Page 12

Ava’s eyes met his. Samarth did not look away. He wasn’t embarrassed about it. He wasn’t ashamed or shy of this side of him. But he would have preferred to unleash his various facets on Ava slowly. Steadily. Giving her time to digest them.

He expected her to return his AirPod. Instead, her eyes softened — that soft expression that was reserved for him.

And that one time for Cherry. Her lips stretched into a smile, those tiny dents by their sides appearing again.

She pushed the AirPod tighter into her ear and pushed her body closer into his.

For the lack of space, Samarth opened his arm to let her settle there.

It was… otherworldly — at this hour before dawn, in a car gliding up the mountains, towards a temple he had wanted to visit ever since he had come to Saraswati Crest, with a girl he had recently discovered he had wanted to be with since that first time she had shared bench space with him, listening to something that most teenage girls would have run away from.

Shyam ke ras mein, rang gayi Meera, Raskhan toh ras ki khaan hue… Jag se aakhein band kari toh Surdas ne daras kiye…

Ava pulled her phone out, dragging the brightness tab down and opening a chat with him. Samarth could see her typing the question — I know Meera. Who is Surdas?

She hit send. His phone pinged. He went ahead and switched off the notification sound to not disturb their song. Then began typing.

He was a poet devotee of Krishna

He hit send. Typed more —

Was blind since birth, but wrote lakhs of couplets on Krishna’s life as if it was all happening in front of his eyes

Ava’s face turned up to him, her lips rounded in an ‘Oooh!’

I have heard about Ras Khan, though — she sent. Became a Krishna bhakt and wrote lots of poems. My Naniji has cassettes of Ras Khan that she refuses to convert into a pen drive :D

Samarth chuckled. The song changed to another from the same album. Baat nihare Ghanshyam, naina neer bhare…

You don’t mind that we are listening to this?

Why?

Just

Ava looked up again, a frown marring her smooth forehead.

She pulled her phone up and typed at lightening speed.

Samarth tried to peek but her head was buried inside it this time.

And she typed for so long that he chose to rest back, head on the cold glass of the window.

His phone lit up silently to a message. His thumb hovered over the notification.

He wasn’t sure how many marks worth of answer she had sent and which way it swung. He tapped it open.

My Naniji is a vaishnav

Samarth’s mouth dropped open. That’s it? That’s what she had been typing for ages? Her body vibrated under his arm and he knocked his knuckles over her forehead. She laughed harder, but quietly. Another message popped up on his screen. A long one.

I might not have a playlist of bhajan-kirtan but I do worship Krishna too.

Not daily and all. But I think I have a special connection with him.

With his Dwarkadhish king swaroop. My Naniji told us these stories and I loved how he took all his people to the sea, created a whole kingdom there on an island and ruled without declaring himself king.

Imagine the power he must command to do that without forcing anybody.

The power of love — Samarth texted back.

Her text was prompt. Which version do you connect with the most?

Him with his mother.

Why?

Samarth felt the twinge that he rarely felt. Nobody had ever asked him this. But then, nobody had ever asked him which version of Krishna he connected with the most, forget why did he connect with Krishna out of all the gods out there.

He didn’t have an answer to Ava’s question.

At the same time, he had a 25-marker to give.

That much awareness had come within him to figure out why he adored that part of Krishna’s life.

A tap of Ava’s hand on his cheek, and he startled out of his thoughts.

She waggled her eyebrows, hair falling back into them.

Samarth reached out his free hand and pushed it off her face, tucking it behind her ear. Her eyes smiled.

And for all the times she had looked at him like that, she deserved the answer to this question.

Samarth grabbed his phone from his lap and typed one-handed.

It took him longer than usual, framing his words, deleting and rewriting, checking if he hadn’t gone ahead and burdened her with too many of his life’s truths too early.

After all, they weren’t even officially dating yet.

She hadn’t given him a sure shot yes. And his father had taught him enough to understand that a girl’s no was a no, and her yes wasn’t a yes until she said so.

Samarth took a deep breath and hit send.

Maybe because I don’t remember what it feels to be like that. With a mother who will run after you, chase you up for stealing something she has been making, and then pull you close and squeeze you tight. My mother left us when I was small. She is alive, just not in touch too often.

Silence. The figurative kind. Literally, the car was quiet anyway.

Samarth regretted sending the message now.

Was it too much too soon? A religious guy who listens to bhajan in the morning with ‘mommy issues,’ as was a famous quote among their lot for any guy who dared show his softer side — did she even think of him as normal now?

