Finding Jasmine

Chapter 19: Devyani Singh

This chapter is dedicated to SarahBensonBooks

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Why was I fond of that girl?

Why did I feel that she belonged to me?

I did not realise that I still remembered the lullaby that I had often crooned to my Pratap.

The words had come out of nowhere.

But why did I sing the verses to this unknown orphan the words that were embedded in my heart ?

Jasmine had unlocked the cache that had been sealed with the death of Pratap.

Her uncanny similarity to Rosalie had stirred a hope in my heart.

I had not voiced these to anyone .

So far I myself was afraid to accept them.

Looking at Rosalie's incarnation everyday was not easy for me.

But time heals all wounds and I was also mellowing with age .

I had forgiven Rosalie long time back in my heart. There was no malice now.

My son had loved her and she too had left her family to be with him when he had been disowned,

Their love was of the stuff found in books and tales.

It was pure and they loved and lived died together. If they would have been alive, I would probably brought them back to the house.

But Jasmine was a mystery to her.

There was so much wisdom in those deep blue eyes.

She was sharp and penetrating like Pratap but there was a strange vulnerable look around her.

She seemed to have known lot of pain.

I wanted to ease away all lines and shadows from that face.

I wanted her to laugh, sing and dance like an eighteen year old.

I wanted her to be as vain as Gayatri and prune and preen herself.

Forming an image of the tomboyish Jasmine preening before the mirror suddenly made me laugh.

No, I can't stand another Barbie doll in this house!

I shook myself out of my reverie.

Jasmine was asleep.

I silently slid out and went to my study.

I sat on my rocking-chair and looked out of the window over the vast expanse of swaying cedars.

My mind was in a daze.

Images of days gone by rolled before my eyes .

Images of Pratap riding on the mountains on his white steed that no one else could muster courage to mount......

Images of Pratap winning laurels.....

Images of Pratap planting cedars and nurturing them.....

Images of Pratap toiling in the fields...

Images of Pratap coming home one day with an English bride......

That was the last time she had seen him.

Silent tears flew down her face.

There was a knock at the door.

Hours had flown by and it was dark.