CHAPTER 13
Hear O ladies, what's on my mind,
About the stable-boy Gafhoor, a creature so sly.
It was his luck that the young Sahib was kind,
For had his cruel punisher instead been I
His filthy hands and legs I'd tightly bind,
And break them ALL, till I heard him sob and cry
Patting the powder off her flour-dusted palms, the young maid crouched upon the floor, beside piles of greasy utensils and vegetable peelings. Her eager eyes sparkled bright, as her lips bit down upon the thin edges of her veil 'What do you think?'
'That was funny...' A volley of contagious chuckles ruffled throughout the kitchens 'Well done...'
'Another one?'
'Yes... can you come up with another one?' they asked, playing the perfect audience to Bindiya's parodies, although their experienced hands continued with the chores.
A few feet short of those kitchens, Heera stopped by in the adjacent corridors, where she'd been strolling to and fro while supervising the preparations. Setting her silk fan down to give her fingers a rest, she leaned over one of the windows, her flushed skin longing to be brushed by a stray drift of breeze.
The mid-morning air of that part of the guest quarters was dense with an overpowering aroma of both, sugars and seasonings - making the heat from steaming cauldrons and crackling pans that much more uncomfortable to bear. Adding to the noise and humidity, was the constant flurry of kitchen attendants pandering to Maharaj kakasa's orders.
But all that discomfort wouldn't stop the maids from chattering away - especially on a morning as eventful as this.
Not that Heera minded their chatter. After all, such incidents were very rare in Parnagarh. The controversy was bound to spark quite a few discussions amongst her people. Besides, it was from their discussions that the lady had learnt about an incident she was unaware of - and what a significant incident that'd turned out to be!
'Keep your hands to yourself... or I will crack their bones too!'
She pondered upon Bindiya's dramatic narration about the Sahib's mighty demonstration. And for once, Heera knew the young maid wasn't exaggerating. 'If there is a bloodbath, I will be the lone man standing... I assume that's not what you want...'
Maybe then, she hadn't judged the man wrongly after all.
'So baisa... this egoistic businessman does have a couple of redeeming qualities about him, doesn't he?' she bantered with her alter ego. For starters, he was brazenly bold. And inherently decent. Quite sharp too. In all fairness, those would count as more than just-a-couple of redeeming qualities, wouldn't they?
A 'happy' trill in Bindiya's voice brought her attention to the conversations in the kitchen, and she decided to listen to the upcoming parody, before returning to her duties.
When the boastful Kotwal blamed us of the theft, his face would scowl and glower,
But when the coins were discovered in the boy's house, his expressions turned sour.
Not a single sensible statement did he make during the entire tense hour,
No wonder then, that Khan Sahib possesses over everyone else, such unquestionable power!
'Does he now, Bindiya?' Heera chimed in, trying not to sound too amused as she remembered how five days back, this very girl had vowed never to think highly of the man.
'Well... if it wasn't for him, we would've been shamed today... what's not to respect in a man who stands up for two commoners like us, baisa?' she replied, along with a chorus of approvers
'Quite true!' the Lady nodded, recognising that his momentary gesture of cracking an ink pot, had left behind trails of a permanent mark of respect amongst her people.
At least, amongst most of them.
Heera turned around, to try and observe the chief-maid who was busy instructing the ladies in the reception room.
In most ways, her closest companion was a mirror image of her own self - a proud woman, but grateful too. Hence it was puzzling to note Gauri's unwillingness to acknowledge the young man's efforts to save her honour. In fact, ever since her return from the haveli, she'd mentioned everything else BUT him. Why? Did she not want to see the Sahib in a positive light? Or, was she afraid to let her baisa see him in a positive light?
The twinkle that'd briefly livened up her eyes faded away.
'Anyhow... must get back to work...' she let go of the window sill, realising that no drift of breeze was going to be blowing her way anytime soon 'besides... after this feast... it's crucial for us to begin making plans to leave Aidabad... people have found out that we're from Parnagarh... news is bound to spread, which could spell danger for us... and why hasn't Chitranjan kakasa replied to my scroll yet? Our messenger left 5 days back... the message must have reached him days ago...'
