Prithvi... [Vol 2]

Chapter 31

Sumer Singh paced from one end from the room to another, trying to rein in his displeasure and frustration. Prithvi hadn't returned from college as yet, and it would have been the perfect time for carrying out his heartfelt wish of catching that fat fool by his neck and throwing him out of the house. The only hitch was that doing so without Prithvi's permission would be very unwise, as he knew from past experience. 

But this extraordinary childhood friendship between his lord and this scoundrel was something he had never been able to digest. 

Absolute honour, integrity and nobility were an indissoluble part of the aristocratic blood that flowed through Prithvi's veins. Over the years, Sumer Singh had found to his wonder that the young boy had these qualities in more measure and intensity that anyone else – grown up or child - he had ever known. The elderly man had not had to make any effort to instill the essential righteousness of a human being and of royalty in him. And after all these years, he could confidently claim without a doubt that his little lord had been born with these traits. In truth, in some respects, Prithvi's strength of character was even more uncompromising than that of his father, Adityaraj.

And Sankatmochan, he thought with a grimace, had never even known the meaning of any of those qualities, leave alone inculcate them. 

Then again, friendships formed in early childhood could be stronger that the roughest test of time, he reflected resignedly.

But why had that rascal come in search of Prithvi again? Every time, Sumer Singh would start feeling relieved at the thought that they might have seen the last of him, Sankat would resurface, bringing all his unlawful problems into their home and taking away the little bit of peace in their lives.

Sumer Singh stopped pacing. If he couldn't throw the scum out, at least he could interrogate him about the purpose of his sudden arrival. Decisively, he left his room and climbed down the steps to the ground floor and was about to enter the bedroom on the other side of the kitchen, when he saw Sankatmochan sitting on the floor in the living room, one leg folded under him and the crippled limb stretched out. He was gleefully staring at the poster of a beaming bollywood heroine.

"Put that picture away!" he snapped.

Sankatmochan looked up with surprise and irritation flashed on his face before he hid it with a big smile.

"As you command, uncle. I shall discard it this minute," he said and rolled up the poster and respectfully kept it aside. "What service may I execute for you?"

"Why have you come back here?" Sumer Singh asked bluntly.

"But I have laid my heart open for you. I've come here so I can serve my lord and brother wholeheartedly."

"You can chant those lies for someone foolish enough to believe it. Neither his highness nor I believe a word of that. Haven't you blighted our lives enough by dragging your messes to our doorstep all these years? You couldn't do any good for his highness when you had the opportunity. Can't you at least refrain from harming his peace of mind now?" Sumer Singh said bitterly.

Sankatmochan waited for the tirade to pass, and then serenely said, "Hmmm….I see you still haven't forgiven yourself." 
  
"What do you mean by that?" Sumer Singh demanded furiously.
  
"You are not angry because I proved worthless to do anything for him. You are angry because you haven't been able to forgive yourself for the fact that you weren't there at all when you were needed the most," Sankatmochan answered calmly.

Sumer Singh moved towards him with terrible violence in every aspect of his face, but then stopped. And abruptly looking very old and weak, he sank down into the nearby couch.
  
 "You were there when everything happened," Sumer Singh said, his voice shaking slightly. "You could have– and should have - protected him." 
  
"Yes, I should have…..I admit to having failed miserably. I would gladly die a thousand deaths for him, and I even tried to once. But fate defeated me. Maybe I am too insignificant to be his shield. You may refuse to acknowledge it, but you know as well as I do that he has always been the protector….of me, you and so many others…. and he will always remain so. To protect…..to shield others from harm is a role that comes as naturally to Prithvi as breathing." 

"It is my fortune that even at so young an age he was strong enough to endure all the atrocities and remain sane and unbroken till I could rescue him," Sumer Singh said vehemently. "But you were older….more experienced….you should have taken care of him. Instead, you depended on a boy younger than you for your life and survival."
  
