Swara was not enchanted, nor charmed. 

She was not even pleased and made no pretense to the contrary. Her fingers moved in a furious frenzy as she checked the fallen seedlings and placed them on the rickety table, which she had righted by herself, refusing Sanskaar's offer to help. She now gathered and scraped the mulch into the bag, all the while muttering under her breath. The few glances that she spared towards Sanskaar were heated and fiery and her mutterings grew in distinct volume whenever he  caught her eye.

Sanskaar not only had a penchant for planning, he was also a man of prudence. When Swara glared at him, and offered no response to his greeting, he took a step back; he was not going to take chances with her, not when she seemed furious enough to kill. And though he could not grasp what she was muttering; the words sounded to be Latin, or maybe they could be Greek, he could make out she was cursing him. He did hear a few of the words, 'Selaginella...,  kraussiana , which he filed away for later reference. It could be interesting to learn what exactly she was cursing him as, though the need of the hour was to retreat.

However, though he could beat a retreat, he was not going to run away. Noting that his dirty hands would give him a perfect reason to walk away, he looked around to see if there was a tap where he could get the dirt off him, while he reassessed the situation. Sighting the object of his need a little distance away, he walked across to the garden tap, though he did not turn it on immediately. He was aware that garden taps rarely behaved with discipline, often they tended to squirt when they had to flow and dripped when they had to spray; he had no desire to add wetness to the dirt on his clothes. He moved a little to the side, and slowly twisted the tap head, hoping that the water would be more inclined to flow rather than burst out.

He was in luck, there was a small steady drip and he washed his hands first. Then he took out his handkerchief (it was indeed white and did have his initials monogrammed, courtesy his mother, who was an excellent embroider), soaked it in water and tried to clean the mud off his shirt, without much success. The dampness only spread the grime further and made it a uniform muck; he gave up with a resigned sigh, the shirt would have to be delegated to the dustbin if he could not launder it clean.

It was then that he heard the faint whir of a motor and turned around to see what it was, only to come face to face with a gun bearing, wheel chair propelling and fuming elderly woman, who would have to be Swara's grandmother. He stood still, even in the faint dusk light, he could make out resemblance to Swara, mostly in the way they both glared at him, though the presence of the military rifle in her hands would make her to be a trifle more dangerous than Swara. Moreover, since the wheelchair occupied the entire width the the cobbled walkway, trying to run away, even if it was an option, was impossible.

The setting sun was a lazy witness to the face off between Sanskaar and Mrs Shobha Bose, each rooted to their spot, wondering what the other would do and hoping that they would not have to make the first move. After a few minutes of unblinking stares, Dida gripped the rifle harder and that movement attracted Sanskaar's attention to the firearm. He could just make it out and he gave a soft smile, it was a familiar one, the INSAS assault rifle; he had spent days with a similar one, owned by his Dadaji. And with that knowledge came another realisation, as he noticed the way Swara's grandmother gripped the barrel and a smile lit up his face.

Ignoring the murderous look on her face and the tightening of her fingers over the rifle, he walked the few steps to her wheelchair and clasping his hands over hers, bent to whisper in her ears. He did not wait for her reply, instead he balanced a foot in the damp flower bed beside the walkway, hoping he had not stepped on any invisible seedlings and stepped out behind the wheelchair. He resisted looking towards Swara, sparing neither of them a backward glance as he walked along the winding paths in the gathering darkness, grateful that the garden pathway lights were switched on, it made it easier to find his way out. 

As he walked away, doubts plagued him, 'were they mistaken in presuming Swara Bose to be Shona, the one who had written those lovely and affectionate notes, for one full year? And yet, today she had not shown the merest hint of knowing who he was. Maybe they were wrong, just because Swara's bouquets were similar to Shona's posies, did not mean that Swara was Shona.' 

It was when he was halfway through the garden that he heard the grandmother cry out and he found his answers, or rather one of them. 

Swara was Shona. 

And as to why she did not recognise him, he would get answers to that too, soon.

____________________________________

Swara glared at both her Dida and Kiara in turn, the exultation of being able to declare 'I told you so' had now faded to the grim reality that Sanskaar Maheshwari was no longer a hidden shadow behind the acronym SM. Instead he was a full bodied and completely fleshed out young man, and a good looking man too, if she could bring herself to admit it. 

