Page 22
“You were so much more fun when you were a kid.”
“I can still steal gola for you. But then you’ll have to let go of ice cream that night.”
His grandfather laughed, or as close as he would come to a laugh. “Ok… at least come and give me a hug. Or even that is at night?”
Samarth pushed closer to his grandfather and went into his arm.
————————————————————
“Aaee…” Hira ben sung. “Maara vhala ne, ae vadhi ne kehjo ji… maane toh manavi lejo ji… Aeeee Odhaji, em mara vhala ne, vadhi ne kehjo ji…”
Samarth’s eyes were heavy, closing and then snapping open. He had promised to FaceTime Ava every night. And here, with his head lying beside Hira ben’s lap, her songs lulling him into the deepest, sweetest sleep, he couldn’t help but tear himself between two awesome things.
“Aren’t you sleepy, Kunwar?” She ran her fingers through his hair. Samarth pretended to close his eyes, lulling his body into relaxation, trying to even out his breathing. A pinch on his nose and he snapped his eyes open to Hira ben’s amused face.
“Don’t try to fool me.”
Samarth smiled — “Nobody can fool you…”
She lay her warm hand on his forehead and patted rhythmically to the words of her next song. His favourite lullaby.
“Kunta Abhimanyu ne baandhe amar raakhdi re… ke dikra dushman darse dekhe taari aakhdi re…”
Again his eyes began to go heavy. He let them fall shut, aiming to convince Hira ben that he was asleep. On one hand, he wanted to call Ava, on the other — he did not want this song to end. And thinking about Ava and Hira ben’s song, Samarth didn’t realise when he succumbed to sleep.
————————————————————
“You didn’t call!” Ava accused, her angry voice blaring in his ear. Samarth squinted, wiping the sweat off his brow — “I did call, but Kumari was asleep.”
“At 6 in the morning? Of course I was asleep! Which sociopath wakes up at 6 on vacation?”
“This one,” Samarth ran the napkin across the back of his neck, eyeing the horses run around the pen.
He had jumped down from over Sumeru’s back the moment his mobile had started ringing.
All morning and post-lunch he had waited for this call.
For a second he had even thought that Ava was so angry she wouldn’t return his call and block him.
That had been a moment of panic and it had passed.
“Why didn’t you call last night? I waited till 3 with my iPad…”
“Liar. You were scrolling reels.”
“How do you know…”
He chuckled.
“Oh shut up!” She spat. “You have become so typical with this long distance thingy.”
“Not at all. In fact, I think about you more than I ever thought when I was with you,” Samarth lowered his voice, stepping away from the stables staff, walking down the fence of the pen, rubbing his muddied hand down the side of his pants.
The whites were already dirty, no point in trying to save them now.
“All lies now because you have to manaofy me.”
“Manaofy? Is that even a word?”
“Yes it is. And your work is getting harder the more you talk!”
“Alright,” he smiled behind tight lips, enjoying this way more than he should. “So I must keep quiet to make it easier?”
“Samarthhhh! Oh my gawwwd! Bye…”
“Ok, sorry, sorry, sorry…” he leaned across the fence.
“Sorry. Don’t hang up, please. I am sorry.
Hira ben and I sat talking, then I lay my head down and she started singing our old lullabies.
I tried to keep my eyes open, I swear I did.
I knew I had to call you but she wouldn’t leave until she knew I was asleep and even after I pretended she wasn’t fooled… ”
A giggle.
“You are laughing at me?”
“You are cute.”
“Cute? That’s a first…” Samarth looked down at himself. He was a walking-talking stick of adolescence. His face was a weird version of his father’s, the patchy outgrowth of facial hair making his upper lip appear funny. His voice was weirder than ever and he was sweating like a pig. Nothing cute.
“How is Hira ben?” Ava asked. And Samarth’s thoughts of assessing his cuteness all but vanished.
“She is good.”
“And your Dada Sarkar?”
“Forgetful. I thought it was a one-time, two-time thing. But it happened this time too,” Samarth felt despair bleeding into his tone.
“He didn’t recognise you?”
“He did… but after a few minutes. It was longer than last time.”
“Is he happy to see you?”
“Oh, don’t ask. Last night we shared two ice creams and one gola. He is very happy to see me!”
“In this winter?”
“Dada Sarkar does not catch a cold.”
“And you?”
“I might but who cares?”
Ava laughed.