"You say I was older than him. If you are talking in terms of years, then yes, I was elder," Sankatmochan admitted softly. "But if you are talking about the wisdom and strength that people usually gain after enduring terrible events, then he is far older than me….and you. But I am not saying this to escape responsibility. I confess once again that I have failed him unforgivably. But I do not intend to let it happen again, which is why I came in search of him."  


Sumer Singh looked at him tiredly. "On the day you arrived, his highness said he believed you are here with some definite purpose in mind."

Sankatmochan began laughing. "I have never been able to mask my motives in front of him," he said through his chuckles. 

"So he was right! You do have something planned!" 

Sankatmochan's laughter finally subsided and he looked at the other man. And the unusual gravity in his beady eyes disconcerted Sumer Singh, who had been used to his boisterous and oily behaviour for long.

"A few days back I was studying Prithvi's horoscope again," Sankatmochan said in a low voice. 

Startled at the unexpected answer, Sumer Singh leaned forward reflexively with a sense of foreboding, feeling a quick rush of fear in his heart. "What is it….what did you see? Is something worse to happen after all that he has tolerated so far? Answer me," he said urgently.

Sankatmochan shook his head slowly. "I cannot foretell with much accuracy. I had last seen his horoscope in the middle of last year, and had learnt that towards the end of the year, his life would enter a period of tremendous and irreversible change."

Sumer Singh remained silent for a few moments, then asked, "This change….will it be for the better or -"  

"It is difficult to be certain. Many events will unfold…one after the other….those nearest may go away, unbreakable bonds will be forged with strangers, those who were estranged will regain their place in his life….This sequence of events is entering….no, it has already entered the initial stages, and is nearing its first highpoint. And I sensed the need to be here….." 

"One thing, though, is certain," Sankatmochan continued slowly. "Next year, at this time, nothing will be the same. Everything….everything will have changed."   

"What about his general well-being? Have the stars had their fill or have they planned further attempts to destroy him?" Sumer Singh asked distraughtly.

"His life seems to be in greater danger than ever before, though I cannot say for sure," Sankatmochan said desolately. "But in a few more weeks, I believe I will be able to obtain a clearer picture of the trials to come."

"You are right…. One attack has taken place….Indrajit," Sumer Singh said, not elaborating, and not needing to either. 

Sankatmochan's face darkened with anger. "I heard about it too late, and I set out to reach his highness the instant I was informed. You asked me the reason for my arrival…. you can have it now….I came because I have decided that I will not let anything harm my brother again while I live. If the stars have planned any treacherous blow, its attack will have to go through me before touching Prithvi."     
 
 
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Nandini adjusted the ruler on the page and drew a line, dividing it into two. One section for the requirements, and the other for the cost. Then she kept the ruler aside and sat poised with her pen on top of the page. 

"What else do you need, grandpa?" she enquired of her grandfather who was sitting with her at the table.

"Oil, agarbattis, vermillion powder, cotton wicks and camphor for the temple, a new bulb for the main door and the backdoor, a new brass vessel for our family's private worship," grandfather rattled as Nandini jotted down the items.

"Hmmm…Do you need anything else, grandpa?" she asked.

Her brother who was sitting next to her munching on an apple looked at the list. "You've written three items twice and haven't written two at all, Di," he sniggered.  

"I have?"

Puzzled, Nandini looked at the list again. Her brother was right; she had made a total mess of the list. "Sorry, grandpa," she said ruefully and began rectifying the mistakes.

 "She did that with the list she made for ma too, grandpa," Prakash grinned.

"Don't you have any homework to do, Pikku?" Nandini scolded, reddening uncomfortably.

She had to concentrate. If she kept messing up things like this, her mother at least would surely suspect something, she thought glumly as she tried to write down the items correctly in her neat handwriting, evading her mother's scrutinizing glances as she tidied up the living room. 

But her heart and mind had been chaotic ever since a cherished article had been given to her for temporary sanctuary.  Nandini had emptied her small jewellery box of all her own trinkets and had carefully kept the gold chain inside and kept the container in the most secure corner of her cupboard under a pile of clothes, just to be safe. Her own modest collection of jewellery, which was mostly artificial and only had 2-3 small articles of gold, was stashed away in a battered plastic cup and kept beside the box. 