The moment she thought about it, the encounter replayed in her mind, and she sank into the sofa. None of them had bothered to think about the implications of writing the notes, confident that 'SM' would be aware of Sonal and would think her to be the writer. None of them had never even thought of the alternate possibility that SM would come seeking her out. Swara closed her eyes and wondered out aloud, "Di, forget about why SM wanted to seek me out, how did he manage to do so?"

"I do not know, Swara. Are you sure you signed off all notes as Sona?"

Swara nodded, "Yes, I signed off all of them signed as Shona. Could it be because I continued to write after Sonal's wedding, which is how he suspected that it was not Sonal writing them? I am a fool, Di, I was so proud that I could write out notes without fear that I failed to think..."

Kiara rushed to her and held her in her arms, hoping to stop Swara from breaking down. Holding her in a hug, she mulled over the possibilities and then asked, "Anyway, did you  speak to him?"

When Swara shook her head, Kiara let out a sigh of relief, "Good, so though he knows you are Swara, he does not know that you are that Sona, so it should be fine, we can always deny having to do anything with the notes, if you have not scared him away. Though it does leave us wondering as to how he did find out about you. Did he tell you his name?"

"Sanskaar Maheshwari."

The soft, startled gasp that Kiara let out escaped Swara's notice, who seemed to be recollecting what exactly had happened and she did not even notice the tremor in Kiara's voice, "He was the photographer who booked the appointment?"

"No, that was some Anirudh Sharma, apparently this Sanskaar is his assistant, at least that is what he said—"

Still oblivious to Kiara's startlement at the names she had taken, Swara continued her ranting, "— though he did not speak much when we met. It is all Mita's fault, if she had come to work, I could have asked her to show him around and nothing of this would have happened. And why do we not ask what he whispered into Dida's ears?"

Her shock forgotten, Kiara spun towards their grandmother, who to their astonishment turned scarlet with embarrassment.

___________________________________

The raucous laughter was silenced when they heard the loud knock, or rather the thud with which an object had collided with the door. Anirudh, who was the closest, got up and opened the door to see Uttara standing outside, balancing a tray that was laden with multiple bowls of hot steaming pakodas and an assortment of chutneys. She thrust the tray into Anirudh's willing hands and bounced into the room, settling herself on the bean bag. She gave them a few minutes to savour the pakodas before ordering, "Right, Sunny, now spill all the details."

Sanskaar shook his head, he had only mentioned a snippet of having run into the grandmother and the rambunctious laughter was not the response he had been expecting. He was not willing to share his adventure with his sister and quite unable to say anything as his mouth full of pakodas. Though Utttara made a demure picture with her hands covered by the dupatta, he knew how stubborn she could be and she proved how persistent she could be, for when Sanskaar shook his head, she was unfazed, "Fine, give me a few titbits, at least.  How does she look? is she like those scrawny models you have been dating?"

"That is body shaming, Ta...Uttara."

She glared at Anirudh, "I was stating a fact, not mocking them. You cannot deny that the models are unnaturally thin so it is right to call them scrawny. Anyway, if you keep interrupting, Sunny will take this chance not to tell us anything."

Turning towards Sanskaar, she demanded, "Well, how does she look?"

'Like a dream,' he thought. 'A summer's dream, full of mellow sunshine and heated glances. A wildflower, pristine in fiery glory. A free spirit encased in a petite frame...'  He shook his head at the cheesy poetic thoughts, aloud he said, "Shorter than you, by about an inch."

That pleased Uttara, as he knew it would, she hated being short and she smiled, "Good, nice to know that. I could like her. What else?" 

He was still thinking how much to share and almost choked when Niraj answered on his behalf, "I think you are jumping the gun, your brother here decided to woo the grandmother when Shona made him eat dirt."

Uttara's eyes widened in mock disbelief, "Please Sunny, you seem to have got it wrong, Maa wants a daughter in law who will soon make her a grandmother, not a grandmother as a daughter in law."

There was a moment of stunned silence, till the laughter commenced again and Sanskaar could only glare at his sister and his friends, who were enjoying at his expense. He was still trying to understand why Swara or Shona could be so upset and angry on seeing him, when the notes she had written to him, for one full year, were full of affection. He had half hoped that his reluctance at sharing the dud of an encounter, which had been a great disappointment, would be understood and he would be left alone. 

