The statue of the dancing girl had withstood many strong brushes from the curtain. Then the latter put in double the effort, and the figurine toppled off the mahogany stand and fell to the floor, breaking into three in the process.

Giggles ceasing abruptly, a startled Nandini tried to turn to locate the source of the noise. The grip on her constricted.

She looked at Prithvi exasperatedly. "I'm not getting up. I just want to see what caused that sound."

"It did not involve ghosts or aliens or demons," he answered obstinately. "One of the curtains blew and knocked off an ugly showpiece from an uglier stand. There, you can give up the investigation."

"You're impossible," Nandini accused even as her mind wandered to her conversation with her family in the morning.

"Impossibly awesome, yes," he conceded modestly.

She rolled her eyes, then crossly asked, "Why didn't you tell me you spoke to grandpa today? And how could you describe me as a sadistic and - and malevolent spirit!" she remembered indignantly.

"I didn't tell you because I didn't need to," Prithvi retorted. "And it's interesting you realised I was talking about you. I was wrong. You do have a vague idea about your true nature," he added approvingly.

"I'm not sadistic or malevolent," she protested.

"Says the female who is going to leave tomorrow," he grumbled.

Guilt stabbed through Nandini, but she wasn't surprised by the condemnation. Thoughts of their impending separation had been hovering between them since her careless comment in the shrine.

She rested her head on his shoulder to hide the sheen of tears in her eyes. If he asked her to stay back at this moment, she wouldn't be able to refuse. But she couldn't ask Mrs Bhargava for permission to stay back. The situation was already too fragile.

Feeling anxious, Nandini impetuously raised an unconnected topic. "You're sure you won't get those photographs clicked? Because I was thinking...you should get a few snaps clicked with Uday uncle, Choti maa and Sumer uncle too," she chatted with forced chirpiness. "It would mean so much to them."

"I told you I wouldn't stop you from leaving. I haven't forgotten," Prithvi said wryly.

"I didn't think you would," she mumbled sheepishly. "I just thought it would be nice if you do that for them. And...maybe we could get a photograph clicked of both of us too," she quipped, lifting her head and gazing at him with excitement. She had abruptly remembered one of the last Prithvi-related conversations she had had with Nishi and Vrinda, and the looks on their faces when she'd unwittingly disclosed that she and Prithvi did not have any photographs of - or with - each other.

"I can see the caption already – the prince and the pumpkin," he mulled solemnly. "I don't think we should take the risk."

Aggravated, she started to get up from the chair, but he pulled her back with a grin.

"We don't have any photographs of each other," Nandini burst emotionally. "Do you know how ridiculous that sounds in this day and age?

"Did you feel that way until someone told you it was?" Prithvi asked astutely.

"No – yes," Nandini amended quickly.

Then she caught his astute gaze, and turned to glare at the wooden cabinet opposite them. He gently placed his temple against hers. The simplicity in the action seemed to tell her he was mildly amused by the topic and her annoyance but couldn't understand its relevance. But then he had not had to face the bafflement of friends who couldn't understand how two people in love had not gone out on any formal dates or hoarded cutesy photographs or spent hours talking. On that occasion, she had been too heartbroken to react to their wonder. But now...

Her friends hadn't been wrong in reacting with surprise. When she thought of couples she'd seen in college, her relationship with Prithvi seemed almost abnormal.

Hours of conversation? There had been nothing of the sort. In truth, some of the most joyous times of their relationship were the ones spent in complete silence. And yet, those were the moments that had reinforced her faith in their love, and in the purity of the strange power that had brought and bound them together, she reflected. And then another haunting memory sprung up....overwhelming her completely...

Holding a journal...opening it to see her image....

The stiffness in Nandini's shoulders eased, and she sighed. "No. And it still doesn't feel ridiculous."

"That's because it's anything but..." Prithvi murmured contentedly.

She smiled and leaned against him, and her fingers came up to lovingly grasp his cheek.

After vacillating for some seconds, Nandini uncertainly said, "I'll be in this town for some more days. So would it possible for...I mean, I know you're busy. But maybe...you could come to visit me before I leave for Shamli."

"I can't," he regretted. "It's bad enough I'm wasting this whole day."

Nandini winced at his choice of words. The answer, though, had not been unexpected. Once he set a goal for himself, nothing could deflect him from the path that led to it. And his rock-steady focus in this particular matter only increased her respect for him. If only she too had been blessed with such clarity and fortitude.

"I understand," she murmured. He stroked her hair, and the gentle movement of his fingers was soothing. It was a temporary separation, she told herself. Her heart said Priyamvada was going to be found soon, and that would bring an end to their separation.

Yet, something was troubling her. Something about the dispassionate manner in which he was executing the search for his mother. The practical aspects appeared to be helping him steer clear of unsettling thoughts and emotions. However, once Priyamvada was found, he wouldn't be able to maintain this impersonal state-of-mind.

But he wouldn't have to deal with it alone, Nandini thought fiercely.

"I know you'll find her soon and all of you will return to Shamli. Then everything will be fine again," she visualised with forced cheerfulness, and instinctively waited for a word or sound of confirmation.

It didn't come. Seconds ambled past with a painful slowness, and the increasingly terrifying silence continued. When it became unendurable, she lifted her head.

He didn't dodge her frightened eyes, but she saw only a tired resignation on his striking features. Did his silence mean what she thought it did? No, that couldn't be. He wasn't saying he wouldn't return to Shamli. He couldn't say that.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" Nandini asked unsteadily. "You will return home, won't you?"

He wanted to protect the flickering light of hope in her eyes. But lies would only make it worse in the future.

"I don't know. I can't be sure of anything until I find my mother," Prithvi admitted honestly.

Her insides lurched, and the room turned suffocating all of a sudden.

"You mean...there's a chance you might not return to Shamli?" she asked through bloodless lips.

"Yes," he muttered.

His hands didn't stop her this time as she got up from the armchair. With enormous attention, she slipped her bare foot into the sandal, and then numbly walked to the windows.

Stepping over the broken torso of a small statue, Nandini pulled the curtains apart with cold fingers. The window opened to a view of a small verdant lawn that proudly showed off several lovely white roses. But their prettiness went unseen...

Nandini struggled to bring her emotions under control. It seemed impossible for some minutes. She wanted to scream to give vent to at least a bit of the shock and grief raging inside her. He might not return to Shamli. They might not see each other again for ages.

How would she stand it...how would she go from one day to the next without knowing if and when she was going to see him again...

As burning tears flooded her eyes and slid down her face, antagonism also swelled alongside the anguish. He had said it so calmly. She didn't care if the equanimity was only a façade. Couldn't he show grief even if it was just to assure her that she wasn't the only one whose heart was being ripped into pieces... But it probably wouldn't make any difference to him even if they spend their whole lives apart.

Prithvi paused behind the rigid form of the slender girl, and gently grasped her upper arms. Nandini pushed the hands away violently.

He didn't attempt to hold her again. At this point, he couldn't give any reassurances that were empty and insincere. And it was also not in him to fully express the despair he felt on contemplating her departure or to describe how insufferable life was going to be without her. Perhaps he should have discussed the topic with her earlier or at least hinted at it, but he had merely wanted to spare her the stark reality of their situation for as long as possible..

"It's just a possibility," he pointed out uncomfortably.

Wasn't the existence of that possibility terrifying enough, Nandini thought distraughtly. Not for him perhaps. But it was sufficient for destroying her emotionally.

"You don't have to console me. I'll be fine," she said flatly, brushing the tears away.

"I know. It's me I'm worried about," Prithvi revealed lightly.

Nandini's jaw clenched. "Yes, I can see how much it is bothering you."

"I've had more time to come to terms with it," Prithvi countered calmly.

She turned fiercely to confront him. "You knew on the day you left Shamli, didn't you?" she asked, voice trembling.

His eyes were utterly bleak. "I knew almost everything was going to change. And that is still the only thing I know for certain."

Their gazes locked for a very long pause.

Nandini turned back to look out the window, struggling against the vice-like grip of agony and desperation. His standpoint was valid. Until they found Priyamvada, no one could be sure of anything. He had had the foresight to recognize where their lives were headed, while she had been content in her bubble. Was that his fault? And in any case, when had he ever shown any great grief when things went wrong between them. Detachment and resilience were predominant aspects of his nature, and they extended to her too despite all his claims of love. She had to learn to accept that...

And it was his birthday. She did not want to spoil the day for him, but she wouldn't forget either. The grief and anger would just have to be set aside for another day.

"You know I hate it when you're not around," Prithvi said quietly.

She maintained silence and continued the fight against her own emotions.

As a last gambit, he reluctantly offered, "I'll face the paparazzi."

She looked at the crowd of thorny stems in the garden. "They're waiting in the Hall of Warriors."

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

In the charming, sunlit foyer, Sumer Singh marched agitatedly from one corner to the other. Would Prithvi come for the photoshoot? It wasn't impossible since Nandini was involved. But if she failed to convince Prithvi, a major surprise for the prince would be spoiled. Well, not spoilt precisely. But it could lose some of the impact.