The practical side of Nandini knew why he had given it to her, and not her mother or grandfather. Neither of the elders in her family knew much about the interesting side of Sankatmochan. They barely knew him at all. From what her grandfather had said yesterday, Sumer Singh had apparently called upon them yesterday along with Sankatmochan and had very unhappily informed them that he was a very distant acquaintance had come to stay at Ayodhya for a few days. According to her baffled grandfather, Sumer uncle had not allowed Sankatmochan to speak more than a few words and had almost dragged him out at the end of 5 minutes. Considering the perplexing manner in which Sankatmochan behaved and spoke, Nandini could understand Sumer uncle's tension and had found it hard not to laugh when her grandfather had described the scene.

But still, she couldn't shake off the silky drape of illogical happiness and wonder that had fallen on her when the chain had been dropped into her palm…and when he had held her hand within his……..and when he had asked her that strange question….. 

What had he meant by that, she thought desperately….had he simply been talking about the play….or had his question been a mask for something infinitely more delicate and complex…

"She has been distracted since she returned from college, and even more so since she returned from her walk," Sarojini said, cutting through her reverie. "What are you so worried about, Nandini?"

"I'm not worried about anything, ma. Actually I have an audition tomorrow for a drama in the college festival. I was just tensed about that," she blurted out, flustered at the sudden curious attention of her family.  The very next minute she wanted to hit herself for the foolishness in telling her family.  Why couldn't she have blamed something else for her preoccupation….

 "You are taking part in a drama!" Sarojini exclaimed in delight, though her grandfather was looking a little uneasy.

"What is it about?" he asked with a small frown.

"It's just a fairytale, grandpa, about a princess."

Grandfather's face cleared. "That's excellent," he said happily.

Nandini tried to smile and hide her distress at their thrilled reactions.  She had told them it was just a trial and they were already so happy and excited. From their expressions, she could tell that all of them were already picturing her on the stage.

"Di, that's superb. I can tell my friends that my sister is a heroine," Prakash said eagerly.

"No, don't tell anyone. I'm only trying for the role for fun, and I don't think I'll get it," she said hurriedly.

"Of course, you'll get it!" Grandfather said adamantly. "There cannot be anyone more suited to playing a princess than my granddaughter."

"Just do the best you can, Nandini," her mother smiled. "Don't worry about anything else. We are all proud of you already for wanting to try."

Nandini looked at her wordlessly and blinked back tears of frustration. What would she do now. They were so pleased about her participation. What if Daya hated her audition…and worse, what if she liked it? 

Now, after knowing how much her family wanted her to perform, she wouldn't be able to back out even if she wished…. 

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Digvijay looked at the door to the house, feeling unaccountably tense. He had been very confident when he left the palace, and had assured the king that he would return with news that his mission had been successful. But when he had proudly announced in front of his peers that the king had chosen him to deliver a gift to his grandson, many of them had looked at him with outright pity in their expressions. They had been tightlipped about the reason for their sympathy, but from the little bit they had said, he had understood that he wasn't the first one to be sent on this assignment. Many before had attempted the same, and they had been forced to come back with their egos, and sometimes their limbs, crushed. Digvijay had endured a few hours of fear and irresolution but had ultimately decided that he would prove victorious when the others had failed. 

Now that he was actually about to do it, however, he was once again feeling pangs of anxiety. He reminded himself that he belonged to a family that had been brave and devoted servants of the palace and the royal family for generations. He stiffened his spine, and walked to the door and rang the bell. 

Sankatmochan looked up at the sound and crossly kept aside the poster of another bollywood nymphet and opened the door. The man standing outside the door must have been in his mid-thirties, and was dressed in a fashion that sent a nasty chill down his spine. The dark maroon outfit and the cream headgear…. 

He had been sent by the king…. 

"I wish to speak with his highness Prithviraj Singh Rathod," Digvijay announced, not bothering to introduce himself to the evidently insignificant fat man. 

