"Don't do this, don't do that, don't eat this, don't go out on your own! We tell you, Bhiu, it is no fun to be expecting a baby! Suddenly everyone else takes control over your life!" The long-suffering Kashi unburdened her thoughts before her best friend. Unknown to the rest of the family Kashi and Bhiu had begun addressing each other by their first names when nobody else was present. Kashi wished she could shed off some more traditions. Carrying the extra weight around her middle was not half as difficult as the ridiculous formality that was demanded of the women in the Peshwa family. In any case both girls were nearly the same age, lived under similar circumstances and were secret keepers for each other. And at Radhabai's insistence Bhiu visited the Peshwa's residence more frequently so that she could keep Kashi company.

"What did Vaidya buwa say? All well with you and the baby?" Bhiu enquired. While she was happy at the thought of becoming an aunt the fact that Kashi had beaten her in the race to motherhood had begun affecting her unwittingly. Especially because unlike the Peshwa, who was away on campaign for months on end, her own husband did not travel out much. The expectations of others were overwhelming and while most of the gossip went on behind her back, she was painfully aware of the content. Bhiu pushed her thoughts aside and forced a smile on her face. She knew that although she was feeling low she had to portray herself more positively for Kashi's sake, because she had always stood by Bhiu whenever she needed her to.

"Let us demonstrate! Sasubai Saheb sat to my right and Kakubai Saheb to my left. The doctor checked our pulse, face, eyes, hands, nails and then asked us to hold out our tongue. He then asked a dozen questions about our health before being convinced that everything was well! When the physical examination was over we were asked to leave the room before there was any further discussion about out diet and the tonics we need to take until the baby arrives!" Kashi stretched her dainty feet and asked Baiza to loosen the grip on her silver toe rings slightly. Bhiu could see that Kashi's feet were swollen.

"Do they hurt?" Bhiu voiced her concern. Every passing week added a new symptom to Kashi's pregnancy. But she had gotten over her morning sickness and food aversions and was eating normally. She had also begun to gain some weight. The doctor was summoned because she was still feeling light-headed. When she fainted in her mother-in-law's presence the Peshwa's mother became anxious. Kashi was carrying her first grandchild and the possible successor to Rau. She could not take any chances during Kashi's gravid state.

"Not really, but we tire easily and feel the urge to lie down more often!" Kashi took a deep breath as the wind suddenly blew in the scent of mogra blooms that grew abundantly on shrubs around the Peshwa home. Braving the scathing heat of the Sahyadri summer the steadfast jasmine had managed to make its presence felt and the girls felt blessed. Baiza sat next to them stringing the pristine white mogra flowers into garlands for their hair.

"Forgive me, but that is because you are weak owing to your paltry diet. Just lentils and rice with a few morsels of vegetables are not enough food for the growing baby. Tai Saheb, why don't you advise your sister-in-law? Rau Swami Saheb in all his enthusiasm has sent across several boxes of dried apricots, figs, raisins, pistachios and almonds as soon as he got the good news. And Tai Saheb is scared of eating the mewa because she fears it will make her fat. When I was expecting my daughter the cooks in the helpers' kitchen plied me with meat and eggs every other day." The opinionated Baiza could not help but speak.

"As if we can eat meat and eggs! Baiza, don't even speak about such taboos, lest you are overheard!" Kashi scolded her. Dairy and honey were the only animal foods that Brahmins could partake. Kashi was not too fond of dairy but on Radhabai's orders she was given warm saffron-laced sweetened milk twice daily and a drizzle of warm butter fat was poured on her rice and lentils.

"By the way, Baiza, what do you have stashed in that pouch tucked into your sari? Have you begun taking tobacco too?" Bhiu's sharp eyes noticed the slight bulge visible just beneath Baiza's sari border.

"As if, Tai Saheb! Those are only tamarind pods. Would you like to have some? They are fresh off the trees!" Baiza pulled out the pouch and placed a fistful of the fleshy pods before the two girls.

"We are not sure we are allowed to have this. We cannot consume anything unless Sasu Bai Saheb approves of it." Kashi stared longingly at the forest offering placed before her. She felt an irresistible craving for the tangy fruit but was afraid to proceed.

"Don't be silly, Kashi. Have we not enjoyed tamarind as children? It is a natural fruit. Why will eating a pod or two cause you any harm?" Bhiu laughed and picked up two pods, handing one to Kashi. Not that Kashi needed another invitation, her fingers snapped open the fruit and she bit into the deliciously acidic yet adequately sweet flesh. The experience was euphoric. She could not but help agree with Baiza, the taste did bring back the memory of the summers of one's childhood.

