Bile rose to choke Nandini. She turned instantly, and caught the scandalised look on Mr Chawla's face.

"Nandini, go home," he commanded, evidently seeking to protect her from seeing any more lewdness. "I'm going back myself. I'll invite them later. "

She gave an unintelligible reply and spun from the discomfited man to walk towards her house.

In a nauseated haze, she opened the gate and walked up to the doors, focusing on the entrance to Vrindavan with fanatical determination.

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

Anika's lips had hardly touched the mouth of the man she loved when hands bit into her shoulders and roughly shoved her away.

Maintaining balance with difficulty, she looked at Prithvi dismally as he swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Then unexpectedly, the revulsion on his stunning features altered into alarm, and his gaze moved quickly to something on his right.

Anika automatically turned her head, and saw a girl entering the yard of the neighbouring house. The female didn't return their stares and coolly proceeded to the doors.

On an instinct, Anika looked at the others. Rohit appeared to be as nonplussed as her at the pall that had fallen over them. The elderly man, however, looked like he'd just learnt that doomsday was round the corner.

Aggravated, Anika looked back at Prithvi. The definite wariness in his expression as he regarded the girl was hard to stomach. In all the time that she'd known Prithvi, this was the first time she'd seen an emotion remotely close to nervousness on his face.

In sudden turmoil, Anika huskily said, "I missed you so much."

She felt jubilant as the loud statement drew Prithvi's attention to her, and then wished she hadn't spoken.

She had forgotten his ability to char a person's skin with a single look.

Prithvi glanced at a guiltily squirming Rohit, and irritably asked, "You brought this freak along because your other friends proved to be imaginary?"

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

Sarojini bemusedly watched her daughter drinking the second cup of tea.

The last 10 minutes had been quite strange.

She'd felt anxious when a sick-looking Nandini had stepped into the house, but her daughter had explained feebly that it was merely a headache. Sarojini had quickly pressed a cup of tea into her hands. After guzzling down the piping hot brew, Nandini had atypically asked for more tea.

"How is the headache?" Sarojini enquired once her daughter placed the empty mug on the table.

"Gone," Nandini said distantly.

It had vanished with the first few sips of tea. Along with it, all other kinds of hellish agony had reduced too. Now there was merely a beastly rage within her that was blackening out everything in her mind except the image of the girl kissing Prithvi.

She had to do something to calm down before she gave into the demands of every nerve in her body and went to the adjacent house to slaughter Prithvi, slice him into small....minuscule...bits, throw the pieces to vultures and watch the birds feed on the flesh...

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

Sumer Singh kept the empty plates and glasses in the sink, wishing there was a polite way in which he could encourage the visitors to leave. And to think he'd felt delighted at the unexpected arrival of 24-year-old Rohit and 19-year-old Anika.

They'd been travelling continuously for a week, and after this sojourn in Shamli, they planned to visit many popular destinations in India before heading back to the US, where their families were settled. Early on in the tête-à-tête, making use of Prithvi's brief absence, Sumer Singh had brought up the topic of the prince's recent 'accident' and hospitalisation. Their heartfelt concern had allayed his fears that they would ask Prithvi to join the tour. Now it seemed like he had gotten worried for no reason.

Prithvi wouldn't have accompanied them even if he was absolutely fit. Because while he'd been surprised yet pleased to see Rohit, his reaction to Anika was a different matter altogether.

Anika...that wretched girl had kissed Prithvi in public, and two people had witnessed the scene.

Anxiety welled within Sumer Singh again. He had seen Jayesh Chawla hurrying away embarrassedly, and was convinced that the "news" would spread to everyone in the area by nightfall.

And that was not the worst of it. Nandini had seen the drama too. She surely would have misunderstood the nature of the relationship between Prithvi and Anika, and who could blame her for it. He himself had reservations until he'd pried the unpleasant story out of Rohit.

"That woman thinks she is God's gift to men."

Sumer Singh glanced around at the grumble. Sankatmochan was limping into the kitchen with a disgruntled air.

"What did you do, Sankat?" Sumer Singh asked sternly.

"I was simply trying to be gracious to her because I felt bad about Prithvi's behaviour," Sankatmochan insisted, settling down on a stool near the platform.

Sumer Singh remained silent.