And he would have to tell the photographer that he had travelled a long distance for no reason. It would not be easy. The cranky fellow had been moaning about the travel and the heat and the diktats issued by Uday Singh, including the one about not having any assistants in the hall.

The apparently famous photographer was an eccentric man. His clothes were neat enough, but the scruffy beard and a perpetually sorrowful expression firmly placed the man in the 'suffering artist' league. And then there was the smell of some horrendous cologne that made it tough to be in his vicinity.

Sumer Singh stopped abruptly. Was that the sound of Nandini's anklets?

He hastened to the middle of the foyer and was suddenly exultant. She had done it. She had convinced him.

But as he waited elatedly, the smile on his face slowly became tempered with unease.

Nandini and Prithvi were walking together, but there was more distance between them than usual and their eyes were lowered. Had they fought? But neither of them appeared to be harbouring anger or resentment. Nandini looked extremely sad, and a downcast Prithvi was frequently casting remorseful looks at her.

Seeing them like this invariably made him feel as though life had gone out of tune.

But he wasn't worried. They would sort out the disagreement by themselves. They always did.

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

Eyes on the floor, Nandini listlessly walked along a wide passageway on the first floor. Then she heard Sumer Singh's jolly voice greeting them, and looked up. Standing in the centre of a small foyer that had been decorated beguilingly with flowers, he was beaming at them. She smiled back and then surveyed the arena.

On the other side of the foyer was a room with open doors. There was a long balcony on the left side of the foyer. Lined with potted red rose plants, it provided a nice view of the vast grounds – currently bedecked with tents - in front of the palace. There were big windows on the right side, opening to an internal garden. In the intermediate space, large and cosy armchairs had been arranged pleasingly in batches of two.

"Well done, Nandini," Sumer Singh commended as the duo reached him.

"I didn't do anything, uncle," Nandini said placidly. "He agreed on his own. Where's Kadambari aunty? Is she waiting in the hall?"

"No, she went to the kitchen, saying something about lunch preparations."

Prithvi casually asked, "Have there been any important calls?"

"I've lost count of people who called to wish you," Sumer Singh said ruefully. "It's astonishing, actually. They know you won't answer the phone today, but they haven't given up."

"I asked about important calls," Prithvi reiterated impatiently.

Understanding dawned on Sumer Singh's face. "Ohh...I'm sorry, My Lord. I'm afraid there have been no such calls. Well, there was a call from an old classmate. I didn't catch his name, and you'd saved it as -" he paused with a quick glance at Nandini. "You've used an abusive word in place of his name. But I could see he was one of those dim-witted young men who piggybank on your intelligence for their success," he said censoriously. "He didn't mention anything about your birthday and just wanted your help with a project in his office. I think that was extremely self-centred of him."

"There are dozens of morons who fit that description," Prithvi said briefly. "Alright, give me the phone."

"You're going to call him now, My Lord?" Sumer Singh said hesitantly, taking the phone out of the front pocket of his kurta and handing it to the prince. "But the photographer-"

"He gets to take pictures of me without losing the camera or his fingers," Prithvi highlighted. "He can wait longer for the chance."

"Yes, uncle," Nandini concurred. "The photographer must show patience since he will be achieving his life purpose today."

His mood suddenly turning a little sunnier, Prithvi glanced amusedly at the girl who was firmly looking at Sumer Singh.

Sumer Singh hid a smile, and stating the need to speak to the photographer, he went back into the hall.

Nandini began to follow him, but stopped with a gasp as someone tugged hard at her long hair.

Before she could turn angrily, Prithvi stepped closer. "I prefer the claws to the tears any day," he muttered into her ears, and swiftly kissed her cheek. Before she could react, he was striding towards the balcony.

Red with annoyance and embarrassment, Nandini fretfully scanned the area. No had witnessed the moment. Thanking her stars, she walked to the hall, and hesitated at the threshold.

She peered cautiously into the room. It wasn't very different from the other halls in terms of beauty and grandeur, but it was filled with more natural light than the others, and a pleasant breeze was blowing in through the open windows. Scary weapons were displayed prominently on the walls. There were plenty of gorgeous murals, but most of them depicted scenes of war.

The hall's contents had clearly been rearranged for this day. Many large pieces of furniture had been shifted to the left side of the hall. The right portion was almost vacant. On the opposite wall, there was what appeared to be a full-size portrait, but it was covered with an enormous sheet of cream velvet that was quivering because of the breeze. In front of the mysterious picture was a gorgeous golden throne chair with pure white upholstery. She also spotted some of the equipments that she had seen in photo studios in Shamli, and three stylish chairs. There was a small, gleaming wooden desk at a short distance from the chair. Its surface was occupied by a big tray crowded with glasses of water and different kinds of juices, Prithvi's coat and a book.

Sumer Singh was talking to a short man with a bulky black camera slung around his neck.

Nandini stepped gingerly into the hall, staring at the gloomy stranger with curiosity. He was nodding in response to Sumer Singh's words with an air that suggested he was preparing for martyrdom. She wrinkled her nose on encountering a repellently strong smell of perfume.

Then Sumer Singh saw her and beckoned cheerfully. "Nandini, why are you waiting there? Come in...meet Mr Ashok Sanyal. Mr Sanyal, this is Nandini."

"Namaste," Nandini smiled politely as she stood slightly behind Sumer Singh, but an alarm was trilling in her head.

The photographer had frozen on seeing her, and the persecuted look had disappeared. He was now evaluating her with a bizarrely analytical concentration.

"Is there a problem with your eyes?" Sumer Singh frostily asked the other man.

Grasping the threat in the question, Ashok hastily explained the reason for his staring. "No, no, I was just happy with the subject, and was trying to decide where it – I mean, she - could sit," he said gleefully, animated all of a sudden.

Despite the staggering amounts of money involved, he usually disliked undertaking assignments for rich families, even if they were royalty. Wealth tended to give people delusions about their looks. Even the most hideous creatures expected to see dazzling versions of themselves in pictures, and would inevitably be displeased with the end results. And if that prospect wasn't sufficient, he was also worn-out and sleepy owing to the long journey to the remote palace, and annoyed because his assistants had not been allowed to be with him in the room.

But everything had changed once the girl had appeared. Even the most amateur photographer couldn't go wrong with such a naturally beautiful female. It would be a pleasure to capture her loveliness in photographs. If the prince was remotely as good-looking as her, his job would become absurdly easy.

"Subject?" Nandini repeated, taken aback. "Sumer uncle, what is he talking about? I don't want any photographs taken of me."

Having been convinced of the photographer's innocent interest, Sumer Singh took her aside and attempted to persuade her. "Just one photograph for remembering this day, Nandini," he beseeched. "Then you can take a look at that book on the desk. It's a famous literary classic, and you love those kinds of novels, don't you? I found it in a corner of this room, and kept it on the table for you. You can read it to spend time till Prithvi is on the phone."

"But I really don't -"

"Nandini, His Highness Uday Singh wants both of you to be photographed. If he finds out that I failed to convince you, he will be upset with me," Sumer Singh said anxiously.

Nandini felt trapped between a rock and a hard place. She was not in the mood for this, but she couldn't let Sumer Singh incur anyone's displeasure because of her.

"Okay, uncle, but just one picture," she said awkwardly while wondering if this was karma for forcing Prithvi to do something he disliked.

"I will knock him unconscious if he clicks two," Sumer Singh promised gallantly, making her grin despite herself. Then he looked at the photographer and nodded once.

"You could sit on the chair, ma'am" Ashok urged.

Nandini looked tentatively at the throne chair that was meant for Prithvi, and shook her head. "I'll stand near it," she mumbled.

"Sure, whatever you're comfortable with," Ashok said swiftly on catching Sumer Singh's eye. The old man who had hired him had given him several directives – no instructions, no chatting, no insistence on anything, and lots of pictures, even if they were candid snaps.

He searched the room for a mirror but didn't see one. Like all women, the girl would want to scrutinise her looks and make a fuss about non-existent problems before getting the picture clicked. He started to ask Sumer Singh to arrange a mirror but halted on seeing Nandini ambling to the chair, albeit with patent unwillingness.

"You don't want to check your appearance in a mirror?" he asked in surprise.

"No, that's...oh...is something wrong?" Nandini asked uneasily, pausing to self-consciously pat her hair and give her clothes a quick examination.

"Not at all, you look perfect," Sumer Singh assured her, and then looked sternly at the photographer. "Doesn't she?"

"Oh yes, absolutely," Ashok hurried to confirm. And she truly did. And that was why the lack of vanity was so unusual...

Nandini unsurely walked to the chair and stood by its side. Her eyes fell on the shrouded picture again.

"What's this, uncle?" she enquired, curious.

"A surprise for Prithvi," Sumer Singh revealed eagerly. "We'll unveil it when he joins us."

Nandini smiled at his bubbling excitement, and then glanced at the throne chair. She could imagine Prithvi seated on it. Her hand rose to grasp the cold metal of the headrest.

Was he really not going to return to Shamli? How would she endure it...how would she survive...

"Could you look here please?"

Nandini looked at the camera, unaware of the poignancy of her moist eyes and the trembling smile on her lips.

