Seated on a chair near the hospital bed, Bhoothnath kept his eyes on the floor as he waited for the stony silence to end.

“You’ve told Nandini to keep silent about the college incident.”

Unable to meet the arctic stare levelled on him, Bhoothnath mumbled, “Yes.”

“And you don’t want me to say or do anything either. Because it will affect your honour,” Prithvi mused conversationally.

There was very light emphasis on the last word. Yet, it was infused with a searing derision that made Bhoothnath shrivel.

Needing to redeem himself, he looked earnestly at Prithvi. “The principal told me that that monster will not be able to lead a normal life for years….maybe for the rest of his life. He has been punished.”  Having been cautioned by Sumer Singh in private, he didn’t raise the point that the decision to avoid the intervention of law would be in Prithvi’s interests. Moreover, Sumer Singh had been strangely confident that Prithvi wouldn’t land in trouble no matter what, and he’d also assured Bhoothnath that the police wouldn’t be told about the other goons.

“But you’re going scot free,” Prithvi drawled.

“Me?” Bhoothnath said, baffled.

“You’re equally guilty for asking Nandini to keep shut,” Prithvi denounced coldly, fury plainly beginning to rise. “People like you deserve to be  - ”

“Prithvi, he’s not in the best of health right now,” Sumer Singh muttered from his post by the side of the bed. He was upset himself, but he had to think about their relationship with the Bharadwaj family. He couldn’t let Prithvi’s blunt nature antagonise Bhoothnath. 

But Bhoothnath weakly said, “He’s speaking the truth, Sumer. And he has the right to be angry because he’s the one who saved her from that boy -”

“I didn’t save her from him,” Prithvi retorted. “She had escaped by the time I reached. I did what I did because I -”

“He can’t stand men who commit such acts,” Sumer Singh interrupted quickly, winning a contemptuous look from Prithvi for his nervousness.

“He had also told me he would look out for Nandini in college. He kept his promise,” Bhoothnath said gratefully.

“Stop giving me credit for something I didn’t do,” Prithvi said angrily. “She fought him off by herself. If you have one per cent of her courage, go and support her instead of grovelling in front of me.”

Shoulders slumped, Bhoothnath pleadingly said, “I want him to be punished in the worst way, but the talk that will spread in society..…I will not be able to take it.”

“You can’t handle trashy gossip but you can ignore what she went through? What kind of man are you?” Prithvi demanded, furious.

“That gossip could ruin Nandini’s future,” Bhoothnath insisted. “The reputation of a girl can be destroyed with a few malicious words spoken carelessly.”   

“Don’t quote ridiculous movie dialogues at me. This conversation is disgusting enough as it is,” Prithvi said irately. 

Extreme weariness covered Bhoothnath’s visage. “You’re young….I can’t expect you to understand the truth of what I’m saying. By God’s grace, my family has been spared such misfortunes until now. But I’ve seen it happen with others, and I’ve pitied those ill-fated girls and families. Nandini should not go through that.”

Sumer Singh delicately said, “Those people may not have had enough support from society. Nandini is loved by many families. I’ve seen how they consider her to be part of their own households. They will stand by her.”

“It is not that simple, Sumer.” 

With considerable effort, Prithvi controlled his temper and steadily said, “You don’t have to worry about the legal expenses or the security of your family. I give you my word I’ll take care of everything.”

“I’m not worried about the legal expenditure,” Bhoothnath said dully. “For Nandini, I would gladly sell off everything and live on the streets. And if we go to court, I’m certain our friends and neighbours will accept our version of the event as the truth, and they’ll support us. We may win and that monster may be sent to prison. But I’ll have to watch Nandini being questioned by the police and then that boy’s lawyer in front of strangers ….questioned about her character and morals….her relationships with men. Soon, some of our acquaintances will start wondering in private if we’d been entirely honest about the incidents.”

He jadedly went on, “Outsiders may think that perhaps she had been in a relationship with him. Those who know Nandini will begin speculating if she had actually escaped harm. Any minor injuries they saw on her will become more serious in their memories. A few months from today, people may continue to smile at Nandini, but they’ll exchange looks behind her back, half convinced that she was -” he discontinued with a wobbly breath.

