Chapter 80
Kedar stared absentmindedly at the empty tea cup on the table. His basic curiosity about Prithvi’s past and his ‘family members’ had been satiated, with Adityaraj’s guard and friend readily replying to several questions. He had more questions, but those would doubtless be disconcerting for Sumer Singh. As it is, the man was deeply affected by the truth regarding Prithvi’s parents. Much more so than Prithvi himself…
It would be better if his remaining queries were put to Prithvi. The young man, however, hadn’t paid him any attention after the initial exchange. And twenty minutes ago, he had shut his books and left the room.
“Bhoothnathji doesn’t know anything about Prithvi’s…background?” Kedar asked.
“No,” Sumer Singh said. “Prithvi has barred me from revealing it to anyone. He hates any mention of it.”
That was a departure from his parents’ attitude, Kedar thought. Both Adityaraj and Priyamvada had been insanely proud of their individual heritages, albeit in different ways. Adityaraj rarely revealed his royal lineage to people, but he’d enjoyed the attention and adulation that came his way from those who were aware of his stature in society. Priyamvada, on the other hand, had openly delighted in her exalted status in the social order, and automatically expected reverence from everyone she came across.
Bringing his queries closer to the present, he candidly said, “I’m still finding it tough to believe that Prithvi just happened to choose the college in Shamli and that you both came to live here... in Ayodhya…without knowing…”
“We found Ayodhya by lucky chance, but we came to Shamli because I’d read about the town in one of Aditya’s last letters to me,” Sumer Singh owned up. “I lost the correspondences years ago in the course of my travels. But when Prithvi received a letter from the college in Shamli….the name of the town…it struck a chord. Prithvi wasn’t interested in moving to this town, but I felt it was a sign from above. I really didn’t know if it was the same town Aditya had mentioned. So I could tell Prithvi honestly that I just felt it would be a good place.”
He chuckled and went on, “Prithvi didn’t believe me. But he accepted my request. Today, he questioned me again…and thanks to you, I could tell him the whole truth.” he expressed gratefully. There were more things he wanted to share with Prithvi about Adityaraj. And now he could do it without riling the prince. “Prithvi told me you were a friend of Siddharth and that’s how you were acquainted with Adityaraj. If you don’t mind, can I ask…when and how did you first meet him?” he asked Kedar.
“I met Aditya while he was staying in this very house,” Kedar smiled a little.
“He stayed here?”
At the abrupt question, Kedar looked at the door that led to the stairs. Prithvi had returned, and was standing immobile a few feet away.
“Four or five times I think,” Kedar said.
Prithvi silently walked to one of the snug armchairs and sank into it, feeling oddly disturbed.
Satisfied that he had the young man’s attention again, Kedar said, “Your father was very attached to this town and this house. He brought your mother to the old temple some days before their wedding. That was the first time I met her,” Kedar muttered, shifting in his seat. “Aditya had great faith in that idol. He believed the shrine and this town were fortunate for him. Your mother also felt a connection to the place I suppose. After Aditya’s death, she used to come to Shamli for spending some time near the temple. It was shut by then so it gave her the solitude she wanted.”
Knitting his brows, Prithvi sharply said, “But she wasn’t allowed to step out of the palace grounds.”
“Your grandfather permitted both of you to travel freely for around three years. You both always arrived in a fancy car with a maid and two guards. The vehicle would be parked far away and the servants had to wait near it, because Siddharth had told his father and wife that your family had suffered financially as well after Aditya’s death. It was easier than revealing the complicated truth. And he also needed to give his family some justification for spending money on toys and clothes for you since his own monetary situation was not good.”
“Priyamvada stopped making the trips eventually. But on Siddharth’s requests, she used to send you to Shamli with a servant. Siddharth would tell his family that the servant was a relative of Aditya. You used to spend the whole day in Shamli. Siddharth knew you were locked up most of the times in the palace. So he would take you and Nandini to parks and playgrounds around the town whenever possible. If Sarojini bhabhi or Bhoothnathji couldn’t accompany him, he would ask me for help. The presence of two grownups was necessary to stop you both from killing each other,” he muttered.
As Sumer Singh listened in wonder, Prithvi curiously asked, “Why did Nandini’s father go to all that trouble for me?”
