Sankatmochan raised a hand in greeting to a familiar face. The man seemed to want to chat, but Sankatmochan hurried on towards Vrindavan.

Panting, he opened the gate and hurried into the yard.

"Nandini! Are you there?" he called out.

It was Sarojini who walked to the half-open doors to answer him.

She pulled them open fully and smiled at Sankatmochan. "Nandini is in the backyard."

"Bhoothnathji told me she met with an accident," Sankatmochan asked anxiously.

"She fell down the stairs in Mrs Bhargava's house," Sarojini confirmed. "But she's okay now."

"Okay, I will meet her quickly and go back to the temple," Sankatmochan said distractedly.

"Don't run," Sarojini cautioned loudly after the hobbling young man but the advice went unheard.

Sankatmochan could probably cheer up her daughter, Sarojini hoped.

Not that Nandini was showing any signs of sadness. She had been peppy and talkative as usual since morning. However, something was definitely troubling her daughter, Sarojini thought worriedly.

She had tried to question Nandini in the morning about the stay with Mrs Bhargava, and she had also telephoned the author for an outwardly casual conversation. Based on all that she'd heard, it had been a peaceful, uneventful stay until the minor accident that happened yesterday.

In that case, the only answer was that Nandini had wanted to stay back with Mrs Bhargava for some more time but had returned home with her grandfather simply to make him happy...

She'd gauge her daughter's mood for a few more days, and hopefully, everything would be back to normal soon.

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

Nandini walked lifelessly between the plants. The town had been receiving mild showers of rain for the past three days, so the yard looked bright and beautiful. However, she wasn't feeling an iota of the usual peace and pleasure that she found amidst her green friends. But she had known they wouldn't be able to help her. She was wandering in their midst only so that she could be herself for a while.

It was lucky that this silent loitering in the backyard was an activity she had engaged in since childhood. So, her mother wouldn't suspect anything out of the ordinary.

Nandini was recalled to her surroundings by a gasping male voice and spun to see Sankatmochan limping towards her.

She abruptly felt sick with apprehension and pain. But how long could she avoid facing people and things that were connected to Prithvi.... Sooner or later, she would have to force herself to look at Ayodhya too.

Nandini smiled determinedly at the breathless visitor.

"Nandini, what happened to you?" Sankatmochan asked worriedly while coming to a stop. "You're hurt badly."

"I'm okay, Mochi bhaiya," she said lightly. "I tripped down some steps, that's all. And I'm fine, as you can see."

When he started to speak, she raised a hand and soothingly said, "Get your breath back first."

Nodding, Sankatmochan paused for some seconds. Then he stoutly said, "You don't look fine at all. There is no colour on your face, and you look ill and – oh dear God," he said as a horrifying possibility occurred to him. He suddenly questioned, "How did you trip? Did you fall because you were dizzy? And are you nauseated in the mornings?"

Nandini looked at him in bewilderment.

"Are there any foods that are repulsing you?" Sankatmochan continued to ask suspiciously. "Do you feel like having raw mangoes and pickles and tam -"

"Mochi bhaiya, what are you talking about?" Nandini asked exasperatedly.

With an extremely embarrassed air, Sankatmochan scratched his head and shifted his focus to the ground. "You know...that morning on the terrace," he mumbled uncomfortably, "when I saw both of you, and your dress was...and Prithvi said.."

He was startled by a sound and looked at Nandini. She was holding the back of her hand against her mouth.

He had heard the beginning of a laugh. He was sure of it. But now she seemed close to crying in anguish.

When Nandini closed her eyes tightly, his fears increased. She appeared to be severely sick, almost close to losing consciousness. However, just as he was about to run back to Vrindavan to summon Sarojini, the crisis passed.

Nandini opened her eyes and stared at the ground. Then she slowly removed her hand from her face.

Although her voice was quavering, she succeeded in saying, "Nothing like that happened between - Prithvi was joking. I had high fever that night, and he was with me to take care of me."

Astounded, Sankatmochan said, "Really? Is that true? But your dress that day..."

