yes, him. The words blurred.
Tara scrambled on the table for her glasses and pulled them on. The
wording was still blurry. Not because of her tears but because of the dirt on
her glasses. She removed them and began to clean the surface with her
saree pallu. And broke down. He would clean it. He would always clean it.
“I hate you!” Her shoulders rattled. “I hate you for spoiling me.”
Her stomach trembled as she took the letter delicately between her fingers
and began reading.

Dear Tara,
I tried calling you before my network conked out. Couldn’t. I tried
leaving messages but most of them bounced back into my inbox. Today
the satellite phones are not working here at Lockroy. And initially when
I bought this letter to write, I wanted to write it as a joke. But I have a
feeling… And I want to tell you some things.
I know we are going to read this letter together and you will call me
sappy. But in the event that that does not happen, I want you to be
strong and happy. For Sharan, as well as Samarth. I know you will
manage. You have managed a whole life alone, fighting the toughest
battles of your life without me. I know you will manage this too. And I
know you will teach Sharan to manage. As long as he has you, I am not
worried. But take Samarth along too. Ever since you stepped into the
palace, I have seen the unsaid distance between you two. I know there
was tension and still remains, due to his oath. And your fears. I do not
ask you to share the throne with him, but if I am not around, please
share your love with him.
Tara slapped a palm over her mouth, her eyes blurring.

Make him your own. By now you know, that once he belongs to
somebody, he never lets go. My son hasn’t seen much of family. He
hasn’t seen any of what a mother is. All he has known is me. He will
remain strong and steadfast in whatever situation life throws him into.
But Tara, even at 26, he is still a child. He will need a parent. He will
need you.
In any case, I know you are going to laugh at me for writing all this. So
let me come to the point. I saw penguins waddling here and took a
picture. They miss you. Subbu says he misses Nadeem, but that’s
because I haven’t broken his teeth yet. Antarctica is still beautiful, but
now that I have been here with you, I realised Antarctica for me has
become you. Once Samarth and Sharan are on their own, I would like
us to come back here again. The tents are calling our name.

A bellow tore out of her mouth, her glasses fogging up with the number of
times she had exhaled through her mouth.

Alright, I have to go now. Last two penguin keychains are left here and
I need to snag them or Sharan will demand we bring a penguin home.
Love,
Sid

Tara set the letter carefully down, not risking it getting wet or crumpled.
She slid it under her laptop, then pulled off her glasses and rubbed her face.
“Phew, phew…” she took deep breaths, willing for this to pass. She had just
made peace with it. “Phew…” she breathed through her mouth. “Phew…”
“Maarani!” Samarth’s holler startled her. “Maarani!”
Tara snapped to her feet and began running, meeting him halfway under the
pomegranate trees' canopy. His mouth was open, his eyes alight. He stared
at her panting.
“What?” She asked. He continued to pant, his mouth still open. Tara
gripped his arm — “Samarth, you are scaring me…”
“Papa called.”
“Papa?”
He nodded, his face that of a child, eyes round — “He survived, he called
from a Chilean research station. Our embassies in Chile and Argentina have
activated a rescue mission. I am leaving for Ushuaia…”
“Wait, wait,” she held both his arms. “Say it again. Slowly.”
He smiled — “I am bringing him home. He is alive.”
“Papa?”
“Papa.”
“Are you…” she glanced back at the letter fluttering under her laptop. “You
are not… it’s not a lie, right?”
“No, Maarani. Papa is alive. He is right now being air-lifted to Ushuaia
along with one other British researcher. Both of them are alive.”
Her legs began to give away. Tara felt her eyes close of their own accord
but Samarth was there to hold her up — “Maarani, careful…” he helped her
back to her table and chair. She settled there, breathing hard, gulping water
that he held to her lips. The letter brushed her fingers and life returned.
“Samarth?” She turned her face up to him.
“Yes, Maarani?”
Tara clasped his hand and his fingers wrapped around hers. Tight. A baby’s
firm grip. A relieved sigh left her lips. “It’s Papa, right? You confirmed?”
“Yes.”
“He is coming home.”
He laughed, his head falling into her shoulder, embracing her for the first
time — “Papa is coming home.”