"What do you want with my brother?" Sankatmochan asked loudly. 

 "If I had not been specifically ordered not to harm anyone, I would have peeled your tongue out for two mistakes," Digvijay said with deadly calm. "Firstly, for referring to his highness in such an informal manner, and secondly, for daring to claiming the relation of brotherhood with him. Neither you, nor that old man, have the right to stand upright within 10 feet of him, leave alone speak of him with such lack of respect." 

   "Is that so?" Sankatmochan yelled. "Then let me call my brother and ask him. Once he knows who has sent you, you too will not be standing upright in his presence. But not out of respect, but because he will have broken your snobbish spine." 

"Sankat, why are you shouting?" Sumer Singh said irately, walking towards the door from the kitchen with an apron tied around him. As Sankatmochan moved aside with a grim face, he saw the person on the other side of the door and froze. 

"How did - how did you dare to come to this doorstep?" he bit out ferociously. "Leave right away before his highness sees you, or I will not vouch for your life and safety." 

 "The king has sent a present for his grandson," Digvijay said coolly, "And I have been told to get an answer only from his highness, not from his sleazy servants." 

"What did you call us, you snotty basta-" 

"You'll only accept an answer from me, is it?" the quiet voice fell with the vicious snap of a whip in the room, enforcing a swift and taut silence. 

Sankatmochan and Sumer Sumer automatically turned and moved to either side of the door, leaving a suddenly frightened Digvijay in the direct line of Prithvi's detached gaze. 

Swallowing hard, he entered the house. "I am honoured to be in your presence, your highness. My name is Digvijay Shekhawat, and my forefathers have served your family for generations. Please accept my deepest respect and allegiance," he said with a deep bow, which went completely unacknowledged. 

"My lord, this….man has come with a gift for you from the king," Sumer Singh said stiffly, almost spitting out the last word. 

"So I heard," Prithvi said evenly. 

"I asked him to take his gargantuan backside and mustache and get out, but he refused because he apparently wants to be hammered to death," Sankatmochan sneered. 

"He was right in what he said," Prithvi said seriously. "And since my highly revered grandfather has sent me a gift, I must not refuse at any cost. Don't you agree, Baba?" he enquired

Sumer Singh seemed too appalled to speak for a minute…and then he caught the mischievous twinkle in his master's eyes. 

Interpreting the look correctly, Sumer Singh nodded with a small smile. "As you wish, my lord." 

As Digvijya smiled in triumph, Sankatmochan looked at both with shocked and wounded eyes. 

"My brother, how can you even think of doing such a thing?" he asked, horrified. "You cannot even bring yourself to hear of that evil human. How can you accept a present from him?" 

"Where is my gift?" Prithvi asked interestedly, disregarding his friend's consternation. 

"It is parked right outside the gate, your highness," Digvijay gushed, and stood aside with the thrill of victory resounding within as Prithvi walked out the house. 

 A gleaming new car, the latest and most expensive vehicle to enter the market, stood proudly outside the gate. Another less ostentatious car, which had transported Digvijay to Shamli, was parked behind it. The drivers of both cars were standing with respectful attention by the doors of the vehicles. The few people outside at this time of the afternoon were pausing in their tracks to admire the cars. 

Prithvi opened the gate and walked around the car slowly with great attentiveness, while Sumer Singh, Sankatmochan and Digvijay stood watching him with varying expressions. Sumer Singh's expression was impassive, Sankatmochan was still looking stunned and aghast, and Digvijay's mustache hid a very smug smile. 

"Can I take this out for a drive?" Prithvi asked enthusiastically at the end of his examination. 

"It is yours, your highness, to use as you please. But we have also hired a driver for your convenience. He will take you anywhere you wish, your highness," Digvijay said keenly. 

"No, I wish to drive myself. And you will accompany me," Prithvi said unperturbedly. 

