. . ── लहराता आँचल, है जैसे बादल
बाँहों में भरी है जैसे चाँदनी, रूप की चाँदनी...
My body aches from sleeping on floor. I roll my shoulders once, then twice, three times, then four. Yeah, definately sore.
I get to my feet, fold the sheet I am asleep on, neatly, and place it on the couch. The routine is familiar -- wake up, shower, get ready, eat breakfast with everyone and drive my way to the university.
It is easy, the routine -- except it isn't anymore. I have a living human being, a girl, living in the same room as me. Sleeping on my bed while I never thought I'd let a girl in my bed but here we are.
I grab my towel, heading towards the bathroom, ready to start my day when my eyes, despite myself, land on the bed. No, empty bed.
My brows furrow. Where does this girl go?
I look around the room, even check the bathroom, just in case she is in there. She isn't.
Has she gone downstairs already?
I am about to call a servant to check when my eyes land on something on floor.
What in the hell?
Chandni is... lying on floor. Asleep. Why the hell is she sleeping on floor?
I stare at her, my jaw clenching. Of all the stupid, unnecessary things--
I inhale through my nose, trying to calm down. I had told her to take the bed, I was fine sleeping on floor. What does she want to prove by doing this?
This is ridiculous. I stare at her sleeping figure for a minute long, then, without saying or doing anything. I disappear in bathroom.
This isn't my concern. She wants to sleep on floor, on bed or wherever she wants -- I don't care. I don't have time to waste on such childish acts of girls.
***
I emerge from the bathroom a while later, showered and dressed for University. Today is mental health awareness campaign in my University and this is important to me today. A first step towards understanding minds better.
I put on my uniform, my ID, the survey sheet I'll need in the campaign and my bag. As I step towards the door, my eyes land on Chandni again -- still asleep on floor. God, it is 8 am already and she is still asleep.
The floor is cold beneath my bare feet and the fact that this girl is sleeping soundly on it? Ridiculous. I scoff and exit the room, heading downstairs as a few servants acknowledge me.
I stop near a maid passing by.
"Chandni. She's... uh, she's asleep on floor. Tell her to take the bed or just... wake her up, alright?" I tell the maid, she nods and bows before hurrying inside the bedroom.
I sigh and descend the last few stairs, immediately finding Rajesh Kaka, Dadi Sa, my cousins and the kids sat on the breakfast table. I greet them all, then go to touch Dadi Sa's feet for blessings. It is a normal routine, one I am habitual of.
Dadi Sa caresses my head and murmurs, "Khush raho," loud enough for me to hear, her eyes softening a bit as she smiles.
I sit on the opposite chair from her, the servants serve my breakfast when Dadi Sa speaks again. "Where's the girl?" I go still for a moment. Then look at her.
Her eyes are steady but expectant. What? Am I supposed to have this girl on my arm everywhere I go now?
I clear my throat and speak up. "I sent the maids to wake her up."
Dadi Sa stares at me before nodding and continues to eat her breakfast. I finish my breakfast too. Offering one last greeting towards everyone before heading out of the haveli, putting on my shoes and go inside my waiting car.
The familiar roads of Udaipur are an everyday view. Same oak trees that glow golden under the morning sunlight, kids waiting for school vehicles, and the same directions that lead to my University.
The car stops as we arrive -- big banners, boards and tents are what greet me as the chauffer opens the car door for me and I step out, nodding towards the chauffer and head inside. Students, faculties and few other staff members are already rushing around, arranging everything.
Few minutes into the campaign, people have started to arrive. We don't expect much people, but surprisingly, the number is increasing in an impressive amount. But to my disappointment, half of them are here to see me, congratulating me on my wedding. It makes me feel uneasy. The smiles, the wishes -- I don't need that. I'm here to do my duty as a student -- not as the Kunwar of Udaipur.
I am grateful to Dadi Sa for sending bodyguards with me today. I need that, considering the amount of people are eager to meet me, for a complete different reason.
Almost done with my part of the campaign, I pack my things as I acknowledge the last of the participants and some wellwishers before leaving to head back to haveli.
***
Badal Mahal is buzzing with activity when I arrive.
Curtains, carpets, flowers -- everything is decorated according to the event. The servants are rushing around, busy with everything else and as I make my way upstairs -- my eyes go on that dusty wooden door at the corner of up the stairs.
My jaw clenches at the rush of memories -- the way I immediately taste the scent of hospital even though I'm no longer there.
That door is like an odd piece of puzzle, out of place yet still there.
