Anika cast a nervous glance around the corridor as she pushed open the doors to the empty bedroom.

The fat man was sleeping downstairs, and the other men had gone to the terrace for some fresh air. No one had asked if she wanted to accompany them. But it meant she had free rein of the house. Of Prithvi’s room.

Repressing the humiliating memory of the last time she’d made a similar excursion, Anika entered the room, gripped with the need to spend a little time in his private space, in the midst of things that had known his touch.

Anika gazed fervently at each item in the room as she walked to the bed. She didn’t dare spend more than ten minutes here. If she was caught, there would be hell to pay despite Prithvi’s improved humour after the strange incident in the living room. She still couldn’t believe his amused lenience with that girl. He had scalped people for much less. And Nandini wasn’t even half as beautiful or smart as the girls who’d hit on him in the past.

It was simply an infatuation that was not going to last for long, she told herself passionately as she caressed the pillow. It probably wouldn’t even last for another week, which was the duration she planned to stay here, Anika decided as she sat down on the mattress. Rohit had to be insane to think he could force her to leave tomorrow morning. She knew she shouldn’t have kissed Prithvi. She’d just gotten carried away with the happiness and excitement of seeing him after a long gap. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. Not until he returned her feelings.

For some moments, Anika luxuriated in the feeling of sitting on the bed on which Prithvi slept. Her gaze skimmed over an old photo on the table and landed on the cupboard. She stood up and walked over to it.

Opening the dark wooden doors, she studied the contents, and then ran her fingers along the row of shirts hung neatly. Some shirts were arranged in a pile. In the adjoining section, many journals were stacked tidily. Anika reached out for a large one and began going through it eagerly.

The writing was extremely sharp and clear, but the calculations, academic notations and software programmes went above her head. She was about to replace the book when a page inadvertently flipped over.

Anika froze.

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

Rohit strolled leisurely along the length of the terrace, enjoying the stillness. “There’s something really peaceful and comforting about this place,” he said appreciatively.

Seated casually on the low wall of the terrace, Prithvi retorted, “Don’t be fooled. Most things in this town are deceptive in appearance.”

“You’re talking about that girl, aren’t you?” Rohit asked shrewdly. The alarm on Prithvi’s face when he’d realised that girl had seen Anika kissing him had been the first sign. And the incident shared by a hyper Anika had confirmed his suspicions. And made him laugh. Prithvi had been the heartthrob of the thriving campus, his unflinching focus on academics, sports and social work attracting girls in droves. None of them had managed to win anything more than embarrassment despite their looks and earnest efforts. And now he seemed to have met his match in this sleepy town.

Sumer Singh chuckled heartily, while Prithvi developed a great interest in the night sky.

“Can’t believe you’ve finally become a victim like all of us lesser mortals,” Rohit said slyly.

“That’s enough,” Prithvi scowled.

“Did she really burn your hand?” Rohit asked curiously. “Na, I’m sure she didn’t. Anika always exaggerates. That girl - Nandini, is it? She showed me the way to this house, you know,” Rohit said, remembering a very beautiful and serene face. “She doesn’t look like she could even hurt a fly.” 

“She’s as harmless as the black widow spider,” Prithvi muttered gloomily.

“What?”

“Did you speak to Anika about leaving tomorrow?” Prithvi averred

“I tried but she wouldn’t hear of it. I know I shouldn’t have given in to her pestering in the first place, but I really hadn’t thought she’d make it so uncomfortable for everyone,” Rohit grimaced. “But don’t worry. I’ll convince her.”

“You better.”

“And to think I’d planned to stay for a week,” Rohit said sadly.

Unrelenting, Prithvi indifferently said, “You should have thought of that before you brought the nymphomaniac along.”

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

In disbelief, Anika stared at the resplendent portrait of a face that dominated a page.

Nandini’s face…glowing with vivid liveliness and immeasurable love.

It was drawn with dazzling accuracy and so much skill that her hair looked glossy, the sparkle and warmth in her eyes was palpable, and the smile was so infectious that Anika would have grinned back if she wasn’t in a world of pain.