Flustered by the honour being bestowed on him, Digvijay garbled his thanks incoherently. 
The king would be very pleased with him, and would probably reward him hugely for achieving this impossible feat. And he had been told that, in case he succeeded in convincing Prithvi to accept the gift, his next goal would be to get rid of the old man who had been with him since childhood. Not just the old man, he would also dispose of the fat idiot who had opened the door. He only had to arrange two accidents, spaced over a period of time, and both these obstacles would be out of the way.

"I'll be returning in around 15 minutes, Baba," Prithvi grinned and Sumer Singh nodded gravely.

Digvijay took the keys from the driver and held them out deferentially to Prithvi, who snatched them impatiently and slid into the driver's seat. 

After shooting Sumer Singh and Sankatmochan a scornful smile, Digvijay got into the passenger seat next to Prithvi. A minute later, the car was moving speedily towards the highway, leaving a small storm of dust.

Sankatmochan looked at the tiny smirk on Sumer Singh's face as he looked at the fast disappearing car. 

"I am glad to see you smiling, honored uncle," he said skeptically, "Though it makes me think you haven't realized the future implications of this disastrous decision to accept the king's gift?"

"I understand perfectly. It is you who are stupid enough to believe what you see," Sumer Singh chortled. 

Sankatmochan looked at him blankly for an instant. Then a broad smile slowly spread on his face and he began laughing.

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Vrinda and Nishi looked at their lost friend who was sitting huddled in a chair in a far corner of the fairly vacant outdoor canteen. 

"Errr…Nandini?"

"Hmmm."

"Why exactly are you looking so depressed?" Vrinda asked, bewildered. "You did so well that you've got the role."

"Yeah, Daya was so impressed with you," Nishi said happily, recollecting how Nandini's voice had sounded terrified and wobbly. "Your voice was shaking in the right way, and you were actually trembling like a princess in danger, just like the scene demanded."

"I wasn't acting," Nandini sighed dolefully, "My voice and hands and legs were shaking because I was scared stiff. That's why it looked natural. But the rest of the play isn't going to be like that, and then Daya will kill me when she realizes her mistake." 

"You will do perfectly well in the rest of the play," Nishi said benevolently. "Vrinda and I will help you practice every day. After a few days, your stage fright will also disappear. And just think, now Rishabh's role in the show is guaranteed," she thumped Nandini on the back proudly, making her laugh. 

Yes, that was the only bright spot in this whole fiasco. She couldn't wait to see his happiness when he would know of his selection….

"And nobody is going to kill you, because we won't let them. Now cheer up! This month is only meant for feeling blissful," Vrinda giggled. "So stop looking so sad and confused."

"But what's special about this month?" Nandini asked, mystified. 

"Nandini, its Valentine's Day later this week! The most romantic day in the year!" Nishi said exasperatedly as Vrinda looked at her with disapproval. 

"It's just a day like any other. We make such a big fuss for no reason," Nandini said lightly.

"You of all people should know the value of this day for lovers, Nandini" Vrinda giggled.

"What do you mean?" Nandini asked uneasily, feeling oddly panicky.

"Nothing! She just meant….I mean….with Suvek all crazy about you….," Nishi answered rapidly, glaring at Vrinda. They had not reached any decision about asking Nandini about her feelings for Prithvi….and it was a subject that had to be broached carefully.

"Please don't start that again," Nandini begged weakly, feeling stupidly relieved inside. 

Her friends laughed, and then began talking about the horrible hour in the college's small theatre. Nandini sought refuge in one of her textbooks and her attention instantly wandered away. She was still dazed by the trauma of giving the audition and Daya's elation at the end of the trial. Realizing that she was too stunned to respond to anyone's congratulations, her friends had managed to get her out of there. And they had been sitting here in the open greenery since then, with Nishi and Vrinda trying to convince her to take up the role. 

But her friends were unaware that her current pitiful state of mind was not only the result of the audition. Something had happened during the trial that had given her a jolt….

In the scene she had to enact, a servant girl was to enter her imaginary room, summoning her to the court. The nervous girl had entered her make-believe chamber and said, "Your highness, the king has asked for your presence in the palace court."

