Page 101

— SIDDHARTH —

The hum of his trimmer was broken by Tara’s muffled shout.

“Yes?” He called out. “Tell me?”

“I said our granddaughter is here!” She hollered. Siddharth grinned — “Thanks for the information.”

“Wear your nightdress!” She hinted and it hit. He laughed. He would usually venture out in his towel or a pair of white pyjamas. The former if it was only Tara in their chambers, the latter if his boys were lazing around in his bed.

He walked into his bathroom wardrobe and pulled his white night pyjama as well as the worn white kurta he seldom used at night, got dressed in record time and pulled the bathroom door open.

“Where are my kisses?!” He bulldozed and Brahmi squealed, jumping up on their bed and running to Tara who was busy setting a third pillow between theirs.

She caught her in her arms, got to her feet and ran.

He gave chase, the loud, shrill giggles music to his ears.

Tara ran into the balcony and he ran behind her, closing the door behind him — “Hand yourselves over now,” he prowled towards them, unable to look away from two broad grins on two of the prettiest faces he had ever seen in his life.

“Dadi Sarkar run from here,” Brahmi pointed. Tara stepped to the left and he lunged to the right to give her the opening. She went to take it and he grabbed her by the waist, tugging them both into his arms. “Hahaha!” He squeezed them in — “Where will you both go now?”

“Cheater!” Tara worked to break free. "Dada Sarkar is the biggest cheater,” she informed their granddaughter who was now laughing, her thrilled face the greatest light of this night.

And every night he knew that was to come.

Siddharth wound his arms around them and leaned down to kiss her temple, then pressed a similar one to Tara’s temple.

Her neck bent forward, her nose hiding inside Brahmi’s hair.

“You’re promoted, stop blushing now at least,” he whispered in her ear.

Brahmi’s head popped up — “What?”

“I said I am the luckiest man there is on this planet.”

“My Papa is the luckiest man on this planet.”

“How so?”

“He knows the best polo and he gets to play all the time. No waiting for his lesson days.”

“In that case, I get to play cricket every day.”

Her nose scrunched up.

“Hey, we talked about this on the plane — no doing that when talking about cricket.”

She did it harder, her grin impish and naughty and so, so pure that his heart ached. Siddharth couldn’t help it — he set his hand atop her head and pressed another kiss to her forehead.

“Let’s go inside now, it’s getting chilly here,” Tara hoisted her higher and he ushered them inside, closing the door behind them.

Tara let Brahmi tumble into the centre of their bed whose bedsheets were tight and crisp for a change.

If the boys were in the palace, they would inevitably find their way to this bed, spend hours lazing around until it was time to sleep, and leave their bed a mess.

Today, Brahmi was lying in the centre, rolling around with her arms and legs out, her soft toy sitting on top of her head.

Siddharth felt his aching chest tighten, then loosen.

His eyes met Tara’s on the other side of the bed where she was unravelling her hair and getting ready for bed.

“Dada Sarkar!” His granddaughter commanded his eyes on herself. “You promised me you would tell me about Papa and his ponies!”

“I did, didn’t I?” He pulled the duvet up and slid inside, nudging her under its warmth just as Tara settled in from the other side and tucked her in.

It was like putting Sharan to sleep all over again.

The same drill, except, this one felt far sweeter.

His Papa had been right when he had said that you will love your grandchildren more than your children.

It’s just how nature will wire you in those years.

“So,” he rested his head on his palm. “Your Papa was five when he first got a gift of a pony.”

“Gift?” Her eyes widened.

“Yes, a gift. From a friend of mine. His name is Maan.”

“Does he ride horses?”

“He used to. Now he doesn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because he is old.”

“Sid!” Tara laughed.

“What? He is old.”

“Not as old as you,” she pointed.

“I’ll show you…”

“Then, then?” Brahmi broke his threat.

“Then, he was inseparable from his pony. I made it clear that the pony belonged to the palace and not him. And still, he would find his way to the stables, even at that age, and play around his pony. Slowly, as he grew, he began to learn how to take care of him. Then eventually ride him. Your Papa fell in love with horses. He would feed them, brush them, learn how to bathe them. The grooms in our stables also taught him how to clear manure…”

“Ewww… potty!”

“Yes, ewww-potty. He learned to do all of that and that is why the horses loved him back.”

