Huddled behind one of the massive columns, the palace maids gazed at the men leaving the dinner table. There were women of all ages and sizes in the motley group. They had been cleaning and scrubbing the palace for the past two days in anticipation of this visit. There had been mutinous murmurs among the younger maids, but now they appeared to have forgotten all their aches and pains as they stared avidly at the handsome young man who hadn't spared them a glance all through dinner.

"He'll be our guest only for three days?" one of the young girls asked in abject disappointment.

"I wish he would stay here forever," another girl said longingly, and she and the others lapsed into giggles.

The matronly woman who was in charge of them sternly said, "All of you will make sure that our guests don't lack for anything. If I get any complaints about anyone, I will throw you out instantly. Did you hear me, Bindiya?" she asked pointedly, nodding at an extremely attractive young woman.

Bindiya, who was resting an arm on the carved plinth around the column to stare comfortably, looked at the old woman.

"I don't chase men, they chase after me," she sniffed, but she smiled subtly as she looked at the retreating back of the youngest male in the group. 

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

Prithvi paced the lushly carpeted floor in angry impatience, pausing only to glower at the buzzing mobile flung on the enormous bed covered with sheets of white silk. It seemed as though every annoying person on earth was hell bent on conversing with him. Except for the one voice that he –

He blocked the thought instantly. No, he wasn't that keen to talk to anyone. And Mochi could go to hell with his suggestions that he should serenade her across the distance with the help of nauseating prose and poetry. He'd have to be born again to act like that. If she didn't want to talk, that was fine by him. He had never yielded to any stupid compulsion, no matter how strong. And he wasn't going to start now.

He looked at the clock. Sumer baba would have dropped off to sleep. It was time to prowl, he thought and grinned. He walked to the door, opened it and only narrowly avoided banging into a heavily-scented mass with glittering eyes and tonnes of silver jewellery.

Prithvi frowned at the maid who was artfully preening in front of him in the corridor lit up with soft lights. "What do you want?" he snapped.

Bindiya smiled and looked up at him coyly through kohl-laden eyes, and in an instinctive flash, the intention behind this encounter became clear.

"Your highness, I wanted to know if you are comfortable in your room. Guests are equal to Gods, and we hope you will not have grievances about any lack of hospitality on our part," she murmured, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Yes, waiting outside guests' rooms and ambushing them in the middle of the night is the most important rule of good hospitality" Prithvi said seriously, getting quietly entertained by the woman's almost theatrical act.

Flustered by the response, Bindiya tried to regroup with fresh tactics. If she could gain entry into the room, the rest would be easy.

"Your room's arrangements were entrusted to a younger maid and I could not ensure if she has done a good job," she said regretfully, attempting to move towards one side to enter the bedroom.

"Sadly, I didn't give my room permission to participate in tonight's beauty contest. So it is fine the way it is," Prithvi said pleasantly, shifting slightly to block her entrance. 

Bindiya pouted with practiced sensuality. "Ohhh….but if you need anything….anything at all…..please let me know," she said suggestively, increasingly intrigued. Men usually pursued her. This was first time she had been so interested in a male, and he wasn't responding to any of her wiles. It was bewildering.

 "I'm sure I won't need anything that can't wait till tomorrow morning," Prithvi said smoothly.

Finally accepting defeat, Bindiya bent her head sulkingly and turned away to walk down the dimly-lit corridor with swinging hips.

Grinning in amusement at the woman's blatant attempt at seduction, Prithvi turned and walked noiselessly towards Sumer Singh's room. With a mischievous smile, he gently slid the bolt, locking the door from the outside to prevent any interruption and then cheerfully strode away in the opposite direction.

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

In the soft lighting, Uday walked slowly along the length of the hall with the aid of his walking stick, still annoyed with himself. He had waited for years to meet Aditya's son, and when the much awaited moment had finally come, he had dropped off to sleep. He had woken up at midnight and had not been able to sleep again, and to pass the time, he had left his room to walk around the palace in the comforting peace of the late hour.

He would have to wait until morning to see Prithvi. But a night's wait was small punishment for the neglect he had heaped on Aditya's family, especially Prithvi, over many decades. He had seen photos of the boy and knew almost everything about him, with Sumer Singh secretively sending him an update every few months. But Prithvi had flatly refused to see him. Indrajit had severed tied with everyone long ago, and to be honest, he'd never been able to strike any kind of relationship with Aditya's elder son. In some ways, he was too much like his mother, Uday mulled with a shudder.

