Prithvi parked the bike in its designated spot, got off and plucked the keys from the ignition, while Sankatmochan gravely studied the house and the surroundings. The door was half open, but curtains were drawn on the windows. He speculatively looked at the adjoining house.

So this was where the girl stayed. The houses were only separated by this dwarfish wall and a weak gate.

Excellent.

"Hmmm….Ayodhya…..quite a comedown from your previous homes, I must say. Especially the 700-roomed glorious, breathtaking palace at -"

"Keep your voice down," Prithvi hissed furiously, "And if you even mention that lousy hole again, I'll ensure that you are transported there yourself. I'm sure that old coot would love to see you," he smirked.

Sankatmochan's ruddy face turned pale and he shuddered.

"And you don't need to like this house," Prithvi continued, "Considering I wont let you infest it for more than -"

"I will not be leaving your side any more, my lord," Sankatmochan pronounced. "For all these years, you have denied me the opportunity to serve you constantly. But I have made my decision. This time, only death will force me to abandon your feet."

"That's easy then," Prithvi said irritably. "I'll put an end to your life. That way, all of our dreams will come true."

Sankatmochan guffawed. "You can pretend all you want, my brother. But I know that very, very deep within your heart, you are pleased to see me."

And as Prithvi snarled yet another nasty abuse, he craftily looked inside the windows from the courtyard and asked, "So where is that nasty and spiteful old man who can hardly move without his bones creaking horribly, but acts like he is the prime of his - what must have been an unquestionably boring - youth?"

"I am right here, Sankat," Sumer Singh said coldly from behind him.

Sankatmochan grimaced, and then the sneer on his face immediately became a wide smile as he spun around and almost tripped because of his leg. But he regained balance and beamed at the older man, and then promptly fell at his feet.   

Sumer Singh immediately withdrew a little, looking angry and revolted.

"What is this worm doing here, my lord?" he asked Prithvi, trying to kick away the fat man whose hands were encircling his legs in outward devotion.

"The coldness in your voice is painful to my ears, beloved uncle," Sankatmochan said sorrowfully, finally detaching himself from Sumer Singh's legs and struggling to his feet. "Are you not glad to see me? We are meeting after nearly 2 years, and I had thought time and distance would have erased the sourness in your heart for me. I have been praying every minute of the day for my lord's as well as your well being."

"I'm sure you have been praying every minute, but I don't think concern for his highness or me had anything to do with it," Sumer Singh said angrily. "You must have been praying for your own safety to avoid being beaten to death for your misdeeds, because his highness wasn't there to protect your worthless life."

"Baba, that's enough," Prithvi muttered.

"No, my brother. Let him vent out all the frustration of bachelorhood on me," Sankatmochan said kindly.

"My lord, do I have your permission," Sumer Singh asked in fury.

"Go ahead, I'll hold his arms while you break his ribs," Prithvi answered calmly.   

Sankatmochan shrieked and promptly turned around and wobbled up the steps and into the house. Sumer Singh turned to Prithvi again with frustration in every wrinkle on his weathered face.

"Why are you granting him refuge again, my lord? Hasn't he bothered us – and especially you - enough in the past? And I am sure he is here to drain you of as much money and time as possible. How many jobs have you found for him in the last 5-6 years? But he doesn't feel the need to work because he knows he can loaf around and not do anything constructive as long as you are around to take care of everything. That is why he abandons every job that you manage to find for him, cheats people of their money and then comes scurrying to you to look for a safe haven."

"I know, Baba, but this doesn't feel like his usual visits," Prithvi said slowly. "He has something on his filthy mind apart from the usual rubbish."   

"Why are you so sure about that, my lord?" Sumer Singh asked skeptically.

"He hasn't sworn to leave within two days like he usually does. In fact, he has announced that he plans to be here for a long time, knowing fully well that he is likely to get beaten up by me very frequently, going by his past record," Prithvi brooded. "And if he still wants to stay here, then something is definitely……. Anyway, we'll find out soon enough. Let's go in before he starts stealing from our cupboards," he sighed.

******************   

"You look just like the fairy in my textbook," Prakash said with eyes wide open, as Nandini playfully spun around in living room for the second time with the gold-embroidered delicate dupatta on her shoulders on his request. On Sarojini's insistence, she had already conducted a mini fashion parade for her mother and grandfather, twirling around in all her new dresses.

"You think so?" Nandini asked happily and caught his face and kissed his cheek.

"Di! How many times have I told you not to do that!" Prakash said indignantly, wrenching his face out of her hands.