Nobody enters that room except few maids who are sent to make sure the person inside stays alive. And that person is my... Maa.
The woman who chose silence, who turned her back when I needed her the most. The woman who chose to shut me out because she couldn't handle her emotions. If she has lost her husband, I have lost my Baba too. And yet... she left me to grow on my own and chose to stay within these four walls. She chose everything... except me.
My fists clench and without another glance, I storm away from there.
This isn't the time for me to grapple with old memories. They have no space in my life any longer.
I make my way towards my room, when I see someone poking their head out from the room and that someone is... Chandni.
My eyebrows pinch together at the sight as I come to stand behind her.
"What are you doing?"
She jumps at my voice, turning towards me so fast I think she might get whiplash.
Chandni has a startled expression on her face as if she doesn't expect me to be here. She's dressed for the reception -- a lavender shaded Anarkali, eyes lined neatly with kajal -- except her hair are disheveled, long locks messy and sticking to her face. She's looking at me like she has seen a ghost.
But what surprises me is how she suddenly, hastily, drapes her dupatta around her shoulders, like a shield -- like the very air around me might judge her.
My eyebrows twitch but I don't give it more thought.
I let out a small sigh and take a step forward to enter the room. I am halfway inside when I hear her voice.
"Kunwar Sa..?" That is what she has to say. My jaw tightens as I take my coat off, putting my bag in it's place and reply while pulling the cupboard open.
"What?" My voice sounds gruff, even to my ears.
I wait for her reply, but when I don't get it I turn to look at her only to find her shifting from one foot to another.
My eyes narrow. I am not in the mood for her theatrics.
"Kya baat hai?" I ask again. At the tone of my voice, her head shoots up, those locking on mine again.
My eyes land on her throat working as she swallows before moving up to fix on her eyes again.
"Hume... woh..." She fumbles with her words and my patience is already running thin.
"Kya kaam hai aapko, Chandni? Saaf saaf batao."
"Hum..hume bass ... Kisi ko bula deejiye please..."
My brows furrow. "Kise bula du?"
"Humari... Humari dress, woh..."
I tilt my head, my eyes travelling over her dress to see what is wrong. I don't find anything except the way she pulls her dupatta tighter around herself.
I realise I am staring at her, by the way she is looking down, her teeth sinking on her lip.
I clear my throat and look away, feeling stupid.
"Kya hua aapki dress ko..?" I ask, my voice dropping a pitch.
She doesn't reply.
My lips press in a thin line. "Bolo Chandni.."
"Zip nahi band ho rahi.."
I blink. "Kya?"
Her expression pinches, embarrassed. "Humare dress ki... zi-zip nahi band ho rahi.."
Zip... nahi band ho rahi..?
I have to blink a few more times, to understand what she means when my eyes land at the way she is clutching the side of her dress. Oh.
My face feels suddenly too hot, my hands too cold and this room too small.
I feel like as if the room itself is closing in on me.
I swallow, hate how my voice cracks when I speak up. "Hum abhi aate hain.."
I practically sprint out of the room.
Letting out a breath I don't know I am holding, I don't let myself glance back at the room.
"Shit," I breathe out. That was... I don't know what that was, my mind keeps echoing her voice again and again -- like a broken record. God, that is ... embarrassing. Yes, that's the word. It was embarrassing and the fact that I'd looked at her while she was like... that.
I shut my eyes tightly, jaw clenched and huff out another breath. What have I gotten myself into? Because this girl, this stupid, stupid girl is... I sigh again.
Breathe. In, out. I tell myself.
She's still inside, still in ... that condition. And if I don't send anyone to help her, she's going to sit there like that whole day like a mess.
I look around, trying to find a lady, any lady to help her up and there I find one of my staff maids passing through the stairs. Thank. God.
"Didi..!" I call out, the maid stops and looks at me, already making her way towards me, her hands clasped together as she bows to me.
I nod, but it comes out more as jerky than steady. "Its uh... Why's no one there to help Chandni?" I switch to more steady, and firm tone, wishing it covers the shakiness in my breath.
I see the maid's mouth turn in an 'O', her expression suddenly apologetic. "Maafi, Kunwar Sa..."
"Its okay." I say a little too quickly. "Just.. please go and get her dressed. She's.. she's in her room and um... she needs help. And send someone with my clothes in the guestroom, alright? I'll be in there."
The maid nods and with a parting bow and leaves.
I feel the stiffness leave my shoulders as they sag and I make my way down the stairs, towards guestroom.
