Kunwar Partap had woken up in the darkest hour of the night, taken his bath and made his way to the Mahakal temple complex. It was relatively empty at that hour of the day, just before dawn, as the birds chirped around them and the sky looked a little grey with rain clouds. He looked up, noticing the clouds pass by slowly, praying for a good amount of rain that year that would help the farmers. He approached the temple, walking across the premises near the Mandakini Kund, and found the old royal priest lighting the lamp at the feet of the Lord. Watching him approach, the man smiled as he took his blessings, and the priest left him to pray. He wondered if she was around the moment he finished his prayers and walked out to the main premises. He smiled slightly, remembering how the embarrassed princess did not show herself in front of him for the rest of the day after she complained about the sweets. He was glad at her informality even when she feared otherwise. Kunwar Partap saw a few soldiers taking out horses for the day, and he decided to do the same. Roam about a bit with Sarang. By the time the palace would wake and he would be summoned for a meal, he would be back. Kunwar Partap changed into a cream colour angrakha and a red pagdi. He walked to the stable where Sarang was kept and got curious about Bijli. To his surprise, he found Bijli missing from her stable unit.
Ajbante Kanwar took a stance with her sword in her hand, her hair braided neatly into a bun, her white warrior angrakha gently swaying in the breeze. Bijli grazed the meadows by the Menali River, a little upstream from the waterfall. The waters were yet to be filled to the brim by the late coming of the rainy season. Once the rains started, one could not cross the stream easily on horseback. She swung her sword in an attacking way and took a stance to defend herself from her imaginary attacker. The day was cloudy, with thick grey clouds preventing the sun from peeping out, and a cool wind blew by the river. Drops of perspiration trickled down her forehead to her cheek and chin as she swung her sword again and whirled to the other side. She breathed heavily as Bijli let out a breath behind her. It was supposed to distract her, but it did not. Ajbante Kanwar was practising concentrating amidst distractions. The sudden thunder rolled, making her jolt a little as she looked up at the sky, gloomy with impending rain. She watched Bijli move, a little scared perhaps by the roll of thunder and lightning that once again struck somewhere near. She held the mare’s reins and was about to mount the horse when it started raining all of a sudden. She managed to take Bijli to the other side of the river before the rain increased, forcing her to seek shelter in one of the abandoned sheds of the otherwise deserted math. Today, there was a confluence of monks in Bijoliya, and most of the monks from the area were there. She wiped her face with the edge of her dupatta that she opened from the knot on her waist to cover her wet clothes. She was sweaty, and the rainwater added to it. Bijli looked a little less agitated as she breathed in, paced her heavy breaths and sat down, surrendering her sword on the ground beside her. She watched the rain pour, wondering how long she could sit there and wait for the rain to decrease because it was already dawn.
Footsteps alarmed her as her hand gripped the handle of her sword, and she immediately stood up to swing a sword at someone who was coming stealthily from behind her, from the dark alley. Kunwar Partap stopped her sword with his hand as he moved his body away just a bit. Ajbante Kanwar’s eyes widened as she could now see the stream of blood that originated from his hand on the blade of her sword and trickled down to the floor. She gasped, eyes widening with shock. His eyes hovered on her face, almost amused, as he did not even wince at the injury.
“I… I apologise… I thought someone was trying to grab me…” She stepped back, abandoning her sword, which fell on the stone floor with an echoing sound. Kunwar Partap shook his head. “I am glad you worked on your awareness.” She seemed to ignore his praise.
“You are bleeding. You should seek help.” She eyed his injury, controlling her urge to open his palm and check the depth of the blade slash herself. He could perhaps read her mind as he opened his palm and assured her it was a small cut. Ajbante Kanwar removed the dupatta from around her, without a second thought and wrapped it around the injury. The white dupatta immediately turned red. She gasped again, her brows furrowed, as she stepped forward to tie the dupatta tighter around his injury. He smiled at her worried face as a sudden feeling of warmth filled his heart. Suddenly, Veni’s words came to his mind. One needs reasons to come back from war. Has he ever seen anyone so bothered about his injuries except Ranima? He could at least admit to himself that he liked this feeling of being cared for. He had perhaps smiled when she eyed him disapprovingly as Ajbante Kanwar suddenly realised their proximity, her hands holding his injured hand, the rain outside the shed, thunder rumbling, and the sword lay abandoned at his feet. He noticed her stare, her worried face as he tried to reassure her. “You know, this is new!” He shrugged. “Someone attacked me and wanted to nurse my wound.”
“Nothing is amusing about that, Kunwar Sa.” She almost scolded, “If Daata comes to know…”
“ Why will he?” He frowned.
