Page 97

— AVANTIKA —

Nawanagar was wrapped in the cheer of Diwali. Lights already strung up, streamers and lanterns on town squares, glinting golden under the noon sun. It was gyaaras, the day Diwali fortnight started across Gujarat, or that’s what Samarth’s father had told her.

“From gyaaras to laabh paacham — ten days are nothing but food, fireworks, poojan, gatherings and lights shining across all houses in Nawanagar all night long,” his exact words. “No night bills for the whole month in residential areas. The palace picks it up to keep the cheer going.”

Her entry into Nawanagar was a hush-hush affair even though their cars sped inside the palace gates to throngs of people lining both sides of the lane and the town square.

Sharan’s accident news had reached his kingdom.

And everybody close to the palace was out to get a glimpse, even though their landing itinerary was not made public.

“SO many people, Mama!” Brahmi was stuck to the tinted glass of their car, her hands and mouth pasted there all through their ride from the airstrip to the town.

“You come to Delhi every year and see so many people,” Avantika tried to downplay it.

“Yaa but they don’t stand like this and try to look at us!” Her head turned, her mouth open wide. “Papa, do they always stand like this in your home?”

Samarth glanced up at her from his iPad.

It had greeted him at the airstrip along with his Prime Minister — Vishwajeet Vaghela.

She had been introduced to the middle-aged man, and as if he had known all about her — his head had bowed and hands had folded, both to her and Brahmi.

As if he knew to keep quiet, he hadn’t uttered any titles out loud.

“Not always,” he answered truthfully. “But today they are here because Sharan Kaka was so brave.”

“He was crying because of an injection in the plane,” Brahmi snickered.

Avantika smiled. Sharan, even in all that pain, had entertained Brahmi with his antics whenever she had danced into his Air-Ambulance-converted room.

He was in an actual ambulance behind them now, his parents in a car ahead of them with security vehicles surrounding their fleet.

She had traveled in fleets all her life.

This was a first for Brahmi. And now these citizens out to line their way.

Avantika glanced at Samarth, catching his eye. They hadn’t gotten a chance to discuss how they would shield Brahmi from this. What would they tell her while she lived in a palace where her father was king, and for all intents and purposes, she — the princess.

“You and Brahmi have your own bungalow inside the palace. It is in the North Wing, a part of the property and yet separate,” Samarth answered her unasked question. “Chaperones have been limited. Hira ben will be there with you whenever you need anything, as will Harsh. It will be a familiar setup.”

“And the titles…”

“What title?” Brahmi chimed. “Are we watching a movie?”

“No, you look outside, see so many cows, wow…” Avantika distracted her.

“Your names. Well, her name and you will still be Kumari. In Delhi that never was the case?”

Avantika shook her head.

“Papa is on his own mission. Let this evening’s meeting happen. I wanted to go to receive them at the airport but after the last call, I think it’s best I stay put.”

“Who is coming?”

Samarth and she both clamped up. Until her parents met with Samarth and his parents, Brahmi couldn't know her Nanaji and Naniji were coming.

“Papa’s work friends.”

“Horses?”

Samarth laughed — “I also work in places other than riding schools.”

“Like?”

“Like, oil drilling.”

“What’s that?”

“We use big machines to go under the sea and drill into the land below. It has lots of oil and minerals.”

“Do you go underwater?”

“No, I have some people who do.”

The car turned and Brahmi slid from her lap to the space between them, her eyes and mouth wide. “It’s like a Disney castle…”

“You like it?” Samarth rubbed her back. She nodded.

“How will we manage this?’ Avantika leaned into his ear.

He nodded. “We’ll manage.”

————————————————————

The bungalow Samarth had chosen for them was as cosy as their cottage but not as small. There was a lake behind it, a garden of pink periwinkles in full bloom. They hadn’t even entered the bungalow when Brahmi ran away.

“Brahmi!”

“Let her go,” Samarth followed her inside the vintage hall done up in rich dark wood and gold accents.

“There’s a lake there, Samarth…”

“And there’s tight security. They are here but out of your and her view. Don’t worry.”

“What will they be thinking about us?”

“I am working with PR to draft a press release. It’s on hold until your parents’ arrival.”

“What will it say?”

“The truth — that you are my girlfriend and Brahmi is my daughter.”

“And where were we for seven years?”

“I threw you out of my palace eight years ago and you never looked back. Avantika, the truth in its entirety will be released. My image will take a hit. That’s not a problem.

I am not planning to stay here for long.

This will in fact be for good. They will forget me and move onto Sharan easily in the future. ”

“All this is happening so fast…”

A chain rattled on the door.

