“Kunwarsa Padhare Hai.” The attendant ran across the corridor of the Bijoliya Palace conveying the news.
Rao Ramrakh had politely asked the prince of Mewar to wait by the Bijoliya Lake for half a day, as he arrived back home at dawn to see to the preparations of welcoming the prince of Mewar properly. Ajbante Kanwar was present when he led his troops back home at dawn and she had handed her mother the Aarti Thaal for his welcome. As she stood back, watching her mother do his aarti, smiling relieved at his injured and tired face, and her father reassuring her of his well-being, for the first time Ajbante Kanwar also noticed his other wives, standing behind her mother, dressed up, equally happy at his arrival, eagerly waiting for their turns to greet him. It did not escape her keen observation that some of her stepmothers looked mildly disappointed when he ordered her mother to come by his bed chambers with the balms from the Vaid and ordered her to see to the preparations for the welcome. She walked up to one of her younger stepmothers who was feeding the pigeon, offering her to help with chores which she refused. Her puffy eyes did not escape Ajbante’s glance as she noticed the new lehenga the woman wore, one she had saved for almost a year for a special occasion. Unlike the older wives, she perhaps did not even get a look of acknowledgement from him. As Ajbante scrutinised the kitchen, this thought haunted her mind. For the first time, it all made sense. She was lucky that her father chose her mother, unlike most people. It all made perfect sense. Why did Kunwar Partap say what he said about alliances, why he was bothered if she was someone’s second choice. Her heart thumped in her chest as the sun dial’s shadow moved further towards midday. She wanted to tell him he was right and she was wrong. She wanted to flaunt her sword skills to him, show him how much she had managed to tame Bijli.
Ajbante Kanwar’s hand trembled as the brush with which she was applying Kohl fell on the carpet at the declaration. She could hear the women in the corridor, making their way to the jharokha, her mother somewhere, asking for the aarti thali, her father’s guards running down the corridor and she breathed in as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were warm and red, she wore a smile she could not wipe away and she breathed heavily as her heart raced. It's been half a year since she had abandoned her older clothes for the new stylish ones her stepmothers insisted upon. Her eyes travelled from the nape of her exposed neck to the plunge of her neckline and the exposed navels as she hurriedly put on the dupatta, making sure it covered her well, just like her mother used to say. She hurried with the bindi as she was suddenly aware of her hair, the braid, every piece of jewellery she wore, and every move she made like she was aware of never before. She, for the first time, understood why the queens took extra time to dress up when Kings arrived home. The thought made her blush profusely. Then a sudden fear briefly knocked on the door of her conscience. What was she doing? Was she really putting her wait to meet Kunwar Partap on par with that of married couples? Kings and queens? Ajbante looked a little pale at her realization. Her hands went cold as she sat down on the seat by the mirror, looking troubled. If the attendants were not around she would have cried or screamed silently at her realisation. She eyed her reflection in the mirror. She realised how every letter she read was actually words spoken by the voice in her head. A voice she remembered. At times, while reading, she imagined his face reacting, and all that came back like a flood of realisation to her being. She shook her head. She was going to be married soon. She thought all the while that what she felt two years ago was a brief moment of misconstrued weakness at his gestures. It's been two years since, six if she counted all the while she knew him. If nothing changed now, would it if she were to be married? He was seventeen. Her father said he was a man now. Perhaps different from the boy she remembered. Perhaps he was engaged to a princess deserving of him. She shook her head melancholically. It was almost silly that she daydreamed an impossible dream. Now that he was here, all she had to do was hide it well, till he left.
“Baisa.” Her thought was interrupted by a maid at the threshold. “Ranisa has summoned you to be present at the Durbar Hall.” She nodded in a hurry, pulling the dupatta over her face as she walked out.
Kunwar Partap had folded his hands at Rao ji and his wives at the threshold and almost out of habit, as he reached the Durbar his eyes hovered on the Jharokhas discreetly. He realised it soon enough that he did not feel her presence there. The smile that was already on his lips, changed slightly at the realization as the unaware onlookers, her parents and step mothers were busy instructing servants to wash his feet and serve him refreshments.
“Please don’t be so formal.” He pleaded a little uncomfortably. “If you behave like this, I might have to leave early because I will feel guilty of troubling you.”
“Oh, do not feel guilty, Kunwarsa.” Hansa Bai said softly. “This is as much your home as it is ours.”
“Then make me feel that way.” He insisted. “For starters, please don’t be so formal and uptight. If I want to feel at home I want to be treated the way you treat Akhil or Balwant.” He made Rao Ramrakh smile as Hansa Bai reluctantly said, “You are our esteemed guest, Kunwarsa.”
