Chapter 65

61. Fluffy and Furry

‘Dil Ko Teri Hi Tamanna…

Dil Ko Tujhse Hi Pyaar

Chahe Tu Aaye Na Aaye…

Hum Karenge Intezaar….,’ Ahilya sang while Hardiik accompanied her on table-aa. 

Mr. Kamat sat on the opposite chair. He did not have vast music knowledge but what he was hearing right now was an achingly beautiful voice. The notes of the song and the nuanced expressions on her face were all apt. He felt as if the singer was lost to the world, invoking her lover, supplicating her heart at his feet.

When she reached the part, ‘Aise Veerane Mein Hum…’, she leaned back into the couch, her head falling back on it. Kamat was not easily given to softer emotions but he felt tear brim in his eyes. He surreptitiously dabbed at his eyes and watched the performance as the ebb and flow of the music faded out before his eyes in the next few minutes. The performance ended with Hardiik’s final finger strikes on the table. Hardiik looked up at Ahilya who was staring at the ceiling and felt an innate need to comfort her.

‘Mr. Kamat, your parents must have never expected you to become a lawyer or in fact, they must not have any expectations from you.’

Mr.Kamat was fifty-something, of short height, and thin build. His hairline was thin, receding and his hair was grey. His disposition was that of a heron. Calm, poised, and cunning. 

‘Why would you assume that, Sir?’ Hardiik was someone who had been always around his client, Ahilya Lokhande. There were times he disappeared from the scene only to return. He was the only man, Kamat had witnessed to take liberties with the woman. Thus, Kamat made it a point to show deference to the young man.

‘It isn’t my assumption but a belief or why would they call you Rockie. Rockie Kamat, not the kind of name one would bestow upon a son they were hoping would grow up to be a lecturer or a lawyer. Do they even take you seriously in hearings?’

‘Very, Sir. I have no idea why my parents decided to call me Rockie.’

‘But Mr.Kamat please be honest and tell us, did you have a gang at school? Teased girls and or at least kidnapped budhi bewa mothers?’

Mr.Kamat remained silent.

'At least you should have changed your name now. You know the procedure, don't you?' Hardiik said.

'And why should I do that, Sir?'

'Because Rockie doesn't suit you going by your age and your personality.'

'Any suggestions you have for the name, Sir?'

'Too many. Rajesh. Ramesh.' Hardiik looked at Ahilya for a response but she was still looking unblinkingly at the ceiling. 'If you are aiming for nefarious personalities, how about Ranjit?'

'I pray Sir,  to be fortunate enough to be born as  your son in the next birth.'

'Then you'd have to die soon Mr. Rockie. Because it is a limited offer. I prefer a maximum of two children and it's a first come first serve basis.'

'Okay boys,' Ahilya clapped her hands as if woken up from her sleep. 'Back to your work, please. I will meet you both tomorrow.' She dismissed them, walking off to her bedroom.

Hardiik's gaze followed her until she disappeared into the room and the door was shut.

Moving his attention to Kamat, he inquired, 'So, why did she call you today?'

Mr. Kamat raised his eyebrows slightly. 'I am afraid I cannot reveal it to you.'

'Come on, Mr.Kamat,' he put his hands around the lawyer. 'Even if you don't tell me I will get to know from her or anywhere else.' They emptied the house and waited for the elevator.

'You will not hear it from me.' Mr.Kamat said firmly. 

XxxX

The Institute or as the local people called it Ashram, was called MeghDhanush, the name etched in a marble stone tablet that was set in a concrete wall. 

It was spread over acres of land and boasted of magnificent architecture. 

A heart-shaped pond where pink lilies and red lotuses swayed. Huge shrubs trimmed into the shape of worthy ancestors, benefactors, and females of significance. Flourishing gardens filled with various multicolored flowers were an attraction spot. Kirti had been told that the harvests of these gardens were sent away to be sold in the markets.

Though access into the Ashram was prohibited to outsiders, Kirti had been here twice before, and showing a card, was easily allowed once again.

Today, when she stepped inside the hallowed halls of the place where the ceilings were high and intimidating, where each pillar was named after someone and spoke of a different story; Kirti felt as if some excitement was gliding on the ropes of air.

'Where is Madam?' She asked one of the girls who was carrying a huge platter of fruits. The other one scurried along with a silver platter of sweets.

'She is in the assembly hall upstairs.'

When a breathless Kirti climbed some fifty stairs and reached near the hall, she could hear the combined magic of the melodious tunes of a harmonium, of tabla and a sitar, reach her. 

Bewitched, she followed the melody. She saw some girls up on dais singing; others women and girls, down on the carpeted floor. In a corner, by the window sat Mrinalini Aggarwal on a plastic chair. Her hands were folded and eyes closed.

A prayer song was going on the stage.

Without drawing any attention to herself, Kirti surreptitiously slipped out of her chappals and sat at the back, her hands folded in her lap.

The girl sang as if she had Goddess Saraswati's blessings. 

The atmosphere was divine, the air pure. Kirti closed her eyes and concentrated on the lyrics.

