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Papa had just glared at him and Samarth had given up on shadowing him.

He had continued to hold court because Papa had physiotherapy sessions, rehab sessions and then Maarani would catch him to eat this or that at odd hours.

Supplements, kadha, raab, milkshakes… Samarth pitied his father with some of the things she brought him.

He was far away from the chaos though, free to ride his horses after so long. Even with busy days at the court and then at the office, he would find time to ride early in the morning.

And, his new Marwari horse — Moti, pushed him harder to make time to tend to him, get to know him, unwind from the harshness of the last two months.

But try as he might, Samarth could not leave behind the man he had become in these months.

He fed his horses, brushed them, groomed them like he used to.

He rode them, ran them through their exercises, tirelessly practised his own mallet swings.

He abused his body to the point of exhaustion every night, so that he would fall into bed and immediately go to sleep.

On nights that he couldn’t, he would think about that moment Ajatshatru Kaka had pushed his mobile into his hand and he had heard Papa’s voice for the first time. And sleep would come instantly.

What he had pushed off his mind was her.

And even after convincing himself that there was nothing more waiting for him on that side, a small spark, somewhere inside the depths of his conscience, kept waiting.

What if he could hand over the kingdom back to Papa?

It would be as if the last two months hadn’t happened.

Samarth was mature enough to know that even if they could go backwards for him, they wouldn’t go backwards for her.

They shouldn’t go backwards for her. He was a pathetic, weak man who hadn’t been able to back her up.

Who had not put her on his priorities. Wasn’t allowed to by his own debts.

“Ehh!” Harsh signalled to him from afar. Samarth was just finishing the final signing after court. He read the gestures Harsh made. Rawal Maan is here.

Samarth waggled his eyebrows inconspicuously.

Chandi Haveli

Samarth pushed the padded folders back into his court scribe’s hand and began to stride towards Chandi Haveli.

“Rawal Samarth padhare chhe!” The guard announced as he strode into the receiving hall.

“What have you done, Siddharth?” Maan bhai was telling his Papa. “Taken my best polo prodigy and made him into your Rawal!”

“He can do both, I’m sure…”

Samarth grinned, clicking down the three steps and into the arms of Maan bhai who stood up to give him a backslapping hug.

“You are staying, Rawal? I have to show you my new Marwari horse.”

“I came to meet your father after his death-defying stunts in Antarctica but ok, I’ll stay to see your horse. How are you managing both?”

“It’s temporary, so I am not too worried.”

“No,” Papa interrupted. “It’s not temporary.”

Samarth stood back, stunned. “Papa…”

“You are the Rawal of Nawanagar now.”

No way!

“But you are back.”

“And I will be here to oversee everything. But I am Bade Rawal now.”

“That was a title created for Dada Sarkar because he couldn’t work on a daily basis.”

“I will happily carry it, and I will work on a daily basis. But you are the Rawal now. You sat on that throne, your Rajmata did your tilak. It’s done.”

Samarth panicked. He felt closed in, like the freedom of the last few days, the spark of hope was again going away… He glanced at Maarani. She had to stop this. She would stop this for Sharan, wouldn’t she?

“Papa is right, Samarth,” she said tenderly instead. “You are doing a great job.”

“But…” he stuttered, grasping at straws. "I want to play polo.”

“Nobody is stopping you,” Papa intoned. “Go and travel, play as much as you want. I traveled for my thesis, research and then the Ministry too. I was working remotely, and singlehandedly. But you have me here so you can remain relaxed.”

He was left speechless. His father got to his feet and crossed the distance between them.

“You have me, beta. I am not going anywhere. But very few kings are fortunate enough to get to see their sons ruling. I get to see your rule, I get to see Nawanagar achieve new heights in your reign. I get to live in it.”

Samarth heard what his father did not say. And make sure it remains that way. His greatest dream had come to fruition. He wouldn’t be the king he was if he let it go backwards now.

Samarth swallowed. This would be it. Trampling that last spark of hope under his foot. However impossible it had been, now it would cease to be. Ava would completely cease to exist for him. How many times would he have to let her go?

“I think it’s a great idea,” Maan bhai joked. “Think about it, your father is old. Let him take a back seat. He needs to retire now.”

“Like you retired from polo,” Papa ribbed him.

“Because of my eyes.”

“Blame it on the eyes when your age catches up.”

They went back and forth but Samarth was stuck on that one name. The name he had allowed himself to utter in his mind for the last time. His life would now truly be Nawanagar, this throne and its flourishing future for Sharan.

He glanced down at his shoes, took a deep breath and said Jai Dwarkadhish.

This was best let go.

He glanced up at his father — “As you wish, Papa.”

His father’s happy smile split into an even bigger grin.

His eyes lit up bright and his hand landed atop his head.

Samarth found his head bending under the weight of his father’s hand as he shook it playfully like he always did.