"I know, I know, you are a big boy now," she laughed and carefully folded the dupatta and replaced it in the bag.

Hearing some noise, she looked up to see her grandfather coming out of his room with a large vessel that he used for the family's private pooja.

"Grandpa, what are you doing? Keep that vessel down," Nandini scolded, keeping aside the bag.

"It fell down yesterday and has got a dent on one side," grandfather sighed. "I don't wish to use it for pooja anymore. I was thinking of keeping it in the empty room upstairs along with all the other useless items."

"Give it to me, I'll keep it there. I don't want you to climb the stairs with it," Nandini said strictly and took the rather heavy brass vessel from his hands.

She traipsed upstairs and opened the door to the room next to hers and entered inside, wrinkling her nose at the filthy condition of the room, which room held all ancient and broken things that couldn't be used any longer.

Nandini walked over to a pile of old steel and brass utensils and kept the damaged vessel along with the group and then looked around idly. Everything was very dusty. She would have to clean it up a little.

Then her eyes fell on a familiar cardboard box in one corner. It was the one she had brought from Ayodhya weeks ago, with some old toys and diaries. The toys had been given away but the diaries must be still inside. She remembered going through one and finding random writing in the pages.

She maneuvered her way to the box and opened it. But there was nothing inside. Where had the diaries gone…..

She walked around the musty room, trying to locate the books. And then she saw them, lying on a termite-eaten wooden shelf fixed on the wall, next to two small metal articles. She walked over to the shelf and stood on tiptoe to get the books. As she managed to catch hold and lifted them, her hand accidentally brushed against one of the metal items and it inched dangerously close to the edge.

Nandini flipped through one of the books. Accounts. She kept it back on its original place, and went through the second one. Yes, this was it….there was something written on several pages in between.

Suddenly, the metal artifact toppled off the shelf and hit her hand before falling to the floor. Nandini cried out in pain, and looked at the hand. It had turned red and was hurting badly.

She came out the room and bolted it shut again. Then she went into her own room, kept the diary on her table, and looked at her hand, which was already sporting a big scarlet blotch.

Nandini turned and made her way downstairs to ask her mother for some medicine.

*****************

"This room is perfect for me," Sankatmochan exclaimed. "It's big and airy and has the view of the square in front so I'll be able to feast my eyes on the locality's beautiful wome- I mean – I'll be able to have a view of the holy temple."

"This is my room," Sumer Singh said angrily. "And forget getting a room, you should consider yourself fortunate if we give you some floor space to lie down."

Standing outside in the corridor, Prithvi sighed jadedly and absently glanced inside the room to his right. This one was empty. Maybe he could dump Mochi here.   

But as he looked at the window in the room,, which opened to the view of a similar room in Vrindavan, he suddenly stiffened. Nandini had just sauntered into the room in the opposite house. She walked to the table and kept down a book, then studied the back of her left hand worriedly and once again left the room.

"I was wrong about wanting the other room."

Prithvi spun around to see Sankatmochan almost salivating at the door, his eyes still stuck at the spot Nandini had disappeared.

"This room is the one that is perfect for me," Sankatmochan said languorously. "I shall be able to wake up and go to sleep watching her gorgeous face and knowing that I am so close to -"

"You'll get this room when hell freezes over," Prithvi bit out icily.

The next instant Sankatmochan was sprawled in the corridor on his backside and Prithvi was bolting the door shut. Sumer Singh, who had been ensuring that all the valuables in his room were safe, came out to see his nemesis rubbing his behind with an injured expression.

"Baba, lock the door to this room." Prithvi commanded to a bewildered Sumer Singh. "And if you see this rat trying to get in or even loitering outside the door, feel free to shoot him dead."

**********************

Nandini opened the door to the terrace of her house and cautiously peeked towards the adjacent terrace to see if it was empty.

Prithvi was standing near the railing at the beginning of the terrace. But he wasn't doing his Suryanamaskar, and was simply standing in silence, gazing out into the distance. She almost called out a greeting, but stopped herself. After all, she was only a neighbour, she remembered with a twinge.

She determinedly walked towards the clothes line with Prakash's ruined uniform and hung it over an empty spot. Her brother had spilled milk on his shirt just before leaving for school. Her mother had frantically found out a spare uniform, and Nandini had ironed it in a hurry. And after he had left, she had quickly washed the shirt and had come to the terrace to dry it before running off to college herself.

