Page 27

“Samarth!” His father’s low hiss jerked him back. He sucked his drying tongue and held his head high. His means were not the most righteous but his ends were. He was a Solanki. He owned up to his actions.

“You were not yourself since that night… that first night when you returned from Antarctica. I found out about Tara Devi, and how her parents did not agree with you. I went there, met them, and convinced them.”

One second. Two. Three. He looked down. When nothing was said, Samarth glanced up again at his father and recoiled. The outrage was boiling hot lava.

“I am sorry, Papa. I am sorry. But you deserve the best of the world. You deserve to live your life. I know we spoke about this and I stopped talking about it because it sounded too much… but, Papa, I am growing up now, my life is spent away from the palace. You have given up your life for me and I don’t want to sound ungrateful by saying that it’s a debt.

But, Papa, I am living my life now. I want you to live yours.

I want you to start being happy, and not just happy in my life’s achievements or my victories.

Please, Papa, please. Tara Devi is waiting for you in Anand Baag.

I don’t know how right or wrong this is…

I have gone back and forth thinking whether it is embarrassing or not.

It is not, Papa. It is not. Nawanagar needs its Maaranai and you were about to ask me about this only, isn’t it… ?”

“You brought her here?” His father’s eyes widened. “With this crowd gathered? Samarth!”

“I did not remember, honestly. Her father agreed and I had to bring her with us. She is… she wants to see you too, Papa. Please, Papa. Sorry. But please…”

His father’s eyes squeezed shut. He took a deep breath. Samarth had learnt this from him. To take a deep breath before something overwhelming happened.

“Samarth,” his father opened his eyes.

“Yes, Papa?”

“I am the parent, not you.”

He nodded.

“You are not burdened to go looking for my life’s happiness. Because you are my life’s happiness.”

“We can have more than one, no?”

A pause. Then — “What did you talk about with Tara’s parents?”

Samarth grinned, hoping he could hide the realities under the charm he was still learning. “Polo, Maan bhai, that Delhi Vaasudev Raje match, Kaki made dhokla…”

“You mean to say they sat you down in their house and fed you?”

“And heard Maan bhai’s polo stories. Did you know Kaka also is a Polo fan? But he hasn’t been able to go anywhere to watch it…”

“What else?” His father cut him off, a king for a reason when tactics like this were used.

“I asked, they agreed.”

“That’s it?”

“Papa, maybe they had never seen me, talked to me, known me. Now they do. And they will know more of me in the days to come,” he smiled. “That is why they sent Tara Devi with me.”

“Where is she? Who did you send with her?”

“Harsh.”

“Who else knows about this?”

“Nobody.”

Another deep breath, eyes still on him. His father’s hand landed atop his head, gripping it solidly and patting once.

“I do not like this, Samarth, and we are not done talking about it. But since we are here now, and so much has already happened, tell me, honestly — is it alright for you to have Tara in our family? Are you ready for a lifetime of another woman occupying the place your mother once occupied on the throne of Nawanagar? In my life?”

“That place had always been empty, Papa,” Samarth relayed the truth. Even at the onset of this discovery, he had never been worried about his mother’s place being usurped. Simply because he had never seen it occupied in the first place.

“Do you like her enough to make her a part of every meal, every festival, every holiday, every night conversation in our lives? Take your time, meet her, get to know her…”

“I told you once before also, Papa. She was a smart lady when I first met her. I don’t know her yet but if you like her, then I will like her too. She catches oranges from trees and tells fun stories about Maan bhai. What’s not to like?”

For the first time in weeks, months, his Papa chuckled. Really chuckled. Samarth felt his spine come alive with tingles again, shivers running up and down. This was it. This, and all that was to come, was worth it.

“Please go see her, Papa. She is waiting for you in Anand Baag.”

Another pause. His father’s eyes vacillated, as if still debating. Then, finally, he took another breath and drilled him with his Rawal eyes.

“Go and take my place in Holika dahan,” he ordered. “Apologise to Giriraj Hukum and relay to him that I will see him inside.”

“Yes, Rawal.”

“We are not done talking about this.”

“Yes, Rawal.”

Again, Papa’s hand landed atop his head. And then he was gone — striding towards Anand Baag, the new pomegranate orchard that he had commissioned this month. Now Samarth could see who he had commissioned it for, or rather, in whose memory.

When his father had turned out of his line of vision, and the roaring Holi fire glowed in front of him, Samarth reached inside his chest and unfurled that regret.

Ava. Ava. Ava. He unfolded that grief, took another second to stand with it, then began to stride in the direction of the fire, ready to hurl it in and be done with it.

He was young, she was young, it would be easy to let go.

Jai Dwarkadhish.