Acknowledging the truth in Prithvi's words, Sumer Singh uncomfortably said, "You're right. It is difficult to be sure of a person's true nature or intentions."

"It's not yet decided if she's going or not. But I want to know everything about that woman and her family and their travel plans by tomorrow morning," Prithvi said grimly. "And if there is anything remotely suspicious, Nandini will not step out of that house."

Kadambari overheard the last part of the conversation as she approached the table hurriedly to refill Prithvi's plate. She watched Sumer Singh quickly say, "I will see to it."

She had fully intended to ask Prithvi to have more servings of food, but she didn't utter a word as Prithvi rose from the table, and guardedly observed his angry and tensed visage as he walked past her.

Kadambari walked to the table to scrutinise Prithvi's plate and felt glad to see that only a spoonful of rice was left.

She was about to ask a servant to take a glass of almond milk to his room, but then thought better of it. One of the lessons she had learnt in the past few weeks was that it was not advisable for anyone to go near him when he was in a bad mood.

Another major lesson was that he hated being fussed over by anyone. He gave her a little leeway out of affection. Nevertheless, there was an invisible line encircling him that wasn't to be crossed... a boundary that had to be respected at all times...

But she was curious about the girl who'd been mentioned.

Nandini. She had a vague memory of the name. It had not been mentioned recently. Not within her earshot at any rate.

She looked at the elderly man who appeared to be absorbed in some thoughts.

"Who is this girl... Nandini?" she asked suspiciously.

"The sole person who can make him smile and laugh," Sumer Singh answered absently.

"He smiles and laughs here as well," Kadambari said disdainfully.

Sumer Singh looked at her pityingly. "I can't expect you to know the difference."

Ignoring the comment as gibberish, she fretfully asked, "Is she highborn?"

Sumer Singh rigidly stood up. "She has a heart full of love and goodness. That is far more important," he retorted, and stiffly walked away from the table.

Kadambari snorted and shook her head.

A heart full of love? Ridiculous!

Men could be fooled easily by beauty and tears. Only a woman could see through another woman's intentions...

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

Bhoothnath gazed thoughtfully at his granddaughter who was massaging his swollen ankles with warm oil.

The prospect of sending her to stay with Janki for some days had been unthinkable initially. But the news had spread, and in the past three hours, neighbours and friends had approached him in the temple and at home to know about the famed author's visit, and many of them had voiced an opinion that Nandini was lucky to get a chance to assist the writer. Sumer Singh too had the same view.

He would have liked to ask Prithvi's opinion as well. The boy had a say, considering.... well, considering that thirty- two gunas has matched in the horoscopes. But he didn't want to trouble Prithvi at the moment. Before leaving, Sumer Singh had admitted to him that there was a family crisis and Prithvi was in the middle of it. It wasn't right to put more burdens on his young shoulders.

Janki had called him up an hour ago to yet again assure him that she would take good care of his grandchild and he had no reason to worry. If he was agreeable, she would arrive to pick up Nandini early in the morning. Though a short train journey was involved, tickets for good seats in the air-conditioned compartment could be arranged at the last minute. She had a spare mobile phone and she would give it to Nandini, so that he could speak to her whenever he wanted.

"I've been thinking about what Janki said," Bhoothnath said suddenly.

Nandini glanced up quickly at her grandfather. At the table, Sarojini halted in the midst of preparing her monthly account of household expenses, and looked anxiously at the duo.

"I'm leaving the decision to you, Nandini," Bhoothnath smiled. "Do you wish to go?" he asked gently.

Nandini hesitated. She'd been simultaneously waiting for and dreading this moment. She honestly didn't know what she wanted. Did she wish to leave Shamli and stay with an unknown family for a few days and reveal herself to be an incompetent idiot in front of a famous writer and good family friend? Not in the least.

And yet, the possibility of having something new to engage her mind...if only for a short while...it was tantalising...

Sarojini, meanwhile, could scarcely believe her ears. She'd not had the heart to broach the "job offer" with Nandini, because it had appeared inconceivable that her father-in-law would agree. She had some reservations herself, but it really was a wonderful opportunity for her daughter. Moreover, many of Nandini's friends were going on exciting vacations with their families. Long ago, their family had been part of those fortunate and happy crowds. But since Siddharth's demise, their trips were limited to brief visits to the houses of relatives or to the ancestral village. Nandini had never complained, and she'd also taken it upon herself to cheer Prakash up when he sulked occasionally about the issue. Her daughter deserved a chance to visit a new place and meet new people...

Feeling conflicted, Nandini glanced at her mother.

Sarojini nodded encouragingly.

Immensely reassured, Nandini looked at her grandfather again and mumbled, "Yes."

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

Seated in the office of the second ashram he had visited since morning, Prithvi impatiently looked at his watch, and then at a dusty and cheap name plate on the table that said "Mrs Shivani Mishra".

Staff members had said that the woman in charge of the institution would arrive shortly. However, he was not in the mood to wait. This was going to be another pointless exercise. He would hear the same answers - no one had seen his mother, no one knew anything about her.