"It had torn on a nail. He had nothing to do with it. You teased us, so he decided to pull your leg," Nandini explained with a throat that was aching insufferably.

"Oh...thank goodness," Sankatmochan said fervently, and then started to chuckle at the situation. But he stopped on seeing her abnormally pale face.

Then he timidly said, "Nandini, you've had some time to think about...what happened. Can't you forgive -"

Nandini interrupted him to shakily say, "Mochi bhaiya, I know you're very close to Prithvi...but please don't speak to me about him again."

Sankatmochan sighed. "Okay, as you wish. I will see you later. Take care of yourself."

Nandini waited till he had left the garden.

Then she walked quickly to the group of trees at the edge of the yard. When she knew she was hidden from view, she dropped to her knees weakly at the base of a tree, and waited for the throbbing in her chest to subside. What she would give to conceal herself permanently from the world forever so that she didn't have to fight such a ruthless, exhausting war against unrelenting pain...

She had woken up with tears on her face. But she hadn't cried after that, and her face remained dry at this moment despite the agony bubbling inside her.

Nandini sat in the shade for some time. Then she forced herself to get up and return to the house. Her mother was surely wondering why she was spending so much time alone in the garden.

She had to keep up a smiling façade for a few more days, and show a bit of exuberance every now and then. It would require all of her strength, but she didn't have any other option...

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

Next morning, Nandini was drying her damp hair in the bedroom when she heard a burst of animated voices, the loudest of which was Sankatmochan's.

Frightened that something had gone wrong with Prithvi, she ran to the stairs and was about to rush down when she realised that Sankatmochan sounded thrilled, not upset.

And then his words began registering on her mind. He was jubilantly telling her family that Prithvi had found his mother. She heard the shocked exclamations and baffled questions put forth by her family. Their dumbfounded reactions evidently made Sankatmochan realise he had committed the crime of beginning his yarn by revealing the end first...

He quickly remedied the problem by asking all of them to sit down and listen to the most fascinating story they must have ever heard.

Nandini moved back sharply on hearing Sankatmochan asking for her. She did not want to be part of the audience for this tale. It would be more than she could handle. Luckily, her mother told Sankatmochan that she was taking a bath.

Apparently unable to wait to begin his narration, Sankatmochan gleefully began recounting the complete story.

Nandini sank down onto the topmost step, clenching the wooden banister. Her head was spinning. She didn't want to relive the cursed day that she had first met Priyamvada through Sankatmochan's words. But she couldn't move...

Priyamvada had gone missing when Prithvi was a child, Sankatmochan began dramatically. Then they had found the mutilated body of a woman dressed in the same kind of clothes and thought she had died in an accident. And it was actually true that Priyamvada had met with an accident, but it had only affected her memory. She had forgotten everything, and that was why she had not returned to her son, he claimed. Then by a stroke of luck, someone had seen her outside a shrine some time ago and had informed Prithvi. And though he did not know where exactly his mother was, Prithvi had set out in search of her.

An astrologer had warned Prithvi against divulging the truth about his mission to anyone. And that was why he had not informed the Bharadwaj family before leaving. And then, divine forces had helped him. A girl - a celestial helper, no doubt - had helped Prithvi find Priyamvada...literally led him to his mother who had been living in an ashram. And so it was that mother and son were finally united. She was a little ill and weak, but the doctors had assured Prithvi that she would recover fully. Prithvi had felt guilty about not telling the Bharadwajs the truth, and he had asked Sankatmochan to inform them immediately. And that was why he had come running to Vrindavan to share this wondrous news, Sankatmochan concluded jauntily. Now that he had fulfilled his responsibility, he was going to the temple and give thanks to the gods for showering their blessings on Prithvi...

Her family listened to him with rapt attention. And when he finished, there was an outpouring of happy cries, questions and overall joyous emotions from her mother, grandfather and Prakash.

Nandini waited till she was sure that Sankatmochan had left for the temple. Then certain that her mother would come looking for her soon, she compelled herself to go downstairs. The instant they saw her, her family zoomed towards her to share the news.

