In the living room of the luxurious hotel suite, Kundan Singh tentatively took another sip of the premium liquor in his glass and looked at Vikrant hopefully.

"I can help you hurt Prithvi. I really can. You don't need my master's help for it!" he insisted.

Vikrant gazed back at the unpleasant-looking old man apathetically. If Indrajit's servant had to slither up to the hotel room at this late hour to offer help to destroy Prithvi, he certainly must have some serious grouse against his master's step-brother. He himself, though, was having trouble figuring out which of Adityaraj's sons he wanted to murder at this moment

Indrajit had ignored his phone calls and meeting requests for weeks. Then he had decided to fly down personally, hoping that the gesture would not go waste. But Indrajit had refused to see him even for a second to discuss a cause he knew was dear to Indrajit's heart too

The utter destruction of Prithvi.

Prithvi...who had offended him twice. Firstly, by being born as Priyamvada's and Adityaraj's son. And then, by daring to thrash him in front of his wife and bodyguards only because he had laid claim to a photograph of Prithvi's sainted mother – Priyamvada.

Gorgeous, stubborn and bold Priyamvada. A woman with naughty eyes, a coy smile, husky laugh and tiny, fluttering hands.

Her family's fame and unlimited riches had been the main reasons why he had wooed her in the first place, as his own family had been on the verge of bankruptcy because of his gambling debts. But she had slowly cast a spell on him, until he had found himself counting the days to the wedding. And then, within a span of an evening, everything had been ruined.

"- and if you want to really harm Prithvi, you should target that girl!"

Vikrant came to the present with a start and realised Kundan Singh had been talking all this while and he hadn't heard a word.

"What girl? What are you talking about?" he demanded sharply.

Stifling a frustrated sigh, Kundan Singh repeated, "There is a girl in Prithvi's life. He cares a lot about her and can't stand to see anyone hurt her," he said sneeringly. "If you want to get back at him, kill her!"

With an abrupt change in mood, Vikrant looked at him astutely. "A girl. A girl he likes," he mused slowly, "How old is she?"

"Maybe 18-19."

"Good looking?" Vikrant asked with growing interest.

"Average," Kundan Singh said grudgingly.

Vikrant studied the golden liquid in his glass, mulling over the future course of action.

The girl's beauty didn't matter. She could be downright ugly for all he cared. The important thing was that Prithvi cared for her. His spirits rose at the thought that he was going to snatch away and ruin something close to Prithvi's heart, just like Adityaraj had….captured Priyamvada and destroyed his almost perfect life.

In the end, Adityaraj had been punished fittingly. But Vikrant had never been able to forget the horrific humiliation he had faced and the financial ruin that had followed. Later, he had been able to claw his way back into wealth and success by using every possible unlawful means, but life would have been a million times better if he had married Priyamvada. Instead, he was stuck with an ugly old hag with no personality, whom he had married only for the money.

He grimaced at the thought of his wife. He had barely even looked at her in a long time. He didn't have to. He had useful contacts who supplied him regularly with young girls from impoverished families. If the females threatened to kick up a fuss later, his henchmen ensured that no one ever saw them again. This girl that Kundan Singh had mentioned would simply be another casualty in a long list.

And thus, the son would pay for the father's sins...

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

Nandini stepped out of the bathroom, glumly examining the large tear on the left shoulder of her dress. In her rush to reach college on time, she had grabbed the first dress she saw in the cupboard, forgetting that this outfit had been discarded long ago. She'd have to rummage for another one now.

She absently looked at the table as she moved towards the cupboard, and then stopped and stared again at the contents on top of it. There were two small bottles, a flask and a covered plate. 

Only Prithvi could have kept them here. He must have come when she was having a bath. He had been gone when she had woken up in the morning and she had not expected to see him again before leaving for college.

Nandini walked to the table and looked at the items curiously. She was about to pick up one of the bottles to open it and check the contents when she noticed that the plate was perched slightly precariously at the rim of the table. Some of her books had toppled down from the pile and pushed the plate to the edge.

She lifted the books and was about to rearrange them when a familiar prickle warned her that she wasn't alone. The books fell back on the table as the fingers of her right arm leapt up and fumbled to cover the gaping tear in the dress before she spun around.