He didn't bother to suppress the surge of anger and frustration. Those emotions had become an inseparable part of his life. But at times, just for a pleasant change, they would be substituted by a sick, hollow feeling that kept him awake through the darkest hours of the night.

His temper was perpetually on the boil these days. And to worsen his mood today, early in the morning, Sumer Singh had given him extensive background information on the writer and her family as well as details about their travel plans, and the whole situation did seem transparent.

Nonetheless, it bothered him. Something had to be lurking below the surface.

The sole redeeming aspect was that Vishranti Nagar wasn't too far off.

Naturally, he didn't intend to go running to meet the pumpkin-eyed hellcat.

Still, if there was a problem, he could help her out...provided she displayed an ounce of sense, let go of her absurd obstinacy and reached out to him...

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

Prithvi stared in disbelief at the bespectacled, somber young woman seated across the small table.

"She was here? You met her?" he asked slowly.

Mrs Mishra nodded while staring at Priyamvada and Adityaraj's photograph. "Yes. About nine years ago. I remember her well because her arrival had caused a stir in our ashram. I was doing my graduation at that time. After my classes, I would come here and help my parents in running this place. This lady - Priyamvada, you said? Yes, she landed at our doors one day. We tried to find out where she'd come from, but she wouldn't say a word. She would just sit silently in a corner most of the times, but then...sometimes...she would start screaming and crying," she said in a hushed tone.

"The hysteria would last for about five minutes, and then she would gradually become normal. At other times, she claimed she could see her dead husband, and she would run out of the ashram at odd hours, screaming out his name...Aditya or something like that," she grimaced. "The other residents were frightened of her. My parents decided to admit her to a mental asylum. But before they could do it, a lady came to our ashram in search of Priyamvada."

"She had brought a well-known psychiatrist along. She too ran a home for poor women and she said she'd been getting Priyamvada treated for her mental problems. But Priyamvada was resisting treatment, and she had simply gone missing from her room one day. It was a strange situation," Mrs Mishra brooded. "But at the time, we were only too relieved. My parents sent Priyamvada back to the other ashram with the owner and the doctor. I don't know what happened after that. The last I heard, that institution's land was sold to a builder, and the inmates were sent to different ashrams."

"The psychiatrist...do you have his name and contact details?" Prithvi asked quietly.

"He's no more," Mrs Mishra informed him regretfully. "Died of an illness three years ago."

She slid the photograph back towards Prithvi and gazed at the colourless and preoccupied features of the amazingly good-looking young man

"This woman is your mother, isn't she?" she asked keenly.

Through a dark emotional smog, Prithvi looked at the morbidly inquisitive face in front of him, and then at the photograph on the table.

He stonily said, "No."

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

Janki stared unseeingly through the car's window at the passing scenery. They were en route to the address given by the pervert. He would be arriving late in the evening.

She turned to look at the young girl dozing in the adjacent seat.

Nandini was dear to her simply by virtue of being Bhoothnath's grandchild and Siddharth's daughter. And in a span of few hours, she had begun to adore the girl as a person as well. Nandini was a genuinely sweet child. Throughout the journey, she'd been so very respectful and caring...

Janki thought about her grandkids. They were sweet and loving, though too preoccupied with their own thoughts and lives. But that was true of most youngsters these days. Nandini was an exception...an extraordinarily gentle and lovable girl...

Very innocent as well. And her innocence wasn't skin deep, Janki gauged. There was an unusual purity about Nandini that went beyond physical chastity.

The girl had complete trust in her, Janki mulled. She had unquestioningly accepted the lie that they had to get down some stations prior to their destination because Janki had to meet a relative and they would travel on by road to Vishranti Nagar.

But that was no longer a lie, Janki decided forcefully. She was not going to leave Nandini in that creep's company.

He had money and secrets on his side. She had major contacts in the police department in her arsenal.

She would have defied and threatened him right away if it were not for a niggling inner voice that asked her to be patient for some more time. She had to find out for sure what his plans were. Then she would have proof to indict him.

He might implement his threats and wreck her life. But she had readied herself for the aftermath.

It was preferable to face the consequences of old, foolish sins than commit new, unforgivable ones.

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

Nandini rummaged through the small bag of clothes on the bed, looking for a soap box. She wanted to get out of these travel-weary clothes and take a bath. She was completely exhausted after the long journey.

She'd left Shamli along with Janki ma'am about ten hours ago, and they had travelled nonstop by car and train and then a car again until they had reached this house at five in the evening. They would stay here overnight since the writer had to meet a relative to discuss an urgent matter. Tomorrow morning, they would set out for Vishranti Nagar.

Part of her wished she could spend another day in this lovely house.

It was a pretty single-storey structure with a tiny half-open porch that had low, wooden seating. The insides were nice too. She'd only seen the living room and this spacious bedroom, but they were also bright, and furnished well. There was a verdant orchard on the right side. One of the trees had a cute swing. The greenery had immediately reminded her of Vrindavan. That was possibly why she was feeling strangely happy and relaxed.