Unfortunately, his friends and sister were currently determined to wring out every detail and watching them roll in laughter, he realised that if he did not let them know what exactly had happened, the imaginary accounts that they were making up would be horrifying to even contemplate. When there was a momentary lull in the laughter and the teasing, Sanskaar plunged in, "The grandmother was gripping the rifle so hard that I could not help but notice the barrel, I think she was cleaning it, for she had clearly forgotten to lock the barrel in place and so it was safe for me to approach even if it was loaded, which I think it was not. Anyway, I could not resist letting her know that the threat of shooting someone would be more effective if the gun was loaded and the barrel locked in place."

There was silence once again as they processed what Sanskaar said and Niraj said, "That is disappointing, you falling for the grandmother would be more interesting, now it is no fun."

Uttara giggled, "And you took advantage of the grandmother's shock to escape," she paused when she Sanskaar glaring at her, "okay, you walked away, head held high. So did Swara say anything to you?"

Sanskaar nodded his head, his reluctance making it clear that he would prefer not to share any further details, but it would be worse if he kept silent, so he said, "Well, she did share the names of a few weeds."

"Weeds?" All the three blurted out at the same time.

Sanskaar shrugged, "It was after the table fell and she was upset with all the seedlings that were scattered around. I could not make out what she was saying at first, but I filed away a couple of worlds and when I searched the net, I found out that they were the Latin names of common weeds."

His answer led to another question and Sanskaar, having no other choice, recounted the entire series of events, which had each of them pitch in with suggestions, counter arguments and contradictory opinions, some workable, some downright ridiculous, with their only intent being to tease Sanskaar.

After a while, Niraj and Anirudh tried to stifle their laughter at Sanskaar's woebegone expression, though Uttara beamed,  "I like her, nice spirited girl, different from the skinny, vapid girls you  date, but if this Swara did not even talk to you, how do you know she is Shona?"

"Her grandmother called her by that name."

___________________________________

Swara yelped as she remembered and whirled towards her Dida," You shouted out my name, did you not?"

Dida gave a guilty nod, she had called out to her, had almost screamed her name and that would make it difficult for them to deny Swara being the Sona of the letters. She had rushed out on hearing Swara's scream and watching her mutter and seeing the stranger had made her go into the protective mode, though Sanskaar's observations about the rifle had left her flustered and embarrassed till the concern for Swara took over and she had shouted out for Shona. Now in warmth of their home, she could realise that it was a mistake, "But then he was already leaving, so maybe he did not hear it. Or maybe we could deny that I ever called you Shona. Maybe..."

"Enough of this maybes. Maybe we should have listened to me, maybe I should have not started writing the notes. Maybe I should have stopped when Sonal asked us to do so. Maybe I..."

Swara stopped, looking at the guilt on her Dida's face and the mild shock in Kiara's eyes, it was no point going down that lane, thinking about the past, even though they had no idea what the future held for them. All they could now do was to pray and hope that Sanskaar Maheshwari had taken offence to Swara's behaviour and would leave them alone. 

Neither their hopes nor their prayers were answered.

______________________________________

The unease and apprehension which had shrouded them that night, slowly dissipated with the passing days till they were sure that Swara had scared Sanskaar away. A couple of weeks had gone by since that evening and when Sanskaar had never come over in that time, they relaxed and went on with their routine lives. Yet Swara could not stop thinking of either Sanskaar or her reaction to him. Despite the overwhelming relief at him not making another appearance, there was a tiny part of her that seemed disappointed. 

Swara tried to reason with that tiny voice, one that grew shrill at times and she would be unable to silence it; a nagging feeling that made her watch out for the front gate, hoping Sanskaar would be there, waiting for her. A slight regret at the rude way she had treated him, cursing him when he had not been at fault. A memory of a dimpled smile that would make her pause in her work and would cause a soft smile on her face, he did have a enchanting smile. She did not want to admit it but could not deny it either that Sanskaar was an attractive man. 

And yes, if she allowed it, he would take mere minutes to charm her.

For three weeks, Swara fought the growing frustration and relief at Sanskaar's continued absence, till she decided to visit her regular nursery, which was a weekly routine for her and one that she not taken, in her worry and anxiety over Sanskaar's visit. Now, she was convinced that a trip to buy seeds and seedlings was just what she needed to put Sanskaar off her mind. 

So on a bright Thursday morning, Swara set off on her yellow Scooty, humming a song, hoping to find solace and peace among the plants, clueless and oblivious that the Universe had a completely different set of plans for her. 

______________________________________ 

Sanskaar had not forgotten about Swara, either. She was not the one he had expected to have written those notes and after she had dismissed him with abruptness, he had found it difficult to put her face to anonymous writer. However, as the days passed by and her features began to engrave themselves in his mind, each time he read the notes, it was Swara's face that swam into view. 