Tomorrow, when he would finally meet Aditya's son, what would he tell him. And how would the boy react. Would he be friendly or harsh ….

Uday sighed and turned to begin walking back to his room, but then stopped. A very slim line of light was shining from the room on top of the stairs - the weaponry room. Who was in there at this time, he thought with a frown.

He walked slowly up the steep steps, and with some difficulty, pushed the iron wrought doors open to enter the arena.

In the menacing, cavernous room, a young man was strolling in front of the arrays of weapons on the far end. Golden light from the high ceiling was caressing his thick, jet-black hair, and though he could only see the silhouette of the face, he knew with a strange certainty that it held the very same fascination that had enthralled every male of the family for centuries.

Then a sudden rush of understanding overwhelmed him, and as tears flooded his rheumy eyes, everything became blurred.

It was Aditya's son. Couldn't be anyone else. He had seen the photographs….and moreover, there was his beloved Aditya in the perfection of the handsome profile and the careless arrogance of the posture as he casually picked up random pieces and examined them. The boy looked absolutely at home in the middle of this ancient room. Like it had been built for him.

Prithvi kept moving through the display until he had almost reached the fag end. And there he paused in front of a few swords. One of them had evidently caught his attention. And Uday's eyes widened as he realized the importance of that particular section. 

.

As Prithvi reached out to grasp one of the swords, Uday looked at the unfolding scene in amazement. No, he certainly wouldn't choose the same one….

But Prithvi's hands swiftly closed around the hilt of the broad and heavy specimen and Uday smiled through his tears. He had chosen Aditya's favourite sword. An excellent replica of the unique weapon that had disappeared from the family's treasury decades ago.

Prithvi ran a finger almost lovingly along the razor-sharp edge of the weapon and smiled grimly as it drew blood. "Vicious little beauty, aren't you?" he murmured.

Then he held it up straight, and to Uday's shock, he twirled it up into the air.

The old man almost cried out a warning. But with a soft exultant laugh, Prithvi caught the weapon by the hilt as it descended.

At the sight, with a terrible force, Uday was yanked into the darkness of an ancient age. He heard a muted roaring in his ears, the bellowing of warriors as they rushed forward to protect their land, their people, their dignity from marauding armies. With patriotism and sheer passion for their bit of earth overpowering their love for life.

And for the first time in his life, Uday understood his father's despair in his flippant attitude towards the history of his family. This was the proud, glorious heritage that his father had struggled to protect, to inculcate in his children the savage pride of the forefathers. He had been part of a magnificent lineage, but he had turned his back on it without any qualms.

Overcome by long-forgotten emotions, he stumbled backwards to leave the room but his stick hit against the doors.

Slightly startled, Prithvi looked up from the sword and saw the spectacled, tall old man standing near the doors with a walking stick. His hair was pure white, there were wrinkles on every inch of the skin, and the once-broad shoulders were stooping, yet there was a surprising vitality in the eyes as they stared back at him.

But the oddest part was that he didn't seem like a stranger. There was a compelling feeling of familiarity…..as though it were merely a very old friend whom he hadn't met in a long while.

A moment later, Uday hoarsely said, "That was your father's favourite sword too."

And the croakiness in his voice said more about his emotional state than the most syrupy words could have.

Uday waited. Waited for recriminations, for anger, for guilt assaults….

Instead, Prithvi simply returned his attention to the sword, with an attitude that said it had been an expected interruption, and they were just continuing a conversation began some time ago. "Just when I was getting fond of you," he muttered to the glistening blade, and replaced it in the hold.

"It is an exact replica of the one that disappeared," Uday said eagerly to continue the conversation, making his way towards him with slow steps.

"The one Indrajit is looking for," Prithvi mused, looking at him with open curiosity. He had no idea why the old man's appearance had seemed so natural….and why there was the strange comfort of speaking with a friend….or family….

"Indrajit is looking for it? It's a fool's pursuit!" Uday said ruefully, "It disappeared too long ago. No one would know where it is. Then again….I suppose I do understand Indrajit's fascination for it. It was an ordinary weapon, though extraordinarily beautiful. It was always passed on from the father to the – to the worthiest and most favourite of the sons. From the time we were little boys, it was held in front of our eyes like a tantalizing prize, and even the most fun-filled, harmless game became a war to prove our bravery and worthiness. In every generation of our family, there has been a fight among brothers for it, some even turned bloody and fatal. And considering the way Indrajit venerated his father….Yes….I can understand his obsession…"

Prithvi quietly listened to the odd story, and when it was over, he grinned. "You shouldn't have told me all that. Now I feel like finding it just to drive him mad."

