This chapter is long...in a monstrous way that I have split it into two parts. But since the parts are interconnected they are named as part i and ii.
You will find part i below.
Part ii will be yours this Friday.
Enjoy!
_________

The Bitter and the Sweet

Summary: Ab yeh Sach saat janmon taq nahi badalne wala...

◇◇◇

Shrigar 1923,
_______________

Mahendra had returned as soon as he heard the news. There was little in London that could have kept him, when, almost miraculously - it is his wife who calls.

He doesn't expect her to write, given the way they had parted - and telephoning had never even occurred at the time. Maybe it was because he is more of a letter writing kind of a man, of ink and paper - of drafts and perfected cursive - of phrases upon phrases that he would write and then feed the fire. And he wasn't raised with telephones.

But he had written to her, every day - knowing full well that the letters would soon be fed to fire than opened and read - he had written to her.

He did not imagine Nalini to love him. No, she had disillusioned him of that very early into their marriage.

He hadn't expected to love her either. But he had no intentions of making her life a living nightmare as she seemed to believe - ha had no intention of being her personal jailer.

Pratap Singhs did not marry twice, whatever the reasons that brought them together were, his and Nalini's was a union of a lifetime. He might not be her love - first or last, but he did his part as he husband. Such was his promise to her and to her father. 

There is nothing she could want of, nothing she could complain of - nothing that she wished and longed for - except perhaps, the man she loved.

It is not to be, Mahendra wished she realized that. The one she had chosen to love would have ruined them all - maybe, time would make her realize.

Maybe time had.

When she telephoned, she had been crying.

"May I go home?"

"Nalini you are home."

She sniffed.

"Please Maharaj ji, let us not play this game right now. Humein Ma ke paas jana hai. Humein - humein -"

He had clutched at the receiver as her words dissolved into sobs, heart wrenching ones.

"Will you tell me what has happened?" He doesn't ask her, he cannot demand answers from her, not then - not ever.

"She's dying Mahendra," she answers the unasked question. "Please - let me see her one last time."

He wonders if she realized she had taken his name - the very name she had vowed never to utter.

It stands testament to her distress and if he had any concerns against her going to Rajghar- going into that very palace he had snatched her from - Mahendra forgets them right then.

"Go," he tells her and hears her relieved sigh in reply. "Take someone with you -" then quickly before she misunderstands his concern as an attempt to further monitor her he adds.

"Anyone you think will be of help. And I will come back as soon as I can."

"Why would you -" she begins and then gulps. "Of cause, as you wish Maharaj ji."

But he cannot possibly return to her before fate, misfortune and heartbreak. It is a hollow eyed Nalini he finds on the eve of her mother's passing, pale and worn and betrayed.

Her silence bothers him, her pallor makes him afraid. She looks like breaking glass, put together on the outset but crumbling from the inside.

"You didn't tell me it was her last wish," she says abruptly. They were the only ones left in that vast hall - staring at the one and only small photograph her mother had left behind - as a lamp burned before it. "You didn't tell me she was dying."

Mahendra chooses not to reply to that.

"How much did you spend?"

He does not reply to that either.

"How much do I owe you?"

"You owe me nothing Nalini."

"I always wondered," her voice is small. "That if all you wanted was to take me out of Kaveri's way - why didn't you just kill me? There were times when I hoped you would."

"Nalini!"

"But -" she continues as if he hasn't spoken. "Ma ne aaj woh sare sawaal katham kar di."

"You'd have let her kill me, just as Kaveri doubtlessly wanted - you'd have done it if not for Ma."

"She was like a mother to me too..." despite himself Mahendra answers. "Ma sahab considered her a sister- not a maid. She said she'd die if something happened to you. If you too were taken from her the way your father was taken by war - suddenly, for no fault of hers. That's not what I have promised your father, ling time ago. Uss din agar tum mandir chali jaati - jaise tum ne soch rakhi thi bhaag ke shaadi karne ki -"

"Kaveri would have killed me," she says in a resigned tone. "And something tells me - wahaan koi dulha humara intezaar nahi kar raha tha."

"He was there."