“You are doing an s-h-i-t job of turning her from polo to cricket,” Tara commented.

“Shit?” Brahmi asked and her eyes widened. He burst out laughing.

“You know how to spell…” Tara stuttered. “I meant…”

“Shit means potty,” Brahmi enlightened her and his laughter amplified.

“Yes,” Tara chuckled. “Shit means potty but we call it potty, not shit. Ok?”

“Ok.”

“Brahmi?” Tara warned.

“Yes, yes. Potty.”

“Correct.”

“Then what happened?”

“Then I took him to Maan’s polo match. And he couldn’t look away from the game. Have you seen a polo game?”

She nodded — “In Loire.”

“Do you like looking at the horses or the players?”

“Horses.”

“Your Papa too. He wouldn’t stop looking at the horses running faster than the wind.

And then we had coaching here for him. He wouldn’t stop practising.

All day, summer or winter. If he wasn’t found playing in the palace or talking to his horses in the stables, he was found with his mallet on top of one. ”

“Wow.”

“What a life, isn’t it?” Tara nuzzled her forehead.

Brahmi nodded, her round eyes filled with stars.

Siddharth knew it was counterproductive to his cause but he couldn’t stop telling her about the legend that his father was, right from the moment he had touched his pony for the first time.

How hard he had worked to become the one that the world recognised now.

They, and she, had seen his success. Siddharth had seen his effort.

Brahmi pulled the duvet closer up her chin and sighed. “Horse is my favouritest animal.”

“Hmm?” He acted surprised.

“Who is your favouritest animal?”

“My favouritest animal…” he thought and thought hard.

“You don’t have a favouritest animal? Dada Sarkar, you have to have it!”

“I know, I am thinking.”

“Who is your favouritest animal, Dadi Sarkar?”

“I know hers,” he answered instantly. “Penguins.”

“Ooooh,” Brahmi cooed. “I want to see one.”

“You know, I played with penguins once,” Tara lay down beside her, her arm over Brahmi’s head, her face soft as she caressed her hair.

“When?”

“In Antarctica.”

“You can’t go to Antarctica! It’s full of snow.”

“I went. With Dada Sarkar.”

Siddharth reached for his phone, scrolling down the years of his album. He scrolled, scrolled, scrolled, with Tara’s story of Port Lockroy and the red post office droning on in the background.

“Look what I found!” He caught the carousel’s movement with his thumb, pushing the phone in between them to Brahmi’s eye level. Her eyes went round, but her mouth made a bigger round — “Is that you, Dadi Sarkar?”

“She is old now so you might not be able to recognise her.”

Tara growled at him. Growled. He grinned.

Brahmi grabbed his phone into her hands and kept looking. Tara, in the white continent, with penguins surrounding her, taken by him during those last days of their trip when they were sneaking around to hide their relationship from the expedition group.

“They are so cute!” Brahmi pulled the phone to her chest and hugged it tight. He laughed — “We will go see them together one day.”

“Yes, yes, yes!” She yawned.

“Ok, now close your eyes,” Tara’s palm landed softly atop her eyelids. Her voice softened — “It’s getting late and the moon is getting tired of staying up for you.”

Siddharth rested his head back on the headrest and saw her put Brahmi to sleep like she used to put Sharan to sleep, like recently she had put Samarth to sleep when he had been writhing in fever for nights.

“When will the moon sleep?” Brahmi kept muttering, the sleep in her voice heavy now.

“As soon as you do,” Tara patted her forehead. “Once it knows Brahmi has gone to sleep, it will send out whispers to all the stars.”

“Moon cannot talk…” she yawned again, eyes half-lids now, then fully shut again.

“In your dreams, you will see that moon talks.”

“What will he say?”

“Whatever you want him to say…”

“Mmm…” her breathing evened out and within a minute she was out cold.

Tara stopped patting her head and set her palm on her tiny stomach.

Her eyes rose to his — those beautiful, enlightened eyes that even at first glance had held so much of the world in them.

Siddharth couldn’t believe he had lived a full life with her.

That within 18 years, he had seen the worst and the best that could be — both with her.

“What are you staring at?” She whispered.

“You made my life complete,” he breathed. Her eyelids fell, along with a chuckle from her mouth.

“Do you remember something?”

Her gaze rose back to his, brows knitted together.

