The small girl in the faded blue frock brightened up on spotting a brown puppy on the other side of the road. She pulled her hand out of the clasp of her older sister's fingers, and gleefully ran across the road.

Her sister along with the people on both sides of the street froze in shock.

The approaching vehicle was so close that it seemed inevitable that the child would be crushed under it.

There was a loud screech. 

The onlookers stared in shock, unable to believe their eyes. 

The SUV had managed to halt a few inches away from the child. And though the little girl had frozen with fear, she was very much alive and physically fine. Then collective sighs and murmurs of relief were heard. The older girl rushed to the road and dragged the tiny tot away, plainly afraid that she was going to be scolded by strangers for not being more alert with her mischievous and hyperactive sister.

Everything had stilled for a moment. Now life returned to the scene, and the witnesses of the near-tragedy gradually continued on their way, marvelling over the child's good fortune and the driving skills of the man behind the wheel.

Stunned by the near accident, Prithvi remained motionless for some seconds, then the impatient horn of a vehicle behind him roused him. He restarted the SUV and drove numbly for a short while, then pulled over to the roadside and brought the vehicle to a stop. He sat immobile for some time, thinking hard about what had just happened.

The numerous close brushes with death he'd had while driving on narrow, broken roads in the hills had not ruffled him once. But the moment he'd thought he had taken a life...

He'd not had time to swerve. And if his reaction had been slower by a second, the child would have been dead on the road. He'd only had an infinitesimal second to react, and for that moment, he had believed that he had killed the child. He'd actually been stunned to see the child still standing, frightened but alive...

Prithvi subdued the shock and the sickening guilt. He needed to evaluate the incident again with a calm, wholly impartial view to know for certain if he had been at fault, and if there was anything he could have done differently to have avoided putting the child at risk.

He thoughts shifted from the immediate moments preceding the near disaster to the savagery of the mindset with which he had strode out of Vrindavan some time ago. Had he missed seeing the child because of his inner state...

But irrespective of how many times he replayed the moments with a brutal clarity, he reached the same conclusion. That there had been no warning at all until the girl dashed onto the road, and he wouldn't have been prepared for the incident even if he had been driving in the most serene mood.

The unthinkable catastrophe had been averted only because of sheer luck.

But what if there had been time to stop, and he'd failed to do so because he'd been too mired in toxic emotions to realise what was happening, and if luck had not played its role? 

Prithvi shuddered to think of what could have happened.

For many years now, regardless of what he was going through on the inside, he had not allowed it to spill into the outside world through word or deed. And he had not had to exert any effort to focus on the surroundings and fulfill his duties and responsibilities even when he'd been breaking internally. The clean, rigid segregation of his inner and outer lives had come naturally to him from the start, and it had only become easier over the years.

But hadn't he been struggling with the same thing since his arrival in Shamli. What if this had been the day when he'd allowed some useless ghosts from the past to interfere with his concentration on the road, and an innocent life had been lost as a result...

Prithvi looked at the watch on his right wrist. He had walked out of Vrindavan over an hour ago, and after that, he only knew that he had navigated through some towns and villages and had passed through crowded places. He did not know the names of those places...or where he was right now.

For now, all he could think about was that he had almost killed a child today, and despite what his brain was telling him, he would never be fully sure if it was because his mind had been consumed by emotions so violent that they wouldn't be understood by a sane person.

And all this turmoil was about....Nandini? The female who was basically just an unpleasant reminder of the only time his sense of judgement had let him down completely, and when all traces of intelligence and common sense had deserted him, Prithvi reflected with a vitriolic wrath. Infatuated to the point of madness, he had failed to see through the façade of goodness and demonstrations of love, and the blunder had cost him...nearly everything.

The fury and hatred he felt towards himself in the moment were more barbaric than anything he had felt for her...or any other human being.

The hardness on Prithvi's features intensified.

The doors that had flung open by themselves and unleashed havoc finally yielded to the power of extraordinary willpower and were slammed shut one by one. The hold of the past started to loosen. The pieces that had spiralled out of control yesterday began to fall back into place again.

It was as if a reset button was hit, compelling utter lunacy to let go of him, and letting him return to being the person he was before...before yesterday morning...or even before the ill-fated halt at the stepwell. 