'Baisa...' a gentle call drew her out of those thoughts 'Chacha Sahib is here to see you...'
Reception room of the guest quarters...
'Sahiba... I received your message... thank you...' His crinkly smile waned as he began scratching his head in confusion. When he abruptly realised that his behaviour wasn't ideal, especially in the presence of a noblewoman, the elderly man rectified his appearance by dropping drown his hands and standing straight 'B... but a... a feast... after a funeral? I... I don't understand...'
Trying not to smile at his entertaining antics, Heera went on to reveal the significance of the 13th day feast to the Mughal man, concluding her explanations with a personal invite 'And that is why I would like you to come, Chacha Sahib'
There was now little sign of the jovial old man that Chacha really was.
'I cannot speak for the rest of my men... but, I will be there... attending the feast in remembrance of your sister...' his eyes managed to retain a smile, but his voice had cracked 'her soul will be appeased that a great cook like myself ate a feast in her honour!'
Heera nearly let out a soft laugh, moved by his attempt to lighten the mood 'I am sure jiji will be happy... thank you...'
Chacha paused, as though his mind was moving onto something else.
'Having said that... what happened today, shouldn't have happened...' he suddenly folded his palms as a mark of regret, taking the Lady by surprise 'I agree that at one point, the situation turned quite unpleasant...but please take my word when I say I didn't doubt your maids... and neither did Akbar or his mates...'
'It's kind of you to say that' she nodded
'And yet...' his eyelids drooped 'here I am... asking you for some help... you must think I am very inconsiderate...'
It was Heera's chance to seem confused 'Why? What help do you need?'
The man took a good while to speak up, and when he did, it was with obvious hesitation 'This morning, Akbar had an accident when he was out on some work... Bahadur's been injured gravely...' he paused 'Our Hakim is away, in a distant town... would you be able to take a look at the horse for us, Sahiba?'
Her eyes widened in surprise 'Me? But I am no veterinarian! I have never treated animals before...'
'But you've cured many people... Maharaj Sahib and Ratan Sahib have told me tales about your miraculous gift of healing...' he folded his palms again, hoping she would relent 'At least a quick peek Sahiba... to assure us he will be fine... it's bleeding profusely and I didn't know who else to go to for help...'
The Lady was in a fix, her eyes inadvertently scanning the bustle around her - the priests would be here in an hour or two, and there was still plenty to be finished. Even a trek to the stables to inspect the injured horse, would take long - let alone treat an animal that was bleeding profusely. Besides, judging by Khan Sahib's nature, she was worried that her intervention might give rise to fresh problems, since he was not the kind to let anyone meddle in his affairs.
However, it also felt cruel to turn down such a request. She would never be able to ignore a helpless being's agony, and peacefully continue with her responsibilities. Moreover; after what the young man had done for her ladies, this was the least she could do to repay him.
'Alright... but, does Khan Sahib know of this?' she asked, almost certain of the answer
Chacha shook his head 'No... but Akbar has been extremely tensed since morning... and it would put him at ease, if he was told that Bahadur's fine...'
'Understandable' she nodded slowly, reflecting that THIS was the cause of the restlessness in his torrid eyes 'You may go ahead, Chacha Sahib... I will be there at the stables soon...'
At the stables...
Anxiously awaiting news of his friend, the young man pulled out a long grass from a heap of soft Earth close to where he sat, skilfully shuffling the blade of grass from one finger to the next. And then, from next finger to the last. The petty game was a means of distraction, so his glances wouldn't fall upon the sight of those blood soaked cloth bandages around Bahadur's body - a makeshift dressing that'd already been changed four times around.
All of a sudden, he glimpsed up, alerted to the beat of oncoming hooves 'Ai Khuda... please... let it be good news...' he prayed for the wounded pet that lay beside him. But before that prayer could be completed, his mate's long face had given away the outcome.
It was not good news.