***
The event is alive with murmurs, chatters and people mingling with eachother, the warm hue making our haveli's interior stand out even more.
But as soon as I enter, every pair of eyes turns to me. The collar of my shirt suddenly feeling too tight. I pull on it awkwardly and follow the lead of Rajesh Kaka as he introduces me to our various business associates.
All of them are older and way more experienced in their respective fields -- meanwhile I try not to let their presence intimidate me too much.
This is the first public event held in our haveli after Baba Sa's death. We have avoided direct public interaction for almost eight years. And the fact that ... this, has to be haveli's first event -- my wedding reception -- is almost laughable. Out of all the things, it has to be this.
I had told Dadi Sa that there was no need for this, but she said that the media will talk. And so, this is important for our reputation.
I try to appear as professional I can possibly be, try not fidget too much. Dadi Sa has too much expectations from me, and this is a big event. The last thing she needs from me is nerves.
I am grateful to have Rajesh kaka guide me, it makes this whole interaction a little less overwhelming.
When the whole introduction part is over, I am told take a seat in the middle of the sofa placed behind the table adorned with mics, beside Dadi Sa. Sitting beside her brings me a sense of safety as the press conference begins.
A sea of questions are thrown at me, most of them concerning the matter of the "not so traditional marriage of the crown prince of Udaipur." Yeah, that is the first headline on Yahoo News this morning.
I do my part, answer the questions that are safe and say "No comments" on questions that are too personal, as I am taught.
By the time the force of questions dies down, Dadi Sa declares a break and we find ourselves seated amongst guests. We are in the middle of a polite conversation -- okay, they are in the middle of a polite conversation, I am just listening -- when I hear a collective gasps from behind me, followed by camera shutters.
I turn towards where the media reporters have gathered, around the wide staircase.
I tilt my head, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever they are capturing, when I hear a sound so faint it almost gets lost in the echo of cameras clicking and reporters shouting. But I hear it again, louder this time, closer.
A silhouette of pink fabric flows from top of the stairs to the bottom, glittering under the light of the chandelier, like stars in dark night. Bodyguards have formed a human baricite at the end of the stairs, keeping the reports away from whoever is descending the steps.
My eyes trail upwards towards the top of the staircase and my heart punches against my ribcage.
Even through her veiled face, I can make out her features -- eyes lowered, mouth slightly parted
-- Chandni is descending the stairs. She has changed from her lavender Anarkali to this light pink lehenga choli that looks heavier than herself. But the way she is carrying it, as if she is used to the weight -- shoulders tight, steps confident.
I stiffen upon feeling a hand over my shoulder, only to find Dadi Sa standing next to me.
Her eyes are steady on me, like always. "Go attend her," she tells me. "This is where your duty as a husband starts."
Right. A husband.
Inhaling deeply, I straighten my spine and stand up, fixing my suit and make my way towards Chandni.
A bodyguards leads me on, clearing the path for me and when I reach her -- she is stood a few stairs up from me. I have to crane my neck to look at her, and through the thin net veil, I can see her looking at me as well. My throat works, suddenly feeling dry.
I hesitate, my fingers clenching and unclenching at my sides -- before I extend my hand towards her, palm open for her to hold, while my other hand remains tightly clenched in a fist at my side.
I don't look at her, staring somewhere far over her shoulder. But when her hand comes to rest upon mine, that cold feeling returns, surging up my veins like ice. Her touch feels electric, by how cold her hand is.
I grip it, despite myself and hold her as she descends the last few steps.
The reporters yell at us with questions but that is a distant murmur for me. All I can hear is the ringing of her anklets and the chiming of her bangles, with every step she takes.
We make our way towards the table where I was sat earlier. I turn to glance at her -- she has that calm look on her face still, but, her grip on mine is so tight I'm afraid she is leaving nail marks on my skin.
I ignore it, focusing on getting away from this chaos. It is getting ridiculous, honestly. All this "husband-wife" sham. Technically we are married, but I don't feel like it. Its like, one second I am preparing for my coronation and the next I have a wife on my arm.
The flashlights of cameras threaten to blind my sight, I resist the urge to squint my eyes and fail
-- when suddenly, from the corner of my eyes -- I see a reporter breaking free from the baricite formed by the bodyguards and rushes towards us with mic extended too close.
I feel Chandni flinch beside me, her body jerking a step closer to me. Call it instinct or something, but my hand moves up to wind around her shoulder as the mic is shoved too close to her face.
I feel a frown tugging over my lips. Does this foolish reporter have no decency?
He is till throwing questions at her, and I can feel the air around her change.