“How are your parents? Your Papa back from his trip to Italy?”
“No, he is coming tomorrow. Mummy and I went for a salon sesh though! Spa, hair, nails… it was soooo good. Wait…”
A ping, and Samarth pulled his mobile off his ear to check.
Ava’s chat was ripe with photos. Lots of photos.
Fifteen, to be precise — one of her bright yellow nails, one of her matching painted toenails, one of the After Eight mint chocolates clutched in her palm at the spa, one of the candles, one of a bathrobe.
And many more of the same things from different angles.
All pretty. The prettiest of them all? The last one — a selfie, her face bare and glowing, those pimples shining extra red but looking less painful, her hair wrapped in some white towel.
Samarth’s chest tightened. He was busy in the palace, had so much to do, had so many people, was waiting for his Papa to arrive. And yet, just a picture of her hit him with a pang bigger than any. He wished he could teleport there.
He couldn’t.
So he did the next best thing. He held his phone in front of his face, angled it to get as much of his muddied whites as possible and snapped a photo.
Waiting for you to put my helmet on
He hit send.
“Ooooh my bae is hawt!” Came her screaming reply and he instantly pushed his phone back to his ear.
“Don’t call me that.”
“But look at you… all sweaty and dirty. See, Samarth, smelling your sweat while you are like this is yucky ewww but looking at you from afar is… wow.”
“Smelling my sweat is yucky ewww? Come to kiss me next time I win a match.”
“You come to kiss me too when I win one!” She accused.
“But I don’t find your sweat yucky eww,” he smirked.
“Ewww! Why are we talking about sweat?!”
“You started it.”
“Yeah, fine, so… when is your Papa coming back?”
“Any time now…”
Rawal is here — Harsh gestured from afar.
“He’ll live to be a hundred,” Samarth rattled off to her. “Papa is here. I have to go.”
“Go,” she smiled. “And don’t forget tonight.”
“Promise. Texting one hundred percent. Video call I am not sure. Papa is here and…”
“And you spend your nights in his bed talking. I know. Now go. Bye.”
“Bye!”
Samarth pushed his phone into his back pocket and ran. He ran down the stables and the shed, around the palace acreage and the gardens that were dried up in winter.
“The main gate?” He asked Harsh who was running beside him. He nodded.
Samarth quickened his pace, the voices and noises growing louder as he neared the turning of the palace.
“Samarth kyaa chhe?” [17] His Papa’s excited voice caught him.
“Aavi gayo, Rawal,” [18] he went barreling around the palace and skidded to a stop in front of his father.
In his usual white kurta-pyjama, a shawl around his neck, his father looked just as he always looked in Nawanagar — the Rawal.
He grinned. Samarth had wanted to be here to welcome him.
They had informed him that he would be landing by 7.
“Kshama, Rawal,” he folded his hands and bent down to touch his feet. His father grabbed his arms and pulled him into his chest, thumping his back. Samarth embraced him tight.
“I thought you are coming in at 7, Papa…” he pushed back.
“I took a flight instead of the road. Now, do you have to go back to practise or you are coming inside?”
Samarth grinned — “Inside, of course. Dada Sarkar is going to be so happy to see you and I want to see that .”
————————————————————
Samarth lay sprawled sideways on his father’s bed, mobile in hand.
He had promised to text Ava but every time he tried to say bye and set his phone down she would start a new story.
The current one? About the bougainvillaea garden around the swimming pool in her palace that had burst with the strangest lilac flowers.
He was in awe of his girl’s typing speed.
He would type four words — talk to you later , and she would have hit send on a whole paragraph in that interim.
“Your father has come home after a treacherous expedition and you can’t stop looking at your phone,” Papa nudged him.
“Yes, Papa,” he glanced up, his fingers still typing to tell her that she looked pretty standing under those lilac flowers.
She thought she looked like an elf with her yellow nails posing over the lilac flowers.
Samarth partly agreed with her, but what kind of boyfriend would he be if he said that out loud?
And truth be told, her nails looked elfin, not her face.
Her face was all fairy. He began to type that out.
“What are you doing?”
His head was buried back into his phone.
“Samarth?”
“One minute, Papa. Done, one minute,” Samarth consoled, still typing, now frowning.
AVA
Also, FYI: If I keep eating like this I will become Winnie the Pooh
SAMARTH
Get rid of sev and try to eat some poha for a change
AVA
You hit below the belt. This is war, my friend.