Prithvi undoubtedly found the girl insufferable. Yet, in spite of his brutal indifference, Anika continued to look upon him with a fervent admiration.

Post the initial episode, Prithvi had glanced at her again only at the end of two hours, when he'd asked the guests to rest after their long journey. Rohit had said he wanted to freshen up first, and Anika had expressed a desire to go for a walk.

Prithvi had asked Sankatmochan to show Rohit to one of the rooms that had been cleaned and prepped up. Then disregarding the girl, Prithvi had moved towards the stairs, murmuring to Sumer Singh that he wanted to sleep for a while. When Sumer Singh had exited the living room with the tray, Anika had been sitting on the couch, looking depressed.

"Is she still sitting there?" he asked.

"She was putting on her shoes when I came downstairs."

Sumer Singh looked out the window.

Grasping the thought that was crossing the elder man's mind, Sankatmochan said, "It's not going to turn dark for another hour. Prithvi wouldn't have let her step out otherwise, no matter how annoyed he is. Out of the kindness of my heart, I explained the layout of the locality, told her to come back within 15 minutes and offered to accompany her. She told me to **** off," he mumbled.

"If you hadn't stared at her legs continuously when I was showing them the house, she would not have given you that suggestion."

Keen on changing the subject, Sankatmochan asked, "Do you know why Prithvi is behaving so badly with her?"

"No," Sumer Singh lied. Sankat couldn't be trusted with the story. He would embellish the tale and happily narrate it to anyone who would listen.

Sankatmochan sat meditatively. "From what I saw in the morning, and heard from three different neighbours in the evening, both Prithvi and Nandini have reasons to be mad at each other. You know what that means?"

"We're in trouble," Sumer Singh said unhappily.

"Right," Sankatmochan nodded, then uneasily added, "Can I confess something? You mustn't laugh at me, though."

"What?"

"I'm more afraid of Nandini's temper," Sankatmochan whispered fearfully.

Sumer Singh sighed. "Me too, Sankat. Me too."

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

Prakash wriggled through the adults whispering at the gates and ran through the open doors into the house. He impatiently scanned the living room, and then dashed into the kitchen. Failing to spot his sister, he scuttled through the furniture towards the stairs and then ran up, energetically skipping every alternate step. On reaching the first floor, he dashed through the open doors into his sister's room.

She was standing near the table, sluggishly drying her hair as she gazed through her window into an empty room in their adjoining house.

Jumping onto the bed, Prakash said, "Your hair is dripping water over the floor, Di."

Nandini whirled and stared at the grime-encrusted creature sitting comfortably on the clean bedspread. Appalled, she said, "Get down from my bed and go take a bath!"

"I don't need to," Prakash declared obstinately.

Glowering at him, Nandini wrapped the towel around her hair. "What were you doing outside? Rolling in dirt?"

"I was playing football," he explained patiently.

"In the gutter?" Nandini asked, disgusted.

Highly offended, Prakash said, "Uff Di! Will you stop fussing? I came here to ask you something."

"Get off my bed first," Nandini ordered severely, tugging out the edges of bedspread that were tucked under the mattress. "You've got mud all over the sheet. I changed it today morning and now I'll have to wash it -"

"Di, did you see that girl who has come to Ayodhya?" Prakash asked excitedly. "She looks like a film star."

Nandini stopped with one corner of the sheet in her hand.

A scarlet cloud had begun shimmering in front of her, confirming that the bit of calm she'd achieved through emptying a lot of cold water over her head had been temporary in nature.

"Wonderful," she said stiffly.

Prakash revealed in an awed tone, "We saw her when we were playing. She walked out of Ayodhya and was going towards the main road. She asked Mohit if there were any shops close by. He didn't answer and kept staring at her, so I told her where to go," he said proudly. "After she went, Mohit argued with me. He said her eyes were grey, and I said they were green. But maybe they were a little grey," he pondered intensely.

Nandini studied her brother silently. Then with a swiftness that caught Prakash unawares, his sister swung the corner of the bed sheet around him, wrapping him in it. He yelled in outrage and fought valiantly as an old memory resurfaced, but by then the other half of the sheet had also fallen upon him. With military precision and unbeatable skill, his sister began tying knots in the bedspread.

