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 will be here, in Udaipur, to see me after Nanosa’s memorial services. I am busy anyway so I called before fixing my schedules.” 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 lighten 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 still 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 its 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 th...

“Maine kaha tha na, hum aj yahan mile kaha hai, hum toh ek dusre mein hi thee, hamesha.” When I was writing the last historical, I was in two minds about this one. Why? Because this story is perhaps the closest to my heart, and I wasn’t sure if I am ready to put it into words. I believe everyone has a story to tell. There is that one story that stays in your heart, and imagination and comes out in different forms through many more. The one story you believe in. That one story you connect with the most, in the most unexplainable ways. It may not be true or entirely false. This was that story for me since 9 th grade. That one story I always wanted to tell. Only I knew its beginning and end, not the characters or their journey. I kept waiting to meet the right characters. Make their journey happen, find their place. I kept meeting people and going places looking for them. And the story. Today I stand at a point in time where love and relationship the way I see them is often qu...