Kishori Amonkar- Raag Hamsadwani- Aaj Sajan Sang Milan Banilawa

" Aaj sajan sang milan banilawa, lavo ri maalaniya harawa" (the heroine summons the flower girl to fetch garlands of colourful flowers so she can welcome her lover with whom her union was planned tonight), the voice resonated as he strained to absorb the song lyrics.

Raag Hamsadhwani Khayal Drut Teental, the search results yielded. Each time he heard her sing a bandish, a bhajan or a song that struck him as melodious and provoked his innate curiosity he tried looking up for reference on the internet and often ended up listening to the renditions performed by masters of Hindustani Classical music. He had tried to use music recognition search engines but the search returned no results, so he would listen to her words carefully and then look up the information, becoming more and more familiar with the genre to which he had paid scant attention in the past. He had to admit that his appreciation for music had grown alongside his fondness for the girl who was an endless source of fascination for him.

He started to understand why relationships which began on an intense note often fizzled out too soon; there was too much familiarity in those. After all the time they had spent together she had revealed very little about herself except that she had left her home to come to the city to finish her studies when her family wanted her to drop out and marry a person of their choice, she had chosen to walk out instead. Beyond that there were no specifics about her family or background or what discipline she was studying. As if being incognito was not mysterious enough she refused to come out of the veil except in a dark room at night, she had made him promise he would not probe or in any way compromise her identity, and he was too much a man of honour to do otherwise.

They had grown accustomed to each other yet the barrier remained, they had not yet crossed the final frontier of modesty. He could not get enough of her companionship though, both during the day and at night she was addictive like honey wine. Whenever Parth or Vidushi gave him grief for holding himself back with her he would candidly admit that he owed it to her, if they ever went their separate ways in the future he would not want her spouse to find her destitute of virtue, as these things matter to some men. Hitting a home run was not important, there were other ways of sharing bliss together.

Having wrapped up her riyaaz she made them some coffee and they nestled on the swing, surrounded by their terrace garden in full bloom in the fading light of the setting sun. She wanted to know why he had paid their rent for two years in advance without consulting her. The question amused him, he felt like telling her he had done that on an impulse over his relief over Ishika's engagement to Rehan, how that night Rehan had actually liberated Randhir from the possibility of getting hitched to her instead. That meant an unobtrusive two years of living with the girl sitting next to him, and he had to secure himself that togetherness. She addled his brain with her very presence; it was a habit he never wished to grow out of.

He told her if she wanted she could write him a cheque for her share of the amount, she replied saying that even if she did he would never cash it. He told her tenderly that she had already overcompensated by providing him and his dear ones with free meals and her loving care and he wished to enjoy her goodwill for as long as he was with her. She admitted to feeling awkward about him not accepting rent money from her. Almost as if on cue he pulled her into his arms as they shared a deep, hungry coffee-laced kiss. When he was done he whispered into her ears that he had started a rumour with the Bhojpuri speaking house help claiming "hamaar lugaai hamara saathe bhaagi awal", that they had eloped and were now married secretly as their families were opposed to their union. Would it not seem strange for a wife to pay her own rent while living with her husband, he reasoned with her.

"Aapne jhoot kyun bola ke aap hamare shauhar hai?" she asked him, scandalised. He smiled as he explained that it made them look respectable and that she had better keep up with the pretense of being his wife or risk disrepute. What he did next nearly gave her a cardiac arrest, before she knew what was happening he had slipped a dainty little string of black beads set in a gold chain around her neck. "Ab in logon ke samney kabhi mat kehna ke aap hamari zimmedari nahi. Kaunsa gaana gaa rahi thi aaj?" he asked in a husky but firm tone as he carried off his rumoured wife in his arms to their darkened bed chamber, his eyes equally dark with desire.