She turns to him in surprise. Nalini had expected Mahendra to use this turn of events to his benefit, to paint the other man in blackest of colours. But he meets her eyes with steady honesty.

"I went to drag my own bratty sister back home."

"Oh," she says matter of factly. "That's where you were on our wedding night. And knowing all that - seeing all that - he married her? He had the gale to accuse me of - of going back on my word!"

Her voice is bitter.

"He made a child with her!"

"Children mean nothing to him."
She inhales sharply.

"Are there others? Other - children?"

Mahendra shrugs.

"Some men think it is a matter of prestige. They want their women to think the same. What he wants is a wife who would keep his mistakes nicely veiled and glossed over. He has the ability to blind one in love enough to demand that sort of sacrifice. That is not the kind of life your parents wanted for you."

"And what of Kaveri? Why did you let her -"

"She'd have killed herself." He shakes his head. "I thought it's better to let her learn there are ways to live worse lives."

"You are evil..."

"No. My patience has limits."
She has no reply to that.

"You look sleepy," he comments off handedly. "Nalini - why don't you sleep?"

She shakes her head.

"Ma will be alone."

"I'm here."

"You always were. Now it is my turn."

He knows not what to say to that. So instead Mahendra reaches for her hand, laying aimlessly on the cold floor between them. She doesn't pull it back when his fingers clasp around hers.

"She's gone," her voice is small. "Na woh rahi - na unse kiye gaye waade. Na raha humari saath nibhane ke liye aap ke maboori."
He strokes the back of her palm with his thumb.

"Yeh Majboori kabhi tha hi nahi, Nalini. Shaadi thi. Aur hamesha rahengi."

*

"He lied to me!" Randheer could still hear his mother's voice as she began recounting the despicable tale.

"So sweetly, so slyly, he made me despise the man I once loved. I was devastated after my mother's passing and he used my grief to break into my head. He used my dying mother to back his story - emotionally blackmail me into thinking his claims as true."

Looking at Veer know, muttering something to Amrit who colours and then nods shyly, tilting her head to press against his shoulder, he wonders if the deceit and manipulation ran in their blood.

If all unfortunate women to be tied down to this house carried tales of false love.

The man who looks so like his father holds Amrit like a trophy - a shallow victory that he exhibits to everyone.

Veer, Anwar and the group are passing by their stands when Randheer and Nalini come out.

Randheer keeps his despising eyes on Veer and Amrit who it seemed were engaged in teasing the other two who trailed after.

Fragments of their conversation - something about lies and fire and smoke - a burst of Amrit's laughter reach them and Nalini stumbles on the stairs. Randheer is caught unaware of the moment and it is Veer whose arms steady her.

"Sambhaliye ma sahab," he says with a gentle hand on her back. "The steps are narrow."

The flash of fearful disdain that crosses his mother's face as she pushes Veer away brings all those unsavoury recollections with a sharp jab of bitterness.

Randheer moves to push Veer's hold off his mother as he strides between them with single minded focus. Rani ma has been forced to tolerate this reminder of her past for long enough.

"Leave her!"

At the tone of his voice not only Veer but others including Rani ma looks up at him in surprise. On their faces varying degrees of shock are painted.

Rani ma turns and lays a soothing hand upon his arm. Veer looks between them.

"Easy pal -" he says with a hollow laugh. "Hum dono ke hi ma hai."

"Can't you see how distressed she is? Stay the hell away from my mother you -"

"Mind your tone Devar sahab," Amrit cuts him off. "Apne bade bhai se baat kar rahein hai aap."

Anwar chuckles, lightly placing his hand on Amrit's shoulder, glaring at Randheer.

"You are in luck that you are not my brother - chote kuwar sahab," he drawls out leaving the clear threat that "I'd have straightened you out" unspoken.

Veer hears none of them for he has eyes only for his mother. Randheer's words had drawn his attention to her face - of cause and the way she flinched from his touch. He had always thought her aversion for him was a result of Prem's death. But now - with Prem standing behind her - why would she still...

"Kuwar sahab," Amrit touched his arm softly.