Prithvi was standing within touching distance with arms folded across his chest. 

Her warm smile slowly died away at the aloofness in his gaze. And then, she suddenly realised the reason for it.  She had totally forgotten about last night's conversation in the haste to get ready soon.

"How are you feeling now?" he asked briefly.

"I'm almost fine, just slightly weak and my throat's hurting a bit. But I have to leave quickly or Daya will kill me. I forgot this dress was torn because I was rushing to get ready. Did you keep all this here? What is in the bottles? And this flask – it's really nice," she rattled out with strained cheerfulness and turned back towards the table, looking intently at the objects to avoid his challenging scrutiny.

She sensed him moving closer and waited fearfully for the interrogation.

But he only stood beside her and pointed to one of the bottles. "That's a ginger, honey and lemon mix for your throat. Keep having it whenever possible," he said tersely. "And that's the medicine you had last night for your fever. Have it every 3-4 hours today. There's tea in the flask and that's your breakfast. If you still feel -"

Puzzled by the sudden silence, she cautiously sneaked a glance at him.

Prithvi was not looking at her but at the photo that had spilled out from her father's diary and was lying near the flask of tea.

The photo of the unknown man who was tenderly holding an adorable but equally unknown baby.

She quizzically looked from the photo to his riveted features, with the thrill at having gotten another reprieve, however short, overshadowed by puzzlement at his unusually subdued expression.

He picked up the photograph and studied it curiously. "This photo  -who are these people?" he asked abruptly.

"I don't know. I found it in this diary, which belonged to my father. Must be one of his friends," Nandini said thoughtfully. "I thought of asking maa about it but forgot. The baby is really cute, isn't it?" she added affectionately, touching the infant's cherubic face with a delicate finger.

"They all look the same," Prithvi responded with utter disinterest, and then slowly added, "This photo….I think I've seen it before. But I guess this mystery can wait until later. Tell me about the man sent by my grandfather" he finished smoothly, tossing the photo back onto the table.

Totally taken aback by the startling change in subject, Nandini swallowed hard as he turned to face her with a disquieting grimness. She would have to somehow make light of the whole situation to prevent anything unpleasant from happening.

"Oh that. It was nothing," she said brightly, starting to move towards the cupboard to protect herself from the alarmingly penetrating gaze he had levelled on her.

Hard fingers bit into the supple underside of her arm and spun her around.

"If it was nothing, why can't you tell me," he demanded harshly. 

Nandini raised fearful eyes to his, and tremulously said, "This dress is torn. I need to change it."

"You can do it later," he said flatly.

Her fingers clenched convulsively around the rip in the dress. She would have to say something….

"A man came up to me one evening during that time when - when we were….upset with each other," she said uncomfortably, feeling an acute pang even at the memory of those terrible days. "Your grandfather had found out about it somehow. So he had sent a man to tell me that - that your grandfather wanted me to – wanted us to forget the fight and forgive each other," she concluded feebly, and waited in abject nervousness for his inevitable question. 

"That was the 'disgusting' message he sent?" Prithvi asked sardonically.

"It wasn't disgusting at all. I had thought it was because I was so angry with you back then!" Nandini invented nervously, fixing her gaze at a point over his shoulder.

He took another step towards her so that they were scarcely a few inches apart and softly said, "You really shouldn't be lying to me, especially when you know there are so many ways I'd enjoy making you tell the truth," he murmured, and leaned down to her shoulder to kiss a small, tempting expanse of velvety skin that her fingers had failed to cover.

The searing touch of his lips made her tremble but she didn't speak. How could she repeat that man's words when merely thinking about them made her feel so degraded.

Prithvi lifted his head and regarded her woebegone face and lowered lashes. His hands came up to capture her pale cheeks and he raised her face with persistent force.

"Tell me," he prompted gently.

She looked powerlessly into his sharp black eyes. And the unlimited strength and steadiness she saw in their depths defeated her. As her vision blurred, she pulled free from his hold and looked away, striving to keep the tears in check.