As she hung the shirt, her eyes fell on the large mark on the back of her left hand, which had now turned slightly purple. Though the pain had decreased, the bruise was still very sore. She would have to apply some stronger ointment on it.

"Good morning rose of the dawn,"

Nandini spun around to see Sankatmochan grinning at her. When had he come to the other terrace and crossed over to this side?

"Good morning," she mumbled uneasily.

She quickly looked at Prithvi, but he hadn't turned around. He was a little too far away to hear his friend, whose gleaming eyes were making her feel uncomfortable. Though she disjointedly wondered why he was talking so loudly despite standing far closer than required.

"My morning has been beautified by your very sight, fair maiden. Would you honour me by telling me your name?"

"My name is Nandini."

"Ah! Such a beautiful name, and so befitting someone as lovely as you," he said rapturously.

"Errrr….thank you," Nandini said awkwardly, gradually inching towards the exit to run away.

"Would you also grant me the pleasure of studying your palms. I am an expert astrologer," Sankatmochan said, inflating his chest. "And I can tell you your future with just one look at your lines."

"Really? You can read hands?" Nandini asked with cautious interest, pausing for a minute.

"Yes, but according to the ancient books, we need to be seated somewhere in close proximity for me to read your hand accurately," Sankatmochan simpered, alarming her again.

"And what do the scriptures say about the exact spot to aim a kick so that the spine cleanly breaks into two?" a cool voice enquired.

Sankatmochan jumped and swung around to see a highly dangerous-looking Prithvi. Feeling enormously relieved, Nandini almost smiled, but the memory of the previous day interfered again and she looked away from him.

"You didn't let me finish, my brother," Sankatmochan modified swiftly. "I was going to add that the scriptures are all wrong. My personal belief is that there must be distance of at least 6 feet between the palmist and the subject," he nodded.

"If you ever cross over to this side again, there will be a distance of 6 feet between you and oxygen. Now go back into the house this minute," Prithvi snarled.

"I shall leave, but first, can either of you tell me what this wondrous fragrance in the air is?" Sankatmochan requested humbly.

"Fragrance?" Nandini asked, sniffing the air herself.

"It's the sacred smell of sandalwood. Are there any sandalwood trees nearby?"

Nandini squirmed and didn't answer, feeling very embarrassed. If it was sandalwood he smelled, then the scent was that of the sandalwood oil she applied on her skin every day before taking a bath. And that was not something she could or would mention in front of two men.   

"No, there aren't any sandalwood trees," Prithvi replied shortly. "This scent is Nand-" He suddenly paused and turned red.

Nandini gaped at him, feeling shocked but shyly pleased. Had he actually been about to say ……

She felt her cheeks grow warm as the resentment in her heart melted away.

"The scent is what?" Sankatmochan enquired innocently.

"I don't know. And you don't need to find out," Prithvi snapped. "Now get lost."

"As you say, my brother," Sankatmochan turned to Nandini and beamed at her one final time. "I shall wait for the time when my eyes will be blessed enough to rest on you again."

"Out, Mochi," Prithvi ordered angrily and the plump man tittered and ambled away.

"You call him Mochi? That's so sweet," Nandini chuckled in amazement, and then immediately pressed her hand to her lips to stifle the sound, swiftly remembering the outcome of the last time she had laughed at him.

"There's nothing sweet about it," he said irritably, spinning around to see her hastily removing her hand. "I only call him that because - What happened to your hand?" he frowned.

"What - oh this," Nandini looked at the injury, "A small metal item fell on it."

He was silent for a moment, and then abruptly said, "Wait here." And he turned and strode away back into his house.

Puzzled, Nandini watched him leave. Why had he asked her to wait?

She walked to the low wall of the terrace and sat down on it, wondering...

A few minutes later, a hand kept something down on the wall next to her. Nandini stood up and looked from the small jar to Prithvi.

"Its something Baba makes himself," he said impassively, "Quite effective on bruises."

"You went to get this for me? That was really….sweet. Thank you so much," she smiled, touched by the thoughtful deed.

"Just apply it and return the bottle," he said abruptly.

Nandini picked up the small glass jar, which held a light yellow cream. She tried to open it with her right hand and winced slightly in pain. She sighed and then tentatively asked, "Could you open it for me?"

"What's wrong with your right hand?" he asked with knit brows.

She apologetically held up the fingers of the hand. The fingertips were not their usual healthy pink, but a vivid red. "I burnt them while ironing Prakash's uniform today morning," she said ruefully.

"Do you do your chores with your eyes and brains shut?" he asked irately, even as he took the jar from her hand.   

