Rajkumari Ajbante Kanwar had been busy arranging for the Shravan festival. It was a huge task at hand, with the temple premises needing supervision and decorations underway. Rao Ramrakh Punwar had hand-picked the chosen honoured families who would set up their stalls while the lakeside fairgrounds opened its doors to the public. The arrangements for the Mahapuja needed the utmost concentration from Ajbante Kanwar. That meant she could not go about her usual routines. She barely saw her siblings now that she missed her Maasa’s story sessions and had to hurry through her morning chores to spend the rest of the day at the temple premises of Mahakal. She could not meet Bijli or take her lessons, and she reminded herself that it was a matter of a few days. Hansa Bai had been relieved of her cooking duties because the priests needed her assistance. This also meant that although Kunwar Partap was around for a few days, till the Pujas, they barely crossed paths.
Kunwar Partap was adjusting to the new routine in Bijoliya. One where he woke up early, said his prayers and took Sarang out to the arena. Then he returned to his chambers well before midday and stared at the walls. He realised that sitting idle was not something he enjoyed. The idea of vacation seemed to be a privilege, especially when he watched Rao Ramrakh diligently doing his duties. He wanted to ask for some tasks, but feared that the Rao of Bijoliya might feel that the young prince, less than half his age, was trying to judge him and report it to the king. He did not want to make Raoji feel uncomfortable or disrespected. That left him one other choice: to write to Rawat Chundawat or the king, asking for some chores. But that would mean he was making himself available to go where he was needed, leaving Bijoliya. He stopped at half a sentence before throwing the paper away when he realised he was not ready to leave Bijoliya, at least not before the Maha puja that the family was so diligent about. He wondered if his not wanting to sit idle could be construed as his wanting to leave Bijoliya by someone. He groaned inwardly. Previously, all he cared about was his work, his troops and whether Sarang was taken care of. He never had to think twice about the consequences of his simple actions. He remembered his mother’s words. She would often say, “You will understand the nuances of sansar when you are tied down to it by someone.” He never understood what she meant. He thought nobody could hold him back. He wrote to Ranima to pass the time, speaking of his stay so far, apologising for not meeting her soon and talking of the Mahapuja. He also mentioned that vacation was not for him. He received a reply within a couple of days that made him a little uneasy. Rana Udai Singh had left for an invitation from the king of Dungarpur at his durbar. But he was supposed to be there to attend to an invite when Padmavati’s child came. The news was that, to the utter disappointment of the Bundi royals, the child was a princess. So Udai Singh decided to send Shakti there instead with gifts. Kunwar Partap was disappointed that he was not informed. If he had been, he would have asked Shakti to wait at his stopover at Mandalgarh before going to Bundi with him. He was perplexed how Udai Singh was more interested in the invite from Dungarpur than in his own daughter. All his life, he had heard how Padmavati was her father’s favourite child. With the bitterness in his heart, Kunwar Partap had sat down for a meal and found the sweets tasting different. He immediately knew that she had not been cooking because of her busy chores at the temple. He pushed the plate away reluctantly and decided to rest. After three days, he was restless. He remembered the time he was out for a night stroll in the garden and chanced upon her. He waited.
Ajbante Kanwar was too tired after the busy days to read. She let the maids massage her limbs and dozed off easily. It was past midnight when a sudden sound jolted her awake. It was a weird call from some sort of animal she had never heard of before, and it was coming from the garden. She took her dupatta and walked out to investigate. Below her window, she saw two guards looking around the darkness for a potential wild animal, speaking amongst themselves, investigating what it could be. They left after a while, finding nothing out of the ordinary, as Ajbante sighed, looking up at the moon that was now up in the sky. She heard some leaves rustle again and grew alarmed, and before she could summon the guards, Kunwar Partap waved at her, gesturing for her to stay quiet. Her tired eyes widened as she did not expect to see him there, and at the same time, his glimpse made her feel like she had not seen him in a long time. Perhaps he could read the longing in her eyes, or he felt the same, for he smiled at her, gesturing some more. He wanted her to be at Menal at dawn. But she was needed for the last-minute preparations. She shook her head in a no, and he nodded an affirmative yes, as if to say I don’t know how, but you will be there. Before Ajbante could protest again, he walked away into the same darkness he had come from. A sudden realisation dawned on Ajbante, the strange noise of the animal was him. She found it funny as she laughed to herself, and staring at her own reflection in the mirror made her conscious.