Uday stopped and smiled unsteadily at him. When Prithvi smiled, it brought Aditya back to life. He wanted to embrace the boy, but the youngster perhaps wouldn't appreciate it. He was grateful enough that Prithvi wasn't lashing out at him for well-deserved reasons.  Then he hesitantly ventured, "You look like him…like Aditya….much more than Indrajit. That boy has taken almost entirely after his grandfather and mother."

Prithvi snorted, "No way. Neither of them could have been that hideous."

Uday chuckled, and then started coughing so hard that he almost doubled up with the effort.

Prithvi instantly walked towards him, and placed a bracing hand at the elbow.

"Your death within 5 minutes of meeting me will not really improve our relationship," he said curtly, but his hold on the feeble arm was extremely gentle. 

Gasping slightly, Uday reeled a little on the spot.

"I'll take you to the room," Prithvi mumbled, helping him straighten as the coughs subsided.

Uday nodded, and in a funnily comfortable silence, they slowly walked out of the room, down the steps, towards the part that housed rooms for the family. The only thoughts in their mind revolving around the almost instantaneous acceptance of the other without the need for any prologue….

As they passed a room, Prithvi mumbled something and moved towards it. Uday watched him unbolt the door with puzzled eyes.

"Whose room is that?" he enquired.

"Sumer baba's,"

"But who locked him inside?" he asked incredulously.

"That would be me," Prithvi said unrepentantly, as they resumed walking.

"You locked – but why?"

"He goes into apoplectic fits if I go near anything sharper than a sponge," Prithvi dismissed.

 Uday frowned at the statement. "How dare Sumer presume to tell you what to do!" he said angrily. "He is only your attendant and has absolutely no right to- "

Prithvi let go of his arm and looked at him coldly. "He has the right to tell me anything he wants. Because he devoted his life to taking care of me when you busy producing bas***ds," he said brutally.

Uday flinched, and found himself unable to meet Prithvi's eyes. Then he managed to quietly say, "I deserved to hear that. And I hope it is not too late to make amends."

"I don't need your amends or apologies," Prithvi said curtly, and glanced around as Dilawar came hurrying around a curve in the corridor, and stopped short in shock at the unexpected sight of seeing them together.

Then overcoming his surprise, Dilawar bowed to both, and addressed Uday in a low voice. "Your highness, please return to your room for rest."

"Yeah, go back to your room and remember that you must not let them give you any medicines," Prithvi said coolly. "Don't let anything stop you from killing yourself."

And without another word, he turned on his heel and left to return to his own room.

Uday laughed softly and looked at Dilawar, who was looking more flabbergasted than ever.

"Dilawar, from tomorrow, get me all the medicines you want," he smiled with palpable happiness. "I don't want to die until I tell his sons the story of this night."

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

Nandini silently took down the decorations at the front of the house with the help of a friend and returned to the insides of the house which was slowly being stripped bare of all signs of celebration.

The boy's family had delivered their verdict to the Chawla family in the morning.  The marriage would have to be postponed by some days as the injured relative's situation had not improved.

The atmosphere in the house was so dismal that Aarti hadn't stepped out of her room for hours and her parents were also crushed. Nandini had come to the house after college to help with any work, but she'd never dreamt that it would be of this depressing kind. She'd spent some time trying to cheer up Aarti and had even convinced her to come down for lunch, but her own temper was fraying fast with the frequent, nasty comments by the relatives about the inauspicious occurrence.

And it was not like she was in the best of moods to begin with. She'd endured horrible teasing by her friends in college because of her extremely odd behavior during the previous day. And she couldn't even blame them for it. She'd been lost, confused and disoriented to the extent of not hearing questions shouted in her ear, and even during the rehearsals, she had been walking with mind shut, and had crashed into some props. In the end, to her utmost embarrassment, Daya had forcefully put her into a chair and forbidden her from walking around. On reaching home from college, she had cautiously tried to find out if Mr. Royalty had called up even once. But no, he was far above such meaningless gestures, wasn't he?

Inside the Chawla's house, the few relations who had not yet left for their own homes were either carrying out the unpleasant responsibility of putting aside the decorations or discussing the real and imaginary implications of the event.

