Page 29

“Samarth!” His father’s happy bellow welcomed him as soon as he got out of the car and took one step towards the stairs leading up to the palace porch.

Samarth forced his face into a smile and hoisted his backpack up on his shoulder.

The last few months had been easy to live out.

Harsh knew it. Nobody else cared. He had not had to smile or look a certain way.

Now, Samarth glanced up as Papa came barrelling down, very unlike his usual Rawal-avatar.

Even though he still wore his same white kurta-pyjama, the June sun making him glow, his father’s face glowed brighter.

The smile Samarth had forced to his mouth widened of its own accord. It couldn’t be that difficult. Papa was happy. He had never looked so happy.

“You are late,” Papa pressed his hand atop his head as he bent down to touch his feet. He wasn’t even halfway up when he was being hauled into his father’s body. This time his head reached over his shoulder, almost there.

“We got traffic at Ring Road.”

“Come on, let’s feed you first. Your white dhokla with no pepper is ready.”

“You act like I have come from some detention camp!” Samarth chuckled, walking with him into the palace. “That is Hira ben’s job.”

“I was the original flag-bearer of Feed-Samarth-Club. You were two and ate white dhokla with chhunda, sitting on top of the dining table with your legs spread and the bowl between them,” Papa circled his neck and gave it a shake.

“Fine!” Samarth rolled his eyes. “Wait, Papa… I’ll meet Dada Sarkar first.”

“He is asleep, beta.”

“At this time?”

“He had a bad cough.”

“What happened?” Samarth’s feet skidded to a halt.

“Nothing to worry about. The cold medicine has been knocking him out for the last two days. He is much better now.”

“How is Maarani?”

“Probably waiting for us at the dining table, come on.”

True to Papa’s word, Maarani was waiting at the dining table, the spread of breakfast already laid out, that promised white dhokla without pepper and a glass of chocolate milk placed conveniently by his plate.

“Hi, Samarth,” she stepped up from where she was serving chutneys on his and Papa’s plate.

“Jai Dwarkadhish, Maarani,” he folded his hands, walking faster and bending down to touch her feet. She paused, hesitated, then her hand came to his shoulder.

“Get up now, please,” she chuckled. “You’ve grown to touch your fathers’ shoulder.”

Papa came and stood shoulder to shoulder with him — “Is it? Check.”

Maarani’s hand came to his shoulder, then went to Papa’s.

“Sid!” She reprimanded. “Don’t go up on tiptoes! Stand straight.”

Samarth felt warm inside hearing his father’s chuckles reverberate. He grinned, pushing all the moroseness of the last few months away.

“Papa is the biggest cheater,” he informed Maarani.

“I agree!”

“Alright,” Papa grabbed him around the shoulder and nudged him towards his chair — “Enough. There’s plenty of time to gang up against me. Let’s eat. I have something for you both after.”

————————————————————

“… so the second last chukker went on without any goals from either side,” Samarth relayed, telling them about his last tournament before he had come home.

“And did you end up scoring a point at least?” Papa asked, popping his last piece of toast into his mouth.

“No,” Samarth replied sheepishly, glancing between them. “Vishnu played very well. There was no chance I could beat him that day.”

“Good luck explaining that to Maan.”

“Yuvraj will understand,” Maarani smiled at him. “Even he didn’t win all the time. Nobody can.”

“No,” Papa quipped, glancing at him. “But he will want his prodigy to win at all times.”

Samarth had to agree. Maan bhai wasn’t averse to losing games but he was so competitive that he wanted to keep trying till the last second of the last chukker.

Samarth had learnt to keep his spirit up from him, to be in the game until the last whistle sounded.

He finished his glass of milk just as Ajatshatru Kaka entered the dining room.

“Rawal, everything is ready.”

“Yes,” Papa set his napkin down.

“What is ready?” Maarani asked.

“A surprise.”

“For me?”

“For both of you. Come.” Papa got to his feet, rounding the table to playfully cuff his neck. “Let’s go.”

They walked out of the palace and into the Badam Baag gardens, Maarani behind them. There in the far distance, a podium was set up in the foreground of a curtained flex, media reporters and journalists filling rows and rows of chairs.

“What is this?” Maarani gasped from behind him.

“Come,” Papa glanced over their shoulders.

“Sid, I’m not dressed for this.”

“You look perfect. Samarth?”

Samarth turned and smiled at her — “You look great, Maarani.”

“Learning tactics from your father is going to take you very far in life,” she pointed.

Samarth laughed, hoping it sounded like a laugh. That route was barred for him. Ava would walk ahead on it though.

