Chapter 267

Chapter 346: The Moment that Became a Catalyst

To the far east of the village, there grew a huge grove, in the heart of which reigned a happy lake.

Companions and lovers often came from the village to find respite in this paradise.

A boatman, who conveniently lived in a hut among the grove trees, made an occupation of taking some of the utopic visitors rowing across that lake which was home to quite a number of majestic swans.

Chandraki and her friends occasionally let the boatman sail them down the lake as they amused themselves in feeding grains to the swans. (The swans in that lake preferred the plants that grew in that lake and made an occasional meal of small fishes, but they thought it kind to accept the grains that the silly humans sometimes threw in the water on their behalf.)

Two days after the little tiff at the jewellery shop, Chandraki had taken it upon herself to have a solitary moment by the lakeside.

You see, that morning, her parents had informed her their invitation of a prosperous family from the North who was to come by the end of the week. She would have been unperturbed by this visitation if they hadn't added the annotation that their only son was a learned and handsome young lad.

This statement, albeit ambiguously incomplete, could only mean one thing.

Frustrated by her parents' refusal of letting her be (who were desperate to wed her off, merely days after her landing from long lost London), she had excused herself for the day and ventured to this remote corner of the village.

Not even paradise could appease the turmoil of her mind.

She sat on the grass, covering her head with the pallu of her yellow sari, and then sank her head on her knees around which she'd wrapped her arms.

It was at this moment that she saw the boatman sail across the lake with an otherwise empty boat.

A sudden fancy for a cruise struck her, and she got to her feet, calling out, "Halt there, bhaiyya!"

The boatman turned where he sat on the crest to find her waving to him.

He immediately began peddling his single oar to steer the boat in her hailing direction.

Chandraki stood expectantly on the bank and, a minute later, the boat had reached her and she hastily climbed into the barge, ignoring the bowed sangfroid of the boatman.

Seating herself at the other end of the boat, from the perch of which she could see the swans and the birds, she let out a contented sigh. She was going to dearly miss all this. She silently vowed to herself that she would visit the swans every day until the day of her marriage.

She was so immersed in the beauty of the surroundings and in her own thoughts that she didn't notice that the boatman wasn't rowing like the way he usually did.

There was an awkward lack of skill to his attempts as he pushed the oars from either side of the barge and set it sailing onward.

Chandraki smiled as she watched the swans float by the sailing boat.

"Wish I'd brought some grains along," she mused to no one in particular, "Look how beautifully they dip their heads to the water...They must be thirsty."

"They're trying to catch fish," corrected the voice at the other end of the boat.

"Oh," Chandraki blinked at the swans again, trying to catch a glimpse of what was in their beaks. But from that distance, it was impossible to tell if the silver glint between their beaks was a mouthful of water or, by the boatman's verdict, an innocent, silver trawl.

Chandraki was distraught, "I cannot imagine how a heavenly creature like that can do something so..." She rummaged her mind for the right word, "Predacious."

The boatman chuckled, "Just as my wondering on how a blessed looking damsel like you could be such a witch!"

"What?!!" Chandraki shot a flabbergasted look in his direction just in time to see the boatman look over his shoulder and reveal himself to be the ever-smirking Devananda.

A rage of emotions rushed across Chandraki's face as she gripped the sides of the boat at her end and glared at him, "What are YOU doing here?!!!"

"Why can't I be here?" he poised intelligently, pausing his rowing, "Is there a sign nailed on the fringe of this grove that Devananda Singh Malik is forbidden the adventures of this lakeside?"

(Before we resume the rest of their interesting conversation, let me enlighten you to how this whole tirade came about. You see, Devananda was on one his usual scoutings of the Village market, along with his trusted comrade Prakash Prakash, when he chanced a sighting of the unattended Chandraki heading for the grove in a most engaged mood. This provoked him to follow after her, despite Prakash Prakash's wise cautions. If shadowing after her wasn't enough, Devananda pounced upon the opportunity of the uninhabited grove and interceded the boatman to let him use his boat for an hour or two. The boatman being paid two silver coins, complied with the request and Devananda, deaf to Prakash Prakash's incessantly whispered warnings, proceeded to take the role of the boatman and apply his act on the singular oar of the boat, moving the boat to a distance from where it would catch the Varma witch's eye and instigate her to hail for him. And that is how we obtained a dialogue between the two that continued in this manner...)

Chandraki looked away angrily, crossing her arms before her, "Take me to the shore at once."

She was astonished when, in response, Devananda dropped the oar into the lake.

