Page 54
“Raje?” She turned to find Ananya running behind her. Kaki saheb’s chaperone and her childhood friend, the sweetest voice in all of Gwalior. “Your bracelet!”
Kresha stopped and turned too — “You forgot your bracelet? Are you ok?” She reached out to check her forehead. Avantika pushed her hand away.
“I was curling my hair and rushed because Kresha Raje couldn’t waaaait to meet her saiyaanji!
” Avantika sing-songed, getting shouldered by her elder sister.
She left the pallu of her fuchsia chiffon saree that she had wrapped around her shoulder and checked her left wrist. The stack was pretty but the prettiest of them all was missing.
The one Ananya was holding up, running down the sunny alley.
“Where did I forget it?” Avantika pouted, holding her palm out.
Ananya looped it around her wrist instead and fastened the Van Cleef & Arpels Alhambra piece that Samarth had gifted her.
It had tiny clover-like flowers connected through a delicate golden chain.
She had owned a vintage Carnelian necklace and a pair of studs in this set.
He had added the bracelet one day in the same stone — to complete her ‘pink’ family.
‘Just like that.’ She hadn’t had the heart to explain to him that it wasn’t pink but brownish-red.
“Why do you look so anxious today, Raje?” Ananya asked, glancing at her face.
“Do I look anxious?” Avantika tried to downplay it.
“Sammy, o, Sammy,” Kresha whispered in her ear. She rolled her eyes.
“You never walk like this, Raje. Is it because your school group will be here?”
“Absolutely, Ananya,” Kresha’s eyes lit up.
“No! Not at all. I am just excited for the weekend,” Avantika jiggled her wrist to set the stack of bracelets right. They had a system where they notched into one another to look perfect. And fit her wrist like a glove. Samarth’s bracelet had effortlessly made its place in between them all.
“Nawanagar ke Kunwar — Samarth Sinh Solanki saheb padhar rahe hai!” The loud announcement of their court crier echoed. Avantika’s goosebumps got goosebumps.
“Oooh.” Kresha’s mouth rounded. Had she not been the bride, Avantika would have locked her in one of these rooms and thrown away the key.
“Fifteen of your friends have already arrived and been shown to their rooms,” Ananya informed. “They will meet you directly at the Chattar Mahal courtyard. Would you like me to announce you to the courtyard?”
“No, no,” Kresha piped. “Let’s welcome the Kunwar of Nawanagar.”
Clueless, Ananya slipped in front of them to lead the way. Avantika fell in step beside her sister — “Listen, Kresha, enough, ok. Now it’s becoming obvious.”
“Ok, you listen,” Kresha hissed back. “Why in the freaking fu… would you say yes to Gopi? After what he did to you? I just can’t with him!”
“It’s all ancient history.”
“Are you sure?”
Avantika stilled. She had spent an entire life fighting and bantering with Kresha and even at the onset of her moving away forever after marriage, she had kept going.
True, they had studied on different continents after school…
but now Kresha would have her own family, her husband, children someday.
With just a few words of concern, straight, without passive aggression, Kresha had made sure that her throat became tight.
Avantika swallowed the separation anxiety down.
“See? I knew it… Ananya!” Kresha called out louder. “Let’s go to Chattar Mahal."
“No, it’s fine. Let’s welcome the Kunwar and then we’ll go.”
Kresha glared at her. Avantika nodded.
“Fine.”
They descended the spiral stairs to the Durbar Hall and walked down the ornate space adorned with marigolds.
Their parents, Kaka and Kaki Maharaj stood at the threshold of the palace porch, holding the line to welcome the guests.
Kaka Maharaj had put his foot down — even if it was a youngsters-only party, as elders they would be there to welcome all the guests.
Post which, they would leave and never ask what went down here for the weekend. That had been fair game.
Avantika pulled her saree pallu around her shoulders again, running her fingers down the pretty cream flowers on the fuchsia fabric to ease the butterflies in her belly.
She sucked in a breath from rounded lips and caught sight of movement ahead.
From between the heads of her father and her uncle she saw him.
Samarth. Her Samarth. In his favourite formal blue shirt and tailored charcoal pants, hair in place thanks to his natural finish product, ascending the stairs.
His eyes were smiling, his hands joined together to her Kaka Maharaj, Papa, Kaki Maharaj and Mummy.
“My eyes!” Kaka Maharaj remarked, stepping up and clasping both of Samarth’s hands in his own. “You look just like Rawal saheb. Until we got this guest list, we didn’t even know you studied with the girls in the same school!”
“It’s a small world, Maharaj.”
“I have heard great things about your polo. Vikram doesn’t play anymore but he gets all the news.”