Prithvi didn’t speak. Blood was roaring in his ears after listening to the possible unfolding of events described by Bhoothnath.

Bhoothnath shakily carried on, “If Siddharth was alive, it would have been different. It would have been his responsibility. His decision. And I know he would have fought. He protested against crime and injustice even if it affected strangers. He would have turned the world on its head if its shadow fell on Nandini.”

Sumer Singh stared at the defeated old man. Though he had heard local residents offering glowing tributes to Siddharth, the Bharadwaj family rarely spoke about him.

A sideways glance showed that Prithvi was now looking at Bhoothnath in a subdued manner. The same questions were probably playing around in the boy’s mind.

On an impulse, Sumer Singh said, “He must have been very protective about her.”

Bhoothnath smiled unexpectedly. “Prithvi thinks I’m very lenient with Nandini. I don’t know what he would have said if he saw how Siddharth pampered her. You know…they weren’t merely father and daughter. They were best friends. And Nandini had him wrapped around her tiny little finger from the day she was born,” he said wryly. “When she began crawling, Siddharth tried to convince me that we had to place soft mattresses on the whole floor. On the day she took her first steps, he attempted to pad the sharp edges of the furniture in the house so she wouldn’t get hurt if she banged into them. When we put her into nursery, he waited outside the school building for the first two days to make sure she would be alright. I could tell you millions of such instances,” he chortled.

Then he slowly became downcast. “Why didn’t God take my life first? What misdeed had I committed that I had to see the dead body of my child,” he whispered, “and to know he was murdered for a few hundred rupees.”

Shocked, Prithvi stared at him. He hadn’t bothered to ask Nandini about her father’s death in all this time. He had simply assumed it had been the result of a major health problem or an accident. Thorny minutes ticked by, then he hesitantly asked, “How did it happen?”

Bhoothnath sighed deeply. “He had gone to Bangadh town for some work. From there, he was to travel to a far-flung village to meet a friend who was in need of money. Three days after Siddharth had left home, the police found his body by the side of an isolated road that led to the village. He’d been robbed and killed,” he said hoarsely. “The police told me he had chosen the wrong route. That the region Siddharth had passed through was known for harbouring criminals and dacoits. Kidnappings and murders happened routinely on that stretch. They said there were much safer roads through which he could have travelled. But when death comes calling, who can stall it….After that, it was solely the faces of my grandchildren that gave me the strength to continue living.”

He regarded Prithvi with world-weary eyes.

“I have many responsibilities to fulfil before I breathe my last, and your decision will determine if I’ll be able to do the needful. Tomorrow, if my family’s name is tarnished because of Prakash, and if he truly is to blame, I will throw him out of the house and cut off all relations with him. But if the reason for dishonour is the daughter of the house, whether she is guilty or not, I will not live to see the next day,” he said with patent finality.

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

Nandini wearily walked past the room in which her mother was reading a book. When would she enjoy a day of peace again….filled with ordinary, regular events. Then again, the whole day hadn’t been stressful. But the hour and a half until her grandfather returned had been torturous.

In the middle of her frightful imaginings about the scene that would be going on at the hospital, Aarti di and her parents had dropped in to discuss the wedding preparations.

They’d revealed how the boy’s family had dillydallied about proceeding with the alliance, but the potential bridegroom had set his heart upon marrying Aarti and had refused to entertain any talk about cancelling the wedding.

As the marriage was barely 10 days away, there wasn’t enough time to arrange lavish events. All the functions would be held on a small scale, and they had laughingly entrusted her with the responsibility of making them a success. Forcibly keeping crippling anxiety away from her face and voice, Nandini had playfully promised to do her best. She was also entrusted with the job of applying mehndi on the bride’s hands. Her honest admission that she didn’t know the latest designs was brushed aside as irrelevant. To her shy gratification, Aarti had assured her that her traditional designs were always more beautiful than those of the most accomplished and up-to-date artisans.