'Khan Sahib' Azeez leapt off his steed even before it'd come to a stop, and nimbly hastened up to the man 'Not before tomorrow morning...'
'Darn' crushing the blade of grass and throwing it aside, Akbar ruffled through a few strands of hair in frustration 'If the Hakim cannot get here before morning, Bahadur's injuries might get seriously infected... and... and...' he stopped.
The stallion's tired eyes were still looking up with hope, trying to decode its master's shifting body language and thoughts.
He swiftly disguised his reaction with hints of positivity 'Nothing will happen to you, my friend... I will drag that stubborn Hakim here, if I would have to use force to do it!' having patted its neck supportively, the determined young man then stood up 'Ibrahim... Azeez... handle the stables... Sayyid come on... let's go...'
'Khan Sahib...' Azeez interrupted, though in two minds if he must bring up this information now 'While riding up here, I noticed the Sahiba walking along with a couple of her guards... I think she's on her way to meet you...'
'What!' he exhaled, his mind in absolutely no condition to deal with further issues at this point
'Actually... THERE they are...' Ibrahim indicated towards four specks, emerging upon the fields 'What do you want to do?'
Akbar's thumb uncertainly ran over his creased temple, till a stern voice in his head snapped him out of that lull 'For Heaven's sake... since when did you bother about decorum... or manners... or if it's rude to ride off when someone's come to meet you... Bahadur is injured and bleeding... get going!'
Brusquely turning around thereon, he let out a loud whistle - a signal - and out trotted another horse from the stables. 'Handle the matter, Ibrahim... I'm off...' he instructed, whilst grabbing a saddle from a stall nearby and flinging it upon the horse's back.
All set to leave, Akbar was about to jump atop and dash off - but what should have taken him less than a moment, seemed to take much longer. His boots remained grounded on the spot - a small part of him not allowing his feet to take off just yet. Not once he'd gotten a clearer picture of her.
In one hand, she held aside a small pleated bunch of skirt to stop its edges from getting in the way. In the other hand, she managed both - her veil of shimmering summery-yellow silk, and a sleek wooden cane to help with the uneven surfaces. Gracefully armed thus, the Sahiba was scaling the stretches of greenery, resembling the radiant sun rising from the fields, her elegance undiminished even during an awkwardly-inconvenient adventure such as this.
And it was this rare picture, which somehow got him to think that if an heiress had gone through all that trouble to get here, the matter could not be so trivial.
So, he temporarily set aside those strong impulses to 'dash-off', and saved everyone valuable time by striding up to her.
'Salaam Khan Sahib...' she wished the man
'Salaam...' he clipped short his greeting
Recognising the haste in his tone, she got straight to the point 'I heard that your horse suffered an accident... I was asked to come take a look at it...'
'What!' he lifted a brow, astonished by the very suggestion 'and who might have asked you to take a look at it?'
'Chacha Sahib...'
'Chacha jaan!' Just as he'd guessed! 'No wonder he suddenly had some urgent business in the market...' Akbar briefly shut his eyes, trying to get a grip on the annoying developments 'There's been a mistake, Sahiba... I was leaving to fetch the Hakim now...'
'But, I was told your veterinarian is away in a distant town... and that's the sole reason I agreed to come...'
'Well... this Hakim is a respected professional... he has been treating my horses all along... and 'HE' is the only one I trust my animals with!'
'Fair enough' Heera nodded, reminding the 'Hakim' in herself that she mustn't take his frank admission personally 'Are you certain its condition will not worsen, till your return?'
Akbar felt a section of his jaw tighten in worry. If only he could answer her question with an 'Of course Bahadur's condition wouldn't worsen...' but, he couldn't. Because he was aware that however fast he rode, it'd be several hours before he returned from the next major town. So he tossed back her query with a cross-question instead 'Why? What makes you think its condition will worsen?'
She indicated towards the pet, which was lying flat under a tree - an unusual posture for an animal that mostly stood tall and upright 'Your horse has become lethargic... exhausted... has it lost a lot of blood?'