OceanofPDF.com
 39. Can You Still Read My Eyes?
— TARA —
The Rawal was coming back to Nawanagar 46 days after he had left. The
longest 46 days without him.
Tara had lived that month of his death dreaming up scenarios just like this.
She had convinced herself of daydreams at night, just to put herself to sleep.
And now, in the five days since his news came, she had spent every waking
moment fending off nightmares playing in bright technicolour. What if this
was a dream? What if this was one of those nights when she had convinced
herself he was coming back, gone to sleep and nobody had woken her up?
What if he was indeed alive and coming back but something happened to
him on the way? So close and yet so far.
Such vivid were some of her nightmares that her body trembled even in the
light of day. Seeing it happen all over again. Over and over again.
“Rajmata, the procession has reached Narsee Chowk,” Hira ben alerted her.
Tara’s heart thumped, ready to jump out of her mouth. She patted her hair
back in place. Checked her bun one last time. She circled her pallu around
her shoulders, running her hand down the thick, gold-embroidered fabric.
The richest cloth in all of Nawanagar, the queen’s cloth. All real gold with
mauve and olive buttas.
“Papa has commmme!” Sharan made a beeline out of her bedchamber even
before she could take one full step.
“Kunwar, easy,” she warned, not wanting him to run out in front of the
massive gathering. The palace was filled to the brim today, even the alleys
ripe. The grounds were heavy and the streets of Nawanagar… she had seen
live footage on TV. It looked like every household was out, flowers in hand,
the town squares all decorated.
Tara schooled her features and strode out, the ghunghroo in her ankles
chiming with her footsteps. She had never worn them out in public before.
Today… for some reason… she had tied them on under her saree.
Sharan waited for her outside the chambers, jumping out of his feet to run.
But he understood protocol. He understood that by the privilege of birth, he
had to act a certain way, whatever his emotion. He was learning, just like
she was.
Tara nodded at him, and he fell in step beside her, a crowd of chaperones
behind them. They walked, and the alleys parted for them as guards cleared
the way. Drums and shehnais were loud, the palace band ready. They
navigated the palace and stood at the main entrance, just as the procession
cheers amplified. Chants for him amplified.
Tara kept her eyes out for his car. Instead, the procession parted, and he
crossed the palace gates on foot. Her chest froze. It was him. All of him.
Him. She gulped, blinking rapidly to fend off the water. He had lost weight,
so much weight. But the perfectly trimmed beard and hair, the white of his
kurta, the tilt of his chin, the sparkle in his eyes were all the same. He
graced every being waiting for him with his smile. That smile. That public
smile. Real but so different from what he reserved for her and the boys.
Tara stepped out of the threshold and into the sun, the ladies behind her.
And Sharan, the child who had seen this flip of fate with her, unable to
resist in his Kunwar’s mould, broke apart and ran.
“Papa!”
She saw Siddharth’s public smile stutter, and then his eyes were lit up like
the very sun above him, opening his arms for his son. Sharan threw himself
into his father’s body, and Siddharth embraced him, not as tight as he would
have liked to. Tara knew he was containing himself, thumping Sharan’s
back valiantly in public.
Samarth stepped out from behind his father and said something to his
brother with a laugh. Sharan pushed back and laughed too, taking the other
side of his father. And that’s when Siddharth’s eyes reached her. Even from
this distance, she saw everything in them. Everything, and solace. Tara
blinked, clearing the sheen that rose in her eyes.
“Bade Rawal Siddharth Sinh Solanki ni — Jai!”
“Bade Rawal Siddharth Sinh Solanki ni — Jai!”
“Rajmata Tara Sinh Solanki ni — Jai!”
He walked up the palace driveway, the palace steps, and stood in front of
her. The same as he had left, just thinner, and fatigued. Tara accepted the
aarti thaal that Hira ben passed and fulfilled every ritual prescribed in the
book to welcome the king home after battle. She wanted to throw herself
into his body and cry. She just passed the thaal back, folded her hands and
bowed her head to him. She wanted to hold onto him and never let him go.
She just bent down, touched his feet, felt the fleeting touch of his hand on
her shoulder, and let go.
The palace band cued. And Siddharth turned, along with Samarth and
Sharan. The three stood to attention as the band played their dynasty
anthem. Everything paused, Nawanagar’s melody heavy in the air. It ended
with a flourish, and the announcement for lunch was made.
In celebration of their Rawal, now Bade Rawal, coming home, all of
Nawanagar was invited for lunch in the palace grounds. The acres and acres
of land behind the main palace had been converted into sit-down eateries
under luxurious tents.
“Samarth,” Siddharth called out before stepping foot inside the palace.
“Yes, Rawal.”
“Go and see that everybody is eating well.”
“Yes, Rawal.” He took three steps down and nodded to his brother. “Come
with me, Sharan.”
Tara smiled, eyeing the brothers as they disappeared around the palace,
their chaperones, guards and courtiers behind them. Only then did
Siddharth step foot inside the palace.
All at once, his ministers and courtiers surrounded him, Ajatshatru holding
them off.
“Bade Rawal,” he addressed. “Lunch is served whenever you are ready.”
“I will take a bath first,” he ordered. “Have everybody go for lunch. We will
sit for court this evening.”
“Jevi tamari aagya.”
————————————————————
“Where is Rawal?” Tara went on asking, walking down the alley leading to
their chambers.
“He hasn’t returned from here,” was the response at every juncture. Finally,
she reached their chambers and asked the two men standing guard there.
“Where is Rawal?”
“Still inside, Rajmata.”
She frowned, pushing the doors open and striding in. They closed behind
her with a soft thud. It had been an hour since he had gone to bathe. Was
something wrong? As per Samarth’s update, he had survived hypothermia
and external injuries. All his other reports had come normal. Tara was now
worried as she walked into his bedchamber. Empty.
“Sid?” She knocked on the bathroom door. No response. She pushed it
open.
Empty.
“Sid?” Her heart rate spiked. Was this a dream? Was he not home? She
glanced down at her saree. Golden and rich and heavy. She couldn’t be
wearing this if he wasn’t here.
Her steps quickened, her heart galloping even faster. She pushed open the
door to her bedchamber and stopped short. A sigh left her lips.
“Sid,” she almost sobbed under her breath. Because there he was, sleeping
on her bed, still in his towel. Her breath now came in pants, the adrenaline
from her search and the last month finally leaking away.
She padded to him, standing over him, her eyes tracing every line and
hollow of his body. There were scars and angry bruises, standing stark
against his pale skin. His arms had lost all muscle. His chest looked gaunt,
ribs beginning to protrude.
She slipped out of her footwear and carefully lay down beside him. Far
enough to observe him, close enough to feel the faint vibrations of his
breath. There were dark circles under his eyes, now prominent when he was
in repose. The bridge of his nose had a cut on it, healing now. His lips were
chapped, almost white in contrast with his beard. The lines around his eyes
were smoothened in sleep but she could see their indentations.
And he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. More handsome
than that Sid who had volunteered to go kayaking with her on the banks of
Mahi. Tara closed her eyes, gulping all the oxygen in the air because
whatever form he had returned to her in, he had. And that was enough. That
was everything.
“Tara.”
Her eyes popped open. His eyes were on her, his face turned to her. Her
body began to disintegrate.
“Tell me.”
That voice. His voice. Those words.
“Can you still read my eyes?”
His arm opened — “Come.”
She burst into a sob and went on his chest, shaking. He pulled her wholly
atop himself, embracing her in both arms. And her stomach vibrated over
his, cries coming from deep down inside her. That’s when she knew that the
worst cries and the happiest sobs came from the stomach. Her saliva was
pooling in his throat, her tears were soaking his beard, it was a mess and she
continued to make more of it. And he continued to rub her back.
“Enough, Tara, quiet now.”
She shook her head, leaving snot all over him. Her hiccups still didn’t
subside.
“Tara,” he warned.
Her sobs still didn’t relent.
“Enough,” he commanded. She pulled her head up from his chest and
glared — “Don’t you use that tone on me! If I could, I would lock you up in
a cell for what you did to us!”
His body vibrated.
“Don’t laugh!”
“Ok.”
“And don’t smile like that.”
“Ok.”
“And don’t look at me like that.”
“Like how?”
“Like that.”
His eyes softened. He ran a hand down the back of her head and cupped the
nape of her neck, holding her face and eyes to his — “Nothing happened. I
am fine.”
“And then you went and scared me even more!” She rattled on. “Why are
you sleeping here? I went into your chamber and thought…”
“I wanted to fall asleep here.”
She shut her mouth. His other hand cupped her cheek, wiping the remnants
of her tears — “This is a nice place to lie down and forget everything.”
She sniffled — “Your bed was my place to do that.”
“You want to go and sleep there?”
“I want to sleep wherever you are.”
“Good.” He pulled her head down and into the crook of his neck, stroking
the hair at her temple. She sighed, breathing in his scent, his skin, his heat.
This had almost gone.
“You didn’t come down for lunch.”
“I was tired.”
“Did you eat something?”
“I am not hungry.”
“I have made puri-shaak.”
“Maybe some time later.”
She smiled, her fingers running down his arm, down the raw remnants of
his wounds.
“Are you hurt badly?”
“Too late to ask now, isn’t it?” He grabbed her hips and wiggled her atop
himself. She whacked his shoulder. “What did the doctors say?”
“No lasting damage. I was hypothermic but recovered after two days in the
hospital in Ushuaia. Only, I will have to undergo extra medicals for the next
expedition.”
She shot up — “There is no next expedition.”
His eyes glinted with amusement.
“It’s not a joke, Sid. You are not leaving this palace ever again, forget
Nawanagar.”
“As Maarani commands,” he mocked.
“I am not Maarani anymore.”
“Not in title, but you truly became Nawanagar’s Maarani now.”
She shrugged, pushing up from him — “Giriraj said something like queen
of hearts.”
He tugged her wrist and she fell back on his chest — “You can rule as many
heads as you want, Tara. But you are the queen of only one heart.”
“Sappy, Sid, very sappy,” she grinned, laughing into his beard. Then she
turned solemn — “But you are never going on another one of these trips.
Expedition, research, whatever it is… never.”
“Shhh…” he pulled her into the hollow of his throat again. And she held
tighter than she ever had. “I am going to die a very old, very wrinkly and
very happy man right here in this bed. Eating ice cream and demanding
rum.”
“You mean older than you already are?”
“You calling me old after what I just did in Antarctica?”
“Just stating facts.”
“Then state them kissing me.”
She let him tip her chin up to him and his tongue invaded her mouth even
before his lips had fully captured hers. Tara surrendered. She was born to
surrender to him. His fingers found her nape again, and even though she
was on top of him, he controlled every moment of that kiss, holding her
steady. Pleasure like she had never experienced coursed through her being.
It wasn’t just her body that rejoiced, it was something deep, something
more. Something rawer than her heart. Something visceral in her rejoiced.
His fingers found her bun and she pulled back — “Don’t spoil my hair, I
have to go ba…”
He had tugged her hair down even before she could complete that sentence,
flipping her on her back. “I hate these uptight buns.”
“We can’t all please you, Bade Rawal.”
“You can. Try again,” he fluffed her curls out and around her, burying his
fingers in them as he took her mouth again, his hips parting hers to settle in.
He reached for her saree. “Get all this off!”
“I have to go down, Sid.”
“I have to go down first,” he tore the pallu off, pins and all.
“Sid!” She gasped, laughing. “You did not just say that!”
“The doctor advised hydration,” he grinned, tearing her clothes off her
body. “Did I tell you that?”
“No way!” Tara laughed, feeling him peel layers off her until she was
completely naked in front of him. Before she could stop him, he had
crawled down and taken a long, deep swipe. Her legs bucked, her
ghunghroo tinkling, laughter reverberating through their chamber — both
hers and his.
“Sid!” She moaned, moving to the rhythm of his mouth. “Come up here.”
“Hydration,” he insisted. And she was on the verge of unravelling.
“No!” She gripped his hair and pulled him up. “I need you inside me this
time.”
The amusement in his eyes faded. He looked at her with an anguished
intensity. Hard. Ready. Consuming. The fire that hadn’t burned there in
years was now roaring. She knew her own fire hadn’t burned this hot. Ever.
A moment. Two. Then he pushed to his feet in front of the bed and threw off
his towel. Her gaze zeroed in on him, ready, even with the fatigue dripping
down his being.
Tara didn’t have the time to think then as he pushed her legs apart, fell over
her and took her in one bold move. She screamed, not ready for that
invasion after months. He swallowed her scream whole, going slow but
hard. She could feel his leached strength, the way he was already sweating.
But there was determination there that was stronger than ever.
“Yes, Sid, yes…” she bucked, pushing up and meeting him thrust for thrust.
He grabbed her breast and stabbed his mouth on one peak, his hips
matching the stabs. Slow, hard, conserving strength and spreading pleasure.
Tara reached down and fondled him, doing the same for him, their bodies
tangled up and alive, pleasuring each other until everything turned dark and
sparks burst out in front of their eyes. When she came down, her mouth still
open, his mouth was buried in her neck, his teeth stuck on her flesh.
She panted, holding him close to her bosom, caressing his hair.
“Still think I am old?” his head came up, that naughty smile back in place.
Tara felt her heart melt into mush and flow into him all over again.
Tenderness infiltrated her being. She reached down and kissed his forehead.
And when she pulled back, he was preening red. Just like his son.
He crawled up until they lay on the same pillow, their bodies tangled, their
heads turned to each other. Tara caressed the side of his face, stroking those
features that she had resigned to only see in his sons.
“You know,” she swallowed. “So much of you is in Samarth, and so much
in Sharan. Your features, your moods, your mannerisms, your sounds. And
yet, when I put both of them together, I could not see more than a sliver of
you.”
“Everything is alright now, Tara,” he held her wrist and kissed her palm.
“You made sure of it.”
“You wanted it. You wrote me a letter.”
“You did it before you got that letter. And I don’t remember asking you to
give the throne.”
She looked down. Siddharth held her chin on his knuckle and nudged it up
— “You made it alright, Tara. As I believed you would.”
“Are you happy?”
“You did this for my happiness?”
“I did it for what is right. For Nawanagar. And for the boys.”
He smiled — “The boys?”
She smiled. “The boys.”
He thumbed the side of her eye, nothing left to say. And they breathed
together, having crossed not just these turbulent weeks but the last ten
stormy years.
“Sid?”
“Yes?”
“When did you know that I am worthy of being Nawanagar’s queen?”
A pause. Then — “When you volunteered to come with me to the uranium
facility. It would have been painful for the both of us, to be so close to each
other in an isolated place. And yet you came, just because it was a matter of
my safety. That’s when I knew, that deep down you are the kind of woman
who would stand tall in the time of need, without thinking about yourself.
That’s a queen, Tara. That’s you. You just didn’t know it until the time of
need arose."
“I don’t ever want it to arise again.”
“As Maarani commands.”
“And you are not going on any expeditions again.”
“Yes, Maarani.”
“Shut up, Sid.”
“Yes, Maarani.”