Minutes later, Nandini dusted her hands and surveyed her handiwork with great satisfaction

Her brother was securely wrapped up like a newborn.

Though Prakash had freedom to wriggle, he knew it would take him half an hour to escape the ridiculous packaging.

"Open the knots, Di," he shouted, fuming

"This is for your own good! Sit here for as long as you want and think deeply about the colour of her eyes, since it matters so much to you," Nandini said sweetly on her way out.

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

Nandini sauntered down the steps, ignoring the garbled stream of threats pouring into the hall from upstairs. On the landing, she put up a reassuring hand on seeing her worried mother approach the stairway.

"He's fine. I told him to wash up because there is more mud on his skin than in our courtyard. He refused. So I used the blanket trap on him," Nandini said cheerfully.

It had been her unique punishment for Prakash until he had turned seven years old, employed on days when he came home from the playground in horrendously filthy clothes and refused to change or let water touch his skin. She wouldn't release him from the complicated wrapping until he conceded defeat. Eventually, he'd become too strong and fast to get caught, forcing her to give up.

"How did you manage it this time?" Sarojini asked in surprise, walking to the chair near the phone.

"It was a guerrilla attack. He had no time to escape," Nandini grinned.

Sarojini laughed as she sat down. Then the merriment faded, and she looked frazzled again.

"What's wrong?" Nandini enquired, sitting down cross-legged on the sofa.

"You saw those people who've come to visit Prithvi, didn't you?"

"I was going to tell you about them," Nandini said hastily, "but I had that headache so I -"

"It's not that. Aarti's mother came to talk to me at the gate. She said her husband saw...and you were also there...when that girl - and Prithvi..."

Untying the towel from around her tresses, Nandini carelessly volunteered, "Hugged and kissed? Yes, I was there."

Sarojini groaned and rubbed her temples, visualising her father-in-law's shock and the aghast faces of neighbours, hearing the forthcoming questions about the immoral behaviour of their tenant.

She looked at her daughter, who was drying her hair vigorously. All of her conjectures were proving wrong.

First, she'd feared that Nandini was in a relationship with Prithvi, but a heart-rending conversation had put her doubts to rest. Then in the hospital, she'd assumed Prithvi was attracted to her daughter, but Nandini's disinclination to even meet him had convinced her that her daughter didn't reciprocate the boy's feelings. And now this new girl had arrived on the scene.

"Nandini, do you think she is his 'girlfriend'? Sarojini asked agitatedly, whispering the last word as if it were an abuse.

"I'm sure she is. I don't think friends greet each other with that kind of a kiss. And such a long one at that," Nandini added venomously. Overall, though, she was surprised at her own equanimity. While the leaden sensation in her chest remained, the inhuman fury had abated. She would be fine as long as she didn't have to see Prithvi's face for the next century.

Sarojini gaped at her daughter, mortified by the graphic account. She had not allowed Siddharth to so much as hold her hand in front of the children and her father-in-law. Had today's youngsters lost all sense of propriety?

"They - and you saw them - oh God," she muttered bleakly.

Despite her grey mood, Nandini couldn't help laughing.

"I'm not ten anymore, ma," she chuckled. "I know babies don't appear magically in the tummies of married women once God believes they are ready for the responsibility," she rolled her eyes.

Sarojini weakly attempted to put on a censorious mask at her daughter's cheek. But then her lips twitched, and she too giggled.

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

Sumer Singh stepped into the courtyard and resignedly watched the young man strolling along its length.

Prithvi had rested for barely three hours since morning. Sumer Singh thought of remonstrating, then mulled that he ought to be grateful that the prince was restricting his excursion to the yard. Especially because the area was currently facing power outage. He could see people using torchlight to move around the locality, and candles and lamps had been lit in many surrounding dwellings, including Vrindavan to alleviate the darkness. But thanks to the generator, the lights and fans were working fine in Ayodhya.

On reaching the wall beyond which the forested land began, Prithvi turned and then paused on seeing the elderly man.

"They've woken up?" he asked.

"Not yet, my lord," Sumer Singh said. Both Rohit and Anika had crashed into their respective beds an hour ago, exhausted after the arduous journey. "And my lord, did Rohit mention for how long they plan to... "

"Not more than two days," Prithvi answered, the tone making it obvious that it was his decision rather than that of his friends.