The property belonged to the author's family, and apart from its lonely setting, abnormally high walls, and the tall, scary guard at the gate, it was quite perfect. The weather was beautiful too at present. Black clouds had cloaked the sky, and it was thrilling to hear the growing rumblings of thunder.

"Aha!" Nandini muttered triumphantly as she spotted the soap box in the midst of a stack of clothes.

Just then, a gaggle of childish voices drew her attention to the window. Amused, she kept the box on the bed and walked to the beautiful iron-barred window. She pushed apart the thick curtains and smiled on seeing children in the orchard.

Three girls were preparing to play hopscotch, another one had occupied the swing, and two little boys were clambering up a tree.

Delighted, she turned and headed out of the room. It would be fun to talk to the children.

She opened the bedroom's door and peeked into the living room. It was deserted. The door to the only other bedroom in the house was closed. The elderly writer was resting after the long journey. The cheerful maid who had served them tea on arrival wasn't to be seen.

Nandini hurried to the main entrance and unlocked the doors. The gates were wide open, and to her relief, the burly guard was missing.

As she stepped onto the porch, a peculiar uneasiness gave her pause. But the sensation passed quickly, and she tentatively walked towards the side of the house. She made her way around the corner and then stopped as the children came into sight.

At her unexpected arrival, the children abandoned their individual activities and rapidly congregated into a terrified group. They had plainly arrived under the assumption that the house was deserted.

Nandini smiled at the children while trying to figure out how to break the ice. She looked at the oldest girl, a member of the hopscotch team, and impulsively asked, "Can I play too?"

Instantaneously, her mother's image popped into her head. A furious and stern image.

And her mind replayed the austere rules laid down by her mother. Dos and don'ts that she had to follow during her stay at the writer's house.

Be on your best behaviour, don't mingle unnecessarily with the males in the house, ensure that the dupatta was draped properly over her chest, don't behave immaturely, don't laugh loudly, be polite and respectful towards everyone, don't leave your hair open, it should always be plaited neatly, apply oil from scalp to tip and wash it every alternate day, lock the door when you're alone in the room and especially when you're was going to bed...

In the meantime, the astonished children were giggling. One of them ran up to her and grasped her hand. She grinned at the small girl and allowed herself to be taken to the crude chalk drawing of squares on the ground.

If her mother found out that she was going to jump around with these kids...

But her mother wasn't here.

No one who knew her was here.

This was the first time she was not surrounded by family or old friends while on a trip.

That reality was going to make her sad and homesick very soon. However, just for today...just for this moment.... it was liberating...

Feeling light and free, Nandini laughingly accepted a flat piece of stone from the children and tossed it on the ground.

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

Prithvi strolled on the secluded road that ran along the back of the bungalow, quietly enjoying the cool gusts of wind.

He glanced at his watch. A quarter past six.

Nearly an entire day had been squandered, since he had not visited any more ashrams after that second one.

He'd thought he was prepared for the truth, whatever it might be. Turns out, he was wrong...

Reluctant to return to the house and counter puzzled faces and the predictable questioning, he had wandered aimlessly for most part of the day. And he didn't intend to return to the bungalow for another hour or two.

He looked up at the heavily overcast sky. Flashes of lightning had begun to accompany the growls of thunder, and the temperature had dropped abruptly.

He was nearing the vacant guest house when he heard laughter and whoops.

Prithvi stopped with a puzzled frown.

The voices of children didn't surprise him. He knew the servants' kids often played in the orchard.

Enmeshed in the midst of those childish noises, however, was a laugh he hadn't heard for weeks. An uninhibited, beautiful sound that he could have isolated and identified in the worst cacophony if necessary.

But that was impossible. She couldn't be here.

On the other hand, his imagination wasn't as fertile as hers. Nor had his condition deteriorated to the extent that he'd suffer from hallucinations.

He heard it again.

That laugh... enchanting .... unmistakable...

A wild, desperate hope rose in his heart. Warily succumbing to its powerful pull, Prithvi swiftly strode towards the gates of the house.

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

Nandini laughed along with the children as she tried to maintain her balance. She hadn't played this game since she was eleven years old, and she was enjoying it thoroughly.

She skipped around to return through the course, and then stilled.

Her skin was prickling. The odd uneasiness was back.

Was it because...but no...how could it be...

What was she thinking?

Nandini caught herself angrily, and forced her mind back into the present moment.

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

Prithvi forced himself to stop a couple of steps before reaching the corner of the house. He couldn't hear her voice anymore.

Struggling to be prepared for the reality that he wasn't going to see her in a moment, he slowly moved ahead.

He walked around the bend and halted again, immobilised by shock.

Nandini was kneeling on the ground. Surrounded by children, she was using chalk to darken the outlines of the squares in spots where they had faded.

All of a sudden, she froze and then glanced up confusedly.

Her stunned eyes instantly clashed with his.

Cool drops of rain started falling from the heavens, gently quenching the thirst of a scorched earth...

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

Uday Singh Rathod jauntily pushed the umbrella being held over his silver head by a guard as they walked to the guest house.

He didn't want to be protected from the drizzle. These rains were a good omen...the gods too were pleased with him...

Genius! He was a genius!

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