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

Prithvi irately cut the call in the midst of an effusive thanksgiving ceremony and chucked the phone onto an adjacent chair. Time for the next torturous activity for the day...

He rose to his feet and turned, and then paused in surprise.

Nandini was curled up in one of the armchairs on the other side of the foyer, reading a fat book in her lap.

Resignedly quelling some immediate impulses, he gazed at her tenderly in silence.

She was absorbed in the book. Her left cheek was in the palm of a hand, the elbow of which rested on a knee. The other hand was resting on a page. Gusts of wind were making silken wisps of hair fly across her face. She absent-mindedly pushed the tendrils away and went on reading, a faint pout on her lips.

It was extraordinary how restful he felt by simply looking at her... and by knowing that he just had to take a few steps to hold a soft hand... to see her lips curve into a radiant smile...

.....or snarl, he thought warily. There was an easy way of finding out which emotion had the upper hand currently.

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

Nandini jumped as an object lightly hit her left hand and dropped into her lap. Startled, she looked at the beautiful red rose that had fallen on the pages of her book. Then she stiffened and looked in the direction from which it had been dispatched.

Prithvi was lounged lazily in a chair that was about ten feet away, gazing at her with a quiet and unwavering intensity.

Nandini swiftly looked away, irritated with the butterflies that had materialised in her stomach. Was this supposed to be an overture of peace? Hurling flowers at her with as much elegance as launching a missile to hit an enemy country?

She grabbed the flower and threw it to the floor, and tried to resume her reading. It had taken her huge effort to control the tears and speak normally to Sumer Singh after getting photographed. And thanks to the wonderful experiences Prithvi had gifted, she had succeeded in diverting her mind to less excruciating matters. And the hoodlum still wouldn't let her be. If he'd finished with the phone call, he could have gone inside and got his pictures clicked. But no, he preferred to sit here and harass her by -

Another rose hit Nandini's shoulder and tumbled into her lap. She looked at him crossly. "Stop that!"

"No," Prithvi refused.

Frowning, Nandini flung the flower away. If only Sumer Singh was here. She could go have found refuge in his presence. But he had left soon after she had begun reading the book and hadn't returned yet. She stared obstinately at her book. Although it was a novel she had read many times before, its charm had not faded. And she was going to savour it again despite -

The third rose struck her cheek.

Starting to get infuriated, Nandini snatched up the rose and was about to fling it far away when she abruptly realised its stem felt unnaturally smooth. She opened her fingers to look at the flower. There were no thorns. Each one had been removed.

A fourth rose delicately grazed the corner of her mouth before falling down. She looked at its disfigured stem, and softly said, "You removed the thorns."

Prithvi halted in the middle of launching the fifth rose, and his brows knit together at the inexplicable surprise in her statement. "Of course I did."

Nandini sat motionless for some moments. Then without looking at him, she leaned to pick up the ill-treated, thorn-less roses from the floor and kept the flowers in between the pages of the book. Then she closed the cover and stood up.

"The photographer is waiting," she reminded, placing the book on the chair and wearing her sandals. Then she started walking towards him.

Prithvi regarded her doubtfully as he too rose to his feet, the last rose still in his right hand. He was nonplussed by the subtle change in her behaviour, but somehow suppressed quips about her possibly homicidal intentions.

Nandini came to a halt in front of him and took the rose out of his hand. She broke off a portion of its stem and inserted the flower into the pocket of his vest.

He gazed at her with studious concentration as she raised his hand and began unrolling the sleeve down to the wrist. A bit of the usual vibrancy and softness was back was back on her exquisite face. Had she truly melted a little because he'd plucked some thorns off rose stems? If that was the case, he would gladly maim the entire collection of roses in the palace and the grounds and dump the entire lot of flowers on her, he thought distractedly.

She buttoned the cuffs, and then repeated the process for the other hand. He watched her wordlessly, feeling strangely spellbound by the long, lush eyelashes that veiled her emotions from him, and the lustrous pink on the skin, and the redness of the lips he'd bruised in the room downstairs.

When the sleeves were dealt with, Nandini fastened the topmost button of the shirt and adjusted the tie as best as she could. She glanced up at him with eloquent eyes, then turned and walked to the hall.

He waited for a moment, immersed in thought, and then strolled in the same direction.

Nandini entered the large room and almost screamed.

The photographer was lying on the floor, eyes closed and arms by his side. His precious camera was perched on top of his bulging stomach. Then she saw the camera moving up and down...

"You killed him to save me from the trauma?" a delighted male voice enquired.

"He's sleeping," she mumbled, still on edge because of the jolt.

"Are you sure? The stench says he has been dead for a week," Prithvi mulled with disgust, halting near her. "His stomach must be moving because it has become the ancestral home of a zillion maggots."

"Oh my god, why would you put that image in my head?" she cried out, revolted.

"Because it's fun," he murmured, glancing around the room. The studio equipments and the throne chair brought a scowl to his face, but then his eyes fell upon the covered picture on the wall.

When he started strolling towards it, she primly divulged, "Sumer uncle said it's a surprise for you. I think we should wait for- Prithvi!" she exclaimed in exasperation as he impatiently pulled at the velvet sheet and let it drop to the floor.

Then her eyes widened in joyful disbelief.

It was a photograph of Priyamvada and Adityaraj. Not one of the snaps given by Uday. This one was new...and definitely the most classically beautiful one yet.

Thrilled, Nandini automatically walked ahead to stand beside Prithvi in front of the photograph.

The previous pictures had depicted his parents in unguarded moments. But in this one, the stunning couple had posed for the camera. The stately set of their features mirrored the expressions she had seen in other portraits in the palace. Priyamvada looked mesmerising in a heavily embroidered cream silk saree. And the numerous pieces of intricate jewellery made her appear charmingly delicate. She was seated on a big throne chair, a reluctant – almost irritated - smile on her lips. Adityaraj was standing beside her, clad in the traditional royal attire of his forefathers. He cut a magnificent figure in the maroon outfit, complete with a grand, ornamented headgear and a bejewelled sword. There was a hint of mischief about his smile.

"They look so...wonderful," Nandini said softly.

It was a weak description, but she couldn't think of any word that could capture the splendour of the couple. They looked like the prince and princess of a fairtyale.

But they had not enjoyed a happily ever after. He had lost his life, and she had lost her soul.

Nandini cast a troubled glance at Prithvi. He was staring at the image of his parents, an uncharacteristically preoccupied and subdued look on his handsome visage.

She was about to reach for his hand, but stopped on hearing a known voice.

"Oh you've seen it, My Lord," Sumer Singh said with faint disappointment as he walked into the hall. But he regrouped speedily, and smilingly said, "Your great-uncle wished for you to be photographed against this backdrop."

Without taking his eyes from his parents, Prithvi muttered, "Alright."

Sumer Singh halted on seeing the slumbering photographer, and then irritably stalked to him. "Hey, you, get up. We're not paying you for sleeping here," he reprimanded, using the pointed end of his mojri to prod the prone figure's hand.

"Uncle, he must be tired," Nandini said pleadingly, perturbed by the scene.

"He can go home and sleep for the rest of his life if he's tired," Sumer Singh said stoutly. "This palace wasn't built for his leisure."

Ashok sat up blearily, intuitively grasping the camera as he did so. At the same time, Prithvi finally took his eyes from the portrait and turned around.

Ashok looked groggily from Sumer Singh to Nandini, and then he saw the tall, well-built young man.

"This is the prince?" he croaked, engulfed by an ecstasy-filled awe. The most artistic portion of his brain couldn't have visualised a more incredibly handsome figure. And the deeply intimidating aristocratic aura was a heavenly bonus.

Prithvi stared grimly at him. "No, I'm from the police - special branch. The prince has been murdered and you're our prime suspect," he stated coldly. "Where were you and what were you doing an hour ago?"

As the words penetrated his foggy mind, Ashok broke out in cold sweat. "What – me – I – what?" he spluttered, leaping up with the camera.

Sumer Singh stifled a laugh and tried to remain stoic. But Nandini quickly came to the petrified man's rescue. "He's joking," she pacified, and then glared at Prithvi. The vulnerability was gone, and brash devilry returned.

"Still sleepy?" Prithvi keenly asked the bewildered photographer.

"No, not at all, sir," Ashok gulped, clutching his heart.

"Good, you have forty seconds to record my good looks for the benefit of future historians," Prithvi stated briskly.

"What?" Ashok asked, bewildered.

"Will you stop harassing him?" Nandini crossly asked Prithvi. Then she looked apologetically at Ashok, "He means you have forty seconds to take his photos. But that's not true," she adjoined severely. "You can take your time."

"With the empty chair, maybe," Prithvi rebuffed obstinately. "Forty seconds. Starting now."

Incensed but suddenly unsure, Nandini rushed to the desk and lifted the coat. She hastened back to Prithvi and stiffly offered it to him in the folded form.

He didn't take it from her hands and contemplated her nonchalantly.

"Spoilt brat," she hissed, opening the coat and holding it up for him.