OceanofPDF.com
 40. Back Seat
— TARA —
“Meru toh dage pan jena mann na dage re, Paan bai,” Hira ben sang,
pushing the curtains of her windows open. Tara sat up, rubbing sleep from
her eyes. Thank god Siddharth had gotten up at the crack of dawn,
showered and left for his office. Or Hira ben would have seen her Bade
Rawal buck naked sleeping over the sheets.
Tara made a mental note to start making him dress for bed at night. The
palace routine was beginning to take over and now that they were sleeping
in the same chamber again, Hira ben or another chaperone would be a
constant in their private space.
Or you could ask them to stop coming in to massage you and let me do the
honours… she could almost hear Siddharth’s suggestion whispered in her
ear. He had offered it the first morning they had woken up together and she
had been petrified of Leela walking in. She hadn’t of course. Everybody
had known that the time was delicate to resume routine.
Now, not so much.
“Mar ne bhange re bhramand re…” Hira ben continued, her heavy, soothing
voice trumping any birdsong.
“Meaning, Hira ben?”
“I have sung enough of these for you to start understanding them by now,
Rajmata.”
She smiled — “I still like it when you teach me.”
The old woman grinned, proud and embarrassed at the same time. But she
recovered soon enough, widening her eyes sternly — “It means that a mind
is worth being called a mind when it can remain as firm as Meru mountain.
Then may the whole universe explode… but a mind must remain firm.
That’s a strong head.”
“Jot re jota ma divaso,” Tara continued singing the couplet, the ending lines
same as all the previous ones. Hira ben joined her — “Viya re giya sati
Paan bai… ekvees hajar chhasso ne kal thaashe.”
————————————————————
Tara walked down the corridor to Chandi Haveli. Chaperones stopped and
talked to her, women coming to the palace temple for the daily poojan of
Dhwarkadhishji in grace of saving their Bade Rawal bowed their heads to
her, the courtiers that passed smiled respectfully.
She returned them all with as much grace as she could manage. She hadn’t
had to try hard before. Now, she did. And it felt rewarding when those
women turned back again and again to add something or speak over each
other to get her attention. Tara had lived life solo even in the bustle of this
palace for so long, that this new community brought excited butterflies as
well as frying nerves in her stomach all at once.
“Rajmata,” the guard outside Chanda Haveli bowed to her. “Ghoshna
karu?’
“Naa,” she smiled, and entered without an announcement.
“…and the waves kept coming to a point where hypothermia didn’t matter.”
Siddharth’s soft recollection reached her ears. Tara stopped. She had heard
the story. Lived the horror once with him. Then decided to put it behind her.
And yet, her feet stalled now.
“How long were you in the water?” Rawal Maan Sinh asked.
“Long enough. Me, Pernia and Arnold. To a point we all floated together,
holding on. But when we finally latched onto a shore, Pernia was nowhere
to be found.”
“So, gone?”
Silence.
“And then?”
“The moment we felt the whale begin to flip underneath our Zodiac,
something happened and I had snapped the buckles on my survival
backpack around my stomach. Normally we keep it unsnapped. It was
waterproof, so Arnold and I had a Mylar blanket to share, fire maker and
some food. We had to first survive and make sure our bodies were warm
enough. Then Arnold developed a fever. It took us days to be confident to
start scouting ways to get to the nearest inhabited land. That happened to be
the Chilean Research Station as per our coordinates.”
“You set off on foot?”
“Hmm.”
“In the snow?”
“There was no other option. When our fire fuel and food was over, we were
dead. And winter was setting in. We would be dead either way.”
“How many days did it take?”
A snort — “Frankly, I didn’t keep count. I was delirious. We walked half
that distance without food. But the backtracking says it was nine days.”
“And when you reached the Chilean Research Station?”
“The last set of researchers was going to fly out the next day,” Siddharth
laughed. “One more day and we would have been stranded.”
“Tara told us that it was a Ministry rule that nobody could travel alone in
Antarctica. A team member would always accompany you…”
“This was supposed to be a simple day mission. Nothing major,”
Siddharth’s small laugh. “Subbu gave me hell, but they were all busy. So I
decided to go alone.”
“Last time Tara had gone with you.”
“Yes.”
Tara shuddered, breathing a long breath out and striding into their sight.
“Rawal saheb,” she brightened a smile for him. “Why did Rani saheb not
come?”
“Ragini has her term exams. And you know Sami, she is freaked out about
taking attention away from the kids.”
“She is right in being careful, she is scared,” Tara sat down beside
Siddharth, in his side view. “Any news about Ahilya?”
His mouth tightened — “Still in rehab.”
“And what about Vanraj?” Siddharth asked. “Does he come to meet her?”
“If he got the time from his women and his wines,” he scoffed.
“They had a golden opportunity, Maan. You had left it all to them. Vanraj
was a brilliant strategist as his party’s lobbyist. He could have done
wonders in administration. Niyati had the talent of holding people. They
could have been good rulers. But they wasted the opportunity.”
“Wasted? They pushed our hotels and half of the kingdom coffers into debt.
I am still getting the hotels out. Thanks to Sami, I don’t have to worry about
being cheated. She reads all my correspondences, signs on my behalf if I
cannot, gleams everything before it comes under my hand. Some of my
own people have tried conning me.”
“The upside is, your children will learn better now.”
“They will. I have already started Ragini’s formal education in polity and
logic. Her tutors come to the palace on the weekends. I don’t want a repeat
of Niyati and me. Whatever the future holds, both my children should be
equipped and reasonably moralistic to take it on.”
“Good.”
“Now leave that, when are you all coming to Devgadh? Holi is coming.”
“You’ll have to climb on the fire engine and spray water all over Devgadh,”
Tara demanded.
“That’s if I can see where I am spraying.”
“Don’t worry, it’s Holi. You don’t need to aim and shoot,” Siddharth
spluttered. In retaliation, the King of Devgadh picked an almond from a
bowl and aimed it right at her husband. On his nose. Tara burst out
laughing.
“Rawal Samarth padhare chhe!” The guard announced.
“What have you done Siddharth?” Rawal Maan lamented. “Taken my best
polo prodigy and made him into your Rawal!”
“He can do both, I’m sure…”
That was the moment Samarth walked in, done with court, dressed in his
usual formals. His smile widened when his polo guru stood to his feet to
embrace him.
“You are staying, Rawal? I have to show you my new Marwari horse.”
“I came to meet your father after his death-defying stunts in Antarctica but
ok, I’ll stay to see your horse. How are you managing both?”
“It’s temporary, so I am not too worried.”
“No,” Siddharth cut in. “It’s not temporary.”
Samarth blinked at him. Tara sat up, feeling the sudden dip in the room’s
temperature.
“Papa…”
“You are the Rawal of Nawanagar now.”
“But you are back.”
“And I will be here to oversee everything. But I am Bade Rawal now.”
“That was a title created for Dada Sarkar because he couldn’t work on a
daily basis.”
“I will happily carry it, and I will work on a daily basis. But you are the
Rawal now. You sat on that throne, your Rajmata did your tilak. It’s done.”
Samarth’s eyes found hers, as if he expected her to retaliate.
“Papa is right, Samarth. You are doing a great job.”
He scrambled — “But… I want to play polo.”
“Nobody is stopping you,” Siddharth intoned. “Go and travel, play as much
as you want. I traveled for my thesis, research and then the Ministry too. I
was working remotely, and singlehandedly. But you have me here so you
can remain relaxed.”
Samarth went silent. Tara could see he did not like this. Was it a hangover
from his oath or something else, she couldn’t tell. But it was definitely
something.
Siddharth got to his feet, walking up to him and holding his shoulder. Their
heights matched, their features matched, all that was different were their
builds and their hair.
“You have me, beta. I am not going anywhere. But very few kings are
fortunate enough to get to see their sons ruling. I get to see your rule, I get
to see Nawanagar achieve new heights in your reign. I get to live in it.”
Samarth’s throat worked. Siddharth was rattling full speed and Samarth
looked like he wanted to run away from here. What was still troubling him?
“I think it’s a great idea,” Rawal Maan piped in, catching Samarth’s gaze.
“Think about it, your father is old. Let him take a back seat. He needs to
retire now.”
“Like you retired from polo,” Siddharth ribbed.
“Because of my eyes.”
“Blame it on the eyes when your age catches up.”
As they traded barbs, Tara kept her eyes steady on Samarth, his eyes
downcast. Nothing gave. She couldn’t make out what he was thinking. With
Sharan, she knew immediately. He was an open book. This child, this boy…
she didn’t have practise, but she would have liked to believe that she sensed
his unease. Tara was about to ask him when his firm voice reverberated —
“As you wish, Papa.”
Even as Siddharth set his hand atop his head and shook it playfully before
pulling him into his arms, Tara saw Samarth’s eyes close in something
strong. Something that looked like regret.
————————————————————
“Aao jo, Papa,” Tara helped her father down the three gentle steps at the
west end of the palace. Closest to his room. He could walk perfectly, had a
healthy heart, but the trauma of the last month had made him look weaker.
Tara, her mother, and everybody in the palace had tried to keep most of the
news from him. But they couldn’t have hidden that his son-in-law had
passed away. The same son-in-law who now walked behind them.
“Take care,” her father turned to Siddharth, extending a hand. Siddharth
smiled, clasping it and patting it with his other hand — “You take care. I am
completely fine.”
Her father chuckled, ducking inside the open door of the car where Samarth
and Sharan both caught his hands and began chatting. Tara took a deep
breath, eyeing the three. Samarth had never treated her parents with
anything less than respect and affection. He called them Kaka and Kaki, as
opposed to Sharan’s Nana and Nani. But he behaved just as affectionately
and responsibly as a young grandson ought to.
Only, she had never been able to become the bridge between them.
“Tara?” Her mother’s voice startled her.
She turned. And smiled. Her mother’s face wasn’t smiling though. She
knew why.
“I will never not think like a common woman. That’s the only life I have
seen, you are the only child I have looked out for. But now… I realise
that… by forcing my worldview on you, I may have destroyed your chances
at becoming bigger than you could have…” she eyed Samarth laughing
with her father.
“It’s alright now,” Tara shook her head. “But go home knowing that
everything here is very good. My husband, my home, my children, my
kingdom, everything is very good, Mummy. I am also good.”
Her mother’s eyes, that were never so emotional, filled with tears. She
wasn’t a woman to show much physical affection. None of them were. And
yet she snaked an arm around her shoulder and squeezed tight.
“Haalo, now we are getting late,” she sniffled. “I have taught Hira ben my
Raab recipe. She will make it for Rawal saheb every day. Make sure he
drinks it, once on empty stomach in the morning and then before sleeping at
night. He will be back to his old self in no time.”
“Yes, Mummy.”
Her mother glanced behind her shoulder and nodded. Tara knew Siddharth
stood there, listening to them. Even her mother knew. The apology was not
just for her ears. Tara’s eyes felt watery. She thought she had cried enough
for a lifetime these past months, and yet, as her parents were departing, she
felt like being married all over again. This time more so, because she had
completely let go of her old self now. She had completely let go of that old
mould of Tara now. The girl who fought, and brushed things off to keep
moving on, the girl with trust issues a kilometre long, the girl who did not
open herself up to strangers, the girl who did not try for fear of failing, the
girl who had come here wrapped in a cocoon of her insecurities.
As her mother settled beside her father and their car left the porch, both the
boys engrossed in their usual chatter, Siddharth’s hand came on her
shoulder, close to her nape. She glanced around. No chaperones or guards
stood on this remote side of the palace.
“I am not seducing you in public, stop fidgeting,” he whispered.
“Then what are you doing?”
“Holding you.”
She snorted through her tears, and her head fell back on his chest. Her
strong, settled, self-assured head. One that was finally firm, if not as firm as
Meru mountain, then as firm as the chest it rested on.