The drawing had an air of being captured in a single moment, and could probably have passed for a photograph if colours had been used instead of plain black ink

Anika dazedly strolled to a nearby armchair and sat down heavily, gaping at the page.

Then her hands compulsively turned over the page, and she felt relieved to see academic writings again. But on an impulse, she flipped past more pages, and then stopped with a low whine.

Another portrait drawn with heart-wrenching care.

Nandini was angry here.

The wild flare in her black eyes and pursued lips were telling a story without any need for words.  The untamed wisps of hair flitting across her face accentuated the impression of a stormy mood.

Anika turned the pages with increasing frenzy, feeling sicker as more stunningly gorgeous etchings cropped up.

After she’d reached the last page, she went back to the beginning to check the dates. The pictures had been made over the past month.  She shut the journal abruptly and rose to her feet.

Anika hastened back to the cupboard, and keeping the book to one side, picked up another journal. As though driven by a demon, she rifled through the remaining books frantically, looking for sketches and checking the dates, needing to know when they had started appearing, and waiting for them to stop turning up.

But the portraits continued to torture her, exploding with beauty and enchantment, depicting a whole spectrum of emotions on Nandini’s face, with her features appearing strangely luminous.

In a few of them, Nandini was looking away, appearing thoughtful and dreamy in some sketches, and frosty in others. A nearly indiscernible pout on her lips had been tenderly highlighted in the former case.

Some pages only held exquisite drawings of her eyes, etched with such painful attention-to-detail that Anika believed she could count the eye-lashes.

Laughter, mischievousness, amusement, shyness, anger, confusion, pensiveness, fierceness, joy…

He had captured her in every mood. The only missing sentiment was sadness and pain. Maybe he hadn’t seen Nandini looking sad, or perhaps he hadn’t been able to relive it, Anika thought bitterly.

There was one strange aspect though.

In the two journals written between November-end and January, which mostly contained random writing about software programmes, a sole image cropped up seven times with minor differences here and there.

There was a strangely surreal feel to all seven portraits, intensified by the mixture of surprise, confusion and conflict on Nandini’s features.

Anika replaced the last journal in the cupboard and closed the doors, feeling oddly numb.  

A pen. Prithvi had used a pen for making the portraits. Yet, not a single correction showed. And she knew intuitively that Nandini hadn’t posed. The images had flowed effortlessly from his memory.

She wanted to believe Prithvi had simply found the girl to be an interesting subject. But fascination, desire and infatuation….all these emotions were too weak to be the raison d'être for those incomparable pieces of art.

They were the creations of a man who was insanely…irrevocably….in love.

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

Nandini walked slowly back to her house, enjoying the bracing morning breeze. She’d managed to make a reasonably pretty rangoli in the yard of the Chawla residence, and the kind appreciation expressed by the family, especially the plain spoken grandmother, had buoyed her spirits.

Before she’d started to make the rangoli, she’d been full of doubts. Then she’d thought of her father and prayed, and somehow, a design had appeared beneath her fingers. Maybe he had sat by her side…

Nandini smiled slightly at the thought, then stopped as the house came into view.

A car was parked outside Ayodhya’s gate and its trunk was open.

Had someone else arrived or were his friends leaving? But it was too early in the morning for guests, and the second doubt was more of wishful thinking, Nandini reflected awkwardly.

She quickened her stride towards Vrindavan, thrusting disconcerting thoughts aside.

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

Sarojini came out of the spare bedroom with a rag in hand. She’d dusted all the rooms downstairs. Now it was the turn of the rooms on the first floor.

A clink drew her attention to the kitchen, and she felt surprised to see her daughter emerging with a bowl in hand. Smiling at her, Nandini sauntered to the threshold.

“You’re back soon,” Sarojini commented cautiously. “Were you able to – did they like the rangoli?” she amended quickly.

“They did. I’m going to put a small one here too,” Nandini said happily, settling down on the lowest step.

Strolling to the side of the door, Sarojini watched as her daughter took a pinch of the powder and deftly began drawing an intricate design on the ground between the last step and the Tulsi.