At that point, her grandfather had arrived, and as he greeted the guests and settled down on a chair, he’d given a small nod in her mother’s direction. The implication had dumbfounded Nandini even as relief had flooded her.

How had her grandfather managed to pull it off…

Not that she could ask him about it even after the other family had left. He had looked stricken with guilt every time he gazed at her. Determined to put him at his ease, she started talking animatedly about the upcoming wedding in the area. Gradually, his discomfort had eased, and by the time dinner had ended, he was chattering away like his old self. He didn’t mention a word about his meeting with Prithvi though. Nandini knew he wouldn’t discuss it with her mother in front of her or Prakash.

She didn’t mind. She was only grateful that Prithvi had listened to him and accepted his request. It was likely the prince would roast her over a nice, blazing inferno tomorrow, but she’d worry about that later. For now, she had to fulfil a precious responsibility.

Nandini closed the doors of her room and switched on the brightest light and the fan. She walked to the table and picked up her bag. As she clambered onto the bed with it, the room became uncomfortably hot.

Glancing up to confirm that the fan was running at full speed, she took out a book and opened it to reveal the envelope. She lifted it from the pages with cold hands. A fleeting temptation rose to postpone the viewing to tomorrow. Before she could give into the urge, she opened the envelope and drew out the photographs.

Heart thudding with nervous excitement, Nandini stared at the couple in the top-most photo. They were in the middle of a dance, with the man’s arms around his partner’s waist, and the woman’s hand resting on his shoulders. Neither was smiling into the camera. They were absorbed in conversation, with the man bending solicitously to listen to his wife. There were other dancing couples around them, all foreigners. It was a lavish setting, and undoubtedly a high profile function.

She wanted to absorb all aspects of the colour photograph at once, but her amazed eyes were captured by the extraordinarily handsome man, whose name Sankatmochan had mentioned long back.

So this was Adityaraj…

She felt stunned by his resemblance to Prithvi. But the differences became apparent quickly.

There was nothing dangerous or intimidating about the aura surrounding Adityaraj, who was dressed in a dark suit. His features were softer, and his hair was styled differently.

Nandini gaze moved to the woman who seemed to be talking about a serious topic, judging from her sober face.

His wife…Priyamvada….

Nandini stared at Prithvi’s mother with a growing sense of awe.

Prithvi had said she was beautiful. And Priyamvada unquestionably was, with gorgeous features, highlighted by artfully applied makeup, and hair swept up into a silky chignon in a style reminiscent of the famous actresses of the time.

But it was more than just good looks. Even if she hadn’t known anything about Prithvi’s background, she would have gauged that Priyamvada was not merely another rich woman. Her elegance went beyond the glittering ornaments that adorned her neck, ears and hands, or the lovely green saree that was draped around her willowy figure. She exuded absolute class, and had a regal poise that no amount of money or fame could grant.

Together, she and Adityaraj made a very attractive pair.

Nandini reluctantly kept the photo aside, and looked at the second snap.

Priyamvada was sitting at a huge, elaborately carved mirror. Her back was to the camera, though her reflection was clearly visible. Three women were waiting in attendance near her. One was holding a jewellery box, one was combing Priyamvada’s shoulder-length hair. Only the head of the third one was visible, as she seemed to be crouching at Priyamvada’s feet.

Adityaraj was leaning against the dresser, laughing as he read a letter. Priyamvada wasn’t smiling in this one too. Her attention was focussed on her image in the mirror, as she adjusted a sparkling necklace. 

Nandini scrutinised the figures. Apart from the startling luxury of the background, the photo could have been of any other married couple.

She kept it aside carefully, next to the first snap, and viewed the final photograph.

Instantly, a smile lit up her face.

Priyamvada was sitting up on a bed in a hospital gown. She looked exhausted but was smiling happily at the infant in her arms. Adityaraj was sitting next to her, his arm around her slim shoulders. His eyes were fixed on the baby, and he was smiling just as joyfully.

It was a sweet, heart-warming scene.

Nandini touched the newborn in the picture. He was all bundled up, though she could see a shock of black hair crowning the tiny head.

