Friends

“Bhaiya Bhaiya!” Pratap frowned at the familiar voice outside his gate at midday when he found a panting Patta standing there “Come quick!”

“What happened, Patta?” Suddenly, Pratap’s heart skipped a beat. Like all other days, in the past three weeks, he had returned home, happy that Chetak was running without limping, and he promised the Princess her first ride. Now, what was wrong?

“The estate workers have come to the gates of the palace, and there is a whole lot of confusion.”

“What workers?” Pratap had by now taken the key to his bike and walked out, offering the back seat to the boy who jumped on the ride.

“There is a handloom factory in the estate.” Patta filled him in on their way to the palace, “One of the workers got hurt this morning in a machine. They are demanding to stop work.”

“What is Ma’am saying?” Pratap asked, frowning, “And Chundawat?”

“Ma’am had no idea of the factory. Chundawat tried to make the workers go back to work in vain. Then, Ma’am told me she wants to visit the factory with these workers. Chundawat said it is not safe for her to go alone...”

“He is right.” Pratap almost murmured as they reached the back gate.

“But she is adamant, so I went to you.” Patta nodded as Pratap frowned. This boy expected him to talk sense into the princess. As much as he admired the boy’s loyalty to the princess, Pratap had doubts about the trust he showed in Pratap’s abilities.

“I will try to talk.” He had put a gentle pat on the boy’s shoulder and walked towards the palace porch.

In the hallway, Ajabdeh Punwar was pacing the room in a white Kurti and faded blue denim while Chundawat followed her around.

“You don’t understand, Ma’am. It is not safe. Let me go and see. They can’t stop working. They are being paid.” He grunted.

“Payment is not everything, Chundawatji. We as employers have the responsibility for their safety, and they are right. I should be the one seeing the machines myself. Someone got hurt there.”

“He is fine. I just checked with the hospital Hukum. Trust me if Rao ji was here...”

“I am not your Rao ji. I do things my way. So either you call the driver, or I drive there.” She was firm when a guard bowed, grabbing her attention.

“Pratap Singh is here.” Ajabdeh frowned at his words. “What does he want now?” Chundawat retorted.

“Send him in.” She spoke, giving Chundawat a cold shoulder.

Pratap arrived to sense the tension in the air and the seriousness on the faces.

“What is it, Pratap?” Chundawat had asked instead of the Princess, who was staring at him. He dismissed Chundawat’s words and asked, “You want to go there, Ma’am?”

“Yes.”

“But ...” Chundawat was stopped by Ajabdeh’s hand gesture.

“I am not talking to you.”

“Sorry, Hukum.” He shook his head.

“Why?” Pratap frowned.

“Because it is my duty.” Her words were firm, her eyes on him.

“Then I will suggest you should not go alone,” Pratap said with a suggestive soft tone.

“I take your suggestion then. Chundawatji, get the car, he is driving. I am going with him.”

“What?” The two men spoke simultaneously, exchanging a glance at each other.

“That is not what I meant.” Pratap’s voice was almost like a protest.

“But I like your idea, and since Chundawatji has already made a bad picture of himself in front of the workers, you and I will go there.” She had walked out, leaving no choice but for Pratap to follow.

Once Pratap started the car, he waited for the princess to sit in the back, but was shocked to see the front door open.

“You can sit comfortably at the back.” He had said awkwardly as the guards and Chundawat stared at her, getting rather surprised. She turned a deaf ear to his advice, putting on her seat belt as he repeated himself.

“You are not my chauffeur, Pratap. You came to help, and I appreciate it. So cut the decorum, let’s go.”

In the three weeks he had seen her, the princess never looked so tense, so Pratap let it be.

Once the car was on the road, in relative silence, driving slowly behind bullock carts full of workers, who went ahead to show them the way, Pratap let out a sigh.

“Am I doing wrong?” Her question startled him.

“No.” He shook his head, “But Chundawat’s concern...”

“I know he is answerable to my parents.” She cut in, “But I care more for the people now. Their safety...” She stopped seeing him smile faintly in the rearview mirror “What?” She frowned.

“Nothing.” He shook his head.

“I order you. Tell me.” She retorted.

“Do you always do this?” He asked in amusement, “Order around if people do otherwise?”

“Only with people who refuse to do as I say.” Her voice was monotonous, eyes on the road.

“It is Badima, the first day she told me you were a different soul. She was right. You care for everyone. That is rare.”

“Compliment is it, Pratap Singh?” She had raised her eyebrows, impressed, “That is rare too.”

“I say the truth.” He defended.

“I appreciate it.” Ajabdeh acknowledged. “But I am nervous; this is the first time I... I don’t know what to say or do...”

“If you can trust me, I can help.” Pratap offered.

“I guess I have no option but to trust you now. Go ahead.”

“Then listen...”

Ajabdeh stared at the huge factory unit ahead with the board “Punwar Handlooms: A Unit of the Surajgarh Royal Estate.”