But he needed to be sure of the inner shift.

With a deep reluctance but a coldly analytical stance, Prithvi reflected upon every incident that had happened since he'd stopped at the stepwell until he had stalked out of Vrindavan with the emotional stability of a deranged animal.

As minutes passed, anger and frustration rose in him again, then receded steadily.

The unwanted feelings had not disappeared as he'd hoped. However, they were now imprisoned in a dark space along with the rest of his emotions. He could feel their presence only as the muffled thuds of a hand pounding on a far away door.

That could be handled easily. He had dealt with a lot worse...

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

In the comfortably furnished living room, four young girls were absorbed in answering some questions. One of them looked up to see that her tutor, one of her most favourite persons in the world, was staring out the windows.

"Di, what happened?" she asked.

Giving a faint start, Nandini looked at the young student. "Nothing, I was just thinking of something," she said lightly while struggling to bring her mind to the present moment. "Have you answered all the questions..."

She spent some minutes reviewing the work her students had done so far, and then, after encouraging them to continue, she resumed her miserable musings.

There was no vehicle in front of Ayodhya yet. But there would be one soon.

What would happen when Prithvi returned? Would he talk to her...

Fervent emotions, the foremost of which was a poisonous anger towards her own self, swelled up in Nandini's heart. She instantly tried to quash them just as she had done countless times in the past. It didn't work. The emotions rose higher and higher in a growing tide...threatening to drown her...

Her throat grew tight, and the ache in her chest became unbearable. Panic flooded her. This was not the time or place for her to have a breakdown.

Nandini glanced swiftly at the children who were absorbed in their notebooks, and then rose from the table to walk to the windows.

She looked at her own house...at the corner where the kitchen was...

She didn't know for how long she had stood there, shocked and shaken terribly by what she had seen on Prithvi's face. It wasn't that she had forgotten the ferocity of his temper over the years, but she knew in her bones that she had never seen that animalistic level of anger on his features before...

Ultimately, she had only become aware of herself when the acrid odour of burning metal had become insufferably strong, and she'd realised that the water in the vessel on the gas stove had evaporated long ago.

Then she'd heard her mother coming down the stairs, drawn downstairs by the stench. It had been difficult for her to give a sensible explanation, so she had mumbled something about having forgotten about the water. She had listened dully to her mother's exasperated scolding about the need to be more careful. Then she had muttered something about needing to go to the washroom, and used the chance to escape to the terrace.

When she'd returned downstairs, it had been with a heavy apprehension if she would be able to be her usual self with Rajeshwari and her family. 

However, her fears had been unfounded. It was true that she had found everyone on the ground floor. But Prakash had been engrossed in watching a movie on television, her mother had been in the middle of making tea, and her grandfather had just begun narrating a thrilling story to Rajeshwari, who had given her a quick smile and then had returned her attention to the elderly man with an eager-to-please air.

Grateful that she was not expected to make conversation, Nandini had sat beside Rajeshwari and listened to the story that she had heard a zillion times before. Andas her grandfather had delved into the story, she had seen Rajeshwari grow genuinelyfascinated and interested. If there had been any doubt or skepticism, Rajeshwarihad done a good job of hiding it...

There had not been any undue worry about Prithvi's absence since he had apparently sent text messages to both Rajeshwari and Sankatmochan, informing them that he had gone on a drive and would be back soon.

She had listened to the information placidly while having tea. And then, like a boon from heaven, a family in the locality had called up, requesting her to provide some tutoring to their daughter and her school friends. She would have offered to help even if she'd not been desperate to get away from the house and find a distraction for her brain... 

Nandini looked at the hand that had been held so tenderly, and gently touched the skin over which Prithvi had run his fingers.

She closed her eyes.

What if he asked for an explanation? What could she possibly tell him? That he was the only man who would ever reside in her heart and to whom she could surrender wholly as a lover...as a woman. The only man with whom she could conceive of sharing the mental and physical intimacies that existed between a husband and wife. That there would never be anyone else for her. And yet, she did not want to change anything about the existing status quo...