"Wild pumpkin-eyed cat," he retaliated imperturbably, inserting his arms into the sleeves.

Sumer Singh smiled warmly at the couple. They were whispering, so he couldn't hear the words. But the discord was indubitably lessening. The greatest sign was the rose in the vest's pocket. No one but Nandini would have had the courage and liberty to place the flower. Then he glanced at the photographer and frowned on seeing him gawking like a cursed gargoyle at the youngsters.

"Hurry up," Sumer Singh snapped at Ashok. "You heard the prince. You only have some seconds to do your work."

The reprimand rattled Ashok out of his artistic musings, and he scurried to make minor adjustments to the equipments. Then he positioned himself in their midst and timidly watched the prince stride to the chair and occupy it.

The kind-hearted girl and crabby old man stood aside.

Prithvi impassively said, "Thirty seconds."

Ashok jumped into action and began clicking photos at great speed.

Nandini bit her lower lip, feeling chagrined. Prithvi was slumped indolently in the chair with a stony countenance. Strangers who saw the photographs would probably assume he was the blood-thirsty dictator of some unfortunate country.

"Could you please smile?" she asked in a loud whisper.

Prithvi turned an obstinate gaze on her. "Make me."

Vexed, Nandini looked at Sumer Singh, but he was engrossed in breathing down the neck of the photographer, who was clicking snaps as if his life depended on it.

She met Prithvi's gaze indecisively. Without warning, a strong whim gripped her.

She winked at him.

He gaped at her in amazement, and then grinned appreciatively. Suddenly comprehending what she done, Nandini clapped her hands to her mouth.

Prithvi threw his head back and laughed.

"Did you capture that? Did you?" Sumer Singh yelled, caught unawares by Prithvi's smile and laugh.

"Yes, yes, I did," Ashok confirmed feverishly.

Prithvi's laughing gaze shifted from a hilariously mortified pumpkin to the two hyper men. The photographer was still clicking away like an automaton. "Enough," he said offhandedly.

Ashok's finger froze on the button, and he lowered the camera. Despite the informal tone, the word had fallen on him like a whiplash.

Prithvi rose briskly from the chair and strolled to the desk, his laughing gaze back on Nandini who had turned to face the wall and was examining a pair of silver daggers with profound dedication.

Sumer Singh didn't object to the termination of the session. He was more than happy with the way everything had played out. And it was all thanks to Nandini. He had heard Nandini's plea – and Prithvi's surly response - while he was ensuring that the photographer did his job. And she had actually taken up the challenge and achieved the goal.

He smiled widely at the profile of his miracle worker, and asked, "Nandini, how did you make him laugh?"

Flushed with embarrassment, Nandini turned to look at him. "I – I didn't do anything, uncle," she lied guiltily, wringing her fingers.

"You've said that twice in the past hour, and it was a lie both times," Prithvi gravely brought to her notice as he lounged against the edge of the desk.

"It was not," she snapped, marching towards him unconsciously.

"Don't be so modest," Prithvi admonished. "Baba, she -"

"He's lying, uncle," Nandini squeaked, flapping her hands to cut off the flow of his words mid-air.

"Why are you getting so defensive?" Prithvi asked, surprised. "You didn't do anything to be ashamed about."

"Stop talking about it!" she hissed.

Sumer Singh felt bemused, but he could also gauge that an exit was in order. He looked at Ashok. "Come with me," he directed. "We need to discuss some important issues."

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

In the foyer, Sumer Singh asked Ashok, "You don't have doubts regarding the contract, I assume. In any case, our lawyer is here to remind you of the terms."

"Why do you need a lawyer?" Ashok asked complainingly. "I'm a professional photographer. You can have faith in me."

"I would not have faith in you even if you were a normal human being," Sumer Singh enlightened him.

"You have a point," Ashok conceded sadly.

"I'm glad you understand. Please come with me to the lawyer. The room is close by..."

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

When the two men had left the hall, Prithvi interestedly said, "I wonder what he thinks you did. I'm sure it's more exciting than the truth. Maybe he thinks you showered me with air kisses."

"Oh my God, don't say that," Nandini cried out, appalled at the idea.

"But a wink's not bad. It shows progress," he said generously. "And you know, I feel quite proud. I've been a good teacher."

She hit his arm as hard as she could, and gasped at the pain that shot up her arm. "What are you made of?" she asked indignantly, massaging her hand.

"Perfection and honesty, and everything nasty," he grinned.

Nandini controlled the twitching of her lips and haughtily stalked past him to stand before the portrait of his parents.

Her mind couldn't stop dwelling upon the tragic fate that had befallen them, perhaps because the abject fear of separation had lodged itself in her heart. They must have been so joyful at the birth of their first child. But just when their lives had been complete, their world had been shattered.

"Do you think about it?"

At the enigmatic question, she spun to look at Prithvi. He wasn't looking at the photograph or at her. His eyes were stubbornly fixed on the other side of the hall, and there was a slight flush on his face.

"I mean...do you wonder what would be different about your life if your father was alive today?" he muttered.

The deliberate nonchalance of the question didn't deceive Nandini, and agonised compassion welled up inside her.

Nandini strolled back to the table and took a glass of water from the tray in the centre. She removed the small silver lid on it, and then walked to Prithvi. "Wrong question," she said lightly, handing the water to him.

He looked at her curiously but took the glass from her hands.

"You should ask me how many times I think about it in a day," Nandini confessed, turning to lean against the table and regard the photograph on the wall with moist eyes. The hopeless craving to ease his sorrow somehow was meshed with an innate reluctance to talk about the loss of her father, especially since her feelings were already in disarray. She tried to bring her focus back to the photograph while waiting to regain control over her emotions. Snatches of the conversation she'd had with him about being photographed together came back to her, and it was followed by the memory of the portrait in a journal in Shamli. It had been such a precious discovery. Why had she destroyed it, she repented wretchedly.

Prithvi gazed at her gorgeous profile, and then looked at the image of his father. It was ludicrous to waste time and emotion over soppy contemplations, but still...

Feeling oddly restive, he drank some water and then kept the glass on the table. It stood between them for a few moments, then Nandini unconsciously reached for it.

Prithvi glanced at her with a blend of tenderness and impatience, and both the emotions were discernible in his tone as he pointed out, "There are half a dozen fresh glasses of water on that tray."

"Thank you for the information," she said tranquilly, but her cheeks were faintly pink as she sipped at the cool water. The cold knot of guilt was tightening in her chest. He didn't like it when she consumed his leftovers. But she had violated the privacy of his room in his absence and done things she shouldn't have. How would he feel about that...

Nandini placed the glass on the table and turned to face him nervously. "I have to tell you something," she said in a rush without looking at him, reflexively grabbing one end of her dupatta and twisting it between her hands. "I- I -"

"Need help in getting rid of a body?"

"You – I – just let me say it!" she finished in aggravation. "It's – it's about – something that happened after you left Shamli."

Hilarity instantly vanished from Prithvi's countenance. "Did that ****face in college come near you again?" he demanded harshly.

"Who – Oh, no, it's not about Suvek," Nandini said hurriedly, beginning to have second thoughts. Was it really wise to confess what she had done? To admit that she had walked into his room when he wasn't at home, opened his wardrobe, gone through his journal, and destroyed a portrait he had drawn so painstakingly?

But he was waiting for her to continue. She had to say something...

"I - I got a marriage proposal," Nandini blurted, and then nearly hit herself. In what world was that a less dangerous topic, she questioned herself in horror.

Molten rage exploded in Prithvi's eyes. He gazed at her without speaking for some moments, radiating an aggression so menacing that it virtually made her heart fail.

"Who?" he demanded.

"He was the – you know his - You don't know him," she fumbled, panicking.

"Who?" Prithvi asked again roughly.

Helplessly pinned to the spot, she uneasily mumbled, "A man who was at Aarti Di's wedding. A little short and - bulky. He was very annoying," she adjoined anxiously to clarify her stand.

"Walked like an ape and spoke like one too?" Prithvi asked, a deep frown-line appearing on his forehead.

"Yes - you remember him?" Nandini asked, taken aback. 

Yes. I convinced him to dance around a telephone pole, and then I broke his face.

"You could say that," he said nonchalantly, relaxing noticeably to her consternation. "You got another proposal from that same moron?"

Grandpa had told him about it when it had happened the first time, she remembered suddenly. But he didn't know about Mrs Raheja's visit...

"His mother came home to speak to maa. But she too refused to consider it," Nandini replied distractedly, trying to analyse the reason for the rapid change in his demeanour. He'd been maddeningly unruffled about it last time too, and had even seemed to find it comical, she recollected with burgeoning indignation.  

"That was a narrow escape – for him," Prithvi mused. "The fellow would have run screaming after five minutes in your company."

She gaped at him incredulously. And as the extent of his disinterest sank in, violent fury reared its head within her. "You think it's funny, do you?" she slammed furiously. "Now I'm sorry I refused the proposal. I should have agreed to marry him just to teach you a lesson."

It was not funny in the least, he mulled grimly. The *********** was going scot-free solely because he was too pathetic and ludicrous, and would have met his end at her hands itself if there had been any ill-fated developments, no matter how minor.