His phone lit up with a message, the words clear on the top banner. Two words. Two words that did him in.

Her loss

Samarth’s nose tingled, his eyes suddenly heavy.

But then Ava’s head landed on his chest, pushing like a little pony until he nudged his jaw up to let her burrow there.

And his chest gurgled with a chuckle. She typed something on her phone, he could feel the vibrations.

But now he didn’t care what she sent. This was it.

Everything. It was like god had sent him back to school after this summer with the mission to get all that he never knew he wanted but needed so badly.

Ava . Ava, who accepted so many hidden facets of him.

Ava, who manipulated her whole world to be with him.

Ava, who was a Krishna bhakt and openly accepted his bhakti.

Ava, who called his mother leaving her loss.

People had called it her loss before. But when Ava called it that, it was final. Like a nail in the coffin. The ultimate truth. His phone lit up again.

Do you have more?

More what?

Songs like this?

Samarth felt his chest vibrate, and her body vibrate on top of his. He swiped up his phone and brought it up to her eyes, pulling up his Krishna playlist and handing it to her.

“ETA 20 minutes,” Kirti didi announced loudly.

“What? We had to get off at Valley of Flowers!” Kresha’s hoarse voice sounded.

Ava paused their playlist and sat up straight.

Samarth followed her up, glancing around at their exteriors.

He hadn’t even realised when the dark outside had lit up with the soft rays of the morning sun.

The dark trees were now verdant valleys, deserted roads filled with cars and people.

“Kumari, I cannot be with you both at the same time. I suggest we finish Badrinath darshan and then head to the Valley of Flowers.”

“But… Gop, we wanted those photos there at sunrise…” Kresha sounded deflated.

“It’s ok, babe, we’ll get them at sunset.”

She huffed, her head popping up to check on them. “All because of you!” She accused playfully. “What mannat is this, Samarth?”

He chuckled — “What mannat? Can’t I go to see god without any purpose?”

“It’s not your birthday,” she countered.

“That’s also a purpose.”

She sputtered, just like Ava.

“Sanskari Samarth, you have all of your old age to go visit god without any purpose!”

“Practising for that,” he quipped, making Ava sputter beside him. They were princesses by title, and yet behaved so wildly and so completely freely that only a fool wouldn’t want to be with them!

“Hey, Sam,” Gopi turned in his seat — “Is this a thank you for winning the Rajsamand Open? That’s not a purpose, is it?”

“No, man. It’s just a visit. I have been fascinated by this place ever since I heard its story from Hira ben. You remember her, right?”

“Yeah, your nanny…”

“Sort of, but more than that.”

“What was the story?” Ava asked.

“Do share with the class,” Kresha rolled her eyes, still sour about missing her sunset.

Samarth looked at Ava, hoping he could get out of this one. He wouldn’t want to tell a story in a group that didn’t want to hear it. Least of all such a special story. There was no way out of this though until their car sped through the embellished gates of Badrinath town.

“We are here. 1 minute,” Kirti didi’s voice saved him. Kresha reached inside her bag and began to put her appearance in place, Gopi drinking water, asking if there was a bathroom nearby.

The town was alive at this early hour, the devotees already walking towards the temple. Samarth got on his haunches and buried his head into the dicky behind them.

“What are you doing?” Ava asked.

He unzipped his bag and pulled out the kurta he had packed on top.

“Changing,” Samarth sat back and pulled off his T-shirt. He pushed his hands through the sleeves of the white kurta, a staple in his Papa’s wardrobe and by extension, his, because they came hand-stitched for him too.

Burrowing his head through the neck, he tugged it down his chest and looked up, only to find Ava’s eyes on said chest. Her mouth was slightly open.

Was she looking at him like that ? His heart skipped a beat.

He caught himself in time and pinched the shoulders of his kurta to shrug it in place — “The show’s over. ”

She blinked. Blinked, blinked, blinked — lost brown eyes on his.

Samarth grinned.

Avantika Kumari Raje reached for the neck cushion around her shoulders, pulled it off and chucked it at his face. Hard. Samarth laughed. She was a cricketer after all.

“We’re here.”

Samarth glanced ahead just in time for the top of the Badrinath Temple to come into view.

Verdant mountains rose behind it — massive, massive sentries of the temple.

The golds, yellows and reds of the top were striking.

He had seen them in photos. But this was something else — with the sun rising and its rays hitting the golden peaks like sparkles.

“Badrinath is Vishnu, right?” Ava confirmed. Samarth tore his eyes off the view and gazed at her.

“He is more than Vishnu.”