"Tai Saheb, this humble gift is from the trees that grows wild by the riverside. Nobody tends to them, yet they flourish. And they are survivors, you'll notice that not a single weed grows underneath them. People shun them as abodes of bad spirits yet the same trees indulge generations of children who raid them for their mouth-puckering fruit. The tamarind is the taste of one's childhood and all its innocence. Whenever I miss those carefree days I help myself to some, it reminds me that I have had my share of bliss too!" Baiza quickly cleared away the seeds and rinds, lest someone notice them and report back to the Peshwa's mother.

"Life could have been more fair to her!" Kashi sighed. It was hardly surprising that Baiza sought solace in her childhood memories. Being widowed young was only a part of her problems. A broom and a mop were thrust into her tiny hands while she was still a toddler and by the age of six she was carrying pots filled with water on her head and her waist several times a day. No matter how fairly she was treated in the Peshwa household she was still a slave, and drudgery was a natural consequence. If she was freed she would still have to toil for a living. She had refused to leave when Kashi offered to free her. Baiza had promised herself that she'd live out her days serving her mistress.

"Kashi, where she comes from, a dead husband is often better than a living one who may torment the wife physically or mentally. Among her people it is not uncommon for wives to toil and their men to drink away their wages. Wife-beating is so common that nobody bats an eyelid when it happens. And the worst specimens among the husbands seek pleasure elsewhere leaving behind their miserable wives in the midst of their wretched existence. Trust me, Baiza is better off than some of her counterparts." Bhiu explained.

The same evening, far away from Saswad in a camp under the stars a mehfil had just wrapped up. The lamps in the shamadaan were fading out, their glass shades turned dusky due to the soot that now lined them. The musicians sheathed their string and percussion instruments. The helpers cleared away the hookah pipes and the used wine goblets.

"No one can sing like you, Gauhar Jaan!" Asghar Ali, her accompanist, complimented the diva. The singer, who was in her thirties, was indeed very talented. She came from a long line of celebrated tawaifs who had done their mentors proud. But the loss of noble patronage under the Mughal emperor Aurangzeb, who had disdain for the performing arts, had made life difficult for the courtesans and they were often nostalgic about their halcyon days.

"May I know the reason for your pre-occupation?" Asghar, who had a fair enough idea of what she was thinking, sought to hear it from her mouth.

"Such an upstart, that haughty young man!" She was referring to Shahu's young Peshwa, who had been a rather passive member of the audience of admiring noblemen close to the Maratha king. The unlikely Prime Minister, who was twenty something, had other things weighing down his mind and had been far less enthusiastic about the musical rendition than the performer had hoped for. The artist in Gauhar felt snubbed, and no matter how much praise and baksheesh she was lavished with by others, she could not overlook the young man walking away after having summarily bid his employer farewell.

"Don't compliment me, Asghar, for I no longer carry in my voice the power to mesmerise the listener." Gauhar lamented.

Asghar smiled. For a tawaif who had thrived on male attention since her initiation into the profession at the tender age of thirteen Gauhar was being rather temperamental.

"Don't fret! Arrogance defines Bajirao, being born in the priest class and having trained hard as a warrior gives him an edge over even the more experienced Maratha Sardars. No wonder he was elevated to that office leaving aside many disgruntled competitors." Asghar explained.

"I know, Asghar, and that is why it irked me when he ignored me this evening. Does he think he is infallible? At the end of the day he is only a man, controlled by his ambition. I cannot wait to see him reach for a glass of wine and drown himself in the strains of a thumri like any man is supposed to!" To Gauhar he was a challenge. She could not wait to see the man succumb to a passionate overture by someone like her who took professional pride in her ability to charm a man's disinterest away.

"I understand that for artists like us, patronage of a durbaar is a question of survival of ourselves and of our arts. But Bajirao is a man whose mission is already chalked out, and he shall not rest until he has achieved what he loftily promised his king- that he'll deliver a large chunk of Hindustan on a platter for the benefit of the tottering Maratha Empire. Allow him a few more years. Once he has risen like a falcon in the towering skies he is bound to seek a bough to catch his breath and feel entitled to enjoy his toils. Are you willing to wait until that happens? Because I do not see him faltering on his path anytime soon. Besides, if you don't know that already, his wife is pregnant with his first child. Men like him can become impervious to anything that stands in the way of their fidelity. Sources say that neither him nor his deputy, who happens to be his younger sibling, care about seeking companionship outside their wedded lives." Asghar explained. Everyone he knew had predicted about the potential in Bajirao and about the man's burning ambition. Men like that could crush anything that stood in the way of their achievements.

"We'll see about that. Meanwhile has Jafar sent word about the potential talent he promised to deliver? Rasoolan and Zohra are nearing the completion of their mausiqui. There is room for at least two more! Send a paigaam to Jafar asking him why he has been slackening on the job!" Gauhar declared, before retiring for the night.

"It shall be done by tomorrow, Gauhar Jaan! May the Maker endow you with a good night's sleep!" Asghar knew Gauhar too well, she would smoke a pipe or two and continue to toss and turn that night until overcome by sleep.