Prithvi….presumably on the day of his birth…

She gazed at the snap for some more minutes, then picked up the previous photos and pored over them together.

Priyamvada looked undeniably happy when she was holding her child. Yet, she didn’t appear particularly upset or unhappy in the other two snaps as well. There was a solemn air about her, but nothing grimmer.

Had the photos been taken when she had adjusted to life with Adityaraj? Had she even grown to be happy by the time Prithvi was born? Or was her joy solely caused by the birth of her son, Nandini pondered confusedly. She could now empathise with Uday for his uncertainty. No wonder he hadn’t known what to make of the pictures.

The overwhelming sensation, though, was that of relief.

She would be able to tell Prithvi that he could see the photographs because Priyamvada didn’t look distressed in any of them, and was actually happy in one.

And then there was Adityaraj.

Nandini remembered each word of the story Mochi had narrated. But she couldn’t connect that brutal figure to the man in the photographs. The gentle-looking man who was holding his wife tenderly, and gazing at his son with touching adoration…

Out of nowhere, the recollection of a photo in which a man was holding a baby floated into her mind. If her memory served right, that man, like Adityaraj, was dressed in a suit.

Nandini placed the three photographs in the middle of her open notebook, and closed the cover. Then getting up on her knees, she shuffled to the edge of the bed and reached out for the diary on the table.

Extracting it from beneath a textbook, she settled back on the bed and flipped through it. The photo was there, with her father’s description of a child who had visited their home.

Yes, the stranger was also wearing a suit, albeit of a different colour. If only his face was not turned away….

What was she thinking?

There was no possibility that the photograph was that of Prithvi and his father. It was silly to think there was a connection. Grinning at her idiocy, she replaced the photo and began going through the diary.

She smiled on seeing that in one place the accounts had denigrated into the lyrics of an old Hindi song. On another page, her father had written down directions to some area.  On the second last sheet, he had written, “Have to pick up Mamaji from the station and bring him home. Father has asked me to lose him midway. I want to, but Boss may feel upset.”

Nandini chuckled. Her grandfather had never gotten along with his wife’s family. And he specifically detested his brother-in-law. Her father too hadn’t been especially fond of that family.

She swung her feet to the floor and headed to her mother’s room to show her the entry. She could also show her the stranger’s photo and ask about the child her father had written about so fondly.

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

“I think that’s your father’s friend with his son. This note is about the same child. This line about the toys….that’s how I remember,” Sarojini said softly, running a finger unsteadily over the page. “Your father had bought a lot of toys the previous day. I thought they were for you, and I became upset because they were expensive and we weren’t doing well financially at the time. And on top of that, you wouldn’t have been able to play with them for many more months. That’s when he told me they were for his friend’s son who was coming the next day. The friend had passed away and his family had fallen on hard times. That’s why he’d bought those toys for the child.”

“Where are they now?” Nandini asked quizzically, taking the photograph held slackly in her mother’s left hand.

“I don’t know,” her mother murmured, with her attention plainly elsewhere as she turned the pages. “We lost touch with that family very long ago. And I didn’t know much about them to start with. Your father had countless friends in the town and outside as well. I hardly knew half of them,” Sarojini said absently.

Nandini wanted to know more but she saw that her mother’s interest was consumed by the last entry in the diary, which was more personal. So she didn’t break the silence, and snuggled up closer to re-read the lines with her.

“Boss….I used to feel embarrassed when he called me that in front of others. It gave the impression that I dominated him,” Sarojini said ruefully, “which was far from the truth. You know how he was….he would religiously ask for my opinion before making a decision, but ultimately, he would only do what he felt was right,” she said wryly.

Nandini smiled at the memory.

After dithering for a moment, Sarojini earnestly said, “It has been very long since they’ve come here. When they called last month, they kept asking about you and Prakash. So I was thinking maybe we could invite -”

“No,” Nandini said flatly, straightening to get down from the bed with the photograph in hand.

“They’ll feel happy even if you speak to them over the phone!”

She was pleading with herself. Nandini had left the room, closing the doors firmly behind her.