“You can tell him.” She shrugged. “I can be punished. I deserve to.” She still sounded in shock. “I attacked the prince of Mewar.” He laughed. Her hand stopped at the last knot as she watched him, moving his head back a little as he laughed. “What makes you think I'll tell anyone about any of our conversations?” His lingering smile made her skip a beat as she looked away, and her cheeks flushed. “How will you… umm… explain this?” She had let go of his hand as he held her hand back, almost in a reflex. Kunwar Partap knew the kind of strength and audacity he gathered to do that, as Rajkumari Ajbante Kanwar looked a little unsurely at him. Her arm erupted in goosebumps as she shivered a little. He looked a little worried immediately as he removed his red pagdi, removed its brooch and unwrapped it. Ajbante Kanwar looked unsurely, “What are you doing?” He did not answer as he wrapped it around her, covering her wet angrakha and Ajbante Kanwar, who had forgotten about her clothes the moment she saw blood on his hand, now felt embarrassed and conscious as she looked away. He smiled a little as she lowered her gaze, and he wrapped the angrakha over her shoulder, controlling his breath, trying not to intimidate her or show any disrespect at his bravery, as he could now smell the perfumed oil in her hair. Ajbante Kanwar exhaled involuntarily near his shoulder as he moved away slightly. “You can now go back with Bijli.” He reassured her. “The rain has decreased slightly, but given the clouds, I don’t think it will stop.” She nodded, unsure of what to say. He smiled reassuringly at her again. “And don’t worry, I will tell anyone who asks that I was injured while practising. It happens.” She looked worried still as she said, “You should see Vaid Ji.” he shrugged. “Or you can make the balm you asked about yesterday? It will help you do away with the sin of attacking your …” She looked up as he added “Kunwarsa.” She seemed to not understand his joke as she nodded, “I must make amends for my sin.” He shook his head. “Your only sin will be if you don’t stop feeling guilty. I should have announced my presence before you, then came like that…” Suddenly, Ajbante Kanwar narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “But what were you doing here?” Kunwar Partap’s heart leapt to his throat and settled as he stared at her briefly before looking away, uneasily. How could he tell her that his eagerness brought him here? He wanted to see her, first thing in the morning. The moment he saw Bijli was missing, he remembered her mentioning her training sessions by the Menal. He rode Sarang upstream for a while till he spotted Bijli grazing on the other side. He had made sure he was behind a bush and did not alarm her, as she practised her moves. Kunwar Partap had watched her move, breathe, smile to herself, turn, twirl, her bun coming undone twice as she put it back up. He had never seen her feel so liberated. He stood there, watching, never feeling like he was doing something immoral or disrespectful towards her. It was like Kunwar Partap of Mewar had the right to watch Rajkuwari Ajbante Baisa of Bijolia the way he did. He breathed in and was deciding on whether to walk away or approach her when the thunder rumbled, and he watched her bolt on Bijli. He had followed her to the shed.
Kunwar Partap gulped. “I was coming this way.” He lied sheepishly, knowing that she knew he lied. For a brief moment, as he held his breath, Kunwar Partap was unsure if he had offended Ajbante Kanwar or if she realised there was more to his story than he let on. Even if she had, she did not ask further as she nodded and turned to take Bijli back, and he watched her leave. Kunwar Partap heaved a sigh of relief. He realised he had never felt so guilty of even slashing an enemy, the way he felt conscious of watching her in secret. It was as though he were a criminal, and if anyone found out his actions, he would be buried alive in shame. He mounted Sarang and wondered all the way back to the palace why he watched her the way he did. He had never in his life stared at any woman, not even the dancing girls. He had never observed them the way he observed her. Every move she made, every expression on her eyes, how her lips quivered, how her breath sharpened and fell, how she moved. Kunwar Partap felt a little uneasy at his sudden realisation. He had a tough time admitting to himself that she had grown more into a woman than the last time he saw her. He was attracted to her. For the first time in his life, as he sat in his bed chamber, applying the balm she had sent by the attendant’s hand, he stared at his wound as if it was piercing through his heart and mind’s conscience. He wondered if the way he looked at her was disrespectful towards her and what they had. What did they have? A friendship. He stared at the hand she had held in hers. Her touch seemed familiar, almost like he knew it would feel exactly like that if her hand brushed against his. He groaned inwardly. He had no idea how she felt, but he was glad she did not push him away when he offered her the pagri cloth. He had no idea how to address what he felt with anyone, let alone her.
Ajbante Kanwar had stealthily taken the maid’s stairway up to her room as Kasturi kept watch and helped her undress. Kasturi was about to take her clothes away for cleaning when she stopped her, alarmed. “Give me that.” She took the red cloth from the bundle as Kasturi walked away. Ajbante Kanwar held the cloth close to her bosom as his familiar scent hit her nostrils. She remembered the morning, the way he approved of her improvements and hard work. The way he laughed, his eyes shining when they met hers. Ajbante Kanwar blushed profusely. He had come looking for her. He remembered something she mentioned in a letter years ago. He cared. Ajbante sat down as the maids helped her clean up for the day. Her thoughts travelled to his rough hands in hers. The way he wrapped the cloth around her was uninhibited, like he had the right to. She had heard of royals mingling with attractive women without any consequences before. She had been aware of his father’s reputation. But the little she knew of him, she knew he was far from that. He did not attend dance galas because he found them disrespectful towards women. Yet when he looked at her, Ajbante Kanwar felt his gaze pierce through her soul. It did not make her uncomfortable. In fact, there was this odd feeling of belonging, of longing, knowing exactly how she would feel when he looked at her a certain way. Ajbante Kanwar gulped when she remembered her audacity to hold his hand without permission. She would never imagine doing that, yet she did, with ease, almost like she had the right to. He let her. Almost like he gave her the right to. Ajbante Kanwar sat on her bed and opened the sewing box where she had kept the broken strings of the Rudraksha Mala. She needed to fix it for him.
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