Nandini opened her eyes, and looked at Ayodhya again through a thick curtain of moisture. After some moments, she forced back the tears. Then she turned away from the window to walk back to her pupils and continued to teach calmly.

She did not look up from the books even when she came acutely aware of the arrival that she had been desperate for, and had also been dreading. Every few seconds, she was ambushed by the urge - the maddening, mercilessly strong urge - to rush to speak to Prithvi at the first available opportunity. 

But Nandini continued to tutor the children, feigning ignorance of the mayhem that her heart was creating within her...

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

"Didn't you get scared while going into a house that was haunted?" Rajeshwari asked, looking awestruck.

"I'm not afraid of anything unknown," Bhoothnath said sagely. "I believe it is the known that is more frightening. So, as I was saying, I walked into the house, and I roared an open challenge to the entities who were troubling the family..."

Prakash rolled his eyes for the twenty-third time that evening as he got up and went into the kitchen, where his mother was cleaning and rearranging vessels in the cabinets, seemingly driven by some obsession to keep busy.

"I shouldn't have agreed," Sarojini fretted yet again, looking at her son. "It's just wrong. I don't know what possessed me to consent to this. I wish I had -"

"There's nothing wrong about it," Prakash said stoutly, starting to help his mother. "Di won't mind, I'm sure of it. And it's actually awesome! The problem with you, maa, is that you're too old-fashioned."

Sarojini's reply was halted by the sight of Sankatmochan peeking into the kitchen.

"Nandini isn't back yet?" Sankatmochan asked tentatively, trying not to make it appear obvious that he would be relieved if she had not returned.

"No," Prakash said sullenly. "They will make her slog for another hour at least before letting her leave."

"Prakash, don't say that about them," Sarojini said strictly. "They only asked her to help with teaching their daughter and some of her school friends because their exams are approaching."

More confident, Sankatmochan entered the kitchen and started to help wipe the vessels before placing them in the cabinet. "But Sarojini maa, someone or the other asks her to do things like this almost every weekend. It's the only time she gets to rest, and she's also fasting today. But they don't care because they get a tuition teacher or a maid or a cook for free," he grumbled.

"If Nandini feels she can't or doesn't want to do something, she can refuse," Sarojini insisted. "But she likes teaching children and helping others, and so it is not any trouble for her."

"She won't refuse because she is too goodhearted," Sankatmochan argued. "And people take advantage of that."

But Sarojini firmly defended the families in the neighbourhood until both Prakash and Sankatmochan gave up and fell silent.

But her own discomfort was no less than that of theirs. She agreed wholeheartedly with their objections to the way the people of the locality took her daughter for granted. And it was also a rehash of the times when her husband had been alive.

She couldn't forget how he would be summoned by people to solve their problems at any time of the day or night. They hadn't done it out of any strong sense of selfishness or cunning. They had loved him and considered him to be a part of their lives, and had believed they had the right to ask for his help. And her husband had never hesitated to lend a helping hand to anyone. Personal priorities, illnesses or lack of money in his own pockets....nothing could have stopped him from doing all he could to alleviate the suffering of another human being.

And Nandini had been walking on the same path since she was a child, Sarojini thought with a combination of love, pride and worry.

Her feeble attempts to make her daughter understand that it was also important to look after oneself had failed...just as they had failed with her husband.

She could only hope that whoever was destined to be her son-in-law would have better luck...

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

Dusk had just eased into the night as Nandini completed the tuition class and left her temporary pupil's home. Wrapping the stole tightly around her, she appeared to be walking to her own house, but her troubled eyes were scanning Ayodhya's façade.

She would have known Prithvi was in the house even without seeing the vehicle parked near the gate. But she couldn't talk to him if Sankatmochan was nearby. She glanced around cautiously. Outside the family temple, her grandfather was talking to one of the elderly men who had taken over the priestly responsibilities for the last few days. Sankatmochan was not with them. Ayodhya's doors were half open but she couldn't see anyone moving in the living room. She glanced at Vrindavan. The doors were closed but the windows were fully open. She couldn't see anyone but that didn't mean anything. There could be people sitting on the sofa or at the table or in the kitchen, but she wouldn't be able to see them until she went closer.