Bubbling with enthusiasm and happiness, her grandfather narrated the story that he had heard from Sankatmochan, with major embellishments of his own. Sankatmochan's story had obviously been heavily inspired by movies and television shows. The yarn that her grandfather spun was even more melodramatic and fascinating, and seemed to be inspired by the divine epics of all religions. It included depictions of demonic forces that had sought to separate mother and son, a poignant narration of the hurdles placed by the gods to test Prithvi's determination, and also contained the description of a gold-coloured woman who had materialised in front of Prithvi and directed him straight to Priyamvada with a flaming trident...

Nandini listened to her grandfather with polite interest, laughed at Prakash's indignant, vociferous objections to Bhoothnath's creative liberties, and discreetly exchanged amused smiles with her mother. Then she began to help with household chores while listening to her innocent mother marvel over the miraculous event and praise Prithvi to the skies for his dedication and goodness. Priyamvada was very fortunate to have a son like him, her mother said warmly. So very blessed and fortunate.

In later years, Nandini would always wonder how she'd managed to behave so dispassionately when her inner self had been screaming with hurt and anger...

About two hours later, she was putting clothes to dry when she saw Sankatmochan emerge through the door on the opposite terrace. He beamed joyously on spotting her and hastened over the small bridge between the houses.

He delightedly said, "Nandini, I hoped I would find you here. Did your family tell you? A miracle has happened! Prithvi -

"I know...grandpa told me," she said gently, turning her back on him with the excuse of hanging a damp garment on the clothes-line. "I'm glad Prithvi has found his mother."

"And now that you know why he had to leave, you forgive him?" Sankatmochan asked eagerly.

Nandini waited for a long moment to fortify her emotions, then she turned to face Sankatmochan, crossing her arms as she did so.

"Mochi bhaiya, I've thought about it a lot in the last few days," she said quietly. "And now I'm sure that ending the relationship would the best decision for both of us. I want Prithvi to be happy, and I want to be happy myself. But that won't happen if we're together."

Sankatmochan was unexpectedly frightened by the calm resolution in her attitude. "You don't mean that, Nandini," he said urgently. "You and Prithvi are – are two halves of a single soul. It's God's will that you should spend your lives with each other. And not just in this lifetime...in every birth that will follow. I know it! You cannot -"

Frantic to cut him off before she collapsed, Nandini tightly interrupted, "Most of our time together was wasted in quarrelling. You know that's true. We used to fight almost every day...even over the smallest and stupidest of things. Is that how it would be if two people were meant to be together?"

"No...Yes...I don't know," Sankatmochan said helplessly, "But you are still getting to know each other. The fights will reduce with time and -"

Nandini steadfastly said, "Our fights were caused by the huge differences between us. They are too many of them - in every way. I believe we will lead happier...more peaceful lives if we're apart. And I'm making this request again...if you care for me at all as your sister, please don't talk to me about Prithvi," she requested earnestly, folding her hands in supplication.

Appalled, Sankatmochan tried to think of something more he could say. But the powerful tenacity in the young girl's gaze told him that his efforts would be useless. As far as Nandini was concerned, this story was well and truly finished...

Feeling crushed, Sankatmochan limped away with lowered eyes.

As she'd done in the garden yesterday, Nandini waited till she was sure he had left.

She released a shuddering breath once Ayodhya's terrace door was closed.

Pale and shivering, she turned back to the clothesline and clasped it with a trembling hand for support to remain standing. Salty drops of water started to course spiritedly down her cheeks. She erased them quickly but more water streamed out of her eyes.

Giving up tiredly, Nandini resumed the task of picking items from the bucket and hanging them, roughly wiping away hot tears every few seconds...

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

11 days later

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

Sumer Singh's hand continued to move swiftly over the pages despite an increasing ache in the fingers.

Priyamvada had asked him to write everything he remembered of Prithvi's childhood, and he had been devoting two hours every morning to the task. But his progress was not as good as he would have liked. For one, thoughts about the present kept intruding when he was trying to focus on the past. And it always took him a long time to bring his mind back on track again.