As they neared the podium, Samarth fell back from his father’s hold, making space for Maarani. Protocol dictated that she precede him. The media barrage scrambled to their feet and Papa took the stage, walking to the podium as they hung back on the grass.

“Jai Dwarkadhish,” Papa folded his hands. “Thank you all for coming at such short notice. This project has been in the pipeline for the last three months and we wanted to keep it quiet until the last moment. That is why nobody received a pre-release packet.”

Camera shutters clicked.

“Ever since I was a child, I have been passionate about nature. Trees. Wildlife. Marine life… My father, Bade Rawal, in his time, worked extensively towards conservation of lions, panthers, Indian Grey wolves, and blackbucks in our region. In my tenure as Rawal of Nawanagar, I was fortunate to successfully create fifteen major catchment areas and protection zones for the marine life in our rivers and sea. Now, it is time to create a sanctuary for the birds — both ours and migratory.”

He turned his head and his eyes zeroed in on Maarani, before he looked back at the media — “I met Maarani Tarini Sinh Solanki on a bird island, and I was pleasantly surprised as well as fascinated by her fascination for birds. That is why, when this project came up, I knew just the person to lead it. Now, I would like Maarani to come up and unveil this project.”

Maarani’s gaze fell on him and Samarth grinned, clapping with everybody else — “Go, Maarani.”

She slowly climbed the two steps up to the podium and pulled the string holding the curtain over the flex.

Tara Aviary & Bird Sanctuary

The applause turned deafening, the flashes blinding.

Papa leaned again into the mic, thwarting the applause — “Now since Bade Rawal has had the privilege of serving the animals of Nawanagar, I have had the privilege of serving the marine life, it is my wish that your next Rawal — Kunwar Samarth Sinh Solanki take this honour of serving the birds of Nawanagar.”

The applause again turned feral. Samarth froze.

Papa glanced at him, nodding, inviting him up with that silent gesture. Samarth did not move. He could not go. Papa’s face slowly changed, going from happy to confused. And Maarani was looking at him with horror.

The applause went louder. But he didn’t go. Couldn’t go.

He had thought he had a long time to tell this to Papa. That the explosion would happen someday, in the far-off future. That day was today.

————————————————————

He sat on his Papa’s bed in the King’s chamber.

Maarani sat beside him. Like two criminals they waited — the King’s back turned to them as he stared outside the window.

Samarth wanted to shout out loud that Maarani was not at fault.

But without his Rawal’s permission, he could not open his mouth.

And his Papa? He looked cold. Cooled down.

Without any expression on his face. The look he used when he went into crisis mode.

“You thought you would take this oath, hide it from me and go on without any repercussions?”

Samarth remained silent.

Papa turned and stared at him. Still no expression. Not even anger.

“Papa…”

“How old are you?”

“Papa…”

“Answer me.”

“Fifteen.”

“And are you a major?”

“No.”

“Are you free to make your own decisions?”

He glanced down, then back up — “This was in my hand…”

“Answer me.”

“Not as a regular teenager, but as a Kunwar of Nawanagar…”

“No,” Papa clipped, stepping towards him, binding his hands behind his back. Samarth reared back.

“As Kunwar of Nawanagar you are answerable to your kingdom and your king. Did you ask us?”

“It was the only way,” Samarth relayed the truth. “I tried everything but Kaka wouldn’t listen.”

“Then you should have come back!” Papa thundered.

“Better yet, you should not have gone! You spied on my matters, went behind my back, made decisions arbitrarily and then you had the audacity to lie to me? What did you say? That you talked to them and they agreed? I told you that day also that I don’t like this.

Now I discover that was the tip of the iceberg! ”

“Sorry, Papa, I am sorry that this hurt you…” Samarth tried to get to his feet.

“Be seated,” his father commanded. He sank back down. Seconds ticked. Minutes of silence. Papa’s eyes remained on him, and Samarth finally looked down.

“Leave us, Maarani,” Papa commanded again.

“Sid…”

“I said, leave us.”

Maarani left the room in silence.

“Justify yourself.”

“Justify myself?” Samarth raised his eyes up to his father’s tall, imposing figure.

“You heard me.”

He swallowed.

“I am not going to wait here all day, Kunwar.”

“I did it for you, Papa.”

His father looked like he wanted to strangle him and also like he wanted to cry. Samarth hated this look on his face. In a second it was gone, replaced by the strangling look.

“Alright. Then take it back for me.”

Samarth’s mouth dropped open.

“Kunwar.”

“Yes, Rawal?”

“Take it back.”

He did not move.

“I will not repeat myself.”

“I am sorry, I can’t.”

“Why not?”