Sumer Singh could have jumped with elation. Anika's presence was creating a monstrous strain in the atmosphere, mainly due to her obsessive focus on an uninterested Prithvi. She hadn't smiled or spoken amiably to anyone apart from him. And he hadn't replied kindly once.

Then a while ago, Nandini's mother had enquired through Sankatmochan if Anika would prefer to sleep over in Vrindavan, as she was the lone girl in the house. Sumer Singh had tentatively asked Anika, but she had refused with an asperity that bordered on rudeness. In retrospect, Sumer Singh was glad. Her snobbish behaviour and infatuation for Prithvi could spell trouble in more ways than one.

"My lord,"

Prithvi, who'd begun walking towards the common wall between the houses, stopped and looked at him questioningly.

"Sarojiniji enquired through Sankat if she could send some delicacies for the guests," Sumer Singh said hesitantly.

Prithvi gazed at the shadowy facade of Vrindavan pensively. "Don't risk it. The food may get poisoned when she's not looking," he muttered wryly, and looked at Sumer Singh. "Whatever you've prepared is enough."

Grabbing the opening, Sumer Singh swiftly said, "My lord, Nandini must be very upset after seeing - she may mistakenly think you and -"

"She can believe whatever she wants," Prithvi retorted. "If she doesn't trust me, that's her problem, not mine."

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

Nandini lit a candle from the strong flame of another one. Picking it up, she walked out of the kitchen. In the hall, her mother was dozing lightly on a chair near the window. Nandini fixed the new candle firmly on the lid of a steel container.

It was hot within the house. Sarojini had refused to keep the door open for air, afraid that the absence of a "man" in the house would tempt unlawful elements to launch an attack on them. Her mother apparently believed that her aged father-in-law and nine-year-old son could strike fear into the hearts of criminals.

Hours ago, a frantic couple had approached Bhoothnath in the temple and begged him to conduct the marriage ceremony of their son, as the priest they'd hired had backed out at the last minute. Meanwhile, an indignant Prakash had gone to stay overnight at Mohit's house to show his annoyance at being bullied into scrubbing three tonnes of dirt from his skin. Nandini grinned as she remembered his grand, sentimental departure scene, full of recriminations about the lack of respect for him in the house. Her sibling was proving to be as fond of drama as she was.

Nandini looked at her mother again. A hand-fan lay near her feet. It must have slid out of her mother's hands.

She began walking towards her nodding mother to pick up the fan, then halted on hearing murmurs from the outside. Curious, she walked to the window, and surveyed the yard. It was empty, but two familiar men were conversing in the adjacent plot.

Incensed, she was turning away when she heard Sumer Singh's plea. "But don't you feel it would be wise to give Nandini an explanation?"

An unmoved voice said, "She doesn't deserve it. And I don't want to discuss this further, Baba."

Nandini's fingers curled into fists as fury swallowed the last vestiges of guilt over the hospital incident. She wanted to go outside and break Prithvi's skull.

That wasn't possible at the moment. But she could opt for the next best thing.

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

Opening her college bag, Nandini took out one of the gift-wrapped articles. She ripped off the packaging and threw the glitzy paper aside.

In the weak light of a candle, she stared at the stuffed toy. An adorable, innocent kitten in a devil's costume, complete with little horns and a small pitchfork. It had instantaneously made her think of Prithvi.

Nandini threw the toy on the floor, stomped hard on it and then kicked it under the bed for good measure.

Better, but not much.

She gloomily sat down on the bed, allowing her mind to ruminate over the incident at last.

Who was that girl? Was she Prithvi's old girlfriend? She must be. Why else would she have kissed him like that. And now that she had arrived, would she leave soon or was she going to stay in Shamli...

"Nandini, are you upstairs?"

The query made her snap out of the dizzying flow of thoughts. Downcast, she made her way back to the living room.

In the hall, she was puzzled to see that the door was wide open. To one side of the room, her mother was keeping two packets of candles and a torch on the table.

"Why did you take these out? And why is the door open?" Nandini asked.

"The generator has stopped working in Ayodhya. They are trying to fix it, but if it doesn't get repaired, they'll find it difficult. So Sankatmochan asked if we could give them candles."