Years ago, this had been a familiar sight. Nandini sitting in the same spot and sketching patterns on the earth with her small hands, while Siddharth sat by her side like an appreciative audience, giving her ideas if she was stuck.

Sighing, Sarojini turned away to carry out dusting upstairs.

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

Nandini lifted her hand and analysed the half-complete pattern. It wasn’t great, but considering she’d not expected to be able to draw a straight line until today morning, it was a decent effort. She gazed around for her mother, wishing to seek her opinion on the pattern, but the room was empty.

Out of nowhere, a female voice said, “I didn’t think you’d do that.”

Nandini turned to the source with surprise. A girl in a smart violet top and jeans and an aloof expression was standing near the small gate in between the houses. A bag was slung on her shoulder.

Ignoring Anika’s statement, she smiled, “Good morning.”

She hadn’t expected the greeting to be returned, but she also hadn’t thought Anika would open the gate and walk over to the Tulsi plant, coolly studying the incomplete rangoli.

Without a doubt, an unpleasant conversation was about to ensue, Nandini mused jadedly. She mechanically reached for the bowl to continue with her sketching, feeling relieved that her mother would not be privy to the talk.     

After an edgy second, Anika said, “I was surprised about the way you behaved, because when I saw you yesterday afternoon, you looked very tame and boring. Not insensitive and foul tempered.”

“First impressions are rarely correct,” Nandini replied lightly, moving onto her knees to draw better.

“Don’t you have anything to say about what you did?”

“I hope his hand is hurting badly,” Nandini said bitingly. “Is that enough?”

Anika gritted her teeth.

“Don’t be fooled by the way he spoke to me yesterday,” she burst out. “We’re friends. He’s just annoyed with me for a petty reason. I know you think you’ve won. But don’t get carried away. Do you even know the – the class and society he belongs to? You will never fit in his world. My friendship with him will last for long after he breaks your heart and leaves. Keep that in mind.”

“I will,” Nandini accepted readily, though her fingers trembled a little while tracing the design on the ground.

Anika’s frustration rose, but she didn’t have the time to say what she wanted. She had to leave before Prithvi woke up. Knowing what she did about his feelings for Nandini, she couldn’t endure the thought of spending another day as a pathetic witness to their relationship. With an annoyed sound, she turned and walked back to Ayodhya’s yard. From there, she directly exited the gate and climbed into car, banging the door shut with a thunderous clang.

“Did she upset you?”

Yanked out of a depressing mire, Nandini gazed up in surprise at the young man peering down at her kindly, adjusting a huge bag on his shoulder and keeping two suitcases down.

“Not at all,” she immediately smiled and stood up, hoping no dampness was visible in her eyes.

“Your face says she did,” he muttered. “Look, I don’t know what she said, but I’m quite sure she lied. There is nothing going on between them. She’s not even a friend of Prithvi. Do you know about – has Prithvi told you about Mrs Natasha Black? She adores Prithvi, and he’s very fond of her too. Anika is the daughter of close family friends of Mrs Black, and she was in the same college campus. That’s the only connection between them. She was all right at first, but then she fell in love with him and made a huge nuisance of herself. You can imagine how Prithvi reacted. But then Mrs Black requested him to be more tolerant, and so - ”

“Rohit!!”

“Give a minute!” Rohit yelled back at Anika, then swivelled to Nandini. “I’m planning to come back for another quick visit after some days – just me,” he clarified swiftly, picking up the suitcases. “We’ll talk then. But I have to tell you this - Prithvi has smiled more times in the past few hours than in the two years that I’ve known him,” he grinned, and gave a quick wave before hurrying to the car. 

Astounded by the surfeit of information, Nandini remembered to wave back only after Rohit had clambered into the vehicle.

Sumer Singh was standing near the gate, watching her with caution, and then great relief as she smiled at him. He stepped back as the car started and gave a wave as it drove away. Prithvi, apparently, considered it below his dignity to give them a send-off.

After the car had touched the highway, Sumer Singh turned to give her a smile and then hurried into Ayodhya.

Confused and tired, Nandini walked to the steps and sat down, arms resting on her knees. She kept her chin on her hands, trying to recollect each word said by Rohit.