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

Nandini was busy arranging the incense stick packets and bottles of oil and ghee in the little cupboard in the corner of the temple when a heavily perfumed hand landed on her shoulder, and a shrill voice asked, “Where have you been, darling?”

Recognising the speaker, she turned with a ready smile. “How are you, aunty?” she asked warmly,

The plump woman who was beaming at her was draped in a bright pink saree, and had applied lipstick of the same shade. “Fabulous as always,” Neelu tittered, and then tugged at the elbow of a thin lady who was standing nearby.  “This is my sister, Uma. Uma Raheja. Her husband is a big industrialist in Delhi.”

Nandini smiled at the new face, and greeted her courteously. Uma Raheja, who was looking very sophisticated in a muted peach saree and make-up, nodded coolly. Then Neelu aunty claimed her attention once again with a multitude of questions about Prithvi and his whereabouts.

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

Sumer Singh walked towards the main road with his shopping bag, making a list of the items needed for the kitchen. He was tired because of the chaotic morning. But in the midst of the commotion, one tension had been taken off his head.

He’d been dreading the arrival of Adityaraj’s friends, being fully aware that Prithvi wasn’t going to spare a minute for them.  Thankfully, in the morning, they called to postpone their visit for a few days, as the only person who had something concrete to say was dealing with an unexpected emergency in the office.

He slowed down as he approached the temple’s entrance. Nandini was coming out of the shrine with two other women, listening patiently to a voluble fat lady. He moved to a side and waited.

Outside, after some more minutes of mostly one-sided conversation, the women gradually sauntered away. Looking highly amused, Nandini was starting to turn back when she spotted him and smiled.

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

“He’s back home?” Nandini asked, shocked. “How did the doctors let him?”

“They wanted him to remain in the hospital for three more days. He wanted to return home. And so as usual, his decision overruled everyone else’s,” Sumer Singh laughed.

“This isn’t like his other – it’s about his health! Why won’t he listen?” she said despairingly.

“It’s alright. They did a thorough check-up and were surprised. His wounds have healed faster than they expected. They didn’t make an issue after that,” Sumer Singh assured, smiling as he remembered the amazement of the main doctor. The speed at which Prithvi recovered from the most serious illnesses and injuries used to baffle him in the initial years. Then as time passed, he had accepted that the boy simply had an unusually strong constitution. He often thought it was nature’s way of compensating for the emotional scars.

Not entirely convinced, Nandini looked at the house adjoining hers. “Is he angry with me? About the complaint?” she asked apprehensively.

“It is very difficult to tell with him. Actually, we assumed he had accepted the request because he didn’t say anything to the contrary,” Sumer Singh confessed. “You could go and meet him if you wish. I’ve left the door unlocked.”

Nandini wavered indecisively. She had to finish work in the temple. She had only come outside because her grandfather, who was taking care of the temple by himself for the day, and the other devotees were getting annoyed with Neelu aunty’s loud chatter. Then she was to leave for college to sign the wretched letter, and meet Daya and Rishabh. She’d planned to skip classes and rush to the hospital after that.

But if she could finish work at the shrine quickly….

Prakash was playing at friend’s house and her mother was visiting the house of a co-worker who had recently delivered a baby. That gave her a prized hour at the least. 

Observing her confusion, Sumer Singh mischievously said, “Don’t worry too much. I’m quite certain he’d want to see you regardless of whether he is angry or not.” He chuckled when she blushed.

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

Sankatmochan looked up at his friend with uncharacteristic gravity.

Prithvi was seated in a plush easy chair, leaning against the back, going through the messages on his phone disinterestedly.

It was hard to believe he had recently undergone a serious surgery. The newly changed, smaller bandage visible through the half-buttoned shirt and the faded smudge on the forehead were the only indications of the hospital stay and the preceding fight.

“Vikrant has gone totally underground. How are we going to get him? ” Sankatmochan asked seriously.

“I’ll drag him out of hell if I have to,” Prithvi replied calmly.

“And that other bastard? Now that they’re not going to file a complaint….”

“I’m going to wait till he gets back on his feet.”

“And then?”