Biting her lower lip, Nandini looked at Ayodhya again. She had to talk to Prithvi at the earliest, no matter what he thought of her words or how he would react. She needed to unload the words weighing on her heart or she would go insane...

The resolution on her lovely face strengthened.

Nandini undertook one last precautionary sweep of the area, and then hastened towards Ayodhya. She opened the gate as noiselessly as she could, and walked towards the doors. As she moved closer to the entrance, delightful fragrances of food wafted towards her.

An alarming thought gave her pause.

Had her mother had come to Ayodhya to prepare something? But why would she do that...

Nandini waited indecisively as her mind raced. Couldn't this be turned into a solution? If her mother was indeed in Ayodhya's kitchen...or if Sankatmochan or anyone else saw her, she could say the smells had drawn her to Ayodhya, as it had made her assume that her mother was inside.

It was a weak, idiotic lie, but she could get away with it once perhaps...

Her heart quivered, but she tried to toughen herself. However, as she pushed open the doors gently, the image of Prithvi's enraged countenance flashed aggressively across her mind. A mindless terror seized her as the door swung open, but it was too late by then.

Dressed in a white kurta, with the sleeves rolled up, and faded blue jeans, Prithvi halted in the midst of leaving the living room and looked emotionlessly at the young woman at the threshold.

Shock banished the fear that had gripped Nandini a second ago, and she mulled wildly if she had crossed over a timeline and entered a moment from the past.

The whistle of the pressure cooker drew Prithvi's attention towards the other side. Without speaking, he strode to the kitchen.

Nandini battled to get a grip over her shaken feelings, but the impassiveness of the look he had given her had also taken her aback.

She found herself doubting if the scene in the kitchen had happened at all. If she had imagined everything...even their conversations. But she could still feel the touch of his fingers on her hand. And the shiver caused by the emotions on his face before he had walked out of Vrindavan...

With her fingers tightening on the stole, Nandini followed in his wake and paused near the door of the kitchen. Her eyes widened in surprise.

Prithvi was slicing a tomato into tiny little pieces on a chopping board, accomplishing the task with a smooth swiftness that she had seen only in some cookery shows. Two more tomatoes, and a steel bowl containing finely chopped up cucumber were lying next to the chopping board.

An expensive looking pressure cooker was sitting on a low flame. The other vessel on the gas stove was also new. The space was full of very inviting fragrances. If not for the odd detachment that she tended to feel towards food while fasting, she would probably have started salivating.

Her mind linked up everything logically, but she couldn't digest the conclusion that it had arrived at.

"What are you doing?" Nandini asked blankly.

Prithvi offered her a puzzled glance. "That's a strange question. I'm obviously composing a song here," he said drolly.

Her amazement levels were high enough to overlook the sarcasm for the moment. "You know how to cook?" she asked incredulously.

"I've known since I was eight years old. Just didn't like it much," he shrugged. "But I've learnt over the years that it's a good way to unwind."

Nandini stared at him, and then looked around the kitchen again. "But why..." she asked with continued confusion.

"Why am I cooking? You wouldn't have asked a woman that question," Prithvi commented with an air of disappointment. "Shows a sexist mindset. You should evaluate that in yourself. Anyway, to answer your question, I'm preparing a meal for your family. I actually wanted to take them out for dinner. But your family didn't want to eat out while you were starving. So, we settled for this idea instead."

Nandini grappled with a forceful rush of feelings and tried to subdue them swiftly to avoid a long pause before she could reply. It was illogical for her to feel so intensely hurt that he had wanted to take her family out for dinner, and had decided to cook for them, on a day that she was fasting. Why shouldn't he do either of those things? He had already let her know that he disliked the idea of her fasting, and he was obviously furious with her about what he had overheard this afternoon. Ruthlessly curbing the ache in her heart, she chose to focus on a pertinent question that her mind came up with to break the silence.

"How did Maa agree?" Nandini asked in befuddlement, unable to believe that her infuriatingly orthodox mother would have allowed him to cook dinner for the whole family.

"I can be very persuasive," Prithvi said solemnly, then glancing at her for a second, he nonchalantly added, "...when I want to be."