“He doted on you. You were the son of his good friend. And well…Siddharth loved children in general. Couldn’t see them being hurt or ill-treated. Anyway, around your third birthday, your grandfather changed his mind for some reason. And you were not allowed to come to Shamli again.”
Prithvi idly leaned back in the chair, dissecting the massive jumble of facts that had come to light...
On the basis of everything he’d heard today, it was not difficult to guess the cause for Rajyavardhan’s volte-face.
It was the matter of the old temple that was intriguing. It had drawn him from the start, and apparently, it had exerted the same kind of pull on his father and mother too.
Kedar believed his parents were attached to the area because of the auspiciousness of the temple and the peace it radiated.
Plausible reasons, but - given his father’s obsession with his mother’s safety - not strong enough to prompt them to take a risk and visit it days before they had planned to elope. Or to push his ailing mother to make the long journey from Devgarh to spend some hours in solitude.
He had a different theory. He just had to find a source to prove or disprove it…
*********************
Bhoothnath halted in his inspection of the flower bed on hearing the creak of a gate opening. He turned to the adjoining home and stared in surprise at the man walking into Vrindavan’s courtyard.
Kedar strode to the elderly man and bent to touch his feet respectfully.
Bhoothnath kept a wrinkled hand in blessing on Kedar’s head.
“What were you doing in Ayodhya?” he asked quizzically as Kedar straightened, skipping the usual preliminary set of questions. “Do you know Sumer Singh and Prithvi?”
“I met Prithvi just yesterday, Babuji. But I know something about him that you don’t,” Kedar said enigmatically.
“Don’t tell him!”
The brusque command announced the arrival of Prithvi, with Sumer Singh trailing behind him.
“What? What shouldn’t he tell me?” Bhoothnath asked blankly, gazing at Prithvi.
“If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you,” Prithvi told Bhoothnath patiently, pausing beside him. He disparagingly evaluated the bewildered old man. “It won’t be a big loss. But I prefer to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.”
Alarmed at Bhoothnath’s blanched face, Sumer Singh speedily said, “Prithvi, don’t scare him! He is joking, Bhoothnathji.”
Bhoothnath frowned indignantly at a grinning Prithvi. “You shouldn’t frighten me like that, boy.” Then he turned to Kedar. “What do you know about him that I don’t?” he enquired bemusedly.
“I knew his parents long ago. So did you.”
Perplexed by the information, Bhoothnath asked, “We knew his parents? Who were they?”
**********************
Sarojini closed the film magazine she had rifled through half-heartedly, and looked at her children. Prakash was watching a cartoon show on the television, and her daughter was sitting next to her at the table.
A cheek resting in one palm, Nandini was concentrating on a page in her textbook.
“Did you apply that ointment on your neck after returning from college?” Sarojini asked.
Snapping out of her woolgathering, Nandini looked at her mother apprehensively and nodded.
Sarojini extended a hand and pushed back her daughter’s hair to look at the small blemish on her neck. The redness had faded slightly. “Hmmm….it doesn’t look as bad as it did in the morning,” she said, withdrawing her hand. “Next time, don’t wear the necklace so tightly that it hurts your skin.”
Nandini guiltily mumbled a response, looking back at the open pages. She’d been lying repeatedly to her mother from daybreak. About the sharp edges of the necklace causing the mark on her neck….a bangle breaking accidentally while she was pushing her hand through it - thus hurting her wrist…going for a very long ‘walk’ in the morning…
To make up for the dishonesty, apart from a short break to make garlands for the temple, she’d been stuck to her books for hours. But the scores of pages might as well have been blank for all the impression they had made on her mind. The story she’d heard from Sankatmochan had upset her inordinately, trampling on the impact of Aditya and Priyamvada’s tale as well as her intense curiosity regarding the past. Her anxiety about Kedar’s arrival and her family’s reactions, however, had not abated. She had to remember to be surprised at everything...
“Your grandfather is talking to someone outside,” Sarojini commented, rising from the chair.
Instantly agog with nervous excitement, Nandini waited as her mother walked to the window to peer into the courtyard
“Who is it, ma?” she asked.
“It’s your father’s friend…Kedarji. Prithvi and Sumer Singh are also with him. Do they know each other?” Sarojini wondered, simultaneously thinking of savouries she could whip up quickly for the guests.