And he soon realised that whether she accepted or not, his heart knew that she was the one, the one who had written those notes and that she was now an alluring mystery waiting to be unravelled. That realisation spurred him to find another way to meet her, he was not going to risk another encounter with her gun toting grandmother, who might have taken his ill-timed advice about loaded guns seriously. It was difficult, for the only additional thing he now knew was that Swara was an avid gardener.

It was Uttara who helped him out, proving she could be as tenacious and persevering as her brother. She was also the one who roped in the perfect innocent accomplice to the next rendezvous. The only thing that they had to chance was the timing, but they decided to take the risk. 

And it could be argued that it was a chance in a million but  with the Universe assisting Sanskaar, it turned out to be another fortuitous coincidence, for Uttara had picked a Thursday.

______________________________________ 

Swara loved the nursery, it was not as large as some of the famous ones were, but then it stocked a large variety of seeds and seedlings as well as the plants that were difficult to grow and hence not preferred by the large commercial nurseries. It also helped that she was good friends with the owner, a man who was as passionate about plants as she was and had been acquainted with her grandfather. Swara was quite well known and well liked; the staff would usually deliver whatever she needed if she just called them over the phone. However, she loved to browse the grounds, discuss new ideas, reminiscence over past success and failures, so she always made the trip to the nursery, usually once a week, on a Thursday. 

It was also the only place where she found solace and comfort, apart from her home and garden.

After her purchases were done, she walked along the winding paths, cherishing the warm, summery silence and breathing in the soft subtle scents. Under the dappled shade of a large Indian Coral tree, Swara stopped, admiring the profusion of begonias that grew in the shade of the wide canopy, the abundance of whites, reds, pinks and yellows creating a riot of colour. 

'It is paradise,' she thought, 'flowers, sunshine and solitude.'   

"Lovely to meet you again, Shona."

When Swara heard that whisper, she almost screamed and whirled around, only to freeze in shock. In a near identical sequence to their first meeting, Swara's heavy tote, swung on her arm and caught Sanskaar in his midriff, sending him sprawling to the ground. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping it was an illusion, 'there was no way Sanskaar could be here, not in this nursery, how had he managed to track her down? And he must have heard her Dida, how else would he know her name was Shona? Her Dida was going to get a piece of her mind, a chunk of it, once she reached home...'  

She squinted one eye open, hoping it was just her imagination.

It was not an illusion. 

Sanskaar Maheshwari, five feet eleven inches of handsomeness, in solid flesh and bone, was standing in front of her, dusting the mud off the seat of his trousers, yet again. Though he almost seemed prepared for that eventuality, for he was wearing a dark blue t-shirt, denims and sneakers, which some how made him look even better than the formals he had been wearing when they had first met.

And he had the same dimpled smile that made her heart go aflutter.

She closed her eye again, there was a tiny tingle of excitement at seeing him again, which was swamped by shame, 'how was it that each time they met, he shocked her and she ended up shoving him to the ground?'  

It was accidental, both times, and even if she could lay some blame on him for startling her, she could not deny that she was responsible for him ending up in the dirt.She wished the Earth would swallow her and since that was not possible, she took the next best option that she could think of. Swara knew she was being a coward, but she could not face him; she was never a good conversationalist at the best of times and now when shock and joy and embarrassment battled within her, she needed to think before she said a word. Still with her eyes closed, she mumbling a sorry, and turned around to walk away. 

It required significant willpower on her part not to run and hence she had just managed only a few steps when she heard a lady call out, "Sunny, what happened, why are you so dusty?"

Swara stopped, curiosity about the lady piqued her, but she did not dare turn around, she was still quite ashamed of what had happened, though she later felt it had been better if she had simply yielded to her instinct and run away. 

For her mortification was complete when she heard Sanskaar say, "Maa, that was Shona."

And that is how their second meeting went. Not very differently from the first one, but would end differently. And those who wonder why Sujata was with Sanskaar, a heads up - neither Uttara nor Sanskaar are unreasonable, they had their reasons, and good ones too. As you would find out in the next chapter - A Drop of Golden Sun.

Also apologies for the change in chapter (name) - the matter to be written in it (The Earth Dreams of Love), had to have some preceding events hence these two chapters. And also apologising for not getting back to the lovely comments in the previous chapter, I will do so. In the meanwhile, could you let me know how this chapter was?

love
Nyna