With cold amusement, Prithvi looked at the agitated man who was sitting on the floor. “He’ll wish he was safely behind bars,” he promised casually, lightly throwing the phone over his shoulder onto the bed behind the chair.

Sankatmochan was happily ruminating on that statement when a disconnected thought struck.

“You fooled me,” he accused. “You made me think you’d slept with Nandini that night.”

Prithvi regarded the plump man with innocent surprise. “I wasn’t lying. I did sleep with her,” he said seriously.

Sankatmochan gaped. He had hoped to hear that he had fallen for a trick. But the admission had sounded completely truthful. “You – you claimed it was only for fun!” he said hopelessly, grasping at straws.

“Oh it was the most fun I’ve ever had,” Prithvi smiled lazily.

“You’re lying! You wouldn’t use her like that and then almost kill the man who tried to assault her. And after that, you nearly got killed to save her from abduction. And you plan to hunt down Vikrant and deal with that other fellow too! You wouldn’t go to that much trouble for -”

“Vikrant targeted her because of her supposed relationship with me. You expected me to let her get into trouble for that reason?” Prithvi demanded. “And if he is not punished, next time he’ll target the people I actually care about. And Dhiren….you know how I feel about scumbags like him.”

The explanation was perfectly logical and in line with his friend’s nature, Sankatmochan accepted miserably. He wouldn’t expect anything less from Prithvi. Yet, a young girl’s life was at stake here…

“Did you - you know - use protection that night?” he asked desperately.

 “Who thinks of that in the heat of the moment?” Prithvi impatiently countered. “Unlike you, I don’t walk around with condoms 24/7 in the hope that I’m going to get laid.”

“What if she becomes pregnant?” Sankatmochan asked in horror.

Prithvi carelessly retorted, “She’ll have to deal with it. I could help out with the finances, I suppose,” he said thoughtfully. “You’ll have to make her understand my stand if and when that day comes.”  

“How can I tell her - She thinks of me as her brother!” Sankatmochan cried out.

“Which is why you are best suited for the task,” Prithvi pointed out smoothly.  

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

Nandini stopped on the landing of the stairs, and stared bleakly at the next flight of steps that would take her closer to the lair.

She had not ventured up the stairs in this house after Prithvi and Sumer Singh had moved in. The thought of doing so now, especially going into his room, was making her feel peculiarly embarrassed, making her stop every few steps since she had entered Ayodhya. 

And while she was unsure about how she would face Prithvi, she couldn’t stifle the urge to know if he was alright. She had to show him the photographs as well.

Taking a deep breath, she gripped the envelope and traipsed up the remaining steps, and halted in the corridor. She could hear voices coming from one of the rooms. Sankatmochan’s voice was shrill, but Prithvi’s response sounded peaceful enough.

Nandini tapped her toes twice on the floor, making the anklets chime loudly. The men’s discussion instantly ceased as expected, and moments later, Sankatmochan’s head popped out of the room.

She smiled at him, holding the envelope inconspicuously behind her. In return, he looked at her like he had inside information that she was dying. “Why are you waiting there? Come inside,” he said dejectedly.

Even taking into account Prithvi’s mood, the pity on Sankatmochan’s face seemed extreme. With more confusion than despair, she patted her half-open tresses once, and then walked towards the room.

Nandini halted at the door and peered inside tentatively.

The room was sparsely decorated, with few pieces of furniture. It was practically ascetic. Yet, the items in its confines reeked of wealth, and there was something daunting in the atmosphere of the room. Possibly because of the imperious figure reclining in a chair, elbows resting on the arms of the chair and hands interlined loosely in the front. Prithvi was looking at her with a cool detachment that said nothing about his feelings. He hadn’t shaved for the second day, and the stubble made him appear more ominous.

Then as she hesitantly walked into the room, he idly said, “Mochi, get lost.”

Sankatmochan glanced at Nandini. She was standing close to the door, eyes stuck to the ground, looking delicate and defenceless. He squared his shoulders. “I think I should stay,” he announced.

“You do?” Prithvi enquired pleasantly.