'Fine...' he nodded, since the Sahiba was making absolute sense. Besides, for all of his in-depth knowledge about racing horses, he was no veterinarian. So, he decided to take the bait 'Have you treated animals before?'
Heera shrugged 'I've cured many people before...'
Staring at the Lady for a deliberate pause, the stern young man shook his head 'Then, I can't let you handle my horse!'
Ahaa! There was the rebuttal she'd been expecting all along.
'Khan Sahib... I haven't come here to prove myself' she gently tilted her head in the direction of the guest quarters 'I am hosting a feast today... in honour of my sister... I left all that behind at the request of Chacha Sahib to help treat your pet... but since you've made it quite clear that you don't need my assistance, I shall return to my work now...'
She began retracing her steps - no frown on her brows, no ill will in her heart.
And about 3 steps on, she heard him.
'Harka Sahiba...'
Her pace slowed.
'Harka Sahiba?'
It was the first time he'd taken her name - and my, had he done it with flair. A short sigh later, she turned around 'Yes?'
The man was facing the direction of his injured horse 'You may go ahead... and examine Bahadur...' he announced, startling one and all in that stable-yard - even his closest mates - with that announcement. It was partly desperation, but mostly trust and instinct, that got Akbar to do something he'd never done before - reverse his decision.
However, when the Lady didn't move from her spot, he knew why, and amended the tone of his request 'Sahiba... please, take a look at Bahadur...'
A faint smile fringed on her lips. 'I will...' she nodded.
Akbar began leading the way, with Heera and her entourage following suit, but soon enough, he could hear the pace of her anklets stalling off.
He instinctively glared ahead - the Lady was receiving attention aplenty from an enchanted audience of stables boys, stable attendants and managers.
Oh yes, the men were trying to be discreet, but they couldn't be expected to act like business was 'normal'!
Firstly, they'd never witnessed their Sahib trust any healer other than their regular Hakim. Therefore, watching him entrust his cherished Bahadur's life in the hands of a stranger, was a miracle in itself.
Besides, this stranger was a lady.
That too, an exotic noblewoman - the kinds who were rarely sighted from close quarters, since such highborn ladies always stayed hidden within the Zenanas of their havelis or behind a train of guards. Never were they known to venture amongst commoners - and definitely not inside stable-yards.
Moreover, THIS particular noblewoman, as they'd found out barely an hour ago, was the heiress of Parnagarh - famed to be one of the most stunning women in this part of the country.
So, if not fascination, it was lust. If not lust, it was plain curiosity - but her persona was the object of everyone's glances.
Akbar immediately extended his hand out, blocking her group's way - an indication that they must wait behind, till he tackled the issue.
He then walked up to his employees.
'Take the horses out to the meadows... for some exercise...' he demanded 'ALL of you...'
'N... now?' the puzzled managers were about to question this unusual decision.
But when they observed Akbar tying his arms behind his back - waiting to hear them out - they somehow forgot what they were supposed to say.
'Y... yes... as you say... Sahib...' the men nodded, dispersing to do as told.
Of course, he needn't have sent the employees away. Just a hard glare would've got them to return to their work. But that wouldn't stop them from sneaking in an occasional peak. Especially once the heiress had unveiled her face, which he was quite sure she'd have to do to treat the horse.
And as any respectable lady, she deserved her privacy.
Besides, he was aware of the kind of thoughts and images that a man's imagination was capable of conjuring up when stumbling upon a beautiful young lady - inevitably leading to inappropriate gossip amongst the men later. And this was something his actions would avoid.
Sometime later...
'Finally...'
Some skill and lot of perseverance was what it took - the thorn was plucked out at long last!
But when it came to the larger splinters caught within the folds of torn skin, Bahadur was not going to be fooled into co-operating. And no sooner than she slipped her fingers towards the sharp fragments, the stallion whinnied and jerked its torso defiantly, showing its displeasure towards the unfamiliar Lady for poking and prodding at its injuries.