It would have helped if he could write for some time during the night as well. However, that had proved impossible. He returned to his room each night in a state of mind-numbing fatigue and depression. Yet, he was not doing anything in particular. His actions these days were limited to helplessly witnessing the strange everyday happenings in Aadyabhoomi. That was sufficient to tire him out completely. But he was in the minority. Almost everyone else in the palace seemed happy and content. Extraordinarily, the reason for their happiness and his melancholy was one – Priyamvada.

An extensive array of medical tests had revealed that her main physical health issue was iron and vitamin deficiency. There were a few other minor ailments but they could be cured through a proper diet, exercise and medicines. Her mind, though, was a different matter altogether.

Sumer Singh paused and put his pen down. He had lost his train of thought again. Already feeling weary and frustrated, he pushed aside the journal and drew a small diary to the centre of the table. He opened it and looked at the names he had written on a restless morning some days ago in an attempt to make sense of the strangeness unfolding in the palace.

He had written them in the form of a list, but in his mind, they formed a circle, and at the centre of the circle was Priyamvada, with invisible lines connecting her name to those of the others. Prithvi's name was not on the page.

Among the names he'd jotted down, the relationships were the ones between Priyamvada, Rajeshwari and Uday Singh were the least complicated...at least that is how it seemed to outsiders like him. With Uday Singh, the queen was very respectful and considerate. As for Rajeshwari, Priyamvada had met her with heart-warming affection, and was always kind and caring towards the young girl. But then why had Prithvi issued a strict directive that Rajeshwari should never be allowed to be with Priyamvada alone? There had to be a serious reason for that. Prithvi wouldn't be so obstinate about it otherwise.

But that wasn't nearly as disturbing as the freshly cemented bond between Priyamvada and her once estranged father.

Rajyavardhan Singh was essentially under house arrest. He was confined to a small, dingy portion of the palace, and was forbidden from venturing beyond a specific point. A task force of sorts had been created solely for the purpose of making sure that Rajyavardhan stayed out of Prithvi's and Rajeshwari's way. Priyamvada had not made a fuss about the rules. She conformed obediently with her son's diktats but also made it a habit to spend a large part of her days with her father. How had she forgotten his maltreatment of Prithvi so easily?

But Priyamvada was apparently made of tougher material than ordinary human beings.

Father and daughter were engrossed in serious discussions for several hours each day. The only person who knew the subject of the unending talks was Haimavati, the quiet, stately woman who had arrived a day after Rajyavardhan Singh and had not left Priyamvada's side after that. He had not witnessed either of the reunions but had heard through the grapevine that both had involved numerous tears...

And then there was the newly formed connection between Priyamvada and Indrajit. It was feeble but it was a miracle that it existed at all, Sumer Singh mused bewilderedly.

Three days ago, he had been summoned to a hall where Prithvi and Priyamvada were waiting. Prithvi had informed him nonchalantly that Priyamvada wanted to visit Indrajit again, and that he had assented to the request subject to two conditions.

One was that Indrajit should be willing to meet her. And two, if Indrajit was agreeable, Sumer Singh would be present in the room to ensure that Indrajit wasn't uncomfortable with anything that Priyamvada said.

Rage had flashed across Priyamvada's face on listening to the tough stipulations imposed by her son. But when Prithvi had glanced at her with a strange coolness, she had consented passively.

Why had Indrajit agreed to meet the woman he hated the most in the world, Sumer Singh wondered. The injured young man's recovery was slow and he could barely speak because of his wired jaw, but there had been no mistaking his weak nod and garbled 'yes'. Jiva too had confirmed to him that Indrajit did want to meet Priyamvada.

What had Priyamvada told her step-son for over an hour while sitting beside him and stroking his head gently?

As he had been stationed near the door, her words had not reached his ears. But whatever she had said...it had worked. Indrajit had listened to Priyamvada with increasingly rapt attention, and had looked sad when she had risen to leave. Then he had muttered something that no one had understood initially. He had repeated it twice, and then Priyamvada had finally grasped that he was asking for Prithvi. Jiva had been despatched to bring the younger prince to the room.

