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Roshni came home a little sceptical of her mother’s reaction. Usually, Jivanta would see right through her and coming home in the middle of the college session was very unusual for her daughter. Roshni knew sooner or later her mother would ask questions about her plans. She spent most of the morning helping her mother with chores, and when she left for work, Roshni would sit with books and start working on her project. She had decided to start with the family tree Hansa was kind enough to give her, of the Maharani of Mewar’s lineage and then draw an outline of her character from the folklore she had heard. Midway through the character sketch, she tore the page into a ball and threw it away. It didn’t seem right. She tried again. By the time Jivanta returned home, for the third day in a row, she was welcomed by a cold lunch that was untouched way into the evening, heaps of discarded paper and books and pens lying around the floor of the bigger of the two rooms. Frustrated, she kept her purse down and sat down in front of Roshni.
“Have you been expelled?” Her question made her daughter look at her, a bit taken aback.
“What?”
“Tell me the truth, swear on me. I promise I won’t scold you.” Jivanta held her hand in her own and spoke worriedly. “You aren’t quite yourself.”
“I am fine, Maasa, and nobody expelled me. I came home to work on the project in peace.” Roshni looked away, slipping her hand away from her mother’s.
“Don’t lie. I know when you lie, it shows on your face.” She snapped. “You have never been so engrossed with a college project that you forget to eat. Something is bothering you. I know it. I am your mother.”
“Maasa.” Roshni made her stop. “I promise, if it's something I would tell you.”
“Is it a boy?” Her mother’s words made her look surprised as Jivanta continued her rambling, “It is a boy, isn’t it? Is he not from our caste? Is he from a different religion?” Jivanta got up and paced the room. “Are you pregnant?” She gasped.
“Maasa.” Roshni got up after her, shaking her head in denial. “It is not about a boy.” The moment Roshni said that, she suddenly remembered a hug. She brushed away the thought and focused on convincing her mother. “I reassure you everything is fine.”
“Are you still seeing that mad people’s doctor?” Jivanta asked as she started picking up the rubbish, and Roshni followed, cleaning the mess she had made in the room.
“It is a therapist, not a mad person’s…” Roshni protested.
“All you need is good food, sleep and enough work to keep you focused on not thinking about nonsensical things.” Jivanta interrupted as Roshni grew quiet and sighed. “And if none of that interests you, I have the perfect solution.” Roshni stopped as Jivanta proceeded to the attached kitchen and began to heat a pan to warm up the leftover food.
“Singhji’s nephew is here from Delhi. He was looking for a bride and asked about you. I will tell them to come by next week.” Jivanta’s words made Roshni gasp as she ran to the kitchen.
“I don’t want to get married. I want to study and work.” She protested.
“Nobody wants to get married, that is why parents make them. My parents didn’t ask me if I was ready. I was made ready, and you will be too. This is your last year, and you can finish the degree and get married. Maybe they will let you work. They are well off and stay in a big city.”
“But Maasa…”
“Do you have no responsibility towards me?” Jivanta rebuked her daughter. Roshni knew this tone. It always came when Jivanta went on a rant of blame and blackmailed her emotionally into something. “I have worked all my life for you. I will get you married and settled and sell this house and leave for Vrindavan.” She put the steel plates down noisily. “Since you don’t have someone, what is the problem?”
“You know I haven’t healed from the trauma…” Roshni tried to reason.
“Well, you will heal from everything as soon as you have kids of your own to prioritise. I didn’t have time to even think of myself.” Jivanta spoke as she worked around the room, and Roshni followed. “Besides, it takes a lot of time to settle things; let them come see you. I will contact the broker about the house, too. We need estimation and…” Roshni shook her head, making Jivanta stop. “You can’t do this to me. I don’t have time for…”
“If your father were here, he would have done the same.”
“He is not here, Maasa, is he? He was never here. For you or me. So what is the point of bringing him up?” Roshni lost her cool, and Jivanta stared at her child, raising her voice for the first time. She breathed heavily and tried to control her anger and tears, and suddenly, Jivanta was worried.
“I am going through something, but it's not always things I can share with you. It is not always as simple as a boy.” Roshni stormed out of the room and into the courtyard. She could hear her mother murmur to herself, amidst her chores, how she couldn’t help if she wasn’t let into the problem. Then about how her life was wasted, and Roshni’s would be too.
That night, she sat alone on the roof, watching the stars light up a moonless sky, shivering a little in the breeze and pulling her shawl closer. She wondered if her mother was right. She was chasing something that was perhaps nothing. Not always did dreams have a meaning. Not always did therapy help with trauma. Not always did they find answers. She sat hugging her knees and breathed in. She suddenly remembered the sunset at Kumbhalgarh. She never felt so calm in her life. She shook away her thoughts and hid her face in her cold palms. As soon as she closed her eyes, she could picture herself in the temple premises of Bijolia, Pratap sitting close by and reassuring her of her belief. Roshni shuddered and opened her eyes. Life was strange. This man, whom she had barely known, was more of an emotional support in her turmoil than anyone she had known all her life. He told her just what she wanted to hear. But how would she know more? Should she go back to Bijoliya? And say what? She shook her head. Maybe the thought of marrying an absolute stranger like her mother suggested was getting to her. Maybe her mother was right; it was her duty as a daughter to relieve her mother of her responsibilities. After all, she didn’t know if her thoughts were even valid. With dawn, Roshni made a decision. She was going to listen to her mother. She wouldn’t be troubling her with her little rebellions anymore. What was the harm in meeting someone? Maybe it would yield nothing.
Pratap had a new project at hand; he had to work on some ancient temple ruins found in the nearby Dholan area and got himself books to read on the same. He needed proper research before they submitted a report requesting fieldwork. Even after Roshni left, Hansa kept talking about how much she liked the girl. It was good to have someone around the house. Pratap was aware of where the conversation might lead, and he found it wise to avoid his mother and engross himself in research work. He sat down at his humble work desk and started reading about Dholan. It was very near Kumbhalgarh’s fort and the Haldighati pass, and some historians suggested there was evidence of a battle at Dholan as well. Interested, he started reading the same and remembered telling Roshni how he had never been to Haldighati. He had promised to inform her when he did. In a reflex, he picked up his phone to dial Roshni, but stopped. She didn’t even know who he thought she was. He couldn’t work on a hunch and force the girl to be involved. She already had enough on her plate. He concentrated back on his books. At lunchtime, when one of his co-workers came to ask him to accompany them to a nearby stall, he rummaged through his messy desk for a bookmark to put on the place where he stopped reading. The piece of paper he picked up was tucked into one of the folders he had brought from home. On it, in Hansa’s handwriting, was an address. Roshni Chauhan. He had no idea why his mother took down her address. Perhaps to write to her? His mother was a fan of old-school methods of keeping in touch through letters. Pratap’s throat felt dry, and his chest had the same heavy feeling he had in his dreams. He put the piece of paper as a bookmark and left his desk.