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 Epilogue
— TARA —
“Donkey! Pillow! Poop!” Siddharth yelled out as Samarth tried to finish his
drawing.
“Sushhhh!” She waved a hand at him, the bright lights strung around in the
dark making it difficult to concentrate on the drawing.
“Bat! Crackers! Horse!” Rawal Maan chimed.
“Wings!” Rani saheb added, trying to break Samarth’s intense concentration
as he finished his scribbles and kept pointing at something that looked like a
tail on a ball. Tara peered closely — “Umm… ball and chain? Anchor?”
He shook his head.
“Tick tick one!” Sharan began counting. “Tick tick two!” Ragini and Advait
screamed. The clock was ticking back.
“Bomb?” Tara tried.
Vigorous head shake.
“Christmas decoration…? What are they called? Bobs… bobbies…
baubles?”
Another vigorous head shake.
“Time’s up!”
“Samarthh!” She laughed as he set his pen down on the easel shelf. “What
was it?”
“Mouse,” he winced. Tara’s eyes widened, as did everybody else’s.
“Which one?” Siddharth remarked, peering at his son’s drawing. “The
computer one or the animal one?”
The whole group burst out laughing, their tinkles reverberating through the
thickets of Anand Baag. They had all descended from Devgadh here for the
weekend to spend some time relaxing together. Next month, the Nawanagar
family would go to Devgadh. Tara was excited to go to her home.
“Ok, our turn,” Siddharth called Sharan to his side and the dice were rolled.
It was Sharan’s turn to go and draw for his father. But the little cheat mimed
something before going.
“Cheating!” She pointed. “Sharan! What did you say to Papa?”
“Nothing.”
“What did he say to you?” She turned to her husband.
“Happy Birthday!” Siddharth folded his hands behind his head and sat
back. “You are hallucinating, Tara.”
“I am hallucinating? Samarth, you saw that, didn’t you?”
“They are both cheaters,” he laughed.
“And you two are Harishchandras in one team,” Siddharth shot back.
“Sharan, did you say something?” Rani saheb threatened him.
He shook his head, beginning to draw.
“Calculator,” Siddharth guessed even before Sharan was finished.
“Cheater!” Tara yelled.
“It’s not my problem that your teammate draws worse than a play school
kid and mine is a Picasso.”
“My mouse wasn’t that bad!” Samarth fought back half-heartedly.
“Alright, nobody gets this point,” Rawal Maan declared, sitting with his
profile to them. They had put on special even lighting around the orchard
and in the pergola so that he had the best vision possible at night.
“Why, why, why?” Siddharth got to his feet, grabbing his younger son and
going to war for that one point. Samarth’s phone buzzed between them. And
he scrambled up as if jolted.
“Excuse me,” he gave a sheepish smile and walked off, phone in hand. Tara
frowned. It had been a good few weeks since he had accepted the throne
fully. And true, he wasn’t as outgoing as his father or brother, but he did
have his genuine moments of joy. She hadn’t seen a single one of those
again. Even tonight, as they all gathered here to play, he had been a willing
participant but his heart had been somewhere else.
Tara remembered something.
“Rani saheb?”
“Yes?”
“What… umm… remember you mentioned something about a swimming
champion or something of Gwalior?”
“Me?”
“Yes. On the day… before my birthday. When you met Samarth, you asked
him about being a swimming champion from Gwalior…”
“Oh… that?” Her smile faded. “There were talks… gossip. I heard that he
and Avantika Kumari Raje of Gwalior were dating. There was a pool party
in her kingdom where all his school friends had gathered.”
“Dating?”
“He is 26, Tara. Of course he will date.”
“I know… but he never mentioned it to Sid.”
“Maybe it’s new. Even that day he became defensive about it.”
“Hmm…” Tara eyed Samarth in the distance, phone plastered to his ear,
hand in his pocket, back turned. His neck was bent and strained, his
shoulders taut. What was going on?
“And the fun of the party is here!” Came a loud bellow. Tara turned, only to
see Giriraj Singh Mewad walking down the paved pathway from between
thick trees, a cake between his hands with a whole forest of candles burning
on it. The kids let out a piercing cry and ran towards him.
“Happy birthday to you!” The three adults began to sing. Tara glanced back,
and Siddharth was back beside her, singing.
“It’s not my birthday!” She laughed.
“But it was,” he checked his watch. “Exactly three months ago.”
“So?”
“So, it’s your quarterly birthday. And since that birthday was trashed, we
are doing this one.”
Tara stood back as Rani saheb moved the Pictionary game off the table and
Hukum placed the cake with the burning forest in its place.
She could barely make out what was written on the cake under scores of
bright candles, but when she could, Tara burst out laughing.
Queen of Hearts
“What a pleasant surprise, Hukum!” She raised her eyes to his.
“I was passing by and got begged to come with cake,” he shrugged.
“I did not beg you to make my wife the queen of other hearts.”
“Loosen up a bit, Siddharth.”
Tara chuckled. “Thank you. But I am too old to cut cakes. The kids will cut
it. Come on!”
As if they were waiting for the invitation, Ragini, Advait and Sharan
squeezed around her and stole the knife. They were about to go for it when
she stopped them.
“Samarth!” She hollered. He did not hear her. “Samarth!” She bellowed
louder, and this time he turned. She couldn’t make out his face clearly in the
dark but he immediately ended his call and ran up to them, a smile beaming
on his lips.
“Happy birthday, Rajmata,” he nodded.
“Cut the cake with them,” she pointed.
He laughed, “let the kids cut it.”
“You also belong in that category, now come.”
Giriraj Hukum grabbed his arm and pushed him in, squeezing his big broad
body among the three smaller ones. And chuckling, he stood with them as
they blew the candles and cut the cake to hoots and cheers.
And just as the candles were being pulled off the creamy surface, fireworks
began in the sky. Tara pushed her head out of the pergola and glanced up.
The dark sky was bright, fireworks going up loud and blinding, one after
the other, not leaving the sky dark for even a single second.
“Did you do this?” She asked Siddharth.
“No, Nawanagar is celebrating.”
“Celebrating what?” She pulled her head back in.
“Their Rajmata’s birthday.”
Tara startled. The people around her were all chatter and cake, moving
down and out of the pergola to the table set for dinner. But her eyes
remained on the man she had lost and found again and again. The man she
kept finding. Again and Again.
“In all the generations, the title of Rajmata has been bestowed by the
incoming king on his mother. I bestowed it on mine. This is the first time in
the history of Nawanagar, that the kingdom chose its matriarch,” he stated.
“You became mine years ago, but now you became theirs.”
Tears sprung to her eyes.
“Sappy, Sid, very sappy,” she wiped them on the sleeve of her blouse. He
just laughed and grabbed the nape of her neck.
“Now stop crying.”
“I’m not crying!”
“Yes, Maarani.”
“I’m not Maarani.”
“Yes, Rajmata.”
“Shut up, Sid.”
“Yes, Rajmata.
————————————————————
— SIDDHARTH —
“Front seat or back seat?” He asked, holding a paddle by his side.
“I know how to do both, so you choose,” she shrugged airily.
Siddharth raised both eyebrows at her — “Are you sure?”
She crossed her arms across her chest, knowing it pushed her breasts up for
him. And if she was inviting, he wasn’t one to refuse. He ogled her perfect
figure pushed up in that tight sports T-shirt over a pair of leggings that
moulded perfectly to her legs. His wife was made up of the same things that
his dreams were made of. His mouth watered.
“Done?” She asked sweetly. Even her sweet was salty. That was his Tara.
Siddharth snorted, widening his stance — “Think carefully. I will choose.
But then you will have to do it.”
“Choose, Sid, choose.”
“Alright.”
He stepped back from the double kayak and went and sat in the biggest
single kayak. His wife frowned, marching up to him — “What is this? You
want to race?”
He reached up and tugged her down.
“Aah!” She shrieked, her bum bouncing on his lap. “Sid!” She pushed to
get back up but he banded an arm around her waist and shackled her to
himself.
“You asked me to choose.”
“We can’t go doubles in a singles kayak! It’s against the rules.”
“There are no rules for me,” he nodded at the instructor who began to push
their kayak from the bank and into the water.
“Shut up!” She reprimanded, turning to the man bent by her side and
slipping the kayak down the bank. “It’s against the rules, isn’t it? Tell him!”
He bit his lip but remained quiet.
“Let me get out of here…”
“Don’t squirm, you’ll fall. There are crocodiles in the river.”
“What?!!!” Her head turned over her shoulder, horror on her face. “Get off!
We have two children and you want to go into crocodile water?”
He guffawed. Her eyes widened.
“Are there crocodiles in this river?” She screamed at the instructor.
“No, madam.”
“This is a temperate ecosystem, Tara,” he laughed in her ear. “How can
crocodiles survive here?”
“If there were crocodiles in this river I would push you in and happily see
you become their breakfast!”
“She says it like that, but what she means is she loves me,” Siddharth tipped
his chin at the now laughing instructor.
“Sid!” She shrieked just as their kayak was lowered into the water. Her legs
automatically elongated in between his and her body weight stabilised. She
was a natural that way, and also trained in reflexes.
“Here you go,” he got the paddle in front of her and handed it to her. She
took it and began to paddle, her toned, pretty biceps flexing with every
move. Siddharth left the paddle rod and trailed his finger up the flex of her
arm, pushing the sleeve of her T-shirt back and planting a kiss there. Her
breath hitched but she continued to paddle.
“I am doing all the hard work!” She scolded.
“I am doing the hard work too,” he gathered her hair from her back and
pushed it over one shoulder, kissing the crook of her neck. She tried to
nudge him away with her jaw. He laughed, nipping her earlobe.
“Let me do my work, Tara.”
“You are not doing anything,” she fought back, but her neck fell forward.
He wouldn’t know where she got the capacity to blush after all these years.
“I am keeping you pumped up,” he nuzzled the crevice behind her ear.
“You are turning 50 tomorrow. Cultivate some shame.”
“Giriraj just turned 60. You see any shame lurking around him?”
“One of your sons is 28, the other is a teenager.”
“And both are not here.”
“You are the Bade Rawal of Nawanagar.”
“And I am kissing the Rajmata of Nawanagar, not somebody else’s wife.”
She stopped, glancing over her shoulder — “You have an answer for
everything?”
“Yes.” He grinned. Her eyes, those big, beautiful eyes narrowed at him. He
continued to grin.
“Pull your cap lower, it’s not hiding enough greys,” she tried to burn him.
In retaliation, he just grabbed her chin and stabbed his mouth over hers. She
laughed, her hand circling back around his neck. Bliss. Pure, complete bliss.
“Mmm…” she pushed out to breathe.
He rested his forehead on hers, happy. Happier than he had ever been. The
water was blue and pristine, the sun bright, the broadleaf island in greens,
yellows and purples in sight. Life was good, on water as well as on land.
“Land or water?” He asked her.
“You,” she settled back into his lap. His neck heated up. Ok, he knew how a
person had the capacity to blush even after all these years. With the right
partner, that would always happen.
“Good,” he recovered, handing the paddle back to her. “Now lead the way.”
— THE END —
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 Translations: Folk Songs of Gujarat
Saaybo Maro Gulab No Chhod by Purushottam Upadhyay
This is the song sung at the resolution concert (Ch. 9) just after the singer
finishes serenading the Yuvrani of Devgadh with ‘Taari aankh no afini;’ it
also includes the couplet that Hira ben sings to Tara in Nawanagar a
decade later (Ch. 36).