The people of Panwarmer were happy. Their princess proved why she was indeed a deserving heiress. Not only did she visit the factory and inspect it, but she also called for engineers to recheck the machines and stopped production till it was declared safe. She even visited the worker and his family in the hospital. Panwarmer was in awe of the princess who had returned. She was worth waiting for. After a tiring day, it was dusk when the car returned to the palace, and a very agitated Chundawat had walked out to hold the door open for the lady.

“Is everything fine?” He had asked reluctantly.

“Everything is fantastic, it has been a hectic day, and you all go home.” She had dismissed Chundawat, Patta and the driver waiting on the porch as Pratap handed the driver the keys. Chundawat eyed Pratap, and he left along with the driver. “And thank you, Patta.” She rewarded the boy with a 500 rupee note as he smiled, appreciating and thanking her.

“You did a good job out there, if I may say so, Baisa Hukum, the whole village is talking of you already.” He smiled, waved Pratap goodbye and ran.

“And you.” She turned to Pratap, who was about to leave,” Come inside.” Pratap expected some sort of reward and shook his head, “If you are thinking I did what I did, to expect some...” He stopped at her stare and followed her inside.

“Thank you.” Ajabdeh sank onto the sofa as Pratap stood in front of her. “You practically directed me there. Sit down. Tea?"

“No, I am fine.” His words made her frown.

“You want an order again, do you?” she smiled. “Sit down.” Her words made him sit down on a chair opposite her sofa.

“Don’t worry, I won’t reward you.” He looked awkward as she smiled faintly. “You know why? Even when you refused to be my friend that day, today you proved to be a very good friend. A friend in need, I can’t disrespect that by putting a price on it. Also, I have never had friends who actually help in need. I appreciate it.”

“I did nothing, the villagers appreciated your efforts because they saw what you did was genuine, Ma’am.” He smiled. “So don’t think so highly of me.”

 “Well, they don’t know I had this really good guide who knew exactly what I should do and say. How are you so sorted, Pratap?” He couldn’t understand why her voice sounded like it had a hint of amazement.

“I try... it happens when you learn to be alone, I guess. From an early age, I was all alone, doing all my things on my own.” He sighed. “My mother died during childbirth. And Daata was always busy providing for me.”

“I know how that feels.” He looked up as her voice faded. “I was alone too, managing myself. It made me more daring.”

“It made me more responsible.” He smiled.

“You are lucky; at least you didn’t have expectations that one day someone would take you home.”

“Ma’am?” Pratap’s voice had genuine concern, seeing her eyes twinkle. Ajabdeh stared at his face and shook her head.

“You miss her? Your mother?”

“Well, I never had one. But when I used to see other boys my age with theirs, there was a void. But I always learned to hide that. Daata would have been upset otherwise; he had done so much for me that I couldn’t make him feel I had a void. And Badimaasa, when I was small, she did everything for me. The little I can do for her now is very little compared to all that.”

She watched him smile reluctantly as she praised, “You are a good human being, Pratap.”

 “umm... I should leave, it is getting late and... we have our lessons tomorrow.” He realised he had spoken more than he should have with her.

Ajabdeh smiled back, saying, “And I bet I am more excited about riding than Chetak.” That made Pratap chuckle a little while Ajabdeh stared at him.

“Why don’t you let go?”

“Pardon?” He asked, a little taken aback.

“You look like you hold back a lot in you, let go, Pratap.” She smiled, “Life is too short to keep doing the right things because people say so. Say things, share things, even if they are uncomfortable.”

“If you are saying this to make me say I treat you as a friend, I still keep my work....”

“You are not at work, Pratap, you are here, having a conversation with me. A conversation that has nothing to do with work or money.” He stared at her words.

“And you are the first person to whom I told how lonely my childhood was.” He admitted sheepishly.

“Well, that is a good start.” Ajabdeh smiled, “We have had pretty similar experiences.”

“I... should go.” Pratap looked at his watch and rubbed his hands as Ajabdeh got up.

“The tea remains pending for tomorrow evening. And you can’t say no because I invited you. I hope to see you here minus your watch then.” She had extended her hand, which he took for a short shake.

He was about to leave when she called him, “And Pratap?” He stopped and turned at the threshold as she said with a smile, “It is Ajabdeh henceforth, not Ma’am.” He shrugged awkwardly, making her smile amused as he walked away. Ajabdeh watched him go and sighed.

All her life, Ajabdeh had run from people, shrugged them off, and hated attachments. She had made a wall around herself, which none could break. She found no love to give or receive. Yet, when she saw the exact reflection of herself in Pratap, his reasons being different from hers, yet so similar, Ajabdeh felt a connection. He had been the first person to whom she perhaps offered her friendship, more because she was scared in her new surroundings, and wanted an anchor. Nanosa had been an anchor all her life. And somehow Pratap made her feel he would perhaps understand her loneliness, compared to his. He, too, had lost his home and people. Pratap’s honesty and his nature of showing the right way and doing the right thing were perhaps something Ajabdeh had never witnessed before in her life. He had truly helped her make a place for herself in the heart of her people, giving them a reason to respect her. Ajabdeh knew how precious this respect was. It was perhaps the only form of love she knew all her life.