Clearly bemused and uncomfortable, Prithvi had arrived within a short while.

Indrajit had stared silently at his younger brother for a moment, and then he had closed his eyes.

"He wanted to see me because I make him want to go to sleep?" Prithvi had asked doubtfully, genuinely confused.

"He wanted to see you because you look just like your father," Priyamvada had answered gently.

Gazing uneasily at his mother and then at Indrajit, Prithvi had muttered, "Thanks, Maa, that's not disturbing at all..."

Sumer Singh closed the diary suddenly, overwhelmed by an intuitive uneasiness.

Why had he not written Prithvi's name in the list of people linked to Priyamvada?

Of all the relationships in the house, Prithvi and Priyamvada's bond should have been the strongest. But it was Prithvi's bonds with Uday Singh and Rajeshwari that were pure, sweet and growing stronger each day. With his mother, he was...different.

But then Priyamvada had gone out of her way to hurt her son....the worst of which was what she had done to Nandini...

Still, Priyamvada did appear to be trying to make amends. She was being quite loving towards Prithvi and was also plainly trying to avoid saying anything that could rile him. In his turn, Prithvi was diligently taking care of her and doing everything necessary to help improve her health. He monitored her meals, her medicines, and also coerced her to go for a walk each morning and evening, with or without him. However, he did all of it with a slightly detached attitude.

The detachment and overall indifference were becoming more pronounced with every passing day. And who could blame Prithvi for it? How much pain had the poor boy suffered within a very short period...

But most of the others were oblivious to the alarming signs of change in Prithvi. Well, Kadambari was a little worried, Sumer Singh conceded grudgingly. However, the perpetually squawking woman was more anxious about Rajeshwari, and had mumbled gibberish about how the princess was asking odd questions about Indrajit and had expressed a wish to see him when he was asleep.

He didn't care if that was true. Rajeshwari and Indrajit were at the peripheries of his life at present. He was only worried about Prithvi...

It would have been tolerable if Prithvi was simply going back to being the person he was before moving to Shamli. It would be sad, but tolerable. Now, however, he was afraid that if life continued on these lines, the transformation in Prithvi was going to be much worse...and irreversible...

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

The guards anxiously studied the young man who was supervising the construction of the house. The men exchanged glances, silently communicating their apprehensions with each other.

They were a little cautious about the prince's temper and sharpness but it wasn't because they were afraid of him. They simply didn't want to be the cause of any disappointment to him. And if it was any other member of the royal family, they themselves would have shut down the villager's request. Then again, if it was anyone else, the villager wouldn't have dreamed of putting forth a request like this one.

They approached him tentatively, and jointly murmured, "Your Highness..."

Prithvi glanced distractedly at the two nervous guards.

One of the guards said, "Your highness, the farmer and his family wanted us to ask you if – "

He stopped and exchanged an apprehensive look with his colleague.

"Speak up," Prithvi said impatiently.

"They wanted to know if...tomorrow or any other day this week...you would be willing to have a meal prepared by them," the other guard said diffidently.

"Sure," Prithvi shrugged. "But let them know they will have to eat along with me. If they're not okay with that and plan to stand around and stare at me while I eat, I'll prefer home delivery."

As the guards regarded him with respect and adoration, Prithvi strolled off to continue his inspection of the under-construction house before returning to the palace.

His mother who would be expecting him for lunch. At this moment, she was probably in the midst of unwillingly taking a short break from her daily discussions with her father. And after lunch was over, she would affectionately encourage him to do whatever he wanted with his time, so that she could resume her tête-à-tête with the people she loved the most in the world...

As the phone in his hand vibrated, Prithvi looked at the screen and sighed. He answered it by brusquely saying, "No. You cannot come to Aadyabhoomi for the next few weeks at least."

"But I want to meet your mother," Sankatmochan complained. "I promise I won't steal anything! And I definitely won't steal anything worth more than fifty thousand rupees," he swore. "And I won't stay for more than a day! At the most, I will stay for six months," he added vociferously.

