Ajbante Kanwar walked into the temple premises, a dupatta drawn over her head, carrying her basket of freshly picked flowers, when she spotted Kunwar Partap waiting by the entrance. Ajbante Kanwar was suddenly aware of the maids following her as she nodded at his smile, and he gestured at her to enter the temple. The maids stayed back outside the temple as the priest greeted them. He took the flowers from Ajbante Kanwar to make the day’s garland for the Lord as he stepped out, and they folded their hands in front of the Phallus God.
“The Mahapuja happens on the grounds.” She made him nod as he followed her, keeping a distance of formality. Her anklets and kamarbandh had small tinkling bells on them that made music as she walked out of the temple shrine and pointed. “There the priests sit, here near the Kund, the women sit. Daata or whoever will conduct the puja sits under that Chatri. But you have to start here, bathe the Lord, offer prayers and then proceed to the Havan Kund. There will be a crowd that will go beyond the temple walls outside on the street to catch a glimpse of you.” She walked to the Chattri as he inspected the intriguing carvings of Lord Vishnu’s avatars on it. “They wait for the prasad to be distributed after the puja.”
“What happens in the Utsav after the Mahapuja?” He inquired. Ajbante Kanwar smiled at his curiosity. A dozen people are handpicked by Daata to set up their shops around the garden of the temple. They sell homemade goods, and the profit from those goes to charity. There is also a debate arranged for the Pandits, and people come by to attend the fair nearby. There is food and jugglers, and fire breathers. Banjarans dance too, I have heard.” He frowned at the last words. “You have heard? Have you never been there?” She shook her head. "The royals going there is an obligation for the people. My grandfather said they enjoy their freedom for the week, and we should let them.” He nodded at her words, contemplating.
“So you were never curious?” He asked.
“Enough to sneak out in disguise? No.” There was a tone of amusement in her voice as he shook his head. “That was Shakti’s idea.” She nodded. “I must leave. Bijli will be waiting.” He nodded at her as she started walking away, asking the maids waiting by the temple to follow her.
“Wait… do the… umm… bangles still fit you?” Ajbante Kanwar looked almost amused at his clueless question. She shook her head. “They don’t.” He looked a little disappointed as she smiled coyly. “I still have them.” He looked up as she turned and walked away with the maids following her. He smiled to himself.
Rajkumari Ajbante Kanwar had just set her sword down by the riverbank and splashed her face with water. Today, after the rains had arrived at frequent intervals throughout the day, the stream had swelled, and she found it risky to cross to the other side with Bijli. So she practised her swordsmanship behind the temple, where Kunwar Partap once asked her to meet to tame Bijli. She was about to wipe her face when he appeared behind her, “Unlike last time, I will announce myself before being killed.” He said as she glanced over her shoulder, watching his amused smile. She nodded. “I was just…” She drew the dupatta over her attire. “I was thinking, why not show me what you learnt?” She stared at him a little wide-eyed. “Pardon?”
“I can give you tips to improve.” He suggested. Ajbante Kanwar was suddenly conscious of his presence. How could she show her basic sword skills to the best in the land, hoping to impress him? “I… am not that good.”
“Let me be the judge of that.” Kunwar Partap knelt as she stepped back and picked up her sword. He held it with both hands and offered it to an unsure Ajbante Kanwar. She inhaled and took it from his hand. Abandoning the sheath, she took a stance. He paced around her in a semicircle as she swung her sword at an imaginary enemy.
“Now, if someone’s behind you.” She turned swiftly with a swing, “And down, and up and to the right…” He watched her as she attacked and defended. “Hold it upright, like…” He came up to her as Ajbante Kanwar breathed heavily, holding her wrist up in the position. “This will give you more leverage, and the grip will be firm.” She nodded, suddenly aware of the proximity. “Start again.” He stepped back. “To the left, right, above, that’s it.” He seemed impressed as she shook her head, her locks looking dishevelled. “I… can’t anymore…”
“Come on, Ajbante. If the enemy is at the gates, you can’t have this excuse of being tired or worn out. What would you do then?” He narrowed his brows. She shook her head. “I would tell them you would be here soon.” He seemed amused by her serious answer as he folded his hands to his chest and raised his brows “And what good will that do?”
“They will run for their lives, of course.” Ajbante Kanwar nodded. “Daata says everyone is scared of you.” Kunwar Partap pressed his lips as he suppressed his smile. “So are you?”
“What?” Ajbante did not move from her position as she narrowed her brows.
“Are you afraid of me?” He asked with a shrug. She smiled, shaking her head, “I am not the enemy, am I?” He laughed, forming a sentence in between his chuckling, “Oh, brave Rajputani, I have never heard of such a unique defence…”
“Have you ever known such a unique person?” The moment she said that, Ajbante Kanwar’s cheek flushed as he stopped laughing and stared at her, amused. Her throat felt dry as she stammered. “I… I mean… that I…”
“No, I have not.” He shook his head, making her look up at him, unsurely. “And I know that.” She looked away as he smiled. “See, I kept my promise and learnt…” She changed the topic. “Now I need to leave… Maasa will be waiting for me to make the sweets again.”
“Ajbante.” He stopped her blabbering. “Make Ghevar today.” He had never requested anything in particular before. Ajbante Kanwar happily agreed.
“And tomorrow you must fight me.” He suggested as her eyes widened. “No… no… I can’t.”
“Why not? If Akhil and Balwant can, why can’t you?” He insisted.
“Because they will be at the battlefield with you, how will I help?” He looked up at her question and smiled silently. Breathing in, Kunwar Partap had a longing smile on the edge of his lips. You can give me the strength to be brave enough to come back. Ajbante Kanwar waited briefly for the answer, her lips parting a little, but no words could form in her mouth. She stepped back, as if she was scared of hearing what he might have to say and hurried away to mount Bijli.
What are you doing, Ajab? She rebuked herself. Such frank gestures could make him feel you are a free-spirited, untamed girl. The moment she thought so, Ajbante Kanwar could feel his scrutinising glance. He never approved of her self-assessments. He would argue there was nothing wrong if she wanted to live a little at her own will. Freedom was a birthright for every individual, he would say. Ajbante Kanwar groaned inwardly at the conversation in her head. When did she come to know Kunwar Partap Singh so closely that she could know what he thought before he even uttered a word? Where was all this leading to? Ajbante Kanwar suddenly felt an unknown fear. How could she understand the pain of something that had never happened to her? Something in her stomach churned as she felt, if she could know the feeling of exhilarating happiness that was so new to her, perhaps if she trusted the words of the Bards who mourned separations for aeons, the pain was greater. But Ajbante Kanwar was braver than she ever had been. She was willing to accept the pain as gracefully as she accepted the feeling that now consumed her being.
Kunwar Partap came back to the palace, lost in a daydream. He remembered how his mother fondly talked of Ajbante Kanwar whenever the topic of war came around. Ranima liked her enough to tell her all the stories of her childhood and that of his. She would learn easily from Ranima. Running a household came to her so easily. Was she brave enough to smile through her fears, reassuring a scared family or subjects while being his strength? She was perhaps braver than that to choose him. Had she chosen him? Not in words or gestures, he had known of or heard about. But Kunwar Partap felt a strange calm around Ajbante, a sense of comfort he sought and found nowhere, not in the biggest forts or richest palaces he had called home before, not in the people he called family or friends. He did not need the words often spoken of by bards, or gestures as expected by people his age. Kunwar Partap knew that with the sword he had handed to Ajbante that day, he had offered her his soul, and she had accepted it.