“Then I will leave in two days.” He shook his head as Hansa Bai looked alarmed and folded her hands. “No, no. Kunwarsa, I will stop the formality.” She smiled under her veil. “Then you will be glad to know I took the audacity to set you up in the Mardana Mahal instead of the Athithishala.” Kunwar Partap smiled. “I am glad indeed. If you don’t mind can I…” He stopped as he heard footsteps approaching and his eyes hovered at the archways leading inside the Durbar room from the inner palace. Two maids appeared with what appeared to be plates of gifts, covered by clothes in different colours, followed by Rajkumari Ajbante Kanwar, her face covered with the dupatta, with a plate of sweetmeat. Rao Ramrakh followed his gaze to the doorway and said in a gruff voice “Why are you so late, what were you up to?” Although Kunwar Partap could not see her veiled face he could sense she was startled by the rebuke.
“It's alright, Raoji.” He eyed the gifts. “What are all these?”
“A small token for you and the Maharanisa from us.” Raoji insisted. “You just said you are like family so you can’t refuse gifts from elders.” Kunwar Partap was about to protest but he did not. He asked his attendant to keep the gifts.
“You were saying something?” Hansa Bai asked as he gathered his thoughts, forcing his gaze away from her. Rajkumari Ajbante Kanwar could feel his eyes move from her, as she relaxed her nerves, and could find the strength to walk up to where he was seated to offer the plate of sweetmeats without her hands trembling. He cleared his throat.
“I was saying I would like to rest till lunch.” He made her stop approaching him after two carefully measured steps as she eyed her parents.
“Why, of course. You must be tired from the war.” Hansa Bai nodded. “But will you not have some sweetmeat?” He eyed the plate and shook his head. “Maybe later.”
“Alright, I will ask someone to take you to your room.” Rao Ramrakh spoke as a disappointed Ajbante Kanwar pushed the plate of Sweet Meat into the hand of one of the maids. She was disappointed that he did not even taste a single one after she spent the entire morning making his favourite sweets. “Let me.” She told her mother softly enough for him to not hear her. Hansa Bai nodded. “Rajkumarisa, take Kunwarsa inside.” She nodded and waited for him to stand up, fold his hands thanking her parents and then follow her inside. They were followed through the corridor by his attendants carrying his trunks and bundles, and the maids who hurried to push the curtains away and check the water and refreshments in the room. He watched the attendants move to the adjacent smaller unit to keep his belongings as the maids bowed, ready to leave and Rajkumari Ajbante Kanwar walked up to the vase to check the flowers. She lifted her veil slightly revealing half her face as she smelled the flowers. He watched her as he eyed the others, unsure of how to begin a conversation. The maid with the plate of sweets interrupted them at the threshold. “Should I put this here, Baisa Hukum?” She asked as Ajbante Kanwar lifted her face from the flowers, making the veil slip away slightly from her face and set on her forehead just where the mangtika ended. He glanced over his shoulder at the maid and back at her as she tightened her jaws.
“No, Rama.” She shook her head. “Kunwarsa would not like the sweet.” Her tone was sarcastic and Kunwar Partap’s brows narrowed at her choice of words. He eyed the plate. He loved all the sweets that were there. “Otherwise he would not have refused them at all.” His heart made a funny leap at her almost childish complaining tone. Did he disappoint her by refusing? Did she spend all morning making his favourite sweets? Of course, she did. He interrupted the maid who was about to leave. “Keep them here, I can have them whenever I want.” The maid followed his order and left. Rajkumari Ajbante Kanwar was about to follow her out when his words stopped her.
“Rajkumarisa.” She stopped at the threshold and glanced over her shoulder almost instinctively. That was the first time she saw him properly after two years. He had grown into a man indeed. His physique looked more well-built than she remembered him, his hair fell in curls around his neck and he was growing a moustache like his father. Ajbante Kanwar was suddenly aware of her informal tone as he smiled faintly at her. His eyes looked almost amused. “I apologise.” His words made her open her mouth, slightly clueless about his apology. “I should have at least tasted the sweet.” She shook her head reluctantly at his words. “I did not mean…” She shook her head. She should be the one apologising. She eyed him walk up to the plate, break a sweet meat and relish it. “Your cooking tastes the same.” He said licking the tip of his finger. “Like I remember it to be.” Eyes met briefly as she looked away first, slightly embarrassed at her behaviour. “Do you need anything else, Kunwarsa?” She asked. “Balms perhaps or some herbs from the Vaid?” He was suddenly aware that he had visible scars on his hand and face which she had noticed. Something felt warm in him from the way she indirectly said that she noticed. “I have all that.” He shook his head. She was about to turn to leave when he stopped her. “However…” She watched him walk up to the coin pouch he carried with him that he had tossed on the bed upon his arrival. He held out the torn string of Rudyaksh she noticed from a distance. Her cheek flushed as he touched them to his forehead and walked up to her to hold it up for her to accept. “If you can fix this…” She looked away from his stare with a faint smile as she nodded, opening her palm for him to put the broken seeds in it, avoiding touch. “I will try.” She managed. He stood, aware of the people and surroundings as he handed her the pieces she touched to her forehead before she walked away, her anklets making music. He inhaled with a longing smile. He looked around the room, every corner of which was no doubt organised for him by her. Kunwar Partap sat down on the bed, letting his tired limbs rest as he felt a sense of calm and warmth hit him. Ajbante Kanwar had touched his soul.