Kyare poora thashe mann na kod?

Saaybo maro gulab no chhod.

When will my wishes find fruition?

My beloved is a thorny bush of roses.

Kalkalta jharna maa nadiyu chhalkaye chhe ne.

Nadiyon na vhen maa sagar malkaye chhe.
Chanda na joye sagar jhoome chhe gel maa.
Dharti no chhedo jayi aabh maa leheraye chhe.

In the ripple of a waterfall, you glimpse the river,

And in the flow of a river, there is a sea dancing ,
Seeing the moon up in the sky, the sea jumps high,
It’s like the scarf of the earth is fluttering to touch the sky.

Nadi ne sagar thavana jaagya kod…

Saaybo maro gulab no chhod.

It all started when the river wished to become the sea,

But when will my wishes find fruition?
My beloved is a thorny bush of roses.

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 Vijdi Na Chamkare Motida Parovo Paan bai by Ganga Sati
The couplets Hira ben sings to Tara just after she marries and comes to
Nawanagar (Ch. 29).

Vijdi Ne Chamkare Motida Parovo Paan bai,

Achanak Andhara Thashe Ji
Jot Re Jota Ma Divaso Vayare Gaya Paan baiji,
Ekvis Hajar Chasso Ne Kaal Thase Ji.

String your pearl in that single moment of lightning in the sky, Paan bai,
The skies will suddenly turn dark after that.
You will keep looking and days will pass.
21,600 breaths — and a day would have ended.

Janya Re Jevi Vaato Ajaan Chey Paan bai,

Adhuriya Ne No Kehvay Re,
Gupatras No Khel Chey Atpato Ne,
Atti Re Melo To Samjay,

The things worth knowing are precious, Paan bai,

You cannot share them with those who are not ready.
This is the elixir of deep secrets,
You must learn to digest them to experience them.

Jot Re Jota Ma Divaso Vayare Gaya Paan baiji,

Ekvis Hajar Chasso Ne Kaal Thase Ji.

You will keep looking and days will pass.

21,600 breaths — and a day would have ended.

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 Kasumbi No Rang by Jhaverchand Meghani
The song that Sharan keeps singing after learning from Hira ben (Ch. 36).

KASUMBI is a saffron-coloured flower that is ground into a dye so strong,

that it can never be washed away from the cloth. It has been compared to
the colour of sacrifice in Bharat’s culture since time immemorial.
Refer to the cover of this book to see one of the closest shades of Kasumbi
colour (Paagh and Chunari of the protagonists).

Mari janani na haiyya ma podhta-podhta peedho kasumbi no rang.

Maa na dhoda dhavan keri dharaye-dharaye paamyo kasumbi no rang.
Ho raj ame peedho kasumbi no rang.