Astonishment had not let her pay much heed to the previous stings in his responses. But those last few words and the mocking tone pricked through her mental fog, bringing her back to reality faster than anything could have.

A shade of irritation became visible on her face. "You're busy," she said flatly. "I'll talk to you later.

"Please don't," he said with patent sincerity as she was turning away. "Whatever dramatic scene you have in mind, get it over with before you leave. I don't think you'll be comfortable talking in the living room, so we can talk here." He placed the knife down and stood facing her, hands linked behind his back, with an expression of polite interest, and gravely said, "You have my whole attention now."

The confused daze finally lifted fully from Nandini's features. "I don't have any dramatic scenes in mind," she snapped.

"Sure," Prithvi nodded. "Then please tell me what perfectly normal and mundane scene have you scripted?"

Nandini's features clenched as her anger deepened.

She wanted to walk out without saying another word, but she also knew if she did that, she would wonder later if she should have persevered just a little more to convey what that her heart was begging her to express.

Nandini took a few calming breaths, and then tightly said, "I only wanted to tell you that...today afternoon, what you heard...about the..." she faltered and looked around frantically, now turning red for reasons other than anger. "It's – it's not what you think. I have told them that I don't want to... But they still have been looking for -"

"Before you continue, can I ask you something?" he interrupted her with curiosity.

She looked at him warily. "What...?

"Why are you telling me all this?" Prithvi asked inquisitively. "I really hope it's not because I held your hand for two seconds in the afternoon," he added, brows raised.

Nandini stared at him, shell-shocked. Then the colour on her face vanished, leaving her looking pale and sick.

"Okay, your face tells me it is..." Prithvi deduced thoughtfully, gazing at her with pity. "Look, Nandini, like I'd said, I didn't know what I was doing at that time. No, that's not fully true. I do know of one genuine reason for all the weird moments, but it would offend you," he said ruefully. "So you can assume that something about being back in Shamli after all these years caused a malfunction in my brain. But it was temporary, and I'm back to my senses now. I apologise if I misled you in some way. It won't happen again. But I'm sure you'd agree that whatever our story was...it died years ago. And nothing can bring a decayed carcass back to life," he said dismissively.

Nandini felt her throat go utterly dry. Her skin had already become warm because of anger...and then embarrassment. But now it was aflame with a fiercer intensity as stomach-turning humiliation choked her. It took her a few moments to speak.

"You're right," she said hoarsely. "I'm sorry for thinking I owed you an explanation."

"You don't," he said sincerely. "We don't owe each other anything. What you do with your life is none of my business. But I think I should tell you that you actually did us both a favour that day. It was a terrible relationship from the start, and possibly the worst decision both of us had made until then," he shrugged. "It would have ended in disaster one way or the other. So if it's guilt that's troubling you and stopping you from moving on in life...it really shouldn't."

She had turned very still while listening to him, and then emotions on her face started to fade away with a painful slowness...

"Thanks," she replied expressionlessly. "I didn't have much guilt to begin with, because I agree with what you said about our relationship. But you've helped remove whatever little bit of remorse I had. But before I leave, can I ask you just one thing? You said there was a reason for...your behaviour. What was it?" she asked tightly.

"You won't like it," Prithvi repeated warningly.

"I want to know," Nandini said rigidly, obstinacy forming on her beautiful features.

"Alright, but remember I warned you," Prithvi said seriously. "The actual reason is...I'm attracted to you physically," he divulged with an indolent smile, without any trace of awkwardness. "But no one can blame me for that. Your looks could tempt anyone," he murmured, insolent eyes grazing over her body unhurriedly. "And if you're okay with having a physical relationship without any emotions involved, it would be the best  -"

Swept away by disbelief, horror and pain, she suddenly cried out, "Stop it!" 

"See, I knew it would sound offensive to your frigid ears," Prithvi sighed.

In an instant, Nandini was overcome by a fury so feral that she wanted to pick up the knife he had put down and plunge it into his chest.

Somewhere nearby, a phone began to ring.

Nandini's gaze, fogged by rage and grief, fell on the instrument lying on the kitchen counter that was to her left.

She didn't realise she had walked up to it until she saw the name of the person who was calling him.

