Next morning Sanyukta stole toward the part of the camp where she could find Pawan tethered, having concealed a few carrots under her aanchal as a treat for him. She was surprised to find him missing. Curious, she wondered if he had been taken to the water's edge for a drink or a bath. Spotting the guard who doubled as a syce or groomsman for horses, she asked him where Pawan was. "Bannaji sa left with Pawan before dawn." He told her, claiming he knew nothing more about that development. Sanyukta was really intrigued now, she handed the carrots to the syce asking him to feed them to another horse and she ran across to Samsher's tent where she spotted him briefing a guard. Quick to notice her, Samsher sent the man away and looked in her direction, already anticipating what she was there for. "Randhir banna had to travel on an errand, he will join us back after a few days. Dhurandhar Singh will look after your safety till he returns. Your father was informed about the change in security detail and he approved it. You know how he feels about Randhir banna!" 

Samsher knew she would need more information than that. "Why did he leave so abruptly? Last night he did not mention anything about having to travel." The moment she blurted out those words she blushed, realising what she was admitting before Randhir's uncle. The elder Rajput's face wore an amused expression as he caught her drift. "Something urgent came up that required his presence. I know you two love birds find much happiness in your nightly sojourns together. I would advise caution though, your journey's end is near, if your people get to know there will be much to worry about. For Randhir duty will always prevail before other matters. Do not fret, he has not forgotten your cause. In a few days you will have henna adorning your palms and feet and fate will decide whose sindoor marks your parting. Hope for the best and occupy yourself with preparing your trousseau. Run along now, my child!" Barely satisfied, she thanked him and left to go. She could not believe Randhir had left without bidding her farewell. 

Somehow the days trudged along through their charted journey. Sanyukta kept herself busy with work; trying not to think about how much she was missing Randhir. She experimented with both old and new recipes to improve her culinary skills. Whenever she could she caught hold of an unwilling Keshav and gave him tuition on the double entry system of account keeping, explaining to him naam or debit and jama or credit. She made him solve problems on calculation of simple and compound interest. She had always been sharp at number crunching and although her father never encouraged her she taught herself how to manage the books of accounts, bound in red fabric for good luck, by observing the Munshi who maintained her father's bahi-khata. She managed to kill her time during the day but grew restless at night without he lover. She tried not to distract her aunts with her tossing and turning, but could not help that her pillow was left tear-stained as she found the separation from Randhir unbearable. As days went by she prayed for his safety and hoped for his quick return. 

It was another heady dusk in the famous Chowk of the city of Nawabs when wealthy patrons of etiquette, Urdu shaayari, ghazals, and thumri made their way to the reputed kothas of the courtesans or tawaifs. Balquis Bai's kotha was an upper crust establishment, where she, the Chaudharain or Madam, presided over affairs in the main performance hall. The room was filled with the aroma of incense and fresh jasmine flowers.Firozabad glass chandeliers or shamaa daans cast a golden glow of a thousand lamps.  A huge hand tufted Mirzapur carpet covered the dance floor and gaddas covered with snow white linen sheets adorned with bolsters draped in fine silk were arranged to accommodate the connoisseurs. Attendants prepared and kept hookahs in readiness and would remain at hand to refresh them, to offer food or to usher a mode of conveyance for patrons returning at a late hour.  A silver filigree khasdaan bore paan or betel leaves filled with katha and spices, kept covered with a moist muslin cloth to prevent them from wilting. A grand wooden staircase led the regular patrons into Balquis Bai's hall of infamy.  

