RAABTA

“What do you mean you left?” Ajabdeh’s raised voice startled her butler, who was pouring juice while she talked on her phone. “You didn’t even tell me.” “We had a very important event in Delhi, and ....” Hansa was trying to be calm on the other side of the speaker.”... We have to head to London because...umm...” “Listen, I don’t care. You can go wherever you want; I just thought you would be here, in Udaipur, to see me after Nanosa’s memorial services. I am busy anyway, so I called before fixing my schedule.” Ajabdeh was about to disconnect the call when Heer’s voice stopped her. “Jija. Listen.” Ajabdeh’s hand froze right above the red button as she stared at the screen light up. “I... have something to say...” Heer cleared her throat. “Don’t. She won’t understand, she will never understand.” She could hear her father whisper. “What is it?” Ajabdeh’s voice was firm. “Be quick, Heer. I don’t have all the time in the world to...” “Mr Solanki asked for my hand for his son...

The people of Panwarmer, the only village under the estate of Surajgarh since Independence, still depended on the royal family of Surajgarh for their livelihood, and their professions included serving the royals directly or indirectly. Whether it was the villagers who loved to stay in their age-old traditions, or it was the royals who never let them get out of their habits, it was hard to tell. But the people barely had any complaints about their “Rulers.” Surajgarh hadn’t changed over the two decades. Not only did the villagers say so, but it was also evident from their roads and houses. The day Pratap Singh entered his village after twenty years of staying away, he was greeted by the warm hug and the tears of his Badi Maasa. Meera was in her late sixties and ailing. Losing her husband early, the childless Meera had doted on her nephew Pratap, the motherless son of her husband’s brother, until they left twenty years back. Even when they had repeatedly offered her to join them...

"O Susana O don’t you cry for me, I come from Alabama with my banjo on my knee.” The music played on as a crowd of children, about the same age, flocked to the marble dance floor. In a white dancing frock, teamed with a bow on her wavy hair, a child, about three, yawned at the crowd of guests in the hall of her mansion. She did not like dressing up for such parties. Except on her birthdays, when all the attention was on her. Today, her little sister was being introduced, flooded with gifts, and being doted on by everyone, and nobody noticed her sneak out of the place quietly and run to the empty back lawn. Soaking in the sunshine, she did not care much about her laces getting dirty as she sat down on the green grass, stretching out her white ballerina shoes, swaying her feet in perfect rhythm to the sound of “O Susana” playing in the hall. Then she noticed him. He was hiding behind the bush, his eyes on the stranger. Frowning, she asked, “Who is there?” The boy made a dash...