“Haan?”

“Rawal?” A lady’s husky voice boomed.

“Aao, Hira ben.”

Avantika pushed her hair behind her shoulders, running a hand down her silk kurta. It wasn’t a moment later that the old lady hobbled inside the house, her round stature slow but her eyes sharp and sparkly. Her eyes were on her Rawal.

“ Tame kyaarthi Nawanagar maa darwaja thokwa mandya? [97] ”

“ Jyaarthi Rawal ni gurlfriend Nawanagar aavi. [98] ”

Avantika had spent her childhood and then some youth with Samarth. She understood enough Gujarati by now to laugh out loud at that retort.

“Meet Rawal ni girlfriend, then,” Samarth ushered an arm out to her — “Avantika Kumari Raje of Gwalior. Ava, this is Hira ben.”

Avantika did not need any more formal introductions. She folded her hands together and covered the distance between them.

“What are you doing, Kumari?” Hira ben’s hands folded together. “Why are you…”

“I am meeting you for the first time but it’s like I know you since I was a child, Hira ben.

” Avantika bent forward, ready to touch her feet when her arms came around her shoulders and she pulled her up, her eyes suddenly soft — “I have never heard about you but I have always seen you in Rawal’s eyes.

You were his longest bout of joy and you were his never-ending grief. ”

Avantika lowered her eyes. To have Samarth tell her that was one thing. To have this woman, who had been the closest to a mother to him, tell her that, was quite another.

“What’s this Rawal ni girlfriend, Hira ben? You started it?”

“The moment you landed, it was wildfire. Even if you had smuggled them in the dark of the night it would have spread. You got them home in the light of the brightest Diwali day.”

“They deserved nothing less.”

“Where is our Nawanagar’s Kumari now?”

“Brahmi,” Samarth reiterated.

“Brahmi. Yes. Where is she?”

“Running around the garden. She loves flowers.”

“Like your Dadi Sarkar.”

“Yes,” Samarth mused, as if just realising that little fact.

“Look there’s a small bush of lavender flowers too!” Brahmi came dancing inside the house, some loose lavender periwinkles cradled like precious jewels in her cupped palms.

“It’s because they were hiding there especially for you.” Samarth opened his hand and Brahmi carefully laid her flowers in his big hand. He cradled them just as preciously and lay them on a table. “Do you want to get a small vase to fill with water and keep them in?”

Brahmi nodded, her eyes darting to Hira ben.

“This is Hira ben, she knows everything here. All the secret passageways too.”

Brahmi’s eyes widened. Avantika shut her eyes, praying Hira ben’s ears would be spared the inquisition coming her way. Samarth just knew how to push his daughter’s buttons in such a short span.

“I know secret passageways in my home in Loire,” Brahmi gasped, as if meeting a fellow cult member. Hira ben’s eyes widened to match hers — “Really? No way.”

“Yes, yes! I am not lying.”

“You look too young to know so many secrets.”

“But I am fast and always on the lookout for more. How do you know so many secrets?”

“I am old,” she pointed to her head full of grey hair. “I have lived here all my life.”

Brahmi’s eyebrows shot up.

“And she knows stories as well,” Samarth added. “All the stories I tell you came from her.”

“The Krishna and that gopi with her chunari on her forehead too?”

“That too.”

“You want more stories?”

Brahmi nodded.

“It’s Diwali time now. You want to make rangoli with me while I tell you?”

“With what?”

“Flowers?”

“Yess!”

————————————————————

Evening had fallen and Avantika had doffed out of her travel kurta set, wrapping a saree around herself after years.

The blouse had come freshly stitched for her within hours.

A flimsy dusky pink one with tiny puffed sleeves, matching the waves of the lighter pink leheriya in her deep fuchsia saree.

If she didn’t know how busy Samarth was running, she’d have guessed he had a hand in this particular colour choice.

Simply because the wardrobe presented to her had all the sarees in degrees and shades of pink.

Some plain ones, some with creams or cyans or yellows.

Some leheriya, some chiffon, some netted chanderi, some bandhni.

One particular deep pink saree had been a local patola — solid pink silk with rich orange motifs.

She had saved it for a special occasion.

“You look beautiful, Kumari,” Hira ben entered her bedroom with a tray of fruits.

“Thank you, Hira ben. Where is Brahmi?”

“Separating petals for our rangoli?”

“Are my parents here? They landed twenty minutes ago.”

“Rawal will come to you as soon as they are here. Bade Rawal and Rajmata will receive them.”

Avantika turned to the mirror — “Can you pin this?”