While sleeping in the heart of my mother’s womb, I drank the colour of

sacrifice.
In every rivulet of her pristine milk, I filled myself with the colour of
sacrifice.
That’s how I drank the colour of sacrifice.

Mari beheni na kanthe nitarta halarda maa gholyo kasumbi no rang.

Oli bheeshan raatri kera pahado ni tarado maa jodyo kasumbi no rang.
Ho raj mane laagyo re kasumbi no rang.

In the lullabies my sister sung me, she stirred the colour of sacrifice.
In those mountains of my borders that were torn by the enemy, the brave
of my land plugged the colour of their sacrifice.
That’s how I got drenched in the colour of sacrifice.

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 Other Books by the Author
The Indian Royals #1
The Queen’s Eyes
A DUAL POV, MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE ROYAL ROMANCE
Remember Tara’s ‘Yuvraj and Yuvrani’ from Devgadh? This is their
story.

When a common Baroda girl — Samriddhi Gohil is tricked into marrying

the Prince of Devgadh, the stage is set for an unconventional royal
romance. Because in the quiet recesses of a greying palace, the prince is
going blind. A rare eye disorder is slowly dimming the vision of Maan Sinh
Devgadh, the heir apparent of a thriving kingdom and a flourishing hotel
empire.
As the clouds gather on his eyes, Samriddhi rebels against this injustice of
her fate. All doors are rattled, all escape routes are exhausted. And then,
quietly, she gives up. Caught in the web of palaces and temples, soirees and
charities, she chooses to become putty to the hands of fate. Until, she starts
to discover the real man behind the prince. Until, the suffocating alleys of
the palace are left behind for the sweeping landscapes of London with him.
Until, she falls in love with the man she had practised to hate.
Over shared dances and impromptu road trips, her heart wires with his. The
dream of a happy life seems within reach. But when did the course of true
love ever run smooth?
Because her husband’s vision begins to waver, and enemies loom large.
Questionable decisions are made, and everybody stands by silent. As his
family comes to the cusp of a blood bath, will Samriddhi pull her husband
back in time? Or will she avenge the injustices done to her by letting this
dynasty shatter into decline?
Tropes: Indian royalty, arranged marriage, marriage of convenience, she fell
first but he fell harder, my wife, alpha hero, strong heroine

Continue reading for an excerpt from The Queen’s Eyes at the end…

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 The Heaven Series
#1: The City of Pillars
#2: The Space in Between
A THRILLING SWOON-WORTHY POLITICAL ROMANCE SET IN THE
TUMULTUOUS WORLD OF KASHMIR
#1
The City of Pillars
Iram Haider, a young Kashmiri writer, returns home to Srinagar after a
decade of exile, and is instantly thrown into the vortex of the valley. In a
heaven surrounded by hell, where bombs go off as naturally as Chinars
bloom, she meets Atharva Singh Kaul again. The soldier who had left her
after saving her life, the boy whose holy book she still carries.
Hurled into Atharva’s political life, Iram finds herself at the centre of his
party, writing his speeches, resisting hatred against her father and despite
everything, falling in love with the gallant man who says that he will be the
next CM.
But this election season, Kashmir’s governance is not the only agenda at
stake. An old woven conspiracy is coming to pass. One that will destroy the
already shattered pieces of this land. As Jammu & Kashmir gear up for its
biggest election, Iram weighs in a balance against their homeland. And it is
Atharva who has to choose — keep the woman he loves, or forsake her for
the land he has promised to save.

AN ELECTION.
A WRITER.
A POLITICIAN.
WILL THEY ALTER THE FATE OF KASHMIR?

#2
The Space in Between
Iram Haider, the young Kashmiri writer, is back in Srinagar. But with her
fractured body and messed up mind, she struggles to reclaim her old life. As
her book launch approaches and the love of her life drifts away, she
grapples with the pieces that remain.
But only if the demons of Kashmir politics left her alone. As predators loom
large, Iram finds shelter in the most unwanted of places — Atharva Singh
 Kaul. The man she has been fighting, whose passion has begin to burn as
hot as his rage. But even as he crusades to hunt for his missing friend, bring
her father’s treason to light, and run his final rallies, Iram cannot hate him.
As Jammu & Kashmir’s election season comes to its finale, the results
become the least of their concerns. Iram rises to her full potential, Atharva
makes the most difficult decisions, and just like that, they are poised at the
beginning of something big, something new. The question is, will they take
the leap?

A CONSPIRACY.
A CONTROVERSY.
AN OATH.
WILL THEY SOLIDIFY THIS NEW FATE OF KASHMIR?

Made in Mumbai
A GRUMPY-SUNSHINE, SECOND CHANCE, SINGLE MOM, OFFICE
ROMCOM
Maya Kotak is a spirited, happy-go-lucky Mumbai girl, just trying to
rebuild her life after a painful divorce. Her plan? To start anew as the senior
textile designer at Made in Mumbai — a chic, new, up-and-coming studio.
But fate has other plans. Enter Gautam Kumar: the quintessential cold,
broody self-made man and the owner of the studio's parent brand. Imagine
Maya's shock when she realizes he's the same clueless guy she met 15 years
ago!
Back then, she showed him around the city, shared a magical night, but it
ended in a bitter fight. Now, as destiny shoves them together again, Maya
finds herself drawn to the grump he has become. But life isn’t done with its
plans. Just as sparks start to fly, Maya's world is turned upside down again
—she's pregnant with her ex-husband's baby. Yikes!
With her family and friends drifting away, the only constant in her chaotic
life remains Gautam. A man with his own dark past, and a vow to never
settle down. But he can't seem to stay away from her and her soon-to-be
bundle of joy. Amid shared homes and Diwali parties, secret office
rendezvouses and doctor’s appointments, their hearts reconnect. But can
these two navigate their tangled history and present-day drama to find out if
they're truly a match made in Mumbai?
 Dive into this laugh-out-loud, heartwarming romantic comedy that will
keep you hooked from the first page. Grab your copy of Made in Mumbai
on Kindle now and get ready for a whirlwind of love, laughter, and second
chances!
Tropes: grumpy X sunshine, office romance, second chance, single mom,
Mumbai fiction