She stared palely at the oar that sank slowly into the depths of the lake, then gripped the boat again on either side and gaped at him, "What did you do THAT for??"

Devananda stretched his legs and, leaning his back against the stern of the boat, crossed his arms before his chest, "I don't take orders from the likes of you."

"That's not reason enough," she demanded, "How am I to get to the shore now?"

"The way I am going to," stated Devananda casually, his eyes shutting as though he was going to use this crucial moment to take an afternoon nap.

"And how is that?" Chandraki spoke thinly.

"By swimming," mumbled Devananda, letting out a yawn.

Chandraki fumed where she sat, "How am I to swim?!!! I don't know-"

"I'll help you," offered Devananda, a mischievous light glinting in his eyes as he sat up.

"I don't take help from the likes of you," Chandraki echoed his statement proudly.

"Very well, then," Devananda rose to his feet, unbalancing the boat's equilibrium.

"Would you stay still!!!!" Chandraki commanded in a panic, her fingers white from the hard grip she manifested on the boat edges of her side.

"Not any longer," he muttered with a fleeting smirk and then jumped off the boat, hurtling into the lake with a loud splash. Chandraki gasped from the water that had sprayed onto her from his dip.

The boatman rushed to his hut to get a second boat while Prakash Prakash came running across the bank, calling out his friend's name but too afraid to let his feet touch the cold water.

Chandraki wiped the water off her face and peered from the edge of the boat, a slight worry hammering in her heart as she scoured the surface for any signs of the fallen Malik.

She spat at the water and scowled, "If you're dead, then good riddance." She sat straight in the boat but her anxious gaze looked this way and that.

There was no sign of him anywhere and the alarmed cries of that medley servant was getting on her nerves.

Finally, she lost all facade and, in wrought apprehension, hammered at the boat, "Where are you, Malik?"

Suddenly, a wet head appeared at her side, startling her so much that she toppled backwards and fell into the lake.

Cold water stung in her eyes at first contact, and as she squeezed them shut, she felt the violence of the water crush at her being. She had puffed her mouth shut to not breathe in the water but she felt something tickle at her nose. She opened her eyes a fraction and found that it was a tiny fish.

Alarmed, she almost let out a watery yelp when strong hands pulled her by the waist and she broke into the surface, with a loud gasp of earthly air.

Coughing, she complied as the virile arms, that had rescued her, aided her to the boat.

She regained the strength in her shocked limbs, just in time to help herself scramble onto the boat. And there she lay, breathing in deeply and waiting for her panicked heart to calm down.

She closed her eyes and engulfed her mind with thoughts of her parents and what they would have endured if they'd learnt something had happened to their daughter.

Tears rose behind her closed eyes at the thought of their tormented faces and she vowed herself to never hurt them. And if they want me to marry, I will... any man they wish me to.

Just then, she opened her eyes to find Devananda's face peering worriedly down at hers.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She blinked.

And then scowled, "Am I ALRIGHT?"

She sat up, gripped him by his collar and shook him, "I can never be alright as long as you live, Dungface!!!!"

The return of her fury relieved him greatly and Devananda smiled at her infuriated face, "I am glad I live, then."

She would have manifested a providential slap on him if it hadn't been for the second boat's appearance alongside theirs, with the real boatman and Prakash Prakash on board.

She let go of Devananda's collar and helped herself to the second boat, refusing to take Prakash Prakash's gentlemanly hand. The refusal irked the young servant but he appeased it by putting his tongue out at her, when her back was turned to him.

Then Prakash Prakash helped his friend aboard, "I was worried for you! When I saw you'd-"

Devananda shook his head like a furry dog and the water on his hair sprayed over his friend's face, "You know I am good at this, why worry then?"

"A true friend is always empathetic," stated Prakash Prakash importantly but Devananda had only eyes for Chandraki.

She sat huddled at one of the boat and refused to look in their direction.

Devananda offered her his dry cloak (which he had given his servant for safekeeping before he made for the boat to lure the Varma girl) but Chandraki rejected it.

Devananda, nevertheless, kept it on the boat, close to her feet, in case she changed her mind and required it.

Which she did.

Minutes later, as their crowded boat was rowed back across the lake, she had wrapped herself in his cloak, assuming he wasn't watching, with his back turned to her and his hearty conversation with Prakash Prakash.

But he saw it, of course. Though his words were for his friend, his eyes were unblinkingly on the reflection in the water of the young woman seated behind him.

How beautiful she appeared, even in her drenched avatar, and yet how composed. His hands trembled from the memory of holding her, so close to him, the feel of her skin where the sari and blouse revealed her slender waist.