Heera put down her reading stone and sat back upon the rocky ground 'Khan Sahib' she muttered to the young man, who was kneeling on the other end 'Bahadur has to have the entire portion of that powder... if it doesn't calm down and stay absolutely still... I would never be able to do the stitches!'
A droplet of sweat trickled down from his temple and fell upon his forearm as he paused to take a breather, his eyes fixed upon the potent powder that sat untouched - a herbal sedative.
The stable yard had run out of tranquilisers, so they'd tried to administer this herbal medicine instead - by masking the powder in both, water and hay. They'd coddled the pet. Reassured it. Threatened it. Bribed it. Why, at one point, the young man had even held its forelimbs down to try and force-feed the medicine.
But Bahadur didn't relent.
Despite being sick and injured, it was a strong beast, heavier than five grown men, and mighty stubborn too. It did not like the smell of that strange medicinal powder, and would not touch it - how much ever they tried!
'Does Bahadur like music?' Heera asked softly
'Huh?' Akbar huffed with a shrug 'Maybe...'
'Could you possibly sing him a song, then Khan Sahib?' her tone sounded sincere 'To try and lull it into a slumber... so I might start the treatment?'
'Absolutely not... ' the flustered young man was about to protest - so engrossed had he been in the exhausting exercise that he'd initially failed to see her suggestion for what it was - a joke.
Till she broke out into a soft fit of giggles.
Akbar looked up with a piercing stare, to defy the lady who was amusing herself at his expense. But the confrontation that followed, was not the kind of confrontation he'd set out to achieve.
Because it was a trap - and he'd fallen right into it.
The young man hadn't stared in her direction all along - mainly out of respect, but also to dodge those enticing gazes of hers - which'd kept him immune to her charms.
Till he met the marvel that were her smiles. Heard the music that were her giggles. And witnessed the bewitchingly feminine manner with which she bit down upon her tender lips.
Never had he caught her smiling before - or he would have known to steer clear of this trap. For, it was an addicting sight. A sight, which the mind wanted another glimpse of. And another. And another. Till the viewer was thoroughly sucked in.
And, it wasn't only that her smiles intoxicating, her positivity was contagious too. Here was an heiress seated upon harsh ground - her hands blood-stained, attire muddy and numerous responsibilities left incomplete. Yet, she hadn't winced in discomfort or displeasure once. Rather, she was making light of their worries with a smile.
Obvious then, that even a humourless young man like Akbar didn't mind being the object of her amusement when its outcome was something so marvellous.
Having said that though, the feelings of positivity were only short-lived, and the effects of her spell wore off. The dark voices had reared their ugly heads in his mind, reminding him how deadly an addiction this was - more distracting than any other temptation, and more dangerous too.
Conquering whatever it was that had briefly 'tricked' him to relent to her feminine appeals, Akbar broke away and veered his attention towards Bahadur, the frowns on his brows still intact.
'Trick him to relent?'
The strange train of thoughts had fortunately diverted him towards an idea - to get Bahadur to do what they wanted him to.
Gliding his hand around his cummerbund, Akbar reached over for a pouch tucked underneath and pulled it out. Unfastening its drawstring, he removed the peanuts from within - the pet's favourite treats - and dangled the delicacy in front.
As soon as Bahadur recognised what was on offer, it opened its mouth to gobble up the nuts. And that is when Akbar managed to skilfully slide in both - an ordinary set of peanuts and some that'd been mixed with the powder.
Three such attempts, and the horse realised it was being misled - but those three attempts were enough to feed him the sedative.
A short interval thereon, and Bahadur was already showing signs of calming down. With a co-operative patient to work with, Heera found it easier to do what she'd come to. As her aide held the reading stone above the wound, the young lady cleaned the debris and splinters off, before bathing the wound in medicinal water.
'Only skin deep... not life threatening...' she deduced, on examining the injury and the amount of blood it'd lost 'Plenty of water... plenty of rest and a strong young stallion like this should recover within 3... 4 weeks...''