The men, mostly noblemen or moneyed zamindars, fragrant with Kanauj or Lucknow ittar perfume, were welcomed by an offering of the paan salver, with ornate spittoons being placed nearby. Attendants offered wine in silver goblets from zarbuland silver surais or decanters.  The musicians tuned their saarangi, tanpura, tabla and pakhawaj before the mehfil could commence. Afroz Jaan, the lead singer took her place in the mehfil and suddenly a hush fell amongst those present. The musicians played the prelude as Afroz Jaan began her thumri, singing about the longing of a woman separated from her lover in a voice as smooth as Kashmir velvet, and she paused at the right places to spout couplets of shaayari, drawing wah-wahs.  Afroz's face reflected the emotions of biraha, her adakaari held the audience captivated, a natural talent and years of practice had perfected the performance flair of the tawaif. The singing went on for over two hours, followed by a host of admirers extolling the artiste and presenting her with nazarana of gold and silver coins which was collected by assistants and placed in a sandook placed near Balquis Bai's baithak.

The sound of ankle bells announced the entry of Benazir Jaan, resplendent in her richly embroidered robes of scarlet and gold, decked out from head to toe in ornaments made of lustrous Basra pearls and polki diamonds. The saazindas played the opening notes for the piece performed by weaving together the classical dance kathak, set to a thumri "Aise Hori Na Khelo Kanhayi Re" based on Raag Pilu. The dancer's footwork, her expressions and her gestures mesmerised the men. By the time the evening wound up many bids were placed with Balquis Bai for the company of the favourite tawaifs, with the highest bidder winning the prize of the companionship of his chosen woman. As Benazir arrived for another turn of offering her body to her master of the night in the luxurious suite overlooking a balcony that opened into a mango orchard, she closed the heavy wooden door behind her and approached her Kharidaar who was seated on a baithak, eagerly waiting for her. She offered him paan, which he declined. Instead he invited her to sit next to him, pulling her in his arms, taking out a hip flask from his pocket and putting it to her lips. 

The liqueur was strong, sweetened with honey, fragrant with kewra and she took generous swigs. He let her indulge at will, knowing fully well that she prefered to be intoxicated before she let the vultures feed on her body. She tried to recall him but failed to recognise him, although it was evident that he was from a privileged background. His clothes were regal but he wore hardly any jewels. They fed each other Muscat grapes from a silver fruit stand. She waited for the assault to being and was surprised that it never came. Instead he continued to run his fingers through her hair, stroking her tresses gently, sweeping the heavy diamond and emerald jhoomar adorning her head aside. "A pearl as precious as you should never be cast before the swine who lust for your body each night." He whispered in her ears. "Are you forgetting that a kotha runs on the price men pay for the tawaifs' bodies?" She was just a little drunk but sober enough not to be swayed by his flattery. "I know you did not arrive here by choice, the man who took a vow to protect you for life betrayed your trust and traded you off to settle a debt from his compulsive gambling habit." There was a slight tremor in his voice. "That is an open secret. But the past does not matter to me any more, as a courtesan I have learnt to live in the present, becoming a dulhan each night to a new groom who casts me off in the morning just like a man once cast me off as if I were a petty object in his home." There was no hint of bitterness as she spoke, instead there was mere resignation. 

"The past is gone, the present is bleak, but the future need not be filled with despair, Baisa. I may as well tell you, after tonight, you feet will never dance a mujra in any kotha again, I am here to take you away. I offer you another life, it may not be picture perfect but you will never want for anything." She was stunned to hear him speak in her native Marwari dialect. "Who are you? And what do you want from me?" She asked, her eyes suddenly turning heavy. "Bandey ko Parth Singh Shekhawat kehte hain. I am sorry but had I not drugged you, you would not let me rescue you from this damnation. A new life will begin for you tomorrow, and I promise it will be better than anything you have experienced before." The next morning as she forced her way into the locked room Balquis discovered that both Benazir and her client were gone, instead bags of gold ashrafis were left on the centre table with a note saying that it was compensation for the loss of her kotha's finest treasure. From experience Balquis knew that Benazir would never return, she was probably miles away from the jurisdiction of the city already. She let out a deep sigh of relief, at least the man had paid a handsome price for the tawaif! Instead of formally reporting the matter and becoming laughing stock of the Chowk for having let her best dancer flee it would make more sense to find a worthy replacement.