“They met at the wedding yesterday.” Nandini blurted.
“Oh good,” Sarojini said distractedly, turning to do a quick inspection of the room.
*************************
“Do you remember Siddharth’s friend – Aditya. And his wife Priyamvada?”
Bhoothnath went blank for a moment, then turned to stare closely at Prithvi.
And slowly, his puzzled frown gave way to a mixture of disbelief and joy.
“You…You’re Aditya’s son!” he yelled elatedly.
“Really? That’s splendid!” Prithvi said enthusiastically.
Bhoothnath laughed and affectionately clapped hands on Prithvi’s shoulders
Vrindavan’s doors opened and Sarojini stood at the threshold. She greeted the group of men with a polite Namaste, hiding her confusion at the strangely jubilant atmosphere.
“I’d told you, hadn’t I?” Bhoothnath told her triumphantly. “I’d told you I’d seen him before!”
*********************
Bhoothnath looked at the garlanded picture of his son on the adjacent wall.
His initial happiness at Kedar’s revelations - as well as wonder that both families had been ignorant of their old connection for months - had become tempered with gloom on grasping that Priyamvada too had passed away.
Siddharth had been struck down by death in his prime. But Aditya and Priya had died even younger.
“Both of them - at such a young age,” he mourned. “They were good people…kind and honourable.”
Sumer Singh reflected that the Bharadwajs were no less. He had come clean regarding his true relation to Prithvi, and though they were taken aback, he’d not faced any resentment or anger at the subterfuge. He’d warily looked at Nandini while stating the truth. And the dear girl’s features had displayed only understanding and affection.
“Yes, they were,” Prithvi replied inattentively as he strolled along a wall decorated by an array of photographs. In all the times he’d been in this room, he’d not given them more than a passing glance. Now he looked intently at each one, curious about the man who had been the link between his family and the Bharadwajs.
Cheerful and calm, Siddharth was a part of most of the photos. Despite his wiry build and genial smiles, his image emitted an unusual sense of strength in the family portraits, especially those in which he was holding his children. In the biggest and most appealing picture on the wall, an adorable little girl with a cheery grin, sparkling eyes and thick pigtails was sitting comfily on her father’s lap like it was the grandest throne on earth.
From her spot on the second step of the stairway, Nandini gazed at Prithvi, who was plainly in a world of his own. He hadn’t looked at her since his entry in the house. Not even when she’d kept a glass of lime juice in front of him. However, she didn’t have to meet his eyes to know that his confusion and curiosity about his father were increasing in spite of his efforts to stay detached.
She, on the other hand, could only think about his childhood. She had presumably done a decent job in feigning different emotions and asking the right questions, but her thoughts refused to budge from a picture of a hurt and hungry boy…
Realising that she’d been staring at Prithvi for too long, Nandini quickly looked around. To her relief, others in the room seemed to be absorbed elsewhere.
Bhoothnath was wrapped up in some thoughts. Kedar and Sumer Singh were talking in low voices. Sankatmochan, who had appeared half an hour ago, was polishing off a second plate of pakoras. Prakash, sitting next to his sister, was blissfully engrossed in a video game that Prithvi had tossed to him on arrival. The knowledge of long-forgotten ties between the families had interested him in the beginning, but it had failed to win against the charm of an electronic adventure.
Sarojini was standing silently near the doorway of the kitchen. Her happiness had transformed into a mild melancholy on realising that Priyamvada was no more. But it had not come as a shock. She had met Prithvi’s mother few times, and the enormity of the other woman’s anguish had disturbed her on each occasion. She’d even spoken to her husband about it. Siddharth had replied that, though she was alive and breathing, Priyamvada had ceased to exist on the day Aditya had died. And now, their son – a child any parent would be proud of - had returned to this house through the strange workings of fate.
The ringing of the phone disturbed the silence and Sarojini hastened to answer it.
Kedar diffidently said, “Babuji, they don’t know anything about how Aditya and Siddharth became friends. I told them you were best placed to narrate that story.”