Some women who were clearing up a side of the house were particularly voluble. And seeing the pale face of Aarti's grandmother who was standing with them, Nandini could confidently guess the topic of the conversation. With a spurt of anger, she joined the group and began helping them to put things away quickly.

"It is really unfortunate that this happened," someone said for the hundredth time.

"I hope the boy's family is not having second thoughts about this marriage," another woman said with gloomy relish.

Nandini stopped in the middle of keeping aside a bunch of flowers. "Why would they?" she asked shortly.

"They would surely be blaming Aarti for the accident. It would be a miracle if they don't call off the wedding altogether," the tubby female said.

Aarti's grandmother winced.

"That is just silly superstition, and if they say anything of that sort, I hope all of you will give them a fitting reply," Nandini said.

"We can't tell them anything! We are from the girl's side after all," another lady interceded.

"You are giving them your daughter. They should be grateful to you for that. And if they cannot understand this, then I don't think they deserve Aarti di," Nandini said obstinately.

 "But Nandini, they will always throw this inauspicious event in our faces to keep us quiet."

"Then we must remind them that Chawla uncle was injured during those riots just after the marriage was fixed. But I didn't hear anyone blaming the bridegroom for that," Nandini said forcefully.

In the shocked silence that followed, she looked fiercely from one face to the other, but no one uttered a word. Then a trembling hand clasped her palm gratefully and she felt startled to see tears in the old woman's eyes at this defense of her granddaughter.

And for the rest of the afternoon, no one raised the topic again.

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

Strolling restlessly through the gardens in the morning light, Prithvi gazed at the lush green landscape that encircled the magnificent palace. The loveliness of the cream-gold mansion and the surroundings had been hidden in the folds of night when they had arrived, but now it stood revealed with breathtaking splendour.

But it had all the attraction of a graveyard for him.

He sighed deeply and continued walking until his eyes were drawn to a bunch of clusters of exquisite flowers. He looked around casually to ensure that no one was watching, and edged closer to a rose bush with crimson flowers.

It truly was an extremely beautiful place, with an overwhelming sense of isolation. A few months ago, he would have genuinely appreciated both the aspects. But now he felt nothing more than an insanely strong wish to go back home....to Shamli....to….

He hesitated and then reached out to touch an unusually exquisite red blossom at the centre -

"You both can go back. Aditya is here, he'll be with me."

The quavering voice split through his thoughts and he turned to see his great-uncle hobbling into the garden with a huge smile on his face, supported by two men.

"Prithvi," he correct irately, but moved towards the weak man.  

"Sorry, my memory always make a fool out of me," Uday apologized and then looked at his servants cheerfully. "You two can leave. I wish to speak to my grandson in private."

The men looked at Prithvi with diffident eyes, and he nodded slightly in concurrence. Just as they were leaving, he suddenly remembered.

"Wait. Bring me the cellphone in my room," he said.

"Yes, your highness," they murmured jointly, and left speedily to carry out the order.

"Are you expecting a call?" Uday asked, as they began strolling.

"No. I just have the habit of keeping it with me," Prithvi replied, flushing slightly.

"Long ago, when I used to travel the world extensively, I always carried a photograph of Aditya and me," Uday smiled wistfully, "I'll show it to you when we return inside. And you'll see why I confused you with your father for a moment."

Prithvi didn't reply. Uday didn't press the topic, as Sumer Singh had told him long ago about Prithvi's bitterness towards his father. If only he knew something that would help lessen the boy's antipathy…..

But all he knew was that his nephew had been a very affectionate, noble and levelheaded human being, who had always tried to put his family's happiness above his own. And so Aditya's actions in the final years of his life had been perplexing. Priyamvada also was a mystery to him. He only vaguely remembered snatches of conversations about her with his attendants in between the frequent phases of rehabilitation at clinics to cure his drug addiction. And when he'd finally returned to the country some years ago, the family he had left behind no longer existed. And the new additions to the family had wanted nothing to do with him. Until now.

They had been walking towards a man-made, perfectly spherical depression in the grounds, which had been carved to flaunt a beautiful marble fountain. Prithvi stepped down into the circle and extended a strong arm to enable the old man to do the same.

"What is that on your hand?" Uday asked with concern at the clear injury, as he carefully descended.

"Got bit by something deadly," Prithvi retorted with a sardonic smile.

"You should apply something on that bruise."

Prithvi grinned. "Actually, with all your experience, I was hoping you'll tell me of a way to keep it fresh," he confessed.

It surprised Uday for a second, before he saw a very familiar mischief sparkling in his great-nephew's eyes.