Kunwar Partap tapped his Juti on the rock as he sat down by the waterfall, watching the view. He had not slept all night and discarded two angrakhas before choosing a third one. He eyed the horizon, but there was no sign of her. He was angry, feeling that she would not come. Even after he told her to. Such audacity that even her father did not dare to show him. He inhaled. But she had the right to refuse him, unlike most people in the land. He had given her the right. He heard the gallop of hooves in the distance and stood up in anticipation immediately. She dismounted from Bijli at a distance and walked up to him, uncovering her face as her smile faded at his stern stare.
“I’m sorry. I was late.” She said in a hurry as he did not respond and looked away to the waters. She opened the bundle she held in her hand and brought out some laddoos.
“I made these.” He eyed the laddoos she held, the aroma of their sweetness making his mouth water.
“Why?” he asked, trying to not give in easily.
“Because…” She looked unsure. “Because Ratan told me you have not been having sweets that Rama made.”
“I can’t help it if she makes bad ones…” He shrugged, almost sulking like a child. “I usually don’t eat sweets unless Ranima makes them.”
“You won’t have these laddoos?” She asked, a little disappointed. “I woke early in the morning to make these.” His brows raised at her words as she took the bundle away and sat on a rock, placing it on her lap.
“Is that why you came late?” He asked as she nodded, looking at the water.
“I thought you did not want to come.” His words made her heart skip a beat.
“Do I have a choice to refuse your orders?” She asked, a little taken aback. He narrowed his eyes at her. “Orders?” He asked, “Is that what you thought it was?”
“Was it not?” She asked, looking briefly as he shook his head. “Never. Who am I to order you? You have your freedom to choose.”
“You are the prince of our land.” She reminded him as he smiled.
“Am I here as a prince?” His question made her look unsure, as if almost scared, as he smiled, taking a laddoo from the bundle on her lap and munched on it. Pleasantly surprised by his gesture, Ajbante Kanwar held the bundle out for him and watched him savour the laddoos in silence. She smiled as his eyes shone like those of a child when he ate. She picked up the bundle and was about to leave when she stopped after she stood up, asking, “Why did you want to see me?” It had escaped her mind, in the hurry of making the laddoos, that he had summoned her there for some reason. Must be. He smiled as she appeared confused. “To ask you…” He cleared his throat as he stood up to face her. “What am I here for?” Ajbante Kanwar appeared to be confused by his riddles as he looked amused at her flushed cheeks.
“I … have a lot of chores… I will see you at the Mahapuja.” She made him nod.
The day of the Mahapuja, Kunwar Partap was given a new Angvastra by Rao Ramrakh Punwar. It was red, with gold borders, and he let Hansa Bai tilak on him before he made his way to the Temple premises. Ajbante Kanwar was helping the priests when she heard the commotion at the entrance and cheered, “Kunwar Partap ki Jai. Mewar Nath Ekling Ji ki Jai.”
She adjusted the dupatta over her head, wondering if he could spot her in the crowd as she took her place with the ladies beside her mother. Rao Ramrakh led Kunwar Partap to the Havan Kund, and Ajbante Kanwar stared from behind her veil, first at the fire altar and the increasing flames, then at Kunwar Partap, in his dhoti and angvastra, his well-built physique exposed to the sun, perspiration shining on his forehead as he struggled to not close his eyes as the heat and wind surrounded him. Something had gotten into his eyes, and Ajbante Kanwar was briefly worried before he looked fine and resumed the prayers. Hundred and eight lamps were lit, and the priest asked for someone to take the lamps inside the temple shrine. Kunwar Partap’s eyes involuntarily met Ajbante Kanwar’s glance amidst the veiled women as her mother nodded and she stood up to approach the priests. Her heart made a funny leap when she realised he had known her amidst the crowd of veiled faces all along. His glance followed her till she disappeared into the temple, and when she came back, the priests were blessing everyone. Ajbante Kanwar touched the priest's feet seeking their blessing. The old priest asked the royals to go into the temple, and once their puja was completed, the people could follow. Kunwar Partap waited for Raoji to join him as the women and children walked behind them. He decreased his pace a little, allowing Hansa Bai, who was equally surprised, to take the place beside Raoji as he discreetly moved to hers, Ajbante Kanwar eyeing him unsurely. She could see his smile, her heart thumped in her chest as they entered the temple together, and she could not help but wonder if it was all the Lord’s wish. Her chain of thoughts was interrupted by a soldier from the capital who came looking for Kunwar Partap. He seemed worried as he followed the soldier out, and Ajbante could see him talking from a distance, in the empty premises beside the temple. She knew in her heart something was wrong.