None of them, not Amrit, not Anwar, called him Veer in the presence of strangers. The fact that they considered his own mother and brother a part of that crowd made him feel strangely protective about the two of them.

They flanked him, as if an extended shield that kept the bitterness of his life at bay - his family.

"We should get going..." Amrit suggests pointedly.

"Haan," Anwar adds with a tentative look at Randheer. "We need to get my horse checked too."

*

1923, Shrighar
____

Nalini wakes up to another cool morning that dusts off the deep green walls silver.

There is a lingering scent of citrus on the pillows and she burrows sleepily into it, reaching instinctively to the empty space beside her.

Mahendra is gone, as usual to worship the rising sun. Nothing, not even new found marital bliss could deter him from his deep rooted traditions. Lying on her back Nalini stares at the intricate canopy overhead, the detailed carvings that fitted together to form complicated paths across the ceiling. Mahendra had carried her across the threshold the night before, feel of his arms around her remains on her skin.

She runs a hand along her own face, tips of her fingers ghosting along.

"Maharani," she whispers to herself, pressing the tips of her fingers against a giggle that threatens to spill. "Rani sa, Rani sahiba."

A new ring lies cold and heavy on her finger. Mahendra had taken it off from his own hand and made her wear it the night before. She touches her lips to it, gently savouring the feeling, the memories.

Rolling over, she lies on his pillow instead - where that citrusy scent of his hair is strongest. Her fingers draw patterns along the silk as her thoughts wander.

He was a man of his word, her husband. Had he not said on the day of their marriage it self - "ab aap ki har raasta hum se shuroo, hum pe katham. Aap humare hai Nalini - yeh Sach saat janmo taq nahi badalne wali."

She sighs a little dreamily, thinking of seven life times worth of nights like the one that had just passed and her hand clasps around something metal under his pillow.

Drawing it out, Amrit realizes it is a key. Plated in gold and embossed with the Shrigar emblem on the hilt - a tiny, yet considerably heavy key that makes her heart skip a beat.

Nalini had lived among high ranking servants of Royal household long enough to recognise that key. It is the key to the king's annals; a personal collection of commands Mahendra had ever issued under his hand from the time he became maharaja at eighteen.

Curiosity possessing her, Nalini climbs off the bed, clutching the key at hand. There is no better way to learn what kind of a man he is than to give herself an insight into what kind of a king he has been.

Later, at some point in life, Nalini admits to herself that she did it because she had wanted to rid herself of those doubts. Whispers that others had pressed into her.

You've been passed from pan to the flames, Manorama had said as she combed her hair one night. Manorama is partial to her former master, Nalini had tried to ignore those words. The woman had not believed her when she told him the truth of the man she had almost married.

"And you think your husband is any good?" She had sneered. "You are ensnared by him, like a rabbit caught by a python. You think he did it as a help to your mother? Ehesaan kar raha tha? Kiss par - aap par ya kudh par? Bachpan se dekh rahein hai hum - unke nazar nahi hatt thi aap se."

She makes him sound so sinister; this friend of hers who had accompanied her to the palace of Shrighar - had given up her rural freedom to remain as her aid and companion.

At first she had thought Manorama was the only thing keeping her sane. But now, she was beginning to wonder, had she always looked at Mahendra through eyes of Manorama?

The same words that made her feel all warm inside as she recalled now - aap humare hai Nalini - had they not made her cold and scared once upon a time?

Manorama made her think of Mahendra like that - like an older man obsessed with a younger girl - someone she should keep good, fat distance from. And who did Manorama wish her to find love with - a man who had bastards all over his estate?

From Manorama and Mahendra, one her childhood friend and secret keeper and the other her new found soulmate, only one could remain in her life.

So she sets off to find Mahendra in his commsnds and the world begins to crumble into ashes.

***to be continued in part 2***

Please forgive me for not replying each and every individual comment. Life has been slightly hectic. I will get back to you as soon as possible.
Do vote, comment and keep me going. We are almost at the end now. :-)
See you on Friday. Meanwhile if you haven't still checked it out Kaanch Si mohabbat has such a roller coaster ride waiting to happen.
Thanks for reading! :-)