He shut his eyes and remembered the panic that had rushed in his blood, at the thought of losing her. A foolish play on his part would have been the reason he spent the rest of his life wracked in guilt of having let her die...

He smiled to himself as the memory of his relief returned to him. How when she'd broke to the surface, she had taken that audible gasp of air, her hands reaching for something to hold onto...

He had almost wept against her wet, plaited hair in the ecstasy of the moment. He was willing to drown in gratitude for that gift of holding her close to him, safe from death...

Late that night, bathed and dined, Chandraki sat in the corner of her balcony looking at the huge, blanched moon, so close to her that she felt if she stretched out of her hand, she could touch its silver dust...

A cold wind brushed past her balcony just then and she wrapped the faded cloak tighter around her. Her fingers brushed upon its soft texture and, with her eyes closed, she bent down and smelled it in. The smell of him...of his eagerness to taunt her, of his wicked tricks, of his desperation to keep her safe...

She remembered how he'd shook his head, almost shyly, when she'd offered to return the cloak as they stood on the bank of the lake.

How his eyes had, almost uncertainly, looked at her arms, wanting to make certain no bruises would be found...

She recalled the way his unusually deep eyes had looked into hers, almost assuring her that no harm would befall her, as long as he was there...

She bit her lower lip worriedly. Did he notice the slight redness that must have appeared on my cheeks when he looked at me? Did he see the way my fingers gripped at his cloak when I held it to him, wanting to not let go? Did he realize I'd been watching him while we journeyed in the boat to the shore, watching how his wet, untidy hair shone in the sun and how his shoulders looked so safe, so strong?

A few miles away, on the rooftop of the Malik mansion, Devananda lay, watching the starlit sky, lost in the thoughts of the one who was thinking of him.

Sitting cross-legged beside him was Prakash Prakash, peeling and munching on a handful of oranges, as he frowned suspiciously at Devananda's reverie. He hadn't liked one bit all the things that had happened at the lakeside that afternoon. Romance had transformed poor Devananda's sane brain into cotton candy.

"Did you see her?" Devananda murmured, in a broken daze, "How can a woman look so..."

"Annoying?"

"No."

"Arrogant?"

"No! Immaculate!"

Prakash Prakash rolled his eyes.

"I have to see her again," Devananda hankered, sitting up.

Prakash Prakash scowled, "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?"

Devananda only smiled goofily at him.

Prakash Prakash groaned, "Why don't you see the dilemmas this condition poses? What will your father say when he hears of this? What will the villagers think? What will the-" he gulped anxiously here, "the Varmas think? They'll slice to a thousand pieces if they learn of this absurd wish of yours."

"I will see her," asserted a determined Devananda.

"You will not!" Prakash Prakash insisted, "I'd rather die a martyr than see you being sacrificed on the altar of the cannibalistic Varmas."

"They are not cannibalistic," defended Devananda, "They are humans like us."

Prakash Prakash shot him a worried look, "This was not what you said all these years of your Malikan existence."

Devananda sighed and lay down again, "My perspective of the Varmas has changed." And saying so, he slipped again into a trance.

Prakash Prakash slapped his own forehead, "Aiy! Aiy! What has become of you my poor Devananda! Where is my friend?!!

Devananda shook his head at the sky, "I am here, you idiot. I am just fallen in love."

Prakash Prakash stared in shock at his blasphemy, "Are you mad?!! Did you find no other girl in this village to fall for expect that witch! I pray you, recall all the horrid things she called you and did to you in the past. She publically ridiculed you!! That girl does not deserve your attention, not even a pinch of it, I tell you!"

Devananda sighed, "Nothing you say will change what I am feeling for her."

Prakash Prakash threw his oranges aside, "Oh gods above!! Show me the light. Teach me how to bring my friend back to his senses."

Devananda gave no reply to this and Prakash Prakash tried again to puncture his fancies, "Listen here, Deva, consider clearly the two of you: the disparities are so huge that there is scarcely any similarities."

Devananda chuckled dryly, "What do YOU know about us?"

Prakash Prakash offered to elaborate, "She loves to spend her entire day buying pretty flowers while you indulge yourself in cockfights and bullfights. I am good at reading human comportments. She harbours a character that is stubborn and unrelenting, which was fuelled further after her proud education in the English land. She cares naught for love or for you and would happily trample your heart if given the chance."

"These are all unreal findings," mumbled Devananda.

"Well, there is no denying the biggest difference," concluded his friend firmly, "You are a Malik and she is a Varma. You are both like elephant and tiger, like oil and water, like air and earth. You can never come together."