The round-faced man deflated. “I don’t,” he mumbled. Then he spiritedly turned to Nandini. “I’m downstairs, so if you -”

“Close the door on your way out,” Prithvi interrupted smoothly.

Sankatmochan glowered at Prithvi. Then he flounced out, shutting the doors behind him. As Nandini glumly stared at the exit, a voice from the outside yelled, “Nandini, give a shout if you want my help!”

She nearly laughed at the subsequent stomping sound of Sankatmochan escaping down the stairs. But the abrupt realisation that a dreaded moment had arrived killed the humour.

“No hysterics because I came home today?”

The mild tone surprised Nandini into swivelling around. To her astonishment, there was no resentment in the brilliant black eyes, only a teasing light.  

“You’re not angry with me?” she asked warily, dissecting the strikingly handsome face for signs of pretence.

“I guess it cancels out,” Prithvi wrote off nonchalantly. “Get me that shirt,” he ordered out of the blue, sending a brief look at an ironed dark green piece placed neatly on the table’s surface.

Stupefied, Nandini concluded that her grandfather was a magician. Though she dearly wanted to know what he had said to cause the sea-change, she buried the impulse to investigate. One did not look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Take your time. I know I’m too good-looking for you stop leching anytime soon,” Prithvi said considerately.

She hadn’t realised that she had been staring at him. Turning pink, Nandini walked past him to the dark table that was a few feet away from a large, antique-looking cupboard. Sensing his eyes on her, she kept the envelope near a swanky laptop and was about to pick up the shirt when her eyes fell on a framed photograph. She stared at the now familiar face, realising that she was looking at the picture Prithvi had secured on her birthday.

Priyamvada was much younger in this photo, and she was looking directly into the camera, an enigmatic smile on her lips. There was a blazing confidence in her eyes. A staunch faith in the wonderful life and happiness that was in store for her.

Nandini felt tears begin to sting her eyes. 

“She was seventeen at the time.”

Hastily blinking back the moisture, Nandini spun around.

 Prithvi had risen to his feet. He wasn’t looking at her or the photograph, and his fingers were was busy undoing the last few buttons of his shirt. She could have put a hand out and touched the tension radiating from him.

Nandini turned to the table and lifted the shirt off its surface, noting that it was not buttoned. Folding the garment over an arm, she walked up to him as he was peeling away the old shirt.

She didn’t miss the faint discomfort that darted across his face and moved to help him slide the shirt off his torso. She half expected him to get annoyed but he silently accepted her assistance.

Nandini kept the discarded shirt on the handle of the armchair, and held out the fresh shirt for him to ease his arms into the sleeves, trying not to get flustered at the curious feeling of intimacy about the mundane task.

Prithvi turned to face her. “You might as well complete the job,” he prompted mockingly.

“Why can’t you do it yourself?” she asked, bemused.

“I don’t want to,” he explained helpfully.

“Brat,” Nandini laughed and began fastening the buttons at the midriff. But she knew the lightened atmosphere was not going to continue…

“Did you see the photos?” he asked quietly as she finished clasping a button at the chest. 

She nodded and then looked up to meet his intent gaze. “I think you should see them,” she said gently, adjusting the collar of the shirt.

He uncomfortably said, “I haven’t told you this, but my mother was….my father…he -”

“I know,” she admitted miserably with lowered lids, preferring to face his anger than letting him recount the terrible story by pretending innocence. “Mochi bhaiya told me everything about your parents. It was not his fault,” she clarified quickly, looking up uneasily. But to her surprise, he didn’t look livid, only relieved that he didn’t have to narrate the events.

Feeling braver, she carried on, “I made him tell me at the time when we’d had that fight. It used to upset me when you spoke like you hated your father.  I wanted to know why you were so furious with him. That’s why I asked Mochi bhaiya about it. I think he told me the story in the hope that if I knew more about your past, I’d be able to….” She stopped and swallowed. It was difficult to remember those awful days without feeling a pang.

Prithvi looked at her face closely and stepped back. Then he strode to the table and picked up the envelope.