That reassurance got Akbar to breathe a huge sigh of relief 'I told you, didn't I?' he muttered to Bahadur 'You are going to be fine...' he bent low and patted the horse's neck - unperturbed by the fact that his reactions were being watched.
And it wasn't just this reaction, but all of his interactions with the pet, that Heera had been noting in silent amazement. She was aware that the young man was attached to his horse, but it was only now that she'd gotten to see how strong a bond they shared. An endearing bond indeed!
Smiling to herself, the Lady was about to move on to the next protocol, when her gazes fell upon his palm that was resting upon the horse's neck and thus, upon the fresh bluish-red bruises on one side of the wrist.
It didn't take long to identify what had caused it - the ink-stand that he had famously cracked in two
'Keep your hands to yourself... or I will crack their bones too!'
Just as her heartbeat began striking up an unusual rhythm, Heera glimpsed away from the small discovery she'd stumbled upon, to revert to the treatment.
'Time to stitch-up that nasty wound' she told her aide 'please hold the lens for me...'
Once her assistant did as told, Heera gently cut off the frayed corners of skin, her eyes focusing through the lens for greater clarity. She then began suturing shut the skin. It took a few initial trials to get the knack right since it was her first attempt at working with animal skin - but once her fingers grew comfortable, the process was completed swiftly.
And before long, she was giving the master her final set of instructions 'Your Hakim should be able to administer the appropriate kind of medicines tomorrow... but for the meanwhile, the herbal paste I've applied should prevent any infections.'
'Thank you' he responded with a simple nod. It wasn't a fancy acknowledgement of her timely help, just like she hadn't spoken elaborate words of gratitude for protecting her maids.
But the appreciation was there. She had sensed it in his actions, like he had seen it in her smiles.
Their tasks completed, their belongings packed, the Parnagarh group commenced their journey towards the guest quarters - but not before Heera had wrapped up one last formality.
'We are hosting a feast in honour of my sister this noon, Khan Sahib...' she mentioned cordially 'you are welcome to join us...'
Of course, the Lady had heard the gossip and she knew that this Sahib never accepted lunch or dinner invitations. Nevertheless, she'd extended him an invite because it would be rude not to do so - especially after all that'd transpired between them since morning.
Later that noon... at the Main haveli...
'Chacha jaan...'
Placing the red pouch - along with its recovered contents of 60 silver coins - on the top shelf, Akbar shut the cabinet.
'Ibrahim...'
The young man cross-checked the tampered latch that he'd just finished repairing. Once convinced, he secured the doors with a new lock.
'Azeez...'
Walking up to a table, he then dropped the key inside a drawer hidden underneath it.
'Sayyid...'
'Sahib...' rushed a stable attendant inside, on hearing his master calls 'is there something I can help you with?'
'Haven't they returned from the luncheon yet?'
'No Sahib...' he shook his head 'but they left you a message... requesting you to join them, if you can...'
'Alright... alright...' he dismissed the attendant.
Hurling a glance at the unforgiving sun outside the window thereafter, he decided to make his trek towards the quiet kitchens of his haveli. It was past noon and with all the troubling events that'd taken place from dawn, he hadn't had the opportunity to eat.
The young man had to admit - he was absolutely famished.
However, when he got to the kitchens, there was nothing.
The pots sat in their corners, untouched. The plates hadn't been moved from their shelves. There was no sign of food anywhere. Not a single morsel. Not even of leftover bread.
'So you weren't joking when you said, you've grown tired of cooking for me, Chacha jaan?'
The quiet question might have been uttered in jest, but his pitch was laced with heavy doses of poignancy.
Unmindful of a headache that was thumping every muscle in his head, he leaned his shoulder against the wall, observing the desolate interiors of the kitchens, the emptiness weighing heavy on him.
Many years ago, a boy used to stand the same way in the empty kitchens of his Abbu's mansion, his weakened shoulders leaning against the wall, while his eyes scoured the place for signs of food. Even at 12, he was a handsome youth, but one would have to see through layers of sweat, tears, dirt, blood, illness, exhaustion and scars of abuse to recognise that.
It