"It is not hurting much," she said persuasively, as he impatiently unscrewed the cap of the jar. "Just feeling a little raw."

She began to dip a finger into the open jar he was holding out and then paused.

"This medicine....it won't sting, will it? I mean, if it touches the burnt skin," she enquired anxiously.

"No. Now will you hurry up," he said tersely. But as she cautiously began dipping into the jar again, he muttered, "Wait."

Mystified, she watched him as he shifted a little, plainly trying to force himself into doing something.

"Hold up that hand," he mumbled, fidgeting a little.

Bemused and still unsure about what was happening, she held up the back of her left hand tentatively. Then, with the appearance of wanting to get it done with as soon as possible, Prithvi took a dab of the thick aromatic cream on the pad of his index finger. And then he lightly began applying the ointment on the bruise with extraordinary gentleness.

Nandini's heart skipped a beat, and a soft flush slowly spread over her fair cheeks as she stared at him in astonishment.

After he had finished tenderly coating the bruise with the cream, without looking at her, he curtly said, "Hold up the other hand. This thing is also good for burns."

Nandini lowered her left hand and tentatively held out her burnt fingers. With infinite care, he dabbed small spots of the cream on the scalded skin. Almost instantly, she felt the throbbing lessen slightly. She began to tell him that, but then stopped herself at the sight of his red face.

Prithvi was looking endearingly uncomfortable, and she felt torn between amusement and annoyance as she realised that, just two days ago, he had ragged her mercilessly after pulling her into his arms with force. And he had done it without a trace of any kind of uneasiness or emotion. And now, when he was doing something so unexpected…..so genuinely sweet, he was behaving as though he were doing something highly inappropriate and disgraceful. She found it very exasperating....and very cute...

An affectionate smile curved her soft lips at the thought.

"What are you smiling at?" Prithvi demanded with a scowl.

Caught unawares by the sudden question, Nandini came out of her reflections to realize that she had been staring at him unconsciously all this while.

"I wasn't – nothing," she said with a mild blush, dropping her gaze instantly.

"Hmmm…Don't touch anything with those fingers for 10 minutes. After that, you can wash off the medicine," he muttered, fastening the cap on the jar.

"Thank you. My hand – hands - are feeling better already, the stinging has gone down," she smiled warmly.

He nodded slightly and turned away to return to his terrace. Nandini had also started to walk towards the door when a strong gust of wind cause Prakash's shirt to almost fly off the line. She had forgotten to secure it with the clips due to Sankatmochan's visit.

Hearing her gasp, Prithvi turned around to see Nandini hurrying towards the shirt to adjust it before it fell to the ground, while simultaneously looking around for a clip to pin it to the clothesline.

He strode towards her with annoyance, and just as her hand reached out for the shirt, he caught hold of it near the wrist, startling her.

"Didn't I tell you not to touch anything with your right hand for some time?" he asked angrily.

"Aha! I knew it!" someone yelled dramatically.

Taken aback, both Nandini and Prithvi swung around to see Sankatmochan standing on the other side, pointing accusingly at Prithvi.

"You send me away so you can do as you please with this poor innocent girl! And that too in broad daylight! I admire your courage, brother. You have left me far behind in matters connected with women," he sniggered.

"That's it. You're dead," Prithvi growled furiously, as Nandini turned crimson with suppressed embarrassment and laughter.

In two strides, he had reached the other side and was moving wrathfully towards Sankatmochan, who let out a yelp and scurried back into the house. Few seconds after both had disappeared, the sounds of someone being thrashed and Sankatmochan's wails reached her ears.

Nandini winced at the sounds and momentarily considered trying to stop Prithvi somehow. But to her relief, the sounds stopped before she had reached a decision.

She smiled remembering the odd events that had happened in the previous few minutes. Sankatmochan was a very strange man, and the first time she had met him, she had felt a sincere need to be covered up from head to toe in sackcloth. But still, she didn't really feel any real threat from him. His behaviour - and everything he said and did - was way too loud and exaggerated to be taken seriously.

And despite Prithvi's outward behaviour, she instinctively sensed that his friendship with Sankatmochan was far stronger that it appeared on the surface.

She looked back at the shirt that was barely hanging onto the rope and began to straighten it again with her right hand, and then paused. She looked at the fingers that had been nursed with so much tenderness, and smiled softly.

Then she set the shirt properly and put the fastener on it with her left hand, and then rushed back inside the house to leave for college on time.

************************