And then, Papa did what he rarely did. He pulled him into his arms. Samarth pushed his head into his father’s shoulder and his eyes fell shut.

Ava, he muttered for the last time in his life.

————————————————————

Ava’s name came to his lips one more time. This time out loud.

It was on the eve of celebrating Maarani’s…

Rajmata’s belated birthday. Her actual birthday had been strangled in the dreadful news from Antarctica that fateful day.

As the Devgadh family and their family of four traded Pictionary insults in the thickets of Anand Baag, his mobile flashed with Gopi’s name.

Samarth was instantly up, scooping the phone from between him and Rajmata. His eyes met hers and he smiled. She looked at him like she saw through his ruse.

“Excuse me,” he bowed his head and walked down the pergola, away from the crowd, down the pomegranate trees. He walked and walked until he was far enough for even his loudest conversation to not carry there.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Samarth. Hi. How’s it going?”

“All good, Gopi. How are you? Are all the marriage festivities over?”

“Yes, yes,” he chuckled. “The festivities have been on for three months. I couldn’t wait for it all to end and escape to the honeymoon.”

“I can imagine…”

“Hey, your dad is back. I don’t know if to say congratulations or what…”

“Yeah, you can say congratulations. It’s been the best feeling.”

“The plot twist was something else but I am so happy you have him back, man. How is he doing?”

Samarth glanced at his father, fighting for one point in Pictionary with Maan bhai, Sharan backing him up like a good second-in-command. He smiled — “He is doing great.”

“That’s good… good…” he hesitated. Then blurted as if somebody had lit a fire under him — “Listen, did something happen between you and Ava?”

Samarth closed up.

“Just asking. That night in Gwalior… you kissed. Did something happen?”

“Why? What’s the matter?”

“No… she has been acting weird and… ow! Umm… Kresha thinks… blames you.”

It is me.

“Feel free to ask me to mind my own business but… she is worried about Ava. Frankly, I am too. She flew back to Paris the day after our final function. And now she has announced that she is permanently moving there. So.”

“What do you want me to say?” Samarth felt his head bow further under the weight of his words, his deeds, his wrongdoings.

“Did you make this happen?”

“Ava and I have been done for a long time,” Samarth answered with the truth. The partial truth.

“As I thought,” Gopi took it in the context he understood best. “Thanks, man. And sorry… for being nosy. Newly married men have to behave like they are whipped.”

“Is Kresha there to hear you say that?”

“She heard your confession and left.”

“Aah.”

“Ok, I’ll let you go now. Take care of yourself and now that you are the king… try and spare some time to play a match here and there.”

“Me spare time? You have been off the field for years.”

“I’ll come and play a friendly match if something comes up.”

“I’ll let you know if it does.”

Never. I cannot bear to hear about her or be close to her relatives.

“Samarth!” Rajmata’s holler sounded. “Samarth!”

He turned. Her birthday cake was bright with candles, everybody gathered around it, Giriraj Hukum looking like he wanted the first piece.

“Alright, Gopi, I need to go. Congratulations on your wedding and all the very best.”

“Thanks, I’ll see you around.”

He ended the call and sprinted back to the pergola.

“Happy birthday, Rajmata,” he smiled at her.

“Cut the cake with them,” she pointed.

He looked at Sharan and Maan bhai’s kids — Ragini and Advait lined up in front of the cake, knife in hand. Holding on by a fine thread.

“Let the kids cut it,” he laughed.

“You also belong in that category, now come.”

He hesitated.

Giriraj Hukum grabbed his arm and pushed him into that crowd. The kids blew the candles and cut the cake to hoots and cheers. He clapped along. Fireworks lit the Nawanagar skyline and the Queen of Hearts written over the cake was quickly sliced for the kids to start digging in.

Samarth accompanied his family to the dinner table arranged under the brightly lit night sky, staring at all the happy pandemonium around him. Kids, cake, Hukum, fist dibs on chairs, more fireworks.

“Samarth?” Rajmata found him, still a few feet away from the table.

“Yes, Rajmata?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you happy?”

“About what?”

She sighed. “I will be frank and ask this — are you happy about being Rawal.”

He pushed a bigger smile to his face — “Bade Rawal has decreed.”

“That was not my question.”

“I am happy,” he glanced from her to the family finally beginning to settle around the table, Papa at the helm. That was the only point where he had put his foot down. Rawal or Bade Rawal — that chair belonged to Papa.

“If there comes a day when you are not happy,” Rajmata said, bringing his focus back on her. “And if you can’t tell Papa, will you tell me?”

He stared at her. Then, at a loss for what to say, he bobbed his head.

“Now, come on. Bade Rawal will be a hungry beast if my evening kadha recipe has worked.”

Samarth laughed, and followed Rajmata to the table. She took her seat to the right of Bade Rawal. He took his seat to the left of Bade Rawal.