Nandini relished a flare of vindictive pleasure. Trying to keep any sign of delight from her voice, she asked, "Where is Mochi bhaiya?"

"He ran away. I wonder why...Anyway, here, take these and go help them."

"Me? Why should I?" Nandini asked angrily.

"This is not a time to show your childish dislike for Prithvi," Sarojini remonstrated firmly, switching on the torch and holding it out to her. "He has just returned from the hospital today, and there are guests in that house. We should do everything we can to be of assistance."

Deterred by her mother's tone, Nandini choked back further protests. She snatched up the packets in one hand and the torch in the other, and stalked out of the house.

The little gate in between the houses was open, as were Ayodhya's doors. She didn't dither for a moment until she reached the threshold of the living room.

She turned off the torchlight and vacillated indecisively at the door. A movement in the corner of the room caught her attention. She peeked into the dimly lit hall, hoping to see Sumer Singh or Sankatmochan, and then gritted her teeth.

The demon king was examining the interiors of the generator with the help of a compact emergency light. His face was in the shadows, but there seemed to be a smile on his face as he dismantled parts of the machine. He was probably reliving the cosy moments he'd spent with his old flame...

"Mochi bhaiya!" she yelled.

Something crashed inside the house. Then a bulky figure came hurrying out of kitchen. Nandini switched on the torch, and directed the beam to the floor for Sankatmochan's benefit.

Examining the innards of the generator with an instrument, Prithvi conversationally said, "Mochi, ask the Hawker School aspirant to keep her voice down."

Sankatmochan froze in the middle of room. He had stupidly wandered into the warzone.

"Mochi bhaiya, could you ask Don Juan to shut up before I set him on fire," Nandini said cheerily.

"She could hug me for that, since she's burning up herself," Prithvi smirked, gazing up.

Nandini clenched her fists as violent fury surged within her. She couldn't believe he was actually making a mockery of her distress.

Automatically moving ahead, she spewed, "I would rather hug the rotting carcass of a pig."

"You had that chance when you were on stage, but I guess you were too busy shivering," he rejoined sarcastically.

"Suvek is not a - he's a hundred times better than you!" she hissed.

A cough made both their heads turn. Sumer Singh was hovering near the entrance to the room, holding a torch and metal candleholders that were glinting in the light of the torch. He looked acutely uncomfortable, and for some reason, scared as he offloaded the candleholders on the table.

Nandini flushed with embarrassment. He would have heard the ridiculous exchange between her and Prithvi. But she hadn't heard him arrive....and when had Sankatmochan left?

"Where's Mochi?" Prithvi asked, sounding as confused as she felt.

Sumer Singh promptly said, "He must have gone to hid - gone to his room. I'll keep these here. Nandini, could you light the holders and place them in the candles? No, I mean - you know what I - .So you could keep one in this room, and one in the kitchen. I'll take the rest up later if the generator doesn't start working," he mumbled, and spun to flee, only to bump into someone. A shrill exclamation told him it was Anika.

How typical that she had chosen to wake up and come downstairs when Nandini was in the house, Sumer Singh thought bitterly.

With his escape plans having been defeated by destiny, he turned despondently. "Nandini, this is Anika. Prithvi's friend," he stressed. "She has come for a short visit. Anika, this is Nandni. This house belongs to her family, which lives next door. And she is like a part of our family," he adjoined doggedly. "Now I should go and see if - if there are - I have to go," he muttered, and took flight before anyone could speak up.

Nandini had scarcely registered a word beyond the girl's name. Rooted to the spot, she stared in dismay at the willowy person who was moving closer to the light from the darkness near the stairway. Clad in a T-shirt and shorts that displayed her curves unabashedly, and with seemingly immaculate features, Anika fully justified the poisonous doubts that had been tormenting her for hours.

However, manners that were instilled into her from childhood compelled Nandini to smile graciously. "Hi, I -"

"Prithvi, what's with the power cut?" Anika cut across her greeting, and strolled towards her friend. "I thought your uncle said you had a generator. It's not working?" she asked petulantly.

"I assume you offered to sleep with it. So it chose to die," Prithvi said casually as he reassembled  the machine.

Anika gave an exaggerated laugh, and flopped down on a chair.

Nandini, though, stared at him in shock. There hadn't been a shred of hilarity in Prithvi's tone. He'd meant for the words to wound.