Outwardly, he solemnly notified, "If you had decided to destroy his life, I would have returned to Shamli to get some posters made."

She glowered at him, then snappily asked. "Posters? What posters?"

"Big grand posters describing the symptoms of every sort of STDs, and his face would be put on each one of them," he grinned. "Those posters would be plastered all over the town. And then I would take your grandfather on a tour."

She somehow subdued a giggle and scornfully said, "You wouldn't!"

"You're right. I wouldn't be so kind," he conceded.

"That was your idea of being kind?" she asked wryly. "Then I don't think I want to know your cruel side."

Daunting ruthlessness returned to his features, sending a silken tremble through her body.

"You don't," he said briefly.

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

Ashok couldn't hear the conversation, but it appeared to be serious. He didn't care about the content though. It was the body language that fascinated him.

Their absorption in each other was to the exclusion of everything else. But they were not standing very close or touching each other or indulging in any public display of affection. Yet, it was that very restraint that reinforced the impression of a feral and consuming passion that had been reined in forcefully for the present.

It was in the eyes, he thought.

Even as they interacted verbally, their eyes were engrossed in a war that was older than time.

He had photographed countless couples in his career, and many of the young ones had not been able to keep their hands off each other. However, until today, he had not seen two people so wrapped up in each other that even watching them converse seemed to be the worst form of voyeurism...

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

Feeling hot around the face, Nandini looked away and yelled in panic.

Ashok lowered the camera and stared blankly at the unwitting subjects of his artistry. Then he leapt to grab a mobile phone from the floor and bolted out of the room with a scream.

"He took photographs," Nandini yelped.

"Yes, he did."

She swivelled angrily to look at an unusually calm Prithvi. "You knew what he was doing? Why didn't you stop him?"

"You wanted photographs of us, didn't you?" he reminded, not answering the first question. He had discerned the photographer's presence just seconds before she had, and that frustrating and degrading fact was not something he wanted to share or dwell upon. If someone wished to kill him without a fight, they only had to come across him while he was talking to Nandini, he thought gloomily.

"I did but...not - not like this," Nandini protested. The thought of a photograph with him had been thrilling, but now they'd been captured in unguarded moments. Had they been too close to each other... had their hands had touched at any point...

"I know what you mean," Prithvi sympathised. "If only we'd not been clicked when we were in bed."

"There is nothing funny about it," she hissed in mortified ire.

"You're right. Everyone who sees the photos will suspect we talk to each other occasionally," he brooded. "We have to stop the truth from spreading before it destroys our lives."

Her irritated response was forestalled by a cautious knock on the open door.

"Come in, Baba."

Sumer Singh entered the hall, and looked at the couple. "My Lord, Ashok- the photographer had forgotten his phone here. I allowed him to return, but I'd asked him to seek permission before he entered. Then I felt I should keep an eye on him and so I followed him. He came running out of this room and I – errr – I stopped him. Did he do something he shouldn't have?" he asked astutely.

"He clicked pictures of us talking. Without permission," Prithvi adjoined casually.

"How dare he," Sumer Singh fumed, outraged.

"It's fine. I'll make him delete the snaps," Prithvi said, unconcerned.

"You can't do that," Nandini exclaimed in distress, then clamped her lips shut.

"But I thought that was what you wanted," Prithvi said earnestly, and then smiled naughtily as she scuttled out of the room, incoherently stating her intention to get the book she'd left on the chair outside.

Then he looked at Sumer Singh. "How hard did you hit him?"

"He's unconscious," Sumer Singh said ruefully.

"Good job," Prithvi commended with a grin.

Sumer Singh smiled and bowed his head. "Thank you, My Lord. I told two guards to carry him back to the other room. The manager will handle the rest."

"You know what needs to be done once he leaves."

Sumer Singh immediately said, "He will be watched closely till the photos are returned."

"Arrange for him to be under electronic surveillance too," Prithvi said offhandedly. "The pictures should not be shared with his mother even, and he shouldn't have any copies once the job is done."

Sumer Singh guaranteed confidently that the orders would be carried out, then he hesitantly said, "Among the phone calls that came today for wishing you, one was from the ashram."

"Do they need funds?" Prithvi enquired as he moved away from the table.

"No, they don't need anything as of now. But they were wondering when you'll be able to visit them next. I took the liberty of telling them you would not be able to go there anytime soon," Sumer Singh said timidly.

"You're right about that," Prithvi reassured, striding out of the room.

Sumer Singh breathed in relief. "They also wanted to discuss a corporate-sponsored event with you."

"Alright, I'll call them.."

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

Nandini picked up the book from the chair and took out the roses from embrace of the pages. "One chance....he doesn't let go of one chance to make fun of me," she vented in a heated whisper to the flowers. "If I knew where your thorns were, I would throw them at him. That would teach him to -" she paused in alarm on hearing footsteps, and turned to see Uday Singh approaching the foyer with an attendant.

Thanking her stars that she had not been overheard, Nandini swiftly kept the flowers back in the book and tried to conceal the novel with her dupatta. Feeling more confident, she smilingly walked towards the aged man.

Uday Singh smiled at her, and halted on his way to the hall. "A book with roses in it. Hmmm...the fragrance of a romantic story is in the air," he teased mischievously.

Crimson-faced, Nandini hastily fibbed, "Oh there isn't anything like that. I plucked them myself."

"If you insist," Uday Singh laughed. "Now assure me you're not going to ignore me for this book."

"Of course not," she giggled.

"I knew you wouldn't break my heart," Uday Singh said gaily. "You can give it him. He'll make sure it is deposited in your room."

Hiding her disinclination, Nandini obeyed him and self-consciously gave the book to the attendant with a polite smile.

Uday Singh asked the courteous man to hand the book to a maid with the directive to keep it in Nandini's room.

When the attendant had left, Uday Singh cheerfully turned to Nandini again. "I hear everything went off splendidly."

"It did," Nandini said affectionately. "And the portrait of Prithvi's parents...it was the most wonderful surprise. He may not tell you how much it meant to him, but it's truly the best gift you could have given him today."

Jubilant, Uday Singh said, "Thank you for saying that, my dear girl. And thank you for gifting this day to me. Everything is going on smoothly today just because of you," he said gratefully.

Nandini bashfully said, "But I -"

"Didn't do anything," a drawling voice completed her embarrassed statement.

She spun and glowered at the tall figure walking out of the hall.

"That's her slogan for life - I didn't do anything," Prithvi informed Uday Singh, pausing near him.

"It is not," she snapped.

"You mustn't keep ragging her like this, Prithvi," Uday Singh advised mildly. "A beautiful woman's anger can be very dangerous."

Nandini beamed at him. The adjective didn't suit her, but she was grateful for the support.

"Okay, but which beautiful woman are you talking about?" Prithvi questioned.

Uday Singh winced, while Sumer Singh, who was standing behind the two men, simply sighed.

"Grandpa, please introduce him to her so that I could live in peace," Nandini rejoined frostily, and then turned on her heel to stalk off. She angrily walked some way down the corridor until she came to an alcove with a latticed stone window.

Nandini stepped into the niche, and leaned against the wall with her arms crossed stiffly. They barely had a few hours to spend with each other, but he still couldn't be nice to her. She woefully looked out the window, and then instantly moved closer to gaze outside.

Back in the foyer, Uday Singh looked at his great-nephew who looked more entertained than concerned. "She doesn't know the layout of the palace that well. I hope she doesn't lose her way."

"She will not go too far," Prithvi grinned, and then slowly became somewhat sombre and uncomfortable. "Thanks for the...photograph," he muttered.

Sumer Singh smiled.

"You're welcome," Uday Singh said dotingly, remembering Nandini's prediction.

"So what brings you here?" Prithvi asked, nonchalantly changing the topic. An disagreeable thought occurred to him, and he grouchily asked, "You've come to announce your next plan, haven't you? What is it? A live broadcast of my lunch?"

Uday Singh chuckled. "No, no, nothing of that kind. Your ordeals have ended. But...there is just one little thing that I wish you to do...come with me." He grasped Prithvi's forearm as they walked to the balcony.

As they neared the railing, Prithvi stared in bewilderment at the sight that greeted his eyes.

A large crowd of men, women and children was making their way to the grounds in an abnormally quiet and well-mannered fashion. In spite of the distance, he could perceive that the group was nervy and awe-struck. The people were being herded by the guards into a thick line, and were being directed to the tents. Families were huddled together, as if to protect themselves from attacks, and everyone was casting timorous but fascinated glances at the palace.

"You're going to conduct human sacrifices in those tents to commemorate my birthday?" Prithvi asked doubtfully.

Uday Singh laughed. "Not at all! Didn't Nandini tell you? These are our guests for lunch," he smiled. "They come from the villages in the valley. People who have lived in this region for many generations, including families of the guards. They are devoted to our family, and still consider us to be their guardians and benefactors. After the meal, they will be given errr...a couple of things. And then they will return home."

Prithvi gazed at the hordes of timid villagers making their way into the tents. "Whose idea was this?" he asked quietly.