Queen Mother.

Nandini registered distantly that it was some vengeful instinct that had drawn her to the phone, and that those two words on the screen were telling her things that she had not heard yet from anyone...

Without looking around, she picked up the phone.

"Could you help me, Mrs Rathore?" she asked tauntingly by way of a greeting.

Seated at a gorgeous wooden table in a large, beautiful stone portico structure, Priyamvada sat up slowly in the cream armchair.

"Nandini?" she said incredulously. "What do you mean...help? And why do you have Prithvi's phone?" she adjoined in a much sharper tone.

"I took it from him," Nandini lied, striving to stop her voice from vibrating with anger. "But first, I should let you know that you were wrong," she said sarcastically. "Your beloved son isn't indifferent to me. He's desperate for my attention, and won't leave me alone. So, I thought of asking you to talk some sense into him. And maybe you could also convince him to develop a bit of self-respect," she spat viciously before ending the call, and then threw the phone on the floor with a violent force. 

She turned towards the man in the kitchen with a malevolent satisfaction.

Prithvi studied her with a lazy interest and appreciation. "You look so sexy when you're angry. I'd give anything to get just one night of fun with you," he murmured.

Nandini didn't reply, but a wild rage blazed in her eyes. She turned and stalked out of the house.

Once she had left, the sardonic look faded from Prithvi's features, leaving only a boundless loathing and iciness in the depths of his gaze.

The phone rang again.

Prithvi walked to the instrument and picked it up, mulling that he ought to send a note of admiration to the makers for creating a phone that could withstand that level of physical trauma.

It was his birth mother again.

He would have ignored the first call, but now he was quite keen to speak to her.

Prithvi answered the phone by regretfully saying, "This is not a good time to speak, Queen Mother."

He heard her stunned voice say, "Prithvi, why was she -"

Prithvi interrupted with great politeness, "Can we talk later? I'm in the middle of begging my ex-girlfriend to take me back. Thank you. Good night."

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

Priyamvada stared at her phone in shock.

Rajyavardhan waited impatiently for some seconds, and then he agitatedly asked, "Tell me what happened? That girl was with him? What did -"

Priyamvada raised her right hand in a sharp gesture, and her father fell silent instantly.

She thought carefully about the tones and the words used by her son and Nandini, dissecting...analysing each nuance...

Rajyavardhan frowned at his daughter, who was absorbed in sombre contemplations. But as he watched, tranquility and confidence returned to Priyamvada's features, and then she smiled faintly.

Unable to maintain his silence, Rajyavardhan suspiciously asked, "Why are you smiling, Priya?"

Priyamvada looked at her father with the serene smile still on her face. "Prithvi is too angry and disturbed. He will leave Shamli very soon."

"You can't be sure of that," Rajyavardhan protested. "And at this age...there is no telling what might happen. That girl could trap him into marriage before you know it."

"It won't happen. Nandini holds no power over him now," Priyamvada said calmly.

The assurance in his daughter's attitude raised a doubt in Rajyavardhan's mind. "Has the infernal girl lost her looks?" he asked with a slight hope.

Priyamvada sneered. "I don't think she ever had any looks to lose, but I can tell you for sure now that the maids in our palaces look better than her."

"That's good," Rajyavardhan nodded, but the brief glimmer of relief on his wrinkled face faded swiftly. "Still... you shouldn't let Prithvi stay there even for another hour without supervision. In fact, I think we should get rid of the girl before she becomes a problem. You know it would take me just minutes to arrange -"

"No," Priyamvada snapped furiously. "You will stay away from Nandini and the Bharadwajs."

"Okay, okay, I understand," Rajyavardhan said hastily, frightened. He had tried many techniques over the years to convince his daughter to get over the foolish, ridiculous terror, but nothing had helped.

Calming down swiftly on seeing that she had scared her elderly father, Priyamvada patiently said, "You have to leave this whole issue in my hands, Father. Have faith in my plans. I know what I'm doing."

Rajyavardhan quickly said, "I have complete faith in you, Priya...but I just...I sometimes feel you don't realise you're playing with fire," he said charily.

Priyamvada chuckled. "When have I ever done anything else..."

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