The old man threw back his head and roared with laughter.

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

Nandini was seething all the way to her house. She had seen the families of girls groveling before the families of the bridegroom innumerable times in their society and it never failed to rile her. How exactly did having a son put one family above the rest? What gave them the right to treat the girl and her family with utter disrespect? 

She looked angrily at Ayodhya's facade as she neared the gate. Ah yes, the abode of the epitome of male arrogance, who believed it to be his duty in life to keep reminding her that she was a trivial part of his life.  She had waited for hours last night and even in the morning for his call, but he was perhaps too busy enjoying himself to waste any time thinking about her. 

Though in anger, she had told him after all that she wouldn't phone him. And her towering temper only solidified the resolution. Now come hell or high water, she wouldn't call him. And that was that.

She would go into the house and spend the rest of the day reading something or watching television. No. Television wasn't a good idea. She couldn't stomach those nonsensical television dramas that showed women dressed impeccably in silk and pearls cutting vegetables in the kitchen while plotting against each other. And most other shows concentrated on love stories….which was another genre she wouldn't be able to tolerate in her present frame of mind. 

It was best that she spend some time in the backyard. That always soothed her like nothing else. Already feeling better, she went around the house, only to find that her grandfather was already enjoying the serenity of the place.

Smiling after a long time, she went to join him as he approached her favourite spot under the tree.

He turned around as she neared, and his wan face suddenly made her stop in unease.  "Grandpa, are you feeling ill again?"

"My health is okay. I just heard something that troubled me." He looked at her worriedly. "Do you remember that girl – Sharanya – whom we heard about some days back?

"Yes, I remember," Nandini said, feeling the first twinge of fear.

Bhoothnath shook his head. "That girl tried to kill herself today afternoon."

"What?" Nandini asked, stunned.

"Her parents had locked her in the house and gone out for some work. She cut her wrists. Due to God's grace, they returned in time and could rush her to the hospital. Otherwise…."

Nandini tried to make sense of the news. Sharanya had tried to end her life, because she had been forcibly taken away from the man she loved. Had this happened some months ago, she would have found it impossible to understand what had prompted Sharanya to take such a drastic step.

But now, she knew...and how…

And yet, she couldn't reconcile with the path the young girl had chosen. She could understand the anguish, but couldn't understand the defeat. Then she became conscious that her grandfather was looking at her very anxiously, and her heart quailed. She could see what was going on in his heart, and abruptly, she wanted to get away before hearing a word of it.

But before she could make a getaway, he spoke. "Nandini, I know that I have no need to tell you any of this. You've never done anything to hurt us so far….and you won't in the future too," he said gently, with a conviction that she found unbearable. 

She attempted a smile. "Grandpa, I need to go inside and - "

"Wait," Bhoothnath said with embarrassment, "I need to speak with you."

With growing nervousness, she looked at him, but he turned his eyes away, feeling too uncomfortable at the prospect of what he was going to say. 

 "Siddharth….your father….I think of him every day. His memories reside in all corners of the house, but I feel closest to him when I come here. I know you feel it too, isn't it?" he asked tenderly.

She nodded silently.

"He always wanted a sister, and had even chosen a name for her. But your grandmother lost the second child, and we were not blessed with more children. Then when you were about to be born, Siddharth was convinced that he was going to have a daughter and he was determined to stick to the name he'd selected long back. We even had several huge arguments about who had the right to name you. But ultimately, he won. He didn't like the idea of pet names too. The only person who dared defy his order was Rajesh's wife. Siddharth didn't have the heart to stop her because she didn't have children of her own."

Nandini didn't say anything. She loved the story behind her naming ceremony….had heard the story a million times before and would have happily heard it a million times more. But this time, each word of that story was weighing her down with devastating force.  

Bhoothnath turned away again, and spoke quietly to the garden wall. "From the moment of your birth till the time he passed away, you were the biggest joy in his life. And the best way to keep him alive is through the values we have inculcated in you and Prakash.  Our happiness and our honour lie in your hands. A single moment of weakness on your part can destroy both. And we….we will not be able to endure it…."

Unable to continue speaking, he stared at the ground and then with damp eyes, he returned to the house.

Nandini didn't move, and the only indications of life were the tightly clenched fists, and the tiny tremble on her lips.

Some distance away, in the isolated area near the old temple a slender branch of the tree laden with white flowers broke off and fell to the ground, and there was a faint mourn in the wind as the blossoms began to wilt.

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