"Nandini's. Left to me, this day would have been very different...and unpleasant for you," Uday Singh admitted.

"What do you mean?"

"She hasn't told you anything? Well, originally, I had intended to throw a party so lavish and grand that people would have talked about it for years," Uday Singh said wistfully. "Great luminaries of our society were going to be invited. Chefs from around the world were going to be hired. There was going to be music and dance and entertainment of the highest quality. I wanted to introduce you to the whole world as the scion of this family. But Nandini changed my mind."

And saved your life, Prithvi thought, his blood curdling at the description of the catastrophe that had nearly been visited upon him.

"She said it was already unfair to force you to celebrate the day against your wishes. And to make you participate in so many events that you would find absolutely hateful – that too on your birthday – would be cruel," Uday shared shamefacedly. "That's when I realised I had been too busy thinking of my dreams. I hadn't spared much thought for your wishes."

"Don't beat yourself up. It runs in the family," Prithvi murmured.

Uday smiled thankfully, then said, "She suggested this particular lunch programme, and also asked me if it would be possible to sponsoring a meal for the underprivileged in your name. The poor thing was so hesitant to put forth the request. But I liked the idea, and asked the manager to inform every charitable institution in Daheer and nearby towns that our family would be sponsoring all their meals today. Nandini was so stunned and happy," he recalled with a laugh, and then looked kindly at Prithvi. "And the first thing she said was that ....if Priyamvada was in one of those places, she too would be able to participate in our celebrations in a small way."

Prithvi turned his face away as strong emotions clouded his eyes. He was exceedingly touched by the sweetness of her requests and ideas. But then it was typical of her to be so compassionate and loving, and to harbour such a hope. However, it wasn't going to materialise. He had been to almost all the institutions in the area, and his search had been fruitless so far. Still, the thought was not without appeal...

"So, as I was saying, that is the programme for lunch," Uday Singh carried on.

Prithvi looked at his great-uncle circumspectly. "What do you want me to do?"

Uday Singh's wrinkled fingers constricted on the strong arm. "Aditya was no less than a god for these villagers. Their villages have schools, medical clinics and other important facilities because of your father. He was untiring in his efforts to improve their lot, and he wanted to do so much more, but..."

Prithvi inwardly stepped back from a jumble of feelings he was not ready to face yet, and again asked, "What do you want me to do?"

"These people still revere him, and they want to...well, they just want to see you," Uday Singh said diffidently. "So, if you're willing, we could go to the terrace in the centre before lunch, and stand there for a minute. Maybe you could wave once at these people. That would be the last thing you would have to do for me today. And then the rest of the day is at your disposal."

"Stand on the balcony and wave? What am I? The queen of England?" Prithvi asked irritably.

"Okay, okay, no waving," Uday Singh compromised. "But you'll stand beside me, won't you?"

"I'll think about it," Prithvi averred grudgingly.

"That's all I ask for," Uday Singh declared, content. "Now let's go and find Nandini."

"There's no need. She'll be here in less than five seconds," Prithvi smirked.

How?" Uday Singh asked, befuddled.

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

Nandini was smiling as she watched the tiny tots trying to escape the clutches of hapless parents in order to run around the vast and beautiful garden. Then a loud whistle cut through the air, and her cheerfulness instantly turned into infuriation. She knew who had whistled and why...

She stormed out of the alcove and marched to the foyer. The older men were standing motionless with alarm writ large on their faces. Prithvi, however, was looking at the tents.

She tried to restrain herself in front of the elders while approaching the group. But the angry question practically erupted out of her. "Who do you think you are to summon me with a whistle?"

Prithvi turned to look at her, awkwardly surprised. "It wasn't meant for you."

Nonplussed by the denial, she curtly asked, "For whom then?"

"No one, I just felt like whistling," he shrugged, walking to the chair on which his phone had been abandoned some time back. "I have to make a call...it could take some time."

She looked at him distrustfully as he lifted the phone and sank into the chair indolently. The urge to examine the people on the grounds had almost won when Uday Singh smartly stepped up and held out his arm.

"I'll take this chance to spend more time with a lovely companion. Come with me, Nandini. I'll show you the best section of this particular wing."

With a gratified smile, Nandini wrapped an arm around his elbow.

"I especially love a hall that was used for hosting parties long ago. When I was young, I used to dance with the ladies till the early hours of morning," Uday Singh reminisced. "And I'm not bragging...but women used to fight for the chance to be my partner," he boasted.

"Oh I'm sure they fought violently but I doubt it was with each other," Prithvi commented sarcastically as he speedily typed replies to messages.

"Don't pay any attention to him, grandpa," Nandini told a sheepish Uday Singh. "He's jealous because he has two left feet."

"Is that so? I guess I'll have to give another audition soon," Prithvi murmured, eyes on the phone.

"Err what?" Uday Singh said, and Sumer Singh too seemed confused.

"We should go," Nandini said quickly, impelling Uday Singh to start strolling out of the foyer.

Sumer Singh stood undecided.

Prithvi glanced up at him. "What are you waiting for?" he asked edgily. "Go with them. I don't him showing off any of his famous moves."

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

"All three meals? For every charitable institution in their own town and neighbouring ones too? Sakshi asked, amazed. She was sitting in the office of a friend who ran an orphanage in the town, and had made Priyamvada sit in the adjoining room by herself because the latter didn't like being around children. She would have preferred not to bring Priyamvada to the orphanage at all, but Vanaja and her assistants had refused to be responsible for the disturbed woman.

"Yes, and not simple items either," Mayank elaborated. "Only the richest of dishes for the main course and dessert."

"That is really generous. It must be a very rich family."

"Not just rich. They're royalty," Mayank said. "The actual 'kings and queens' kind, and it is the prince's birthday today."

"Wait," Sakshi said, and tensely looked around to verify that Priyamvada had not come back to the office. Then she looked at her puzzled friend. "Listen, that woman I brought with me – Priyamvada - she cannot endure the mention of anything connected to royal families. It upsets her horribly. I think someone from a princely family had... harmed her when she was young. And in case she comes out of the room for lunch, she must not find out that the special food is in celebration of someone's birthday."

"Oh ok...I'll let the staff know. They'll tell the children."

"Yes, please do that," Sakshi requested.

Priyamvada had not taken eaten anything since morning. She would ask her to have some food at lunch time, Sakshi decided.

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

The two women were standing in one of the enclosed jutting balconies with stone screens in the front section of the palace, and the conversation was dour.

"I don't understand. Why didn't you comb your hair or – or put some talcum powder on your face?" Kadambari reprimanded for the fifth time.

"I didn't think of it, I'm sorry," Nandini apologised contritely again.

She had arrived at the adjacent hall with Uday Singh and Sumer Singh about fifty minutes ago. Kadambari had landed up at the door soon after, but had been unwilling to enter the room. So Nandini had excused herself and gone outside to give her company. Kadambari had whisked her to this stone balcony, which was apparently a site for the women of the family to discreetly observe the happenings on the grounds. Intense questioning about the photo session had followed, and Kadambari had been delighted to hear that her darling prince had been photographed in all his glory. Thankfully, she'd been content to know that Prithvi had smiled, and had not wanted to know how and why. Then details about Nandini's picture had been sought, and the grilling had ended in disaster.

They had a clear view of the grounds, where an enormous gathering of people was waiting patiently, as well as the terrace where Uday Singh and Prithvi were going to stand. Kadambari's eyes were oscillating between the two places while she grumbled about careless girls, but Nandini wasn't looking at either of the spots. Her gaze was fixed on the open door of the hall. Kadambari had said Prithvi would have to pass by the room on his way to the larger chamber where his great-uncle and Sumer Singh were waiting.

Nandini couldn't fathom why, but tension was mounting within her. And although her legs and back were aching, she was finding it tough to be still.

When Uday Singh had first spoken of this specific event, it had sounded sweet, exciting and harmless.

And while walking along the length of the spectacular ballroom, he had said the brat had agreed to think about it. But he had felt confident enough to permit the villagers to assemble.

She too was convinced Prithvi wouldn't let his great-uncle down...not after having seen the portrait...

And now that it could actually happen, her feelings about the 'ceremony' had undergone a sea change. Her stomach was in knots, her mouth was dry and her hands were clammy.

It was because of the massive crowd, she told herself. But it was not easy to neglect the presentiment that this wasn't an ordinary occasion. The feeling had driven out her earlier discontentment. Now she just wanted to see Prithvi and talk to him before he walked into the neighbouring hall.

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

Prithvi strolled moodily down the broad and deserted passageway. He didn't want to do this. It was senseless, unnecessary, and disgustingly pretentious. He wouldn't have considered it, if not for Uday Singh's thoughtful gift and the new found knowledge of his father's bond with the villagers. He didn't want to analyse why it was relevant, or why the portrait of his parents had infected him with a childish feeling of loss. But for some irksome reason, all of it had affected him.

He wanted to get out of the palace and sit in the midst of nature that was untainted by the toxicity of the past, and breathe in air that was free of the lingering stench of inane traditions...