Suddenly her other hand comes up to grab at my sleeve, her grip desperate like I am the only lifeline holding her up.
My teeth tightens, so does my grip on her shoulders as I lead her away -- my steps more rushed now, causing her to stumble a little beside me but I hold her up.
As I think we have almost escaped the chaos, a question, shouted from a distance is loud enough for me to hear. I stop in my tracks, causing Chandni to stumble on me. But it isn't her that stops me. It is the question.
"Kunwar Sa, your wife is not a royal. Is this a love marriage?"
I freeze.
I can't comprehend the meaning of that question.
My fingers dig in her shoulders as I feel my jaw clench. I turn my head back, trying to find whoever asked the question but all I see is desperate faces with their mic held out towards me.
I don't know what to answer, what to say. For the first time in my life I... I don't have anything to answer.
Chandni's grip on me is like a vice, her fingers trembling in my grasp a little when I feel a hand press on my back. I turn to look, only to find Rajesh Kaka leading us away from the reporters -- his face tight with determination as he says, "No comments," to the media.
We find ourselves standing on the other side of the hall, where Dadi Sa was sitting with the rest of our family.
My chest is uncharacteristically tight. It's a weird feeling. One I'm not used to.
I lead Chandni closer to the table as a servant pulls chairs for us. I let Chandni sit first, her grip on my hand lingering before she let go and sat down.
I step back as she adjusts her veil, pulling it further down to cover her face properly. My palm stretches out, the one that was holding her.
Dadi Sa motions me to sit beside Chandni. I hesitate, flexing my fingers once then slide on the seat beside her.
Letting out a long breath, I force myself to relax, shaking the lingering effect of the question that is left on me.
A waiter approaches us with a tray full of drinks, I refuse with a polite shake of my head and from the corner of my eyes I see Chandni reaching for a glass of juice but stops before she can pick.
I turn my head fully towards her to see why she stopped, only to find Dadi Sa's hand digging on her shoulder as she whispers something in Chandni's ear. She retreats her hand, folding them in her lap instead.
Dadi Sa dismisses the waiter and he leaves before shooting Chandni a curious look. She shifts beside me.
My eyes linger on her longer than I want to before I look away, observing the bustling event instead.
***
A few guests came to greet us, congratulating me and left.
It was exhausting, trying to act pleased with their wishes. I don't need people telling me how lucky I am to have a wife that is docile and obedient.
I'm pulled out of my thoughts by someone clearing their throat. I turn my gaze to find Chandni pressing at her throat, clearing it.
I divert my gaze back to the event but hear it again. I ignore it, she does it again. My fingers clench in a fist in my lap.
The fourth time I hear her clearing her throat -- my head snaps towards her, eyes narrowing.
She's coughing softly now, as if trying to hold it in. Something twists in my chest, despite my annoyance.
Her throat works as she swallows. What's wrong with her?
"Rajveer," I pull my attention from her to Dadi Sa who stands beside me. I sit straighter and reply, "Ji Dadi Sa?"
Her eyes fixes upon Chandni first, then me as she places a hand on my shoulder. "I'll be back, take care.."
I nod as Dadi Sa walks away with Rajesh Kaka.
Leaning back in my seat again, I unbutton my suit -- allowing myself to breathe a bit better when I hear chiming of bangles from beside me.
Here we go again. Why's this girl so fidgety?
"Something wrong?" I ask, leaning in towards Chandni.
Her head snaps up towards me, I'm not looking at her, but I know she's looking at me.
"N-no, I just..." She trails off, that's when I look at her.
Her head is bowed, hands clapped together, fingers fidgeting.
"Speak," I tell her.
Chandni moves her hand to wipe at neck, that's when I realise she's sweating -- there are wet patches on her veil.
I frown. The AC is on, why's she sweating?
"Garmi lag rahi?" I ask anyways.
But she shakes her head and when she speaks, her voice is scratchy. Almost raspy.
"Pani.."
I blink. Oh. She's thirsty.
I'm reminded of the way she had reached to grab the glass of juice but stopped for unknown reasons.
I look around, searching for a waiter. I spot one and motion him to approach. He did, carrying a tray of drinks. I pick a glass of orange juice with straw and wait for the water to leave. When he leaves, I offer the juice to Chandni without a word.
She takes it, her fingers brushing against mine for a split second.
I watch as she slips the glass under her veil, taking small sips. A few shutters of camera clicking reach my senses -- I look towards it through the corner of my eyes and see that a bunch of reporters have their cameras pointed towards... not us, but Chandni.