Mero mann anat kaha sukh pave…

She remembered studying it in the tenth standard for her Hindi Literature syllabus. It was a devotional poem composed by Surdas.

The music, every note, every nuanced feeling, she let it flow through her veins.

Kirti did not know when the song ended, for she was lost to a different world and her eyes were leaking on their own accord.

'Chiki, child?' Someone prodded her awake from her dream.

She opened her eyes to find a cloudy world. When her vision cleared, she saw Nishit's grandmother standing in front of her.

'Dadimaa,' she touched her feet before getting up.

'You here?' Mrinalini peered at her from behind her glasses.

'It has been a long time since our last meeting so and...you said I could come anytime…'

'Of course, you can. That's not what I meant. Come...come let's sit and talk in my room.' She held Kirti's hands and took her to her own quarters.

Kirti had been here last time. It was a spacious and ventilated room with bare essential items. A bed, bookshelves, a table. 

Kirti took the single-seater leather sofa while Mrinalini sat on a jute chair. A girl came in with a bowl of kheer, prasad that consisted of fruits and sweets.

'Have I come on some special day, Dadima?' She asked before picking up fruit.

'It is the death anniversary of one of our very kind benefactors. The kheer is the bhog from that. Eat it only if you are okay with it.'

'Huh?' Kirti looked up.

'Some people do not like to partake of such food.' Mrinalini explained.

'Oh,' Picking up the bowl of prasad, she spooned some and said, 'It is my father's anniversary as well.'

Mrinalini looked at her kindly. Then perking up, she said, 'You have come at an appropriate time.' Ringing a bell, she called for a girl. 'Bring her the litchis that had arrived yesterday.'

'You and Chiku used to love litchis.'

'Dadimaa,  remember how he would always leave some flesh on the seed and you would be angry how he never finishes it clean?'

'He was a difficult child,' Mrinalini reminisced.

'Very arrogant too,' Kirti added then wondered if she had spoken too much.

'Huh? He was. Wasn't he? Once his uncle had taunted him about something and he hadn't used his fancy bicycle ever again. Taken after his grandfather.'

'Leave all this,' the dowager said. 'How are you?'

'Good. My Dadi…'

Mrinalini was stunned to hear all of it.

'O child...come here,' she crossed the distance between them and embraced the girl.

Kirti nuzzled her head in the old woman's arms. Her embrace was warm, fluffy, and smelled of a sweet fragrance. Motherly affections, did it smell like it? She sniffed and then began to withdraw but Mrinalini did not let her.

'Okay child...you've been through a lot. It's okay. Cry…'

After Kirti had spent all her emotions, Mrinalini forcefully made her sit by her side and fed her various delicacies while she narrated her Chiku's childhood antics.

'He was a handful as a child. After years a child had graced our family and you would know how we doted on him. He had us twisted around his little finger. Trailing after ants, lizards…'

'Lizards?' Kirti was surprised.

'Yes, he would go after them. Trying to catch them. The ants he would cover with his tiny hands disturbing their trail. Sometimes we would see those large ants hanging from his finger, its sting piercing his soft skin but the boy was cackling!'

In this manner, Kirti's day was spent. She felt peaceful and content in her heart after days.

When she returned home, Ammaji barked, 'Where were you? Radha has been looking for you! Here handle your responsibility,' she pushed the girl to her. 

Radha ran to her joyfully.

'Aww, baby missed me. But I had told you I would be late today, didn't I? Here this is for you.' She handed the girl a bag of litchis then looked around for her slippers but could not find them.

'Aap pehan ke chal rahe the? Where did you leave it Radha?'

Radha had forgotten about it. 

Kirti had to go search for it in the backyard. The light bulb there was fused. She looked around and finally found her footwear. On an about-turn, she felt a flurry-like motion around her leg.

'Aaaaaouch,' It was a deja vu for her.

Radha and Ammaji ran out hearing her scream.

'Ammaji there was something here…'

'Huh?' Ammaji looked at her blankly.

'There was something furry... I felt it…'

'Oh,' Ammaji croaked. 'Kharha hoga…'

'Hare?' Kirti was confused.

'Our new rentee!' Ammaji explained. 'He has a hare pet.'

Then turned around and walked back inside. Kirti followed suit.

By the time she can gather her wits, she saw a familiar figure descend the steps of the house's upper story.

‘Namaste,' He said, standing in front of her. 'Hum naye kirayedaar. Upar ke kamre mein rehne aaye hai.' Then, whistled and the hare came running back to his owner much to Radha's amusement.  'Ye hamara hai. Sylvester.’

‘Buta,’ she whispered, struck.

‘Humne apna naam toh bataya hi nahi. Ankit Pandey.'

'Kirti beta,' Mr.Ojha said. 'He is of the same caste as us. Hamare jati bhai hue. We are Kanyakubj Brahmins and he is Sakaldwipi Brahmin.'

For lyrics and translation of the devotional song please turn to Pg 9.

https://youtu.be/0mx37C-I6b8

https://youtu.be/jBxDcoFVdVQ

[MEMBERSONLY]