The curly mane of her hair was fluffed around her face, making her just as beautiful to him as she had been eighteen years ago.

More so now with everything between them, including this precious little girl.

Siddharth glanced at Brahmi, her tiny mouth open, her spiky long lashes dark on her bright skin.

“Our heart’s deepest desire,” Siddharth whispered, helpless to pull his eyes away from her.

“What we couldn’t have is still ours.”

He looked at Tara, her eyes on Brahmi too.

“She is all that I ever imagined in a daughter from you. Even better, we get to spoil her and return her if it’s time to discipline,” he chuckled. Tara’s hand turned and opened over Brahmi’s stomach and he wove his fingers through hers.

“I was a little worried,” she confessed. “When Samarth told me about her on the phone. Will I be able to gel with her? I am not old enough to be a grandmother,” she joked.

“You think I am?” He frowned.

Tara nodded playfully.

“With Samarth, it took me so long. I am ashamed that it took me a decade to come to a place where I can command him openly and know that he will come to me for his every need, even as an adult. I was scared… what if I wouldn’t be able to bond with his daughter?

Given the circumstances… and my nature to go slow and with caution with everybody…

But she just opened everything like she knew what doors she was knocking down,” Tara swallowed. “She has your quality.”

“Oh, thank you, Rajmata.”

“ Chana na jhaade jayine na besta have. [99] ”

“Ava raised her well.”

“Better than well. So happy, so receptive, so open to new environments. Look how she slept between us in a new place when she knows us for all of seven days.”

Siddharth caressed her hand, their eyes meeting again over Brahmi’s head.

“Did I thank you, Tara?”

“I do a lot of things in a day for you. Please specify — for which one?”

He smiled — “For making my Samarth your own?”

Her answering smile looked like a mirror of his own. She pushed her hand over his and patted it — “Go to sleep.”

His phone buzzed. She stopped in the process of pushing down the pillow.

“Who is it?”

“Samarth.” Siddharth quietly slipped out of bed. “Sleep, I’ll take it outside.”

He pulled the duvet over them both and soaked in the sight of Brahmi’s head falling towards Tara’s as she lay beside her. Then he turned and pushed out of his room and into the balcony.

“Yes, beta.”

“Is Brahmi asleep?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I just thought that in case she is unable to sleep there I’ll come and take her… she also hogs the bed.”

“I’ll find out one way or another.”

Silence.

“Was there anything else, Samarth?”

“The DNA test.”

Siddharth sighed, walking the distance to the parapet and leaning his forearms on it, looking out at the palace grounds.

“This is not the time to be emotional about it, Samarth. You are a phenomenal Rawal, but you hold your sensitive side too close. That can be a strength when leveraged but it can also just as easily turn into your weakness. Your stubborn refusal right now looks like a weakness to me. Are you worried about Ava’s reaction? ”

“No. She wants me to do it.”

“Then?”

“It just feels wrong to me. How will I look at Brahmi when she grows up and discovers that I needed a test to figure out that she was my daughter.”

“But you did not. You did it to clear her line of inheritance, put papers down so that she faces no impediment now or in the future.”

Samarth’s loud sigh was audible.

“I don’t need to lecture you on the value of practical decisions in life, Samarth.

You have been taking them for the last decade as Rawal.

You took them when you thought I was gone.

Your refusal right now is not you but your guilt talking.

Tide over it and do what’s right — for yourself, for the dynasty and most of all for Brahmi. ”

“Hmm… alright.”

Siddharth smiled. “Alright, then. Go to sleep, the moon is waiting for you to sleep.”

He chuckled. “Rajmata and her moon are always waiting.”

“Brahmi is dreaming right now of the moon talking to her so be careful.”

“Yes, Bade Rawal.”

“Are you in your room? Check on Sharan.”

“I checked, he was asleep.”

“Alright. Go to sleep now. You have long days starting tomorrow.”

“Yes, Papa.”

Siddharth ended the call and ventured back into his room. The Queen’s Chambers. His solace, his haven, his happy place. He glanced around and slid in beside Brahmi, Tara already emitting quiet snores.

“Moon, give me… my eclair…”

He laughed quietly. His granddaughter didn’t talk sappy stuff with her moon. She fought for eclairs with him. He pressed a kiss into her hair and lay down. His heart’s deepest desire had taken its own sweet time but it had ripened well. So well.