"You can't talk to her like that," she said sharply.

Anika gaped at Nandini. Did the foolhardy girl know Prithvi at all? A person had to be insanely reckless to reproach him like that. Feeling smug, she waited for Prithvi to react. Moments ticked past, but to her rising bewilderment, he coolly went on with fixing the top of the machine, overlooking the girl's audacity.

What the hell...

With contrived disbelief, Anika said, "He was joking. Don't you have a sense of humour?"

Nandini met the scornful gaze evenly, and bluntly countered, "Don't you have any self-respect? But who am I interfere in between friends," she added tartly, and walked towards the holders.

"You got that right," Anika retorted.

"Anika, either shut up or go back to your room," Prithvi said offhandedly.

Blocking out the exchange resolutely, Nandini placed the torch and the packets on the table and started setting up the four holders.

They were beautiful pieces, and the soft light was making them look lovelier. She drew out three candles from the packet and placed them in the biggest holder. Using the matchbox kept nearby, she lit the wicks.

She shifted the candelabrum to one side, and began setting up a short holder with two shallow cups. Both candles were ablaze when, to Nandini's relief, the electric lights came back on.

Instantly, someone joined her at the table.

"We don't need these now," Anika stated gladly, pulling the big candelabrum closer to put out the candles, then swore when it hit the small holder.

Nandini immediately steadied the latter, but one of its candles toppled and fell straight onto her left forearm. The flame extinguished against her skin with a vicious sting, making her gasp faintly.

"What the **** were you doing?"

At the snarl, Nandini looked up from singed skin to see Prithvi striding over to them. He was glaring furiously at Anika, who quickly retreated to take cover behind Nandini.

"It wasn't her fault," Nandini snapped.

"Yeah, it was an accident," Anika said nervously.

Prithvi grimly regarded the cowering girl, then gazed at Nandini.

"Let me see your hand," he muttered tensely.

Nandini rebelliously concealed her arm behind her back. "It is fine, and doesn't need your fake concern," she said coolly.

"Hold it under running water or it'll blister," Prithvi said impatiently.

"Then let it. What do you care?" Nandini said resentfully, and then started on hearing the faint sound of Vrindavan's doors opening. She couldn't let her mother come across this enthralling scene. As she turned to take her torch from the table, strong fingers grasped her injured arm without warning.

She stared hostilely at Prithvi as he studied the red blotch on her skin. "This must hurt," he murmured distractedly, his fingers lightly skirting around the edges of the burn.

Tension and antagonism churned within Nandini, smashing the already depleted store of her patience. In an angry move, she seized the hand that was gently examining her arm and brought it down on the sole burning candle in the small holder, snuffing out the flame with Prithvi's palm.

"It only hurts that much. Happy?" Nandini demanded of his startled countenance, then swivelled to respond to the shriek emitted by the girl crouching behind her.

"Don't feel too bad for him," she caustically told a stunned Anika. "He loves putting out candles like that."

With that, she grabbed the torch and stormed out of the house.

Anika blinked rapidly, unable to believe anything that had happened in the past few minutes. She looked at Prithvi, fully expecting him to share her befuddlement.

Her green-grey eyes widened.

He was grinning in the direction that Nandini had disappeared. Then he looked at his ill-treated palm with amusement and stroked the tiny patch of scalded skin with the fingers of his other hand.

He was not caressing the burn affectionately, Anika tried to convince herself. He must merely be assessing the damage to his skin. Yet, he'd insisted on immediate first-aid to Nandini, but was being nonchalant about his own injury. In fact, had she not witnessed that scene directly, she would have assumed from Prithvi's quietly captivated demeanour that Nandini had kissed his hand, not slammed it over fire.

"I can't believe she burnt your hand," Anika reminded him loudly.

"Must be my lucky day," Prithvi murmured, an inexplicable undercurrent of laughter in his voice, "She'd originally planned to set me on fire."

This was the first time in about a year that he'd spoken to her normally. And though she knew it was because his mind was elsewhere, the friendly tone would still have made her deliriously happy. And yet, Anika's dazed mind was grappling with just one painful thought.

How could it be that he was repulsed by her worship, but was treasuring the hurt inflicted by someone else...

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