“That I am,” Bhoothnath concurred affably. “But my memory isn’t reliable….it was never strong, and with age…. And I met your father only a handful of times. But I do remember some things. Like the first time I saw Aditya. His car had broken down on the main road and he had come to the temple to pass his time while the vehicle was being repaired. He was accompanied by bodyguards, and so his entrance caused quite a lot of commotion. I thought he was a film star or a big politician,” he chortled. “He had that kind of personality. He didn’t speak to anyone. Just offered prayers quietly and then went to sit in a corner. His guards didn’t let anyone go near him. After an hour, he got up and left. Then on a cold morning three days later, Siddharth and I found him lying unconscious near the shrine.”
Taking a seat beside Sumer Singh, Prithvi sharply asked, “Unconscious?”
“Yes…he was ill because of overwork. His personal life had been in shambles during those months. I think his wife…his first wife wasn’t letting him see their son. I don’t remember that boy’s name -”
“Indrajit,” Prithvi supplied indifferently.
“He’s not – we’re not in touch with him,” Sumer Singh interjected hurriedly, dreading any questions.
But Bhoothnath nodded astutely. “It’s understandable. To share his father with a step-sibling must have been hard on that boy.”
“It has been a real picnic for me though,” Prithvi said sarcastically, glowering at the old man.
Bhoothnath’s sad smile held a world of wisdom. “Blood ties are powerful. Sooner or later, both of you will have to make peace with it. Aditya would have wanted his sons to get along. Relationships were important to him….Anyway, on that morning, we brought Aditya home and I treated him with herbal remedies. We didn’t have the courage to take him to the hospital. It had a bad reputation back then.”
“By God’s grace, he was better by evening, but we persuaded him stay for the night so he could recover fully. Aditya ended up staying here for two days. He and Siddharth became friends in that short span. My son was like that…he could befriend people easily. He was also quite protective of his friends. I was curious about your father, but Siddharth wouldn’t let me ask any questions. He told me Aditya was a businessman and gave me a little information about his personal troubles. And then he instructed me to control my inquisitiveness,” Bhoothnath said sheepishly.
Sarojini replaced the phone after speaking briefly to her friend. She didn’t move from the chair, and sat back, listening to her father in law intently.
“Aditya didn’t forget this town. He would come by once in a while to offer his prayers at the temple and to meet Siddharth and me. He liked staying in Ayodhya if he had a free weekend, though that happened rarely. He brought your mother to Shamli to meet us after their wedding was fixed. Priya…Priyamvada…the name was apt for her. She was truly sweet-spoken. And respectful,” he said approvingly. “After the wedding, they disappeared from our lives. We didn’t hear from them, and Siddharth would get annoyed if I spoke of them. He must have been offended that Aditya didn’t invite him to the wedding. I tried to make him understand that you shouldn’t let such grouses ruin a friendship. He didn’t listen.”
“But time mended their bond. Though Aditya didn’t come to Shamli again, he would write to us occasionally. Then we heard of the accident… such a terrible shock. After that, your mother came to see us a few times when you were a baby. Sometimes, she would send you with a relative. But the visits stopped again all of a sudden. I should have tried to find out why ….but we were going through financial troubles at the time and other issues took a backseat,” he sighed. “Siddharth told me that your family had to endure poverty after Aditya’s demise. It’s good to see the situation improved later,” he said warmly.
In the backdrop, Sarojini wistfully recollected her husband’s reticence regarding the Rathod family. She’d not felt the need to pry either. As far as she was concerned, the Rathods had just been one more family in the vast circle of her husband’s friends and acquaintances. Aditya was an unknown figure, and Priyamvada had been a silent and withdrawn woman. Prithvi had been a lovable child, Sarojini thought tenderly. When his visits had stopped, she’d asked Siddharth for the reason. Her husband had lost his temper and asked her to stop nagging him on the topic.
Kedar took out something from his shirt pocket. He stood up and walked to Bhoothnath, saying, “I had this photograph….I thought everyone might like to see it.”
Bhoothnath took the snap and laughed on seeing the image. “This reminds me – Prithvi, you were the most badly behaved child I’d ever seen.”
“I was not,” Prithvi refuted firmly, snatching the photograph.
Intrigued, Sarojini rose and walked to stand behind the couch. She discreetly leaned ahead to gaze at the snap in Prithvi’s hand and immediately covered her smile with the pallu of her cotton sari. Beside Prithvi, Sumer Singh and Sankatmochan also sniggered at the image as well as the prince’s startled and discomfited visage.