On hearing the gate open, she raised her head and smiled at the drowsy child coming towards her.

Prakash stared at the rangoli with sleepy interest as he huddled beside her. “Why are you making this rangoli, Di? Is there a festival today?”

Glad that he wasn’t upset about the previous day’s fight, Nandini softly said, “No, there’s nothing special. I just felt like putting it. Is it nice?”

“It’s pretty,” Prakash yawned, leaning against her arm. “If you’d waited, I would have bought colours for you from the shop.”

Nandini put an affectionate arm around her brother’s shoulders. “Those are artificial. We always use rice flour because this is also a way of giving food to ants and other insects that live in the soil.”

“Hmmm….good. You know yesterday Manoj’s mother told us many ghost stories. Do you want to hear them?” he asked groggily.

“You can tell me later,” Nandini said solemnly, holding back a giggle.

So that was why Prakash was yawning. Both the boys would have pestered the poor lady for the stories, and later, neither would have slept a wink out of sheer terror.

She rose and began urging him to get up. “Come on, have breakfast and then you can -”

“You haven’t completed it,” Prakash pointed to the rangoli.

“I don’t want to. I’ll erase the whole thing,” she murmured.

“You shouldn’t give up and stop. You have to complete it,” he instructed strictly.

Nandini gazed amusedly at her brother. Prakash had an uncharacteristically serious look, and it suddenly made her feel like he had said something very profound.

Then she shook off the presentiment and grinned. “Okay. I’ll do it. Just for you.”

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

Kedar stared absently out of the bus window, silently fighting the urge to reach into his pocket for his sole cigarette of the day. With a dreary day at the office awaiting him, he was destined to crave a smoke by noon. He had to save it for then.

He shifted in his seat, making an unsuccessful attempt to sit more comfortably. The bus jerked to a stop to allow a person to get down. Kedar looked at the familiar area. This was the stop at which he disembarked when he had to visit the Bharadwaj family.

He had last gone to Vrindavan on Nandini’s birthday, Kedar reminisced as the bus began proceeding. He’d call up Bhoothnathji later in the evening, just to know if everything was fine and if they needed anything.

He usually met Siddharth’s family once in three or four months, unless there were any functions to attend, like that wedding next week. He would have liked to see all of them more frequently, but he’d often felt like he was sullying their residence with his presence. The atmosphere of Vrindavan somehow felt pure and righteous, and he’d long suffered from a scarcity of virtues. Vices, however, he had in plenty.

He was thrust ahead in his seat as the bus halted shudderingly to avoid hitting a cow. Somewhere ahead, a passenger in the first seat fell onto the floor. Instantly, a fight erupted between the aggrieved man and the driver.

Settling back disinterestedly, Kedar glanced outside. A man was helping an aged labourer load a huge container onto a mini tempo.

Kedar squinted sharply.

The young fellow had an uncanny resemblance to a person he’d known very long ago. Could it be - no, probably not. And for him to be in the area where the Bharajwaj family lived...No, that would be too much of a coincidence, he mused guardedly. It couldn’t possibly be Aditya’s son. 

The labourer now seemed to be thanking the young man, who responded with an impatient, dismissive sign and walked away.

Kedar stiffened with shock.

That curt gesture … It had Priyamvada written all over it. As did that look of conceited aloofness….

So it was him, Kedar thought dazedly.  He tried to recollect the boy’s name. Siddharth had jested that it was a mix of Priyamvada and Adityaraj’s names.

Prithvi…Prithviraj…

Yes, that was it. But what was he doing here?

The vehicle had begun moving, with the fight evidently having been resolved. Kedar briefly considered getting down, then trashed the idea.

Shamli wasn’t a very big town. He was bound to run into Priyamvada’s son sooner or later. And whenever that happened, he would introduce himself and speak to the boy. There was no hurry.  And it was not like he had many pleasant things to say.

So Prithvi had finally come to Shamli.

Kedar drew out the cigarette from his pocket, and looked at it.

It was the least he could do to commemorate the occasion.

With a silent salute to Siddharth, he tossed the cigarette out of the window.

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