Instead of responding with the dialogue she had been frantically rehearsing since morning, she had simply stared at the girl, her nerves forgotten…… as the sentence stirred some memory in her unconscious mind. 

When Daya had impatiently called out to her, she had somehow managed to come out of the trance and mumble something. But something in the sentence had continued to tease her subconscious all through the dreadful audition. It was only when she had been stumbling down the steps after having gotten through the ordeal that her memory had ultimately come to her rescue.

Your highness….she had heard those words before….

In Ayodhya that night when those thieves had broken in, one of those men had called Prithvi that….

She had been temporarily dazed with pain from the injury on her forehead when she had heard it, and had fainted the next instant because of the shock and hurt. But now she could remember some snatches of it and nothing of it made sense.

Your highness…that was how monarchs were addressed. So why had that man addressed Prithvi like that…. 

She knew that Prithvi belonged to a well-to-do family; and although he dressed casually, his clothes had always held the classiness of expensive simplicity. But was he actually related to any royal family, she wondered dismally. 

And then there was Indrajit…his pricey-looking clothes, the ultrachic car, the gang of men who had attacked Prithvi, all dressed in black and maroon, like they belonged to some guild or strange brotherhood.

Could she dare ask him about it after all these days….

But she didn't want to shatter the fragile strands of friendship and trust that had taken shape between them in the past few days….not at any cost. Perhaps, someday he would trust her enough to tell her himself. She would wait until then. And even if that day never came…even if he never trusted her enough….she was content with the little bit of place she had in his life….

It wasn't very surprising that she hadn't remembered that conversation all these days, Nandini thought idly, because she had been close to unconsciousness when she had heard it. And it had been relegated to the back of her mind by her astonishment when she had recovered awareness and Prithvi had.....a splash of red tinged her cheeks as, for the umpteenth time, she relived the extraordinary moments of that night ….

"What are you reading about that you are blushing so much?"

Startled, Nandini looked up from the book to see her friends staring at her.

"Are you reading a romantic novel by hiding it in the textbook?" Vrinda asked eagerly and took the book out of her unresisting hands.

"Romantic novel? You know I don't read those kinds of nonsensical books," Nandini said indignantly. "They are simply ridiculous."

"Look at this girl. She's falling in love herself but says romantic books are nonsense," Vrinda rolled her eyes, and in the next instant, clapped her hand to her mouth in shock at the statement she had made unthinkingly. Nishi covered her eyes with her hand in frustration. 

Shocked into rigidity, Nandini stared at Vrinda in mingled disbelief and alarm. "What – what did you say?" she asked indistinctly in a shaky voice. 

Looking extremely embarrassed and guilty, Vrinda met her aghast gaze and then looked anxiously at Nishi for help. 

Forced to come out in the open, Nishi reluctantly said, "Nandini, we've been noticing it for days, and we even spoke about it yesterday in the library." 

"We wanted to ask you but didn't know how to," Vrinda said uneasily. 

Nandini looked at her friends helplessly for immeasurably terrible moments.

"I – I don't– I'm not – I'm not in love in with Prithvi." she muttered unsteadily, with an agitatedly flushed face and pleading eyes.

"But we didn't mention Prithvi at all, Nandini," Nishi said softly.

As the simple sentence sifted through the frightening haze that had engulfed her, Nandini felt her little world tilt on its axis. She looked sightlessly at the almost deserted tables stretched in front of them and clenched her fists to stop their trembling. 

Finally, incapable of bearing the subdued stillness anymore, Vrinda reached out and kept a warm hand over Nandini's ice-cold fingers. And a second later, Nishi placed her hand over those of her friends.

Nandini dragged her eyes away from the backdrop and looked at her friends, and saw an almost unbearable understanding in their eyes.

"I didn't….I swear…but…." she whispered tremulously. 

And without any warning at all, the stinging of foolish and irrational tears assaulted her beautiful eyes. She struggled against them momentarily, but then gave in and let the drops fall uninterrupted, as her friends enveloped her in a hug that held unwavering affection and support.

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