Nandini fidgeted restlessly. The captivating hold of the story had broken. And she was going to die if she didn’t have a look at the picture at once. Then in a miraculous moment, her mother glanced at her and laughingly gestured at her and Prakash to come over.
Delighted, Nandini jumped up and ran to stand next to her mother, while Prakash squeezed into a spot between the men on the sofa.
Eager to discover the cause for the lightened air in the room, Nandini peered over Prithvi’s shoulder and gaped in amazement.
In the photograph, two small children were sitting on the floor near Vrindavan’s kitchen. A plump, grimy boy in blue shorts was happily dismembering a doll. Tiny plastic hands and legs were already littered nearby, and the lad was attempting to yank out a golden head from the doll’s torso. Next to him, a girl in a green frock was sobbing inconsolably over the carnage, one chubby hand rubbing her eyes.
A picture…. an actual picture of Prithvi and herself when they were children….
“It’s the fault of the camera angle,” Prithvi asserted. “Gives the wrong impression about me.”
As the others laughed, Nandini rolled her eyes.
If ever a photograph gave the correct impression of Prithvi and their relationship, it was this one…
**********************
Holding a pillow and cotton bed sheet under her left arm, Nandini spread the straw mat on the floor of the terrace. Then she dropped the pillow at one end and the coverlet in the centre.
As she settled on the mat, Nandini cast a wistful look at Ayodhya’s empty terrace.
Prithvi had left on some pretext while she and Prakash were taking the empty plates and glasses back to the kitchen, and the others had dispersed soon after. A sombre quietness had followed their departure. She’d wanted to hear more tales related to the past, but had felt too exhausted mentally to pursue the topic with her family.
If she was so dead-beat, how much more emotionally fatigued would Prithvi be after having learnt so much about his parents in a day.
Sighing, she untied the loose bun at the base of her neck and fastened her hair again securely in a knot. Then she lay her head down on the pillow and covered herself with the thin cotton sheet.
Nandini gazed pensively at the radiant orb in the night sky, prepared for a long night of tossing and turning. But she’d underestimated the effect of the stress of the past twenty four hours, and was fast asleep within moments.
She awoke sluggishly an hour later and didn’t move for some seconds, groggily wondering what was different.
The night was still. She was huddled on her side in her usual sleeping style. Her bed sheet was wrapped around her snugly.
But her cheek was on the mat. The pillow was gone.
She quickly rolled to her right.
A man was asleep peacefully beside her as though by prior arrangement.
Her missing pillow was cushioning Prithvi’s head. He had sneaked it from her. Clad in his usual night-time attire of a white kurta and denims, he was sleeping comfortably on his stomach.
Pleased, she sat up and stretched a hand towards him, then stopped. And the floodtide of happiness began receding as quickly as it had surged…
His face was turned away from her and he was roughly two feet away. The straw mat wasn’t wide enough to accommodate two people lying so far apart and almost half of his body was on the bare floor of the terrace.
Last night, at this very place, she had felt disappointed that he hadn’t hugged her, she recollected suddenly. Today morning, he had embraced her in the spur of the moment. But later, just when she’d expected him to kiss her, his hands had grazed her bangles. And he had instantly put up a wall and used harsh words to push her away.
And he was maintaining that distance in sleep, looking like such an epitome of virtuousness that he could indisputably be chosen as a worthy successor to the original Prince of Ayodhya.
She had diagnosed the problem at last, and could now administer the right treatment.
Nandini pushed aside the coverlet and stood up without bothering to muffle the sound of her anklets.
“You didn’t need the pillow,” a male voice informed her drowsily.
So he’d woken up…just like she wanted….
“You can keep the pillow, and take this too,” Nandini said grimly. Gritting her teeth, she kicked him viciously in the shin of a leg.
“What the ****!”
Ignoring the loud swearing, she plonked back coolly down on the mat and massaged her foot. Her toes were hurting, but her heart was at peace.
“Are you ******* crazy?!” Prithvi snarled furiously, sounding more irritated and surprised than in pain. He had turned over and sat up, and was scowling at her.
“We are even,” she answered calmly, focusing on her leg. “You can start behaving normally with me again.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked impatiently.
She looked up at him severely. “You know what I mean. You’ve been behaving like…just because yesterday you…but now we’re e-v-e-n,” she spelled out clearly, rubbing her toes.