SAMARTH
I am not your friend. And bring it on.
AVA
Mummy calling for dinner, have to go, ttyl!
What?! She was leaving him hanging after all the times he had wanted to quit and run? Samarth huffed, clicking his phone lock and setting it on his chest.
“What’s going on with Ava?” Papa asked, coming on his elbow and resting his head on his palm.
“Nothing,” he popped. So it was direct on the topic then.
“Nothing? Then what was this,” Papa made some crazy grinning face, “and this,” he drew his brows together, “and this,” he squinted. Samarth lay back rolling his eyes, unable to help the laugh that escaped his mouth. He was so happy nowadays he laughed like crazy all the time.
“Everything is good, Papa,” he said finally. He wished he could tell Papa how good it was. But he would come across sounding like a sappy little boy if he started telling it all.
“That’s your favourite line nowadays,” Papa’s hand reached out and gave the top of his head a shake. “Tell me the long story.”
“Nothing to tell…” he shrugged, trying to hold himself as far back as he could.
His whole body was tingling to tell the whole story like one of those lovesick romcom sagas that Ava loved.
Instead, he held some of his dignity and told it like Samarth Sinh Solanki’s favourite military dramas — “We have been in the same class for two years. I enjoyed talking to her when she became my bench partner. And apparently she liked it too. That was last year. Our groups were different, and this year we didn’t get to become bench partners.
Our class teacher assigned them, and didn’t let us change.
So we spent a lot of time apart but then we wanted to be together… ”
“Hmm…”
“Don’t laugh.”
“Why would I?”
“Just saying,” he looked at Papa, smiling.
Then did exactly what he had resolved to not do.
Went all romcom saga on his father — “I realised that being with her… it just makes things even better. Like if I won a match I would be happy only for a day. But if she is there too, I can’t stop being happy for days straight with her.
So I asked her, officially, to go out with me when we get our weekends out. She said yes. That’s it.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“And what about talking to her about everything?”
“You remember that?” Samarth squeezed his eyes shut.
“I do.”
Samarth carefully popped his eyes open, eyeing his father warily — “That day I said some things that were… are you angry I asked you that? I should not have… I told her about it and she said it was ok, I should have… but we never talk about such things, Papa.”
“Did you mean them?”
“Yes! But was it weird to talk about it…? Let’s just forget it.”
Papa shook his head — “No, it wasn’t weird at all. In fact, that sparked something. I want to ask you, beta, that if…”
Papa’s phone buzzed. He checked it, smiled, then turned it down. He opened his mouth to speak when his phone buzzed again.
“Sorry, beta, one minute,” he grabbed his phone and got out of bed, padding away from the room.
He left the King’s chambers to walk to the connected Queen’s chambers opposite.
Samarth lay quiet. His Papa had hardly ever walked away from him to take calls.
They were usually kingdom or business or the Ministry.
Samarth took a deep breath, relaxing in the familiar bedding that had his father’s smell even when it was fresh.
A long time passed, and Papa did not return.
Neither could Samarth hear his conversation sounds.
He jumped to his feet and padded down the chamber to the sitting area.
The Queen’s chambers had belonged to his mother before she left, but he never remembered her in there.
It was always his Papa’s office room when he was young, and then his bedroom until he had argued, debated and convinced his way into his own chamber at the far end of the wing.
“What if I already have?” Papa’s cold voice reached his ears.
Samarth stilled on the spot. A long silence. Papa’s sigh followed. It was loud enough that he could hear it right here.
“No.”
Then again for a long time nothing was said. Samarth thought the call was over. He began to lift his foot again but his father spoke — “Yes… Yes.”
More seconds ticked.
“Yes, Tara. I know. And if it isn’t, I won’t let anybody sit peacefully.”
Samarth waited but when for long seconds nothing more was said, he started walking towards the Queen’s chambers. “Papa?”
“Yes, beta?”
“Is something wrong?”
Before he could reach the door, his father came striding out, a smile on his face — “No, all good. Come on, now, you didn’t tell me about Ava’s cricket matches. Do you go to cheer her?”
“Of course I do,” Samarth fell in step behind him. Papa’s arm came around his neck and pulled him along — “Is she a batter or a bowler?”
“Opening batter. She can play full toss like a pro. And she is a fan of yours.”
Papa glanced back at him with a laugh — “Do tell.”
Table of Contents
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