As she watched him turn absently to lounge against the edge of the table, Nandini debated whether to go up to him or not. She had just decided to give him some space when he extended a hand slightly without looking up. Gladdened, she walked ahead and put her hand into his. He idly drew her to his side. Once she was firmly ensconced against him, his grip relaxed and she wrapped a hand comfortingly around the crook of his arm. 

Prithvi paused for one more second, then opened the envelope briskly and pulled out the photos.

He had thought he was braced for the images and had planned to rifle through them quickly. The topmost one proved him wrong instantly.

Astounded, Prithvi stared at the beautiful dancing couple for a long time even though the first look had been enough to imprint it on his mind for eternity.  He had seen photos of Adityaraj in grand outfits. But his mother….he had never seen her like this….radiant in fine clothes and decked with jewels.

He gazed at their faces, reading the expressions as discordant thoughts swarmed his mind.

After several minutes, Prithvi finally moved it to the back of the set and looked at the second snap. His father was laughing at a letter. His mother was sitting in the middle of luxury, dutiful servants attending upon her.

As a child, he had yearned to see her live in this fashion. Richly dressed and ridiculously pampered like the other women in the palace. But she had perpetually dressed in a drab white sari, hair in a small, plain knot, no ornament save a gold chain around her neck. In his innocence, he had often asked her why she didn’t wear bright, coloured clothes like the mothers of his friends and cousins. Characteristic silence had greeted his questions. And then one day Kadambari had told him that the family expected his mother to dress plainly because she was a widow. It had made him despise the freaks even more.

Feeling an old burden start to press down on him again, he shunted the snap to the rear to view the last photograph and stilled in shock.

Most facets of the scene went out of focus. He could only grasp that his mother was smiling at him.

It was a heartfelt smile. Not the lifeless twisting of features that she had wanted him to believe was a smile. And even that had seldom come his way despite his frequent, and desperate, attempts to make her laugh. And now to see her in this moment, which showed that his existence had made her happy once.

Nandini glanced worriedly from the family in the photo to Prithvi’s frozen features.

He’d looked pale but unruffled as he gazed at the first two snaps. The third photo, however, had stunned him a little. She’d initially thought he was taken aback on seeing his mother happy in the marriage. But it was more than that. Some aspect of the picture was hurting him….

Then he appeared to come to himself all of a sudden, and distractedly muttered, “Where’s the envelope?”

Nandini uncoiled her arm from around his, and took the snaps from his unresisting hands. She slid them into the original cover and placed them in front of Priyamvada’s framed photograph. She looked at Prithvi. He hadn’t budged, and was standing with head bent, hands braced on the table behind. 

“What is it?” she asked softly.

“She was smiling at me,” he murmured.

The restrained angst in the words overrode her confusion about the puzzling answer.

Acting purely on instinct, Nandini moved to stand in front of him. She curled her hands around his nape, making him look up. The haunted look in his eyes was heartbreaking, and she had to struggle to keep her doting smile intact.

“Why wouldn’t she?” she quipped affectionately, “She’s probably holding you for the first time. She loves you more than anything else in the world. And I’m sure you look like an angel. Because the thick hair has covered up the tiny horns,” she whispered secretively, running her fingers through his luxuriant hair.  

Amusement flickered in his gaze….and some other emotion…

Prithvi’s hands left the table to coil around her, and he drew her into a warm embrace. Close to tears again, she hugged him back as closely as she could without squashing against the bandage on his chest.

“What’s wrong….tell me,” Nandini beseeched.

“I’m tired,” he muttered into her hair.

Intuitive knowledge that he wasn’t talking about physical exhaustion made her insides contract in a spasm of compassion. She didn’t urge him further to open up. Instead, she lovingly stroked his hair and the taut muscles of his shoulders and back, wordlessly offering solace.

Prithvi turned his face to bury it in the side of her neck. He couldn’t understand how and didn’t want to either, but as always, her warmth and softness and the soothing caress of her fingers were effortlessly dispelling the bleak heaviness that had settled on him.

His grip tightened unconsciously.

She gently reminded him to be careful of the injuries. Ignoring the whisper, he pulled her closer, inhaling the subtle scent of sandalwood that he’d grown addicted to….

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