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 Excerpt from The Queen’s Eyes by
Bhavini K. Desai
He had her pictures, lots of them. His mobile album had never been so full.
Her in the London Eye, shopping in his jacket, driving his car, exploring the
grounds of their B&B, under the lanterns at dusk, in a bathrobe just out of
shower, posing with the M&M jar she had finished in record time, licking
an ice cream trail from her wrist, lazy in his bed, laughing. He had a whole
plethora of them. Some she had posed for, most he had taken without her
notice.
But he hadn’t been able to look at them. Not after that first night he had
come home and found her gone. A letter in her wake.
For two months, Maan hadn’t been able to look at his photo album again
because for two months he had battled with the need to rise out of this
feeling for Samriddhi. At first, he had cursed himself for handling the
situation so crudely. Then, after the initial shock of her departure had worn
off, he had spent his days being angry at her. How could she have left
without talking to him? Like the melodramatic woman he had called her.
As Maan strode down the first class alley of the plane, his heart galloped.
“Thank you for traveling with Lufthansa, Your Highness.”
He nodded, noting the air hostess in his peripheral vision. She was clearer
than the door in front of him, the mild lighting of the cabin not enough for
his eyes. He still held his aviators ready, stepping out of the door and into
Ahmedabad’s scorching summer sun. The heat wave hit his face, instantly
drying his skin.
Maan pulled on his dark aviators and descended the stairs at breakneck
speed, reflex more than sight guiding him. He could see just fine now with
the correction and shade of his glasses. But he had started relying on his
instincts, reflexes and guiding touches more and more thanks to his low-
vision classes.
“Jai Amba Maa ni, Kunwar saheb,” his Man Friday and valet Bhanwar Sinh
greeted with folded hands. He stood on the tarmac, the door to his black
Range Rover open. Maan stepped aside from the stairs to let other
passengers pass.
“Kem chhe, Bhanwar Sinh?”
“Kripa chhe, Sarkar.” The stoic young man came and bowed in front of
him.
“Mahal maa badhu?” Maan patted his shoulder.
“Status quo.”
That was the upside of having Bhavar Sinh. Maan had personally picked
him from the team of security valets trained by the Palace Force. He was
smart as whip and sharp as tack, spoke less and showed even less.
“Kunwari saheb has not been informed about my arrival, no?”
“Kunwari saheb is in Baroda, Kunwar saheb.”
“Baroda?”
“At her mother’s house. She left late last night.”
His first reaction was anger. Had she gotten whiff of his arrival and left the
palace? He took a quiet breath. No. She did not know he was coming,
nobody in the palace did.
Maan slid into the car’s passenger seat — “Let’s go to Baroda first.”
Bhawar Sinh rounded the bonnet and slid behind the wheel, smoothly
turning the car down the tarmac. He did not ask anything else, per usual.
“Is Raniba in the palace?” Maan asked.
“No, she left for Udaipur this morning for Foundation work.”
“And Rawal saheb?”
“He is in Mumbai.”
Maan nodded, clipping on his seatbelt and swiping his mobile open. He
pulled up Samriddhi’s chat, all one-sided conversations of two months.
Most of them were his, initially longer messages, then courteous check-ins.
She had replied curtly.
His fingers hovered over the text box, wondering if he should ask her why
she was not in the palace and at home? Was everything ok with her mother?
That thought came late, and he was ashamed it had come so late.
“What has been happening with the Foundation?” Maan asked
conversationally. From his last few phone calls with Samriddhi, again curt
and short, he had known that she was working with his mother.
“The summer collection was launched at the Mumbai Fashion Week ten
days ago. Kunwari saheb could not go, but Raniba was there. She is now in
talks with Rajasthani artisans to come teach their techniques to our
women.”
“Why was Kunwari saheb not there?”
“She wasn’t well. That was the official reason.”
Maan cut his eyes to his confidante — “And the unofficial reason?”
“She did not want to be in limelight.”
“Why do you think?”
“Kunwari saheb is living at the palace like a guest. On borrowed time.”
His blood cooled. This did not sit well with him.
“Did somebody do or say something to her?”
“No. Raniba and Niyati Kumari are on good terms with her. Everybody is.”
Maan locked his phone shut, his rage and helplessness suddenly
transforming into determination. If Samriddhi thought he would ever let her
go, then she was sorely mistaken. At the onset of their marriage he may
have held onto her for appearances sake, but now, he had come back hers.
There was no world in which she wouldn’t remain his. And if he had to
carry her over this shoulder again to drill that into her mind, he would do
so.
————————————————————
He stood leaning on the bonnet of his car, arms crossed, waiting outside her
mother’s house. The sun was hot on his head but he was too restless to sit
inside the car. And his body, as much as it was used to the winters of
London, had grown strong playing cricket and polo in this heat.
Maan stood there quietly, Bhanwar Sinh behind him, waiting. Waiting.
Waiting.
Until finally, he saw her walking up the road towards him. Her eyes were
covered by a pair of oversized dark glasses, her hair up in a messy bun. She
wore a lemon yellow salwar kameez, her dupatta thrown around her neck.
She was beautiful. That was the thing about Samriddhi, she was the kind of
beauty that shone in anything she wore. And when all the embellishments
came off, she shone even brighter.
That first time he had seen her in Assam, in a simple white T-shirt and blue
jeans, she had taken his breath away. He had wanted to keep looking at her,
even after he had to courteously turn his eyes away now and then. Nothing
had changed in that regard, as he soaked her in walking towards him.
His heart somersaulted, like it had that first time he had seen her. Like it had
that first time she had confessed that she had started to feel something for
him. He remained frozen though, as if the world had come to a standstill
and only she was the moving breeze in it. And yet, when her head lifted and
she stuttered to a stop, his world spun in a whirl. Maan remained impassive,
blank, as she had called him.
She cocked her head to one side, hiking the heavy-looking bag higher in her
hand. Maan didn’t even have to gesture as Bhanwar Sinh stepped forward
and took off her load. She must’ve been shocked enough to comply without
protest. Or she was far more obedient in India than she had been in London.
He stepped up to her, noting in his peripheral vision how Bhanwar Sinh
settled back inside the car.
“Maan?” She frowned.
“Who else would be waiting outside your house?”
“What are you doing back so early? You were supposed to come back next
week.”
He slipped his hands inside his pockets, feeling the taut stretch of the shirt’s
linen over his chest.
“Think of my surprise when I came and found you had returned to your
mother’s house.”
“I…” she glanced around. “My mother had to undergo emergency cataract.”
He straightened.
“How is she?”
“It was done this morning. She is fine, resting at home. Why are you
waiting in the middle of the road?”
“I didn’t want to go in when you weren’t here.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t know why you had left the palace.”
Her mouth compressed. A second of silence passed.
“Now you know,” her chin, that proud pixie chin tipped up. “Go back to the
palace. I will come once my mother is feeling better.”
“I’m staying.”
“What? Why?”
He nodded to her house — “You are here, I’ll be here.”
Her nose flared. He bit his smirk at that expression, that pure Samriddhi
rebellion behind her puppet act. It was a shame he had to see it through
darkened glasses. He was craving her, in all her glorious sunshine that she
singlehandedly had the power to carry. She was trying to blanket it again
under her faux obedience, but now he knew just how to unleash it.
————————————————————
Maan strode down the bungalow society beside her, having had Bhanwar
Sinh park the car out on the road. The tight lanes of the society weren’t
made for his massive Range Rover. He took in his surroundings
surreptitiously, his back ramrod straight, his head straight. The bungalows
were all small and pretty, in various stages of aging, some bursting with
flowers, some with parked cars in place of kitchen gardens. She turned the
corner and opened a short gate with an audible creak. A red Swift was
parked in the covered porch, shrubs planted in side burrows. A swing hung
on the side, overlooking the fencing.
Samriddhi didn’t spare him a glance as she strode up the three steps and
opened the main door without a key.
“You didn’t lock the door when you left?” He frowned, hiking the bag of
groceries higher as he followed her.
“We don’t lock the houses here until late at night. Mummy?” She called out.
“Where were you? Shopping vegetables for two hours?” Maan inquired,
pulling off his aviators and adjusting himself to the mild noon light
streaming into her house. The hall was cosy, a floral sofa set facing a
flatscreen television. On the other side, a round dining table set with
matching stuffed chairs sat looking homey, as if it had hosted loads of
happy meals.
“I’m here,” came a strong female voice from somewhere near the dining
table. It was followed by Samriddhi’s mother in a loose linen salwar-kurta,
a steel plate of wheat in her hands, dark goggles on her face.
“What are you doing?!” Samriddhi scolded, running and snatching the plate
from her. Her mother’s face though was frozen on him.
“Kunwar saheb?” She frowned. “It’s you?”
“Why does everybody keep looking at me like they can’t recognise me?”
He smiled, setting the bag on the counter closest to him and folding his
hands.
“Maybe it’s because you’ve grown your beard very thick,” his mother-in-
law quipped, patting his shoulder. He smirked, cutting his eyes to the wife
who was suddenly busy picking husk out of wheat.
“I was challenged to act nice with a beard,” he ran a hand down his jaw,
feeling the prickle of facial hair. His mother-in-law laughed, her palm
landing on his arm in a friendly, familiar gesture — “I can guess who must
have been the challenger.”
“How was your cataract operation?” Maan inquired gravely.
“Two minutes. In and out. Samriddhi came for nothing. I told her I would
go there with our neighbour and call her as soon as it was done…” her
mother shook her head, ushering him to the main hall.
“No,” Maan asserted. “She did right.”
He wasn’t sure, but he noticed a flicker on her mouth before she offered
him a seat.
“What would you like? Tea, coffee? It’s too hot for that actually… why
don’t I make you my famous aam panna?”
“There’s no need for that, you please sit.”
“No, no… you’ve come to our house for the first time, em thodi chale!”
“Please aunty, sit, I am fine.”
His mother-in-law sat, then called out — “Sami, make aam panna.”
Maan hid his smile. If he ever wondered where his wife got her
determination and stubbornness, the answer was right here.
“Jeera powder is in the second drawer under the gas,” she added. Then
turned to him — "You were supposed to come back on the 30th, no?”
“Yes. I officially finished at the hotel yesterday. The plan was to move
things out of my flat and have our agency there put it on rent. But I decided
I am keeping the flat.”
“Good, good. Any more travel plans or now you are here only?”
“Here only,” he replied, realising how his accent had switched to pedestrian
with her. He remembered speaking to Samriddhi in his British accent
outside.
Samriddhi chose that moment to bring them a tray of chilled aam panna.
She had left ice out of his, thoughtful of the fact that he had stood in the sun
outside. Maan smiled, sipping the sweet and sour mango drink. The mild
spice of cumin and pepper gave him a much-needed kick.
“It’s very good,” he cut his eyes to her as she came and sat beside her
mother.
“Mummy made it, I just added water,” his puppet replied, kicking him into
gear for more ribbing.
“What can you make though?” He inquired, taking another slow sip.
“She makes everything,” her mother scoffed, turning to her. “Didn’t you say
you cooked for him when you were in London?”
“Sometimes,” Maan nodded. “But all basic things.”
“Yes,” Samriddhi nodded. “All basic things.”
“For the record though, more of my rotlis blew than hers,” he lied. In
reality, hers were the roundest, fluffiest, tastiest rotlis he had ever had.
Especially after a tired night at the hotel.
“Ok,” Samriddhi got to her feet. “It’s getting late. If you want to reach
before sunset you will have to start now.”
“Where?” Her mother asked. “You are driving to Devgadh?”
“I…” he hesitated.
“Stay now,” she urged. “You must be tired after your long flight. Rest here
tonight.”
“Ok,” he smiled. First at his mother-in-law, then at his wife.
————————————————————
Maan had been born in a palace, brought up in one too. Even though he had
spent a major chunk of his youth living a common man’s life, he had spent
it living abroad. On his own. In his own space. Here, he got a taste of
sharing a small space with his wife and her mother. They sat talking late
into the evening, his sassy and strong mother-in-law doing most of the
heavy lifting in the conversation. Then Samriddhi excused herself to start
dinner, while his mother-in-law started to get up for her evening paath,
which Samriddhi insisted she will do without straining her eyes.
He was left alone to linger in his wife’s childhood home, gazing at picture
frames, seeing vacations and school farewells come to life, admiring
Samriddhi grow from a cute and awkward teenager to this beautiful,
glorious woman. He couldn’t help it. He pulled his mobile and snapped
those pictures for himself. Then done snooping through the hall, decided to
go find his wife.
She was in the kitchen, the cooker whistle spreading a delicious rice
fragrance through the space. Her back was to him but he saw the exact
moment she noted his presence. Her muscles stretched taut while chopping
cucumbers.
“What’s for dinner?”
“Masala bhaat and raitu,” she replied. He stepped closer to her, eyeing the
line-up of onions, tomatoes, beet and capsicum ready for slaughter under
her hand.
“Can I help?”
“Everything is almost done.”
“Samriddhi,” he urged, pushing closer to her. “Why aren’t you raging at
me?”
“Not here.”
“I need you to listen…”
“Maan.”
He stopped, his breath leaving his mouth in a whoosh. Her dark brown gaze
rose to his.
“Not here. Mummy doesn’t know anything.”
He sighed, his fingers burning to touch her. If just to hold her. But he had a
resolve in his chest. He had a war to wage. Small battles lost wouldn’t deter
him. So he nodded, stepping back and taking a few onions with him. She
remained quiet as he pulled out a knife and began chopping alongside her.
They worked quietly, amicably, hands moving in practised ease. After all,
they had spent so many days, so many nights cooking together. Only, then
he had had the privilege of touching her, twirling her, dancing around her.
Then, he had had the privilege of gripping her neck and kissing her.
“Arey? Aa shu? Kunwar saheb, why are you doing this?”
“Please call me Maan, aunty. And why not? I cooked all the time in
London.”
“This is not London. And if you want to cook then tell me, I’ll give you a
long list of complicated dishes.”
His mouth dropped open. His wife snorted.
“I think I like you more than your daughter,” he confessed. His mother-in-
law laughed.
“And if I am going to call you Maan then you better start calling make
Mummy.”
His chest rattled, even as he snatched the last tomato from Samriddhi’s hand
and chopped it into perfect tiny squares. After all, he had a mother-in-law to
impress.
That icebreaker had opened a whole new mood for dinner. He traded quips
with his mother-in-law, now ‘mummy,’ most of them at Samriddhi’s
expense. They ate like they had been eating together every evening. And
Maan gave full credit for that to the lady of the house. She just knew how to
open new threads of conversation, even when her daughter sat like a
grumpy little imp.
At the end, he offered to clean up but the women pointed that they had a
house help who’d come to clean. Samriddhi grabbed a couple of eye drops
and helped her mother. And within half an hour, even before the clock
struck ten, the house was winding up.
“Samriddhi, show Maan up to the room and see if he needs anything,”
Mummy ordered before retiring for the night. Maan had never been more
grateful than he was that night, as he trudged up the stairs behind his wife,
to her bedroom.
It was a large room, done in beiges and light pinks. An out an out girl’s
room. Even her frilly cotton shawl was powder pink.
“Cute.”
“You can open your bag there,” she pointed at a small padded window seat.
“The bathroom is through here. Towels are in the cabinet.”
As if done with her duty, she began to exit the room when he caught hold of
her wrist. “Wait.”
She waited. He went and locked the door. She was waiting at the same spot.
His eyes shut. This was exactly what he had wanted to avoid, the woman
who had become a willing sacrificial lamb, a martyr, a puppet. This was the
exact same woman he had thought he had hated in the beginning.
He stepped close to her and took her face in both hands, angling it up so
that she had no choice but to stare straight into his eyes.
“Remember I told you once, that I am proud of my ability to be present
100% in anything I do?”
Her dead eyes flickered. Surprised.
“Ever since you left, I haven’t been able to do that. When I was at work, I
would think about you. When I was at home and trying not to think about
you, I would still think about you. I was living a happy life with you there
until you left. Do you believe me?”
Silent. Nothing. He struggled to reach her.
“Samriddhi?”
“I left,” she said, “because you did not have answers to my questions that
night. Not because I was hurt that maybe I was beginning to fall in love
with a man who was forced to be with me. That day, whatever little I heard
of you and… Ashley, I heard her say that you both didn’t get any closure. It
was clear on your face that you needed it. I left so that you would have all
these months to come to terms with the life you are burdened with now…”
“That was not your decisions to make,” he raged. “And I am not burdened
with a life with you.”
“Those were some of the most beautiful days we had. But after what I
discovered, I could not help but think… what if, you are making the best of
this worst situation.”
“I am not. If you’d given me a chance to tell you, I would have told you!”
She freed herself from his hold, scratching her nose. Her eyes were misted,
then clear.
“I don’t know if I would have been able to believe you then.”
“And now?”
She sighed, moving back. “Let my mother recover, then when I come back
to Devgadh we will talk again about this.”
He snaked his arm around her waist and snapped her back to him — “We
can talk about this as many times as you like, Samriddhi. It will not change
the end result that you are mine. We will make it past this. And while we are
on the topic of returning to Devgadh, I am not going back until I have you
with me.”
Maan let her go, turned and stalked into the bathroom.
He stared at himself in the mirror, his vision hazy in the extra soft bathroom
lighting. Samriddhi had been his blind spot for a very long time. At the
beginning of their marriage, he had been prejudiced and had pushed her
aside. And then, he had purposely held her at bay so that he could finish his
two months in London. Not anymore. He had her in the centre of his vision
now and he could see it very clearly — a future with her. Whatever it would
become, his life was with her. And he wouldn’t give up until he made her
see it too.