“I am doing my best to bring it to the centre field of Indian viewership. It’s a game that we gave to the world and then forgot.”
“Some would disagree,” her father chimed in playfully. “But I wholeheartedly agree. I’ve heard them say that it started in the North East.”
“Some say North East, some say Persia. I know for a fact that for Nawanagar — our cavalries have remained active and spirited playing polo between battles and peacetime for centuries. It just got lost for a few decades in between.”
“What number do you play, Kunwar?” Her father inquired.
“I have recently started playing at 1.”
“You are also ready to bulldoze into the top 10 International Polo Players’ list now,” her uncle turned to her father. “Vikram was telling me, Kunwar saheb will be the first Indian to breach the elite club after B. Rathod in 1933.”
“Is it? What’s your current rank?”
16, Avantika thought proudly to herself. She kept an eye on the list more than he did. With his current offensive plays and the number of matches he had been playing, and winning in the last five months, he would breach that elite club of top 10 in the coming three.
“You are doing great things for polo,” Kaka Maharaj’s loud, happy voice snapped her back from her thoughts. He stepped back and Gopi stepped up from the side. That’s when Avantika noticed that he was there too.
“Hey, man, thanks for coming,” they clasped hands.
“Congratulations! Of course I would have come,” Samarth slapped his back and pulled him into a hug. Harsh brought up his rear, taller than all other heads. His eyes zeroed in on them first and just as he had always behaved, he nodded at them both with respect. She nodded back, as Kresha did too.
“Where is Kirti didi?” Kresha whispered to her, close-mouthed.
“You can’t be serious!”
“If it’s a Badri gang reunion then everybody should be here.”
“Kreshaaa…” she hissed.
“Raje!” Kaka Maharaj turned, and all eyes fell on them. “Your friend is here. Come, take him to lunch.”
“Hi, Samarth,” Kresha said in a tight tone, walking the rest of the way down the hall and out onto the embellished porch. “Welcome to Gwalior.”
“Thank you, Kresha. And, congratulations.”
His eyes moved from Kresha and fell on her — “Hi, Avantika. How are you?”
So hot.
“I’m fine. Thank you for gracing our occasion, Samarth,” she nodded formally. “Everybody is already at lunch. Would you like to freshen up or join us there directly?”
“Happy to join you guys,” he smiled, eyes quickly moved away to Gopi. “I have a lot of stories to catch up on.”
They clasped shoulders like the old polo buddies they were.
“Aagya, Maharaj, Kunwar saheb,” Samarth folded his hands to the men, then the women.
Avantika knew his manners were impeccable.
That wasn’t what impressed her. It was the fact that he knew he was talking to his future in-laws and hence made it a point to be even better behaved. As if that was possible!
“Go on then, kids. We will be out of here now. Don’t have too much fun,” Kaka Maharaj warned. Then, after a dramatic pause, as she knew he would, added — “Set the palace on fire!”
————————————————————
Avantika preceded the men with Kresha beside her, Ananya ready to announce them to Chattar Mahal’s courtyard where their crew was already mingling. A tinkle resounded and they all stopped.
“What fell?” Avantika’s fingers went to her earrings.
“Your bracelet, Raje,” Ananya pointed. She checked and found the tiny red clovers winking at her from the floor under her saree. Before Ananya could reach down for it, Samarth had bent and retrieved it. She didn’t meet his gaze as he handed it to her, his fingers brushing hers.
“Thanks,” she began to put it on but Ananya, as always, scuttled to help.
“I think I didn’t latch the safety clip earlier, Raje…”
“It’s alright,” she smiled, keeping her eyes away from Samarth’s as her bracelet was clasped. This time she double-checked the safety and turned to the door opening into Chattar Mahal’s courtyard.
“Come on!” She resumed walking and the gates pulled open to bright sunshine.
“And, here comes the couple of the hour!” Gopi’s and Samarth’s old polo mate Vishnu announced from somewhere.
All eyes turned to them and Avantika moved aside to let Gopi step up beside Kresha.
They looked like quite a pair — Kresha in her bright yellow chiffon saree and Gopi in his white-on-white Indian formals.
“Kresha and Gopi! Give it up for the OG Saraswati Crest Timolinee!”
Loud applause went up and the upbeat music changed to heavy Punjabi beats. All eyes turned to the source. Avantika snorted, trying to hold back her laughter. The massive wall-sized screen erected in a shaded alley came alive with an old grainy video. Dholaks and claps seared the air.
“Get him naa!” Kresha came on the screen, all of 16, in her school skirt and a sweatshirt, under a moonlit Saraswati Crest sky.
“He’s not coming!” Avantika’s own voice echoed. “Gopi, just go!”
Table of Contents
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- Page 53
- Page 54 (Reading here)
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