Once lunch was over, he would kidnap the pumpkin and go for a ride in the black beauty parked outside the main doors...provided she wasn't tired. While this had been an extremely restful day for him thus far, it must have been exhausting for her, he thought with compunction.

He'd wait to see how she felt after lunch...

Prithvi stopped on hearing the sound of anklets, and looked to his right with fervently warm eyes. He watched as she sprinted out of a room, and then stilled on seeing him.

Nandini hastened to him, and they stood facing each other for a peculiarly charged minute.

"It's only for a minute - or less," she said impulsively.

"I know," he sighed.

"Don't frown or show any irritation," she pleaded.

"Okay," he said with surprising docility, gazing at her with the same attentiveness while she had buttoned his cuffs and put the rose in his vest's pocket. But this time, she didn't have any task to keep her occupied, and the sensation of being trapped in an invisible silken web was rather strong...

"I'll be watching from the balcony of this hall," she smiled, pointing to the doors.

He quietly said, "Come with me."

"Not today," she said simply.

They looked searchingly at each other, both sensing that they were having a conversation they themselves didn't understand wholly. And yet, there was also a weird inkling that it was the continuation of a conversation from long ago...

Nandini ran her ring finger lightly over the kohl in her right eye, and to his astonishment, she transferred the black spot from her fingertip to the skin behind his right ear.

"Thanks, I feel very safe now," he said dryly, but the absorption in his gaze didn't lessen.

Nandini smiled adoringly as she drew back, and then turned to go back to the balcony. Kadambari was surely waiting for her, suspicions increasing with every second she spent with Prithvi.

Prithvi waited till she'd disappeared into the hall, then proceeded to his own destination, feeling considerably more charitable and serene.

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

Uday Singh held his head high as he walked with Prithvi to the low wall of the terrace.

Exultant cries rent the atmosphere. Swept by a deluge of emotions, people were vociferously hailing the family with raised, folded hands. Children were being held up by ecstatic parents. Some of the older folks were prostrating on the ground. Some others appeared to be crying.

Appalled beyond belief, Prithvi stared at the hysterical masses. They were having a neurotic breakdown just because they were seeing Adityaraj's son for the first time? Or was it because he had been born into a family that had a history of lording it over them?

It was an accident of birth. The situation might easily have been reversed. Was that so difficult to comprehend..

He glanced at Uday Singh. The man was sneering smugly and was apparently about to achieve levitational powers.

Prithvi looked at the crowd again. Was he supposed to feel proud? Important? But he didn't...not remotely so...

If anything, he felt extremely sorry for them, their unquestioning devotion to his family, and for the circumstances that had led them to this episode of illogical frenzy over someone like him...

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

"He looks so regal and handsome," Kadambari gloated joyously, treading on cloud nine because of the reception accorded to Prithvi. "You will not see a nobler figure in any other royal family."

When Nandini didn't reinforce the truth of her declaration, she loudly added, "In this or any other country."

The shrill volume broke Nandini's reverie, and without knowing precisely what she was agreeing to, she fumblingly said, "Yes, yes, you're right."

Satisfied by the corroboration, Kadambari resumed her joyful study of the scene.

Nandini's gaze moved back to Prithvi. The euphoric behaviour of the villagers had stunned her, but then she had looked at the object of their veneration and their reactions had no longer seemed irrational.

With the inherent arrogance in his imposing frame, Prithvi looked terrifically attractive and charismatic as he stared at the throng.

But neither happiness nor pride nor satisfaction was visible on his fair face. There was only pity.

She loved more him more than ever before in that instant.

Looking disturbed, he glanced in her direction. The stone lattice covered most of her face but he found her eyes unerringly. He looked at the crowd again, then swivelled and walked away.

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

"I don't want food," Priyamvada said, focusing on her needlework. She had used special colours this time. Aditya would like it...

"Have a roti at least," Sakshi said. "You shouldn't starve like this. It's not good for your health."

Priyamvada continued to focus on embroidering her son's name prettily. It had not been good for her baby boy when she had left him in the care of people who hated him. But she had done it anyway. And for that, she would punish herself till death.

"I'll bring the food to this room," Sakshi persisted. "You won't have to go outside."

As if that was a possibility, Priyamvada thought with a mental laugh. She could hear the raucous chatter of children outside the room. It was driving her mad. Ugly and worthless brats were flourishing in the world. Why then did her beautiful and brilliant child have to die?

"Priya, are you sure you won't eat anything?" Sakshi asked for the last time, getting tired.

Priyamvada looked up to reiterate her stand, and then she jumped to her feet, staring at the empty space outside the room.

"What's wrong?" Sakshi asked in trepidation. She had seen that euphoric look on Priyamvada's face many times before, and it always marked the onset of a hallucination.

Priyamvada threw the cloth and the needle on the chair and ran out of the room.

"Priya! Stop!" Sakshi shouted, hurrying after her.

Priyamvada didn't halt until she'd reached the dining hall, and exhilaration brimmed on her thin face. Beside her, Sakshi was repeatedly asking her something but she paid no need. All that mattered was that Aditya was here. He had indeed passed by that pigsty and walked to this dreary room.

Now he was strolling between the long tables set for lunch, hands linked behind his back. There was a gentle smile of happiness and pride on his face as he looked at the plates being filled with items by servers, and the children gobbling the food at an indecent speed.

Priyamvada stared at her husband with rising confusion. Why was he pleased...wasn't this day as painful for him as it was for her...

Did the sight of these grubby children give him so much joy that he could forget their son...

Aditya walked to a chair and sat down in front of a loaded plate. A teenage girl moved in front of Priyamvada. She pushed the trespasser aside instantly, but it was too late. He was gone.

Priyamvada shrugged off Sakshi's hand and rushed to occupy the vacant chair. She scooped up flavoursome rice with her fingers and ate clumsily, tears pouring down her face...

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

Placing the second – empty - bowl of dessert on the table, Nandini furtively studied the young man walking into the dining hall. She didn't want Kadambari to catch her staring at Prithvi, but she was a little anxious about him.

He still appeared subdued and preoccupied. He had been like that after leaving the terrace, and apart from giving his phone to Sumer Singh and asking him to charge it, he had hardly spoken to anyone. And she had not been able to talk to him freely because of the presence of the thrilled elders.

Uday Singh, in particular, had been so overjoyed that he had not shown any displeasure when Prithvi had commanded Sumer Singh and Kadambari to sit at the table. The elderly man had turned lunch into a vibrant affair with fascinating tales of the past and funny incidences in the family's history. But his energy levels had eventually begun dipping, and Prithvi had been adamant about escorting him to his suite. Sumer Singh had also gone with them. But now Prithvi had returned alone...

Kadambari took a break from issuing decrees to the servers about leftover management and brightly asked him, "Do you want more dessert, Prithvi?"

He smiled and shook his head while taking the seat next to Nandini's.

Kadambari beamed at him and went back to reminding the staff of their duties.

Nandini sidled closer to Prithvi and asked in a whisper, "Are you okay?"

He looked at her gently. The thought of going on a long drive without her was abhorrent. Isolation had most of its effectiveness after she had come into his life, and all the quietness in the world wouldn't soothe him if she wasn't nearby. But she was plainly worn-out, and he had seen her stifling a yawn post lunch. "I'm fine. But you look tired. Go to your room and rest."

"I'm not tired at all," she lied, surprised by the unexpectedly caring advice, and then playfully added, "And not to forget - I've promised you I won't leave your side today."

"I'm not being kind. I could do with a siesta myself. We could sleep together in your room or mine if you like?" he suggested with a spurt of enthusiasm.

Nandini vaulted out of her chair. "I'll go to my room," she stated rapidly, underscoring the first word.

Rising from his seat, he sadly said, "Okay...Choti maa, go with her. She won't be able to find her room without help."

"I can! I know the way now," Nandini objected.

Kadambari smiled at the couple. Dismissing the servants, she walked to Nandini. "Okay, okay, you can, but let me accompany you for my sake," she pacified.

"You too should rest for a while, Choti maa," Prithvi enjoined.

Kadambari demurred initially, then assented.

They left the hall together, and Prithvi walked with the ladies to the stairs that led to their wing. Kadambari climbed up the steps cheerfully after promising Prithvi a delicious high tea.

Nandini dithered at the bottom of the stairway and looked unsurely at him, feeling conflicted. Her body was whining for repose, but she didn't want to spend any time apart from him for the rest of the day...

"The offer is open," he conveyed roguishly.

Blushing prettily, she whirled around and raced up the stairs.

Prithvi chuckled and directed his steps to the main doors.

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

Following her usual practice, Kadambari knocked loudly on the door and waited. When Nandini didn't appear, she opened the door and entered the suite.

Kadambari stifled her exasperation and walked to the bedroom's entrance. Remonstrations about safety precautions could wait. At the moment, the need to communicate her anxiety was more compelling than the inclination to admonish. No one else seemed to think there was any reason to be worried, and there probably wasn't. But she would feel better if there was someone to whom she could express her concern, and know that it was understood at least.

She halted beneath the archway to look at the slumbering figure, then noiselessly walked to the bedside stand. A book with red roses imprisoned between the pages lay on the stand. Kadambari stared at it suspiciously as she placed a mobile phone near it.