Read the full story here.

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 About the Author
Bhavini Desai is a literary fiction author whose debut novel ‘The City of
Pillars’ ranked in the top 10 on Amazon. She has worked as a copywriter, a
content editor, and more recently, as a creative strategist. But she found her
true calling in stitching words together and telling epic stories.
Her passion for contemporary issues and a teenage obsession with romance
novels translated into her first novel, a love story set in the enchanting
backdrop of Kashmir. And unlike your regular genres, she broke the rules
by weaving a tale of romance, drama, adventure, and politics.
Bhavini is currently working as a creative strategist for an American
skincare brand, while building on the Mumbai Universe with a laugh-out-
loud legal romcom novella scheduled for the holidays. She is crafting the
third instalment in the Kashmir universe of the The Heaven Series and
pondering on a possible book for Samarth Sinh Solanki of Nawanagar and
Avantika Kumari Raje of Gwalior. If you wish for such a book in the The
Indian Royals Series, let Bhavini know in your review.
You can find her on her Instagram and Goodreads.

If you liked reading this book, please write a review here.

For a sneak-peek into Bhavini’s journey while she wrote this book, check
out her stories on this Queen of Hearts Instagram Highlight.
Still craving more of Siddharth and Tara? Here’s the Pinterest Board
Bhavini made for them as she wrote their book.
Listen to Bhavini’s curated playlist for The Queen of Hearts here.
Follow @authorbhavini on Instagram to get daily updates on her writing,
music and aesthetics.

[1]
“Will you take Yuvrani saheb’s breakfast?”
[2]
“My daughter will not listen to all this anymore.”
[3]
“When has your daughter ever listened?”
[4]
“And here she comes! With her black face blackened at 2 in the night!”
[5]
“What are you laughing at? All this is due to your loose morals, Meena…”
[6]
“Have you bunked school to come here, Kunwar?”
[7]
“I have taken leave to come, Rawal.”
[8]
“What?”
[9]
“The Rawal is blushing”
[10]
“Your turn will come, Maarani.”
[11]
“Sid, please, nothing is finalised yet.”
[12]
“Everything except the wedding date is finalised.”
[13]
“Now, will you wear it or keep it in a box?”
[14]
“Wear it.”
[15]
“Jai Dwarkadhish. How are you, Ajatshatru?”
[16]
“Where is Samarth?”
[17]
“I am here, Rawal.”
[18]
“You came?”
[19]
“Where were you?”
[20]
“Meena ben! The cows have come!”
[21]
“I am coming!”
[22]
“Tara! Call your father, Yuvraj saheb is here!”
[23]
“How are you, Meena kaki?”
[24]
“Yuvraj saheb has come?”
[25]
“Meena, make tamarind chutney for Yuvraj! Samosa, and cutlet? Yuvraj
loves it…”
[26]
“Not today, Kaki,” Yuvraj stopped her. “Sit today. I want to speak to you
both.”

[27]
“What’s the matter, Meena? Has your daughter’s black face been painted
black again?”
[28]
“Who is he?”
[29]
“What are you doing here, Rawal saheb?”
[30]
“Rawal saheb… let him go…”
[31]
“No! No! No!”
[32]
“I beg you…”
[33]
“May you live long, Siddharth.”
[34]
“Touch your Bhabhi’s feet too.”
[35]
“As you command.”
[36]
“What happened, Hira ben?”
[37]
“Your Kunwar!”

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