Prithvi stared at her wordlessly for a minute. Then he slowly reached for her throbbing foot but she pulled it back.
“You’ve hurt yourself too,” he said irately.
“That’s exactly what happened yesterday as well,” she reminded him stoutly. “You can’t have separate rules for me.”
“You could have talked to me instead of launching a guerrilla attack,” he muttered grumpily.
“True, I should have tried that first since you are very good at discussing your feelings,” she said sceptically.
Mulishly ignoring the comment, he drew up his left leg to examine it. “It feels like you’ve broken it.”
Abruptly feeling ill, Nandini touched his foot. “It’s that painful?! I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean to kick so hard.”
He looked at her darkly. “Just like you didn’t mean to bite my arm, burn my palm and ask me to drink that floor cleaning stuff?”
Nandini cringed. On each of those occasions, she’d believed that he had asked for those punishments. But arranged in a neat list like that, the actions totally made her sound like a deranged woman.
Miserable, she darted closer and hugged him, pressing her face into his shoulder.
But Prithvi didn’t return the embrace. “You’re setting new records for insensitivity,” he condemned inflexibly.
She raised her head and uneasily met his critical gaze. “What did I do now?”
“You didn’t even realise that you’d kicked the other leg,” he pointed out and grinned.
She stared at him in astonishment, and then squeaked as he pulled her across his lap. The thick knot at her nape was unravelled purposefully, and silky hair cascaded down her back.
She had not decided if he deserved another kick when he gathered her closer and buried his face in the graceful slope of her neck.
The unexpected vulnerability in the move was painful. Thoughts of his terrible childhood assailed her. She cradled him tightly in her arms, despising the fate that had caused him so much pain.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered.
A blanket apology, Nandini mulled wryly. “You don’t have to be. But please…please don’t shut me out like that again,” she whispered.
He raised his head and looked at her pensively. “Not even for entertainment?”
Exasperated, Nandini lightly knocked her forehead against his in mock aggression.
“If you enjoy making me cry, go ahead,” she retorted resentfully. “You don’t care for my happiness, but I would do anything for yours.”
“You mean that?” he demanded.
“Of course I do!” she reaffirmed crossly with the long-suffering relish of a martyr.
“Good,” Prithvi murmured. He reached for the first of the three buttons on her nightdress and began unbuttoning it.
Shocked and outraged, she automatically slammed his hands away. “What are you doing?!”
“Confirming if you meant what you said,” he said innocently.
“Fine! I never mean anything I say! Happy?!” she snapped angrily, jostling against his grip.
“Calm down, woman. I was just joking. Tell me… is your foot okay?” he enquired solicitously and started to raise the hem of her nightdress.
“Stop it! Stop teasing me!” Nandini cried furiously, dislodging his hands somehow. “I’m going back inside!”
The unreservedly wicked grin vanished from his face at the threat. “Don’t go!” he said quickly, grabbing her arm. “That was the last one. I swear!”
She glared at him and pulled her hand out of his clasp.
Scrambling to the edge of the mat, Nandini pulled the pillow completely to her side. Then she grabbed the bed sheet, cloaked her body from neck to toe and lay down rigidly on her side. She shut her eyes tightly and waited for her pulse to stop leaping and for her face to become cool again. Why had she prodded the dozing devil…
Sincerely endeavouring to keep laughter from his voice, Prithvi asked, “No pillow for me?”
“Go get your own!” she snapped.
“I’d rather share yours,” he replied solemnly.
She had been afraid of that.
Nandini dug her hot face into the pillow on sensing him stretching out alongside her. He coiled a possessive arm around her, and nestled his face in the side of her neck.
“You wasted a lot of time today,” he murmured into her soft tresses, “Wake up early and study for some hours before leaving for college.”
“Okay,” Nandini said cautiously. Although he’d sounded reassuringly matter-of-fact and sleepy, heat from the body pressed against her back and the warmth of his breath on her skin were enough reasons for her to remain tense and stiff in the embrace. She waited uncertainly,more scared than she wanted to admit…
But Prithvi didn’t speak again, and moments later, his gentle and steady breathing proved that he was sleeping soundly.
Exceedingly relieved, she allowed her body to relax. Its demand for rest overwhelmed her gradually, and within a short while, Nandini was fast asleep.
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