Nandini was sleeping on her side, her face turned towards the other side. Affection gushed unexpectedly within Kadambari as she gazed at the sleeping girl. The prospect of waking Nandini up just to give her worrisome news seemed heartless. But she could wake her up for tea, Kadambari thought optimistically. She spun to leave the room, then stopped and looked at Nandini's feet that were adorned by two different types of anklets. The girl was apparently from a middle class family. How had she been able to afford diamond anklets? Had Prithvi gifted them to her? The silver ones had also not been removed. It was so silly to wear both...or was it...

In a reflective mood, Kadambari ambled out of the room.

Even as the suite's door was being shut carefully, Nandini awoke slowly and stared at the opposite wall with drowsy eyes. The air was unusually cool and there was a delicious scent in the air. And she could hear the lovely sound of rain. She gazed out of the thin centre portion of the windows that was not cloaked by curtains. It was pouring heavily.

She'd seen a number of dreams during the nap, each one painful and disturbing. But the details were disappearing from her mind, and the only bit she remembered was a frenetic struggle to reattach pieces of a broken sculpture while torn pieces of paper floated in the air. Was that the reason for the oppressive heaviness in her chest...No, that wasn't it. Through a sleepy mist, she replayed the events of the day so far in her mind.

And then the reason came back to her on a wave of anguish so intense that it seemed to cut off her breathing. Tears blinded her as she sat up. She glanced at the clock in the room but couldn't read the time because of her watery vision. Brushing the tears away with the back of her hand, Nandini looked again, and felt dismayed on seeing it was eight minutes past four. She had wasted so much time on a day when every second was precious.

Feeling despondent and guilty, Nandini clambered out of bed. More than half the day was gone. But her mind had cleared during sleep, and now she felt determined to make the most of whatever little time they could spend with each other. And Uday Singh had hinted at some surprise for her and Prithvi in the evening. What could it be...

On her way to the bathroom, Nandini looked at the objects on the bedside stand. She'd completely forgotten the phone. Kadambari must have brought it to the room while she'd been asleep. The book with the roses, which had been waiting for her in the sitting room when she'd entered the suite, was next to the mobile.

He was the one who had demanded that they be together all day, but it had become more important to her now...

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

Kadambari took the silver tray from the girl's hands, firmly saying, "I'll take it to her room. You can go back to the kitchen. And wear a skirt that reaches your knees at least," she added reproachfully, and then walked to Nandini's room.

The door opened when she was a few feet away, and her would-be comrade emerged from the room, looking fresh and pretty. Relieved, Kadambari smiled and said, "I brought tea for you."

"Thank you," Nandini said, returning the smile, and tried to take the tray from Kadambari's hands.

"You'll drop it," Kadambari prophesised, refusing to cede control. She walked into the sitting room and kept the tray on the table.

Nandini walked to her and courteously said, "Please sit, aunty. I'll serve -"

"Prithvi isn't here," Kadambari disclosed jerkily. "After sending us off, he took the car and left. Two hours have passed, but he hasn't come back. Why hasn't he returned?" she moaned.

Nandini stilled in shock.

He had lied to her about wanting to sleep. His intention had been to go on a drive without her...even though he knew she was leaving tomorrow...

"Where has he gone?" she asked, voice thickening.

"No one knows. I heard it from the guards. His phone is with Sumer Singh, so we can't contact him."

"Which car did he take?" Nandini asked with fresh urgency.

"The black one he received as a gift this morning."

Aghast, Nandini stared at Kadambari, who nodded in silent admission of her own fears.

Nandini struggled to calm down. It was okay. He would be fine. His foot was in love with the accelerator, but he was a skilled driver. And it was stupid to feel betrayed and unwanted merely because he had gone on a drive without her. He had looked so pensive at lunch, she recalled distractedly. The day had not been easy on him, after all. Nonetheless, he had done everything they had wanted. So was it wrong that he wanted some time to himself...

Feigning tranquillity, Nandini uttered several soothing platitudes to pacify Kadambari's nerves. Then she diverted the topic to the recipes for the scrumptious items that had been served in the afternoon. In no time, the older woman was sitting on the sofa and having tea with her, ostentatiously sharing culinary secrets and tips.

After half an hour, Kadambari rose to go to her own room, but not before asking Nandini to keep her phone at hand, and promising to inform her as soon as Prithvi returned.

Alone again, Nandini went to her room to take her phone and then made her way to the balcony. She looked at the tiny outline of the temple on the opposite hill, and prayed intensely. Fat rain drops carried by the wind pelted her, but the flames scorching her heart were growing more ferocious. She knew in her bones that Prithvi was fine and would return safely. But mad, unreasoning fears always enjoyed tormenting her at such times, Nandini reflected miserably. She walked to the swing and sat down, still staring at the shrine...still praying...

Three hours later, Nandini was in the same spot but she wasn't praying anymore.

Sumer Singh had come to her room some time ago to elatedly tell her that a guard's relative had seen Prithvi driving through his village. The prince was absolutely fine...there was no need to be worried.

Nandini had nearly cried with relief, and had thanked the Goddess with her whole heart. Within minutes, however, her spirits had started crashing devastatingly. Prithvi had intentionally chosen to spend hours away from her despite knowing they had scarcely any time left to spend together. The heartbreaking truth had been sinking into her consciousness when Kadambari had called up from the kitchen to excitedly share the wonderful news. She didn't know how she had managed to give apt responses.

The phone near her started ringing. It was Sumer Singh on the other side, gaily informing her that Prithvi had returned.

"He's back?" she asked.

"Yes, he's -"

"Is he okay?" she interjected softly.

"Yes, he's fine," Sumer Singh reassured.

"Okay, thank you for letting me know, uncle," she said politely, and ended the call.

Nandini rose from the swing and walked to the bedroom.

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

Nandini stopped in the middle of depositing the pieces of artificial jewellery in the wardrobe and waited motionlessly until she heard the tentative knock.

Then she walked to the sitting room and unlocked the door.

Her eyes scanned the figure outside, noting the severe exhaustion, the absence of the coat, tie and vest, the damp hair and clothes, and the overall tousled appearance. Apart from that, he was perfectly alright.

"Hey," Prithvi said warily.

"Yes?" Nandini enquired.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly.

"You are? That's very kind of you," she smiled cordially.

Looking tense, he started to say, "Nandini, I know I- "

"I have to pack my belongings," Nandini cut in serenely. "Please don't waste my time with your meaningless apologies."

Paying no heed to the sudden desperation on his face, she continued, "And I have a request to make of you. Please don't come to my room again today, and I don't want to see you tomorrow morning either. If you have any consideration for me at all, please respect my wishes."

She moved back and closed the door in his face.

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

Prithvi hesitated outside the door. He'd run into Kadambari on the ground floor, and of her own volition, she had sympathetically told him Nandini didn't usually wake up as early as he did. Then unaware that she had given him a heartening bit of information, she had patted his shoulder in affectionate understanding and continued on her way.

He just wanted to see Nandini once before she left. If she was asleep, he wouldn't technically be going against her wishes.

His hand grasped the handle. If it was locked, he wouldn't disturb her again...maybe...

The door opened smoothly, and Prithvi swiftly stepped into the suite. He strode noiselessly to the bedroom and then paused.

The bed was empty, and two bags – one packed and one plainly empty – were on the floor near it. The sound of running water was coming from the bathroom.

Feeling wrong-footed, he gazed at its door. It would have been improper for him to saunter without permission into her bedroom when she was sleeping. But the inappropriateness had escalated by several degrees now that he knew she was having a bath. If he had any sense of decency, he would leave the suite instead of standing here and tackling a multitude of emotions and thoughts.

Unfortunately, morality tended to become a very grey area for him in when she came into the picture.

Prithvi guiltily tore his eyes from the barrier between them to look at the tidily made up bed and the bunch of roses near the pillow. She had not shredded the flowers...that was a positive sign...

After some minutes, he drew back from the bed and started to walk out.

The bathroom's door opened and Nandini stepped into the bedroom, dressed in a plain cotton outfit. Her damp hair was coiled in a towel that lay heavily down her side. She stopped dead in her tracks on seeing him, startled and faintly afraid.

"I'm sorry," he said hastily before she could speak, "I was just leaving".

The apology didn't cut any ice with her. Recovering her composure, she acidly asked, "I know this is your house, but does that mean you can march into my bedroom anytime you like? And I'd told you I didn't want to see you today, but you -" she controlled herself with difficulty. "Please leave."

He gazed at her for another second, then turned and headed out of the room.

Slightly shaken, Nandini moved towards the bed and then froze again.

On the pillow, soft rose petals had been arranged meticulously to spell out the words, 'Don't go'.

She stared at the artwork, then walked to the pillow and roughly gathered up the petals. The roses, one of which had been decapitated, were also seized for good measure.

Nandini walked to a corner of the room and dumped the floral collection into the wastebasket, where it had chocolate wrappers, a bag and a satin pouch for company.

Outside, the rains lashed down mercilessly, punishing the earth with all its might...

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