"He – he said I should give into whatever – whatever you ask of me. And he'll pay me for it," she whispered haltingly, trying hard to keep her voice steady. "And that if….if I – if there is a baby, I should -"

She couldn't even say the words aloud. Nandini bit into her lower lip to stop it from quivering, but failed to stop the moisture from gathering in her eyes. She cursed herself for being so emotional, unaware that the tears had stopped her from seeing the raw, black rage that had roared into vicious life in Prithvi's eyes at her words.

She began to brush off the tears with the free hand but stilled as he stepped nearer and his hand reached up to her face.

Prithvi stopped the teardrop from rolling down halfway down her cheek. He gathered it up on the tip of his finger and looked at the sparkling drop of water for a moment. She watched him with wary confusion, trying - and failing - to decipher his thoughts.  

Just for a moment, something ice-cold….something terrifying…..flitted across his features.

But then he idly flicked away the teardrop and thoughtfully said, "So the old man really cares. I should thank him for being so concerned."

His tone was very casual. So casual that Nandini felt the first stirrings of alarm. She uneasily said, "Prithvi, you're not -"

"In fact, I think I should thank him in person," he continued musingly as if she hadn't spoken, and instantly turned to walk out of the door.

Nandini went still with shock for a second, and then the implications of what he'd said turned her hands cold. She ran to the door and saw him striding up the stairs to the terrace.

"Prithvi! Wait! " she called out frantically.

But he continued to ascend the steps briskly without bothering to turn around, leave alone respond. Terrified at what she had done, she hurried after him, forgetting all about the state of her dress.

She stepped into the terrace and saw that he was already on the other side. She ran as fast as she could towards him and managed to grasp his arm to stop him from walking away.

"Prithvi, please – please don't go!" she said, frightened.

He impassively detached her hands from around his elbow. "You're already late for college. Don't waste any more time."

"Forget everything I said! Please," she implored.  "Please don't fight with him over this. It's in the past and -"

"Who said anything about a fight?" he asked with raised brows.

"You didn't say it but I know what you're thinking. You can't go!" Nandini said in desperation.

"You never learn, do you?" he asked softly.

"What?" she asked uncertainly.

"That I don't like being told what I should and shouldn't do," Prithvi stated ruthlessly. "I need to leave soon so stop wasting my time."

She recoiled at the cold-blooded dismissal. He wouldn't listen to anything she said now. He had made his decision and nothing would change his mind.

"When will you be back?" she asked helplessly, as panic was slowly replaced by despair.

The sound of the terrace door swinging open startled them both.

They reacted in the same instant. Her hand jumped up instinctively to pull together the sides of the torn material and Prithvi moved slightly to completely block her from the view of whoever had entered the terrace. She prayed hard that it should not be Sumer Singh. How would they answer his questions….

"What do you want?" Prithvi asked brusquely.

No, it was not Sumer Singh, Nandini thought in relief. He wouldn't talk like that to his uncle.

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

Sankatmochan stared at his friend suspiciously even as his brain was working at breakneck speed to figure out a few things. He had seen Nandini clutch at her dress as if it was torn and Prithvi move to shield her from sight.

Well….if the dress was torn….things could get very interesting. There could be many reasons for the tear, but there was only one explanation that he chose. He knew there was absolutely no chance that Prithvi would ever commit such a heinous act, but it would give him the chance, and unlimited pleasure, to tease the young couple mercilessly. And anyways, he had always thoroughly enjoyed ribbing Prithvi with extremely vulgar talks about women since the time his friend had just entered his teens, which had been one major reason why Sumer Singh had detested their friendship. Only this time, luck had created the perfect opportunity for him to make filthy allegations at his friend's expense.

He limped forward with an expression of growing shock and earnestly asked, "How could you do this to her, Prithvi? You said you were only going to take care of her because she had fever, instead you did this!"

Mystified by the accusation in Sankatmochan's tone and Prithvi's studied silence, Nandini peeked around and hesitantly asked, "What are you talking about, Mochi bhaiya?"

Sankatmochan dramatically averted his face. "I can't bear to look at you standing there with your dress all torn and your virtue in tatters!" he said despondently.

"Mochi bhaiya! What are you saying!" she exclaimed, looking at him with horrified astonishment.

Ignoring the deadly silence of his friend, Sankatmochan shook his head regretfully. 

"Don't try to protect him, Nandini. What he did was unforgivable!" he denounced, enjoying himself immensely. He would have to run for his life the instant Prithvi came forward to macerate him for creating this scene, but the fun he was having made it totally worth the risk.

"You've misunderstood us," Nandini tried again urgently. "Nothing happened -"

"You can stop lying, Nandini. He's right. I don't deserve it," Prithvi said quietly.

Sankatmochan had started to bolt as soon as Prithvi began to speak, but now he stood frozen. He hadn't heard correctly, he told himself. Prithvi would never - but there had been too much sincerity in his friend's voice, he registered apprehensively.

They couldn't have….could they….

He saw Prithvi reach out and pull a shirt from the nearest clothes-line, turn around and drape it around Nandini's shoulders. Was her dress ripped that badly, he wondered with slowly increasing dread.

Nandini stared down at the shirt that he had enfolded her in and then looked up at him with wide-eyed bewilderment. She started to ask him what was going on but he instantly placed a finger on her lips, quietening her.

"No! Don't say anything! Just hear me out," he insisted aloud, and then in a very low undertone, he softly warned, "Don't dare ruin this for me."

In a louder, but suitably depressed tone, he said, "I don't know if you'll ever be able to forgive me, but I'm really very sorry for what happened last night. For what I did. You were ill and defenceless and I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that,"

Nandini's face flamed with awkward embarrassment and panicky laughter bubbled up in her chest as she grasped his intent and meaning.

From some distance away, Sankatmochan saw Nandini's cheeks flush red and her mouth quaver with the effort of not crying. She had every reason to cry. If this news got out, Nandini and her family's reputation would be ruined forever in this hideously conservative town.

Last night, he had chanced upon Prithvi in the kitchen when his friend had been swiftly brewing the medicinal drink that he himself had benefited from many times in childhood. He had learnt from Prithvi's impatient replies that Nandini was feeling very unwell and sleeping alone in the house next door. He had thought Prithvi had spent the night taking care of her. But this….this was….

Dear God, what had Prithvi done!

"I don't have any excuse for what I did. But we were all alone and I couldn't control myself," Prithvi said with such genuine remorse that Nandini almost lost the struggle to keep her giggles under control.

She chanced a glimpse at Sankatmochan and felt a surge of pity. He was almost grey with shock.

 "Stop it, Prithvi! He is starting to look sick," she whispered pleadingly.

"Don't worry. No one else will find out," Prithvi reassured convincingly, intentionally misinterpreting her murmur for Sankatmochan's ears. "And if they do, we'll handle everything together. Now go and get some rest," he said kindly.

Nandini didn't need to be told twice. She was already feeling very guilty at Sankatmochan's plight. If she stayed any longer, the truth would definitely spill out of her.

She nodded silently and quickly made her way back towards Vrindavan, not daring to look at both men.

Prithvi sighed very audibly and turned around to see Sankatmochan wiping away rivulets of sweat from his flabby face. He walked towards his plump friend and grabbed him by the shoulders.

And then to Sankatmochan's infinite shock, he grinned exultantly, all traces of repentance gone.

"Mochi, that was the best night ever!" Prithvi said enthusiastically. "I have to admit…..you were right all along. The bed is the only place where women are of any use," he added irreverently.

Horrified, Sanktmochan gasped, "But you – you told her -"

"I need to talk to baba about something," Prithvi cut in uninterestedly, strolling towards the door. "After that I'll just take a short nap. Really tired...haven't slept all night," he confessed with a lazy grin.

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

Sumer Singh slowly stood up from the easy chair, holding the newspaper that he had been reading for the past hour.

"But why? Why do you need to know where he is and what he's doing?" he asked suspiciously.

"To visit him. Why else," Prithvi shrugged.

The newspaper slipped from Sumer Singh's hands. "You want to - But why, my lord?" he asked, thunderstruck.

"I'm missing him too much," Prithvi replied seriously.

"But – you – he – I don't understand!" Sumer Singh said distraughtly.