Prithvi dryly said, "Your sacrifices move me to tears. But like I've been telling you every day, I don't want you here at this time. And instead of whining like an ass, be grateful I'm keeping you away."

"Hmm...Sumer Singh told me it's a strange world inside the palace," Sankatmochan said guardedly.

"That will hold a very special place in the Guinness Book of Understatements," Prithvi said sardonically.

"It's that bad?" Sankatmochan asked agitatedly. He heard faint voices from somewhere close and sauntered to the door. The guests in Vrindavan were leaving, and the Bharadwaj family was walking them to the gate.

"Mochi, all that's left is a board at the gates that says 'Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here'," Prithvi muttered, strolling around the construction site.

Sankatmochan chortled as he peered at the group huddled near the gate.

Prithvi stopped walking suddenly as he identified a soft voice in the background.

"Mochi, is that her? She's nearby?" he asked quickly, his heart racing all of a sudden.

Sankatmochan looked nervously at Nandini, who was busy chatting cheerily with a woman.

"Yes," he mumbled.

Prithvi hesitated. Armed with only a feeble ray of hope, love waged a war against a dense fog of cynicism...

"Could you ask her if she'll talk to me?" he asked uncertainly.

Sankatmochan's heart sank. He'd not mentioned Nandini even by mistake while talking to Prithvi for several days now. And he had hoped from Prithvi's long silence on the subject that his best friend had started to move on from the relationship. But the emotions in Prithvi's voice told him that there was very little chance of that. How could he tell Prithvi about the frightful talks he'd had with Nandini since her return from Vishranti Nagar...or that each time he had seen Nandini by herself in the last few days, she had seemed less and less like the girl he had met when he had first come to Shamli. 

No...he couldn't let down his friend without making an effort.

"Okay, just give me a moment," he said kindly.

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

Nandini heard her family return to the house but she continued to stand near the gate under the pretext of wanting to wait till the guests were out of sight.

Having a smile plastered forcefully on her face and chatting genially with the guests for most of the morning had sucked out most of her energy. She needed a minute before going back to the house where she would have to once again pretend to be in a normal mood. It had taken four days of an exemplary performance to convince her mother that she was perfectly okay, and that her continued reluctance to wear jewellery or kajal or do anything to beautify herself had nothing to do with her mood. But she had to keep up the façade for some more time or her mother's suspicions would return...

On hearing Sankatmochan calling out her name, Nandini turned wearily towards Ayodhya.

Sankatmochan was waiting near the small gate, holding out his phone with a beseeching expression on his face.

The dullness in Nandini's eyes vanished and her whole face lit up gloriously. She took a couple of steps automatically towards Sankatmochan, then recoiled with a wince as if she'd stepped on a carpet of thorns.

Glittering tears filled up Nandini's eyes and her mouth trembled. She seemed ravaged by agony.

She cast a frightened look towards her house and quickly pressed the lower portion of her palms against her eyes, attempting to physically push back the tears in desperation. After a few seconds, the palms moved downwards to cover her face and stop her features from crumpling.

When Nandini's hands finally fell away, she was breathing hard and her face was red. But there were no tears on the cheeks, and she appeared to be somewhat in control of herself again.

Without speaking or glancing at her neighbour, she turned away and walked back to her house.

Sankatmochan stared in continued shock at Vrindavan's doors. He had seen her anguish in the garden, but this had been a million times worse. He felt some moisture on his plump cheeks, and was shaken to find that the rawness of the pain he had witnessed had moved him to tears.

Then he remembered that Prithvi was waiting for a response on the other end. He held the phone to his ear and said a croaky 'hello', but no one answered.

"I'll talk to you later," Prithvi said unsteadily and cut the call.

He didn't need Sankatmochan to tell him what had happened. 

He had seen the tears shining in her lovely eyes, he had sensed her struggle acutely, and though she hadn't spoken to him, he had heard the breaking of a heart that was as battered as his own...

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