My eyebrows pinch together. Do they need a photo of her drinking juice too now?
I shift my chair, angling myself in a way that blocks Chandni from their sight of view.
She looks up at me at the movement and our eyes meet. She looks ridiculous, wide eyes fixed at me, cheeks hollowed out as she sips from the straw. I scoff mentally.
Crossing my arms, I stare at point over her shoulder but my eyes keep going back to her -- considering we are sat face to face.
She puts the glass away after finishing it, her veil slipping at the movement, revealing a shred of her face. I blink at the sight of her face glistening with sweat.
She quickly pulls the veil back in place and I can't help but speak up. "Why don't you take that off if you're feeling hot?"
Chandni fidgets with the edge of her veil but didn't say anything.
My face twists further in annoyance. I lean a bit in, studying her. "You don't need it Chandni, you can take it off if you're uncomfortable."
Her head lifts towards me. "Really?"
"Yes." I answer, my voice insistent.
She fidgets again. "But Dadi Sa--"
"Stop fidgeting. That's not how a Shekhawat bride behaves." I don't mean to snap, I don't know why I did.
My chest feels weird again. Damn it.
"Sorry..." I force myself to soften my tone. "Just... The media is watching you very closely and they won't hesitate to make your weakness a headline. That is why I'm saying, make yourself comfortable."
She nods and lifts her veil to uncover her face when a hand grabs hers, stopping her movement.
I look up to find Dadi Sa -- her face is tight and I see a hint of disapproval in her eyes. She rarely has that look, and if she has it now...
"Keep it down." Her voice is low and calm but there's a hint of warning in her tone.
Chandni pulls the veil back down, her face in shadow of it again.
Dadi Sa then turns towards me. "Rajveer."
My spine straightens in attention.
"A word." She says and walks away. I shoot a look at Chandni before following after Dadi Sa.
We stop at a corner of the hall, away from the prying eyes as Dadi Sa turns towards me. I clap my hands together.
"I kept that girl under veil."
Oh.
I shift my weight from one foot to another, my eyes lowering. "Maafi, Dadi Sa... I didn't know. She looked uncomfortable--"
"That is none of your concern." She cut me off firmly. I lowered my head further, eyes shutting tight but a question, despite myself, leaves my mouth.
"Why the veil, Dadi Sa?" I open my eyes and dare to meet her wide eyes. My heart is racing but I force the words out. "No one in our family stays under a veil. So why her?"
She was silent for a moment and I wonder if I have crossed a line. I never question Dadi Sa's decisions, never ask why she did what she did. I don't know why I asked now.
Dadi Sa takes a step closer to me and I force myself to not step back. Her face has gone neutral, I can't read her emotions anymore.
"If you have forgotten, this girl is here for a purpose."
My lips tighten at the reminder.
"Say it why." I know what she wants me to say.
"She's... she's here to give us a... a successor." I hate the way I stammered.
"And if she couldn't," Dadi Sa took another step closer to me so we were standing eye to eye. "That girl is out of the picture."
My fists clench.
"Do you understand?"
I nod.
"Use your words, Rajveer."
"I understand."
"No you don't."
My head snaps up towards her, eyebrows pinching together. But Dadi Sa isn't done, her eyes flickers with something I never want to see in her -- especially because of me. Disappointment.
"If you did, you wouldn't let her take the veil off." Her voice softened and my heart sank.
"I'm sorry..." I whispered. "I didn't... Dadi Sa, I just don't understand why she's kept under a veil and I didn't realise when I--" Her hand on my shoulder stops me in my words.
"What do you not understand, beta? I've kept her in veil because if the world got used to her face... it'd be difficult for us to get rid of her."
My brain clicks in with her logic. Technically she was right. If this didn't work out, if everybody got used to her face...
But I can't help getting reminded of the way she was breathing unevenly, her face twisted in discomfort.
Dadi Sa's hands comes to frame my face, pulling me out of my thoughts.
"Remember what you need to do, son. You have better, important things to focus on and this girl is the last thing that needs your concern."
I meet her eyes and they soften further. "I'm doing this for your wellbeing. You have to trust me."
I hate this, I hate how I made Dadi Sa think I don't trust her.
"I trust you, Dadi Sa. More than myself." I say fiercely.
A small smile pulls up on her lips and it eases my chest a bit.
"Mera raja beta," Her hand softly caresses my cheek, I lean into the small comfort, closing my eyes.
She's right. I have better and important things to focus on and Chandni is the last thing I need my focus on.
________________
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Vaila.