"You don't need to understand. Just find out and let me know," Prithvi ordered curtly.

Long after he had left the room, Sumer Singh stood motionless on the spot, his mind working furiously through a daze of anxiety and confusion.

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

In the dressing room, Nandini turned sideways in front of the mirror, carefully examining the costume from all angles.

No bit of skin showed. The neckline too was not deep. And yet, she couldn't shake off a sense of uneasiness, especially at the way the fabric was clinging to her cleavage. She picked up the thin dupatta from the nearby chair and draped it around her body. A little better, but not much.

"Tell me honestly - does this dress look vulgar?" she asked her friends worriedly

"Nandini, that's a lovely dress and you look beautiful in it," Nishi said exasperatedly.

"I'm not beautiful from any angle, and I don't care about it," Nandini muttered, "But I'm not comfortable in this outfit. The blouse is too tight," she said awkwardly

Vrinda rolled her eyes. "It's not too tight! I've seen girls who walk around in clothes a hundred times tighter than that."

"Okay, now stop hiding inside and come out," Nishi said sternly. "Everyone's waiting for you."

"You both go ahead. I'll come in two minutes," Nandini promised.

When they had left, she scrutinised herself in the mirror one last time. Sighing, she picked up a small bottle from the dressing table and took a sip of the contents to soothe her throat.

Prithvi would have left by now and she didn't even know when he would be back.

Why did he have to leave when she needed him so badly, she thought desolately. Just knowing he was nearby would have made her feel much more secure and confident.

She sighed again as she left the room.

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

Dhiren stared around apathetically at the frenzied students in the chaotic auditorium. He was bored and there was nothing here to catch his attention.

But he had enjoyed himself in the palm-reader's tent, openly laughing at the freakish woman who had "forewarned" him that he should be "cautious about his actions" if he didn't want to suffer critical injuries in the next few days.

Someone dashed into him from behind. He staggered at the impact but managed to stay upright. He turned around with a snarl and then stopped dead.

"I'm sorry," Nandini said distractedly, straightening up. She had stumbled over the hem of the dress while hurrying out of the dressing room.

Then she recognised the people she had bumped into and a flicker of anger and distaste marred her features. These were the final year boys who had made Rishabh's life hell. She began to coolly ask them to give her way when she noticed that Dhiren's eyes were now fixed several inches below her face and were slowly moving down her body. Intuitive fear made her step back.

Like a dozen other males in the vicinity, Dhiren gormlessly stared at the girl in front of him, stripping her naked in his mind.

Nandini quickly moved sideways and began walking through a roundabout way to get away from the repulsive, leering gaze. Her heart was pounding with terror. He hadn't touched her but his eyes had almost violated her body. For those few seconds, she had felt horribly vulnerable and alone in the crowded auditorium …

Dhiren watched her hurry away, his eyes greedily hovering over the gentle flare of her hips and the silken waves of her hair gently swaying with the graceful movement of her body.

Now she was ascending the steps to the stage, cautiously holding up the flowing, heavy skirt by a couple of inches to avoid tripping. He got a glimpse of delicate ankles with threads of silver tied around them.

"Dhiren?" Abhay called out for the second time.

"What?" he asked hoarsely, not taking his eyes off her.

"That's Nandini. She's friends with that rat Rishabh."

"I know," Dhiren said idly.

Sure, he had noticed her several times before from a distance. Every red-blooded male on campus had. But the extremely demure, old-fashioned outfits that she wore daily had been a turn-off when there were so many fashionable, sexy girls on the campus. At this moment, though, even though she wasn't wearing any make-up or accessories, she could make all those girls fade into the background.

"Dhiren, I know she looks hot as hell but I don't think you should – you know….try anything with her," Abhay said nervously, feeling uncomfortable at the calculative look he saw on his friend's face.

Dhiren finally looked at his friend. "Why not?" he asked with a frown.

"You remember that guy - Prithvi?"

Dhiren winced before he could control the expression, as the muscles of his hand cramped up painfully at the memory of his first and last encounter with Prithvi.

But he defiantly asked, "What does he have to do with this?"

"I've seen Nandini talking to him a few times. I've even seen her leaving the campus with him on his bike. I think they are good friends. They may even have something going on for all you know," Abhay went on agitatedly. "So it would be best if you don't mess around with her."

Dhiren clenched his teeth in frustration, but he couldn't deny the sense in what his friend was saying. Furious at the possible thwarting of his desires, he looked at Nandini again, and a stronger rush of unbridled lust rocked his body.

He couldn't have her.

Suddenly, she became even more tempting….

But maybe it didn't have to end badly, he argued with himself. He just had to find a way to get her alone somewhere so that he could have a little fun and then he'd force her to keep her mouth shut about it. No one needed to find out.

There was no harm in trying his luck, was there…

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

When he opened his eyes, he was lying outside the gates of the palace. He didn't remember how he had reached here. The last thing he recollected was his grandfather's cane swinging towards his head. After that, his mind was a blank. He tried to raise himself from the ground but collapsed weakly.

The guards at the gate averted their eyes from the bloodied 7-year-old who was struggling to rise to his feet. But they needn't have worried. He neither looked at them nor begged for help.

On the third attempt, Prithvi managed to get up and stand on trembling legs. The skin on his legs had been scraped off and there was an unbearable pain in his left arm which was hanging lifelessly by his side. He cradled it with his other arm and began limping towards the village.

His whole body was hurting dreadfully and his throat was parched dry but he had to move away from here before his grandfather began questioning him again about his mother's whereabouts. He had to find a place to sit and wait for his mother. She had promised to return by evening and he knew for sure that she wouldn't break her word.

Although he fought hard against them, tears kept slipping down to his cheeks. He felt ashamed of himself for crying but at least his mother wasn't here to see him act like a weakling.

His hopes rose as he reached the village. The rural folk had always very affectionate towards him whenever choti maa had been able to take him out of the palace to play for a few hours with other children. Maybe one of the families would give him some water and let him wait inside their house or courtyard until his mother came back.

But as he walked past the houses, everyone simply turned away or looked through him as though he was invisible. Some of the children began to come towards him, but anxious parents dragged them away. He was feeling increasingly frightened and confused at their unusual behaviour, being unaware that the king had issued a furious decree that no one was to be seen even talking to him, forget lending some help. 

For a few moments, he was tempted to approach some familiar faces and appeal for help. But the task felt strangely difficult. If they didn't want to help, he'd find another way. He didn't need them. He had his mother with him. He didn't need anyone else.

The pain in his arm and legs was getting too much. He needed to lie down for a while. Surely his mother would be back any time. And once she returned, she'd find him and then they would go away together to a safe place where his grandfather wouldn't be able to hit either of them. He would never go back to the palace, unless his mother asked him to. He could do anything to make her happy.

He forced himself to walk a few more agonizing steps towards the large tree that lay almost outside the village. 

But before he could reach its shade, his knees buckled and everything turned black again.

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

Bhairav marched through the village in his palace guard uniform, looking domineeringly at the villagers. He had joined work just some time ago and he was extremely proud that he had got the opportunity to work in the hallowed interiors of the palace. Now his main pastime was bossing around the simple village folk and drilling fear into their minds.

He had reached the outskirts of the village and was about to spin around when he saw a man standing near one of the trees, gazing at the ground underneath it. Smug at the prospect of being able to bully one more person, he strode imperiously towards the unfamiliar individual.

The young man was perhaps a tad taller than him, and though he was lean, he seemed to be more powerfully built, Bhairav noticed resentfully as he approached the solitary figure.

When he had reached the tree, he brashly demanded, "Who are you? And what are you doing here?"

"Just reliving some wonderful memories," the young man murmured without showing enough respect to even look at him.

Bristling at the impudence, Bhairav snapped, "If you've come here to meet someone, then go to their house and sit there. If you're hoping to see the palace, don't waste your time. Visitors are not allowed," he said haughtily. "Anyway, don't loiter around this spot. I will not allow it."

This time, the broad-shouldered male did turn around. There was no anger or defensiveness on his fair visage. Only a look of genuine amusement.

"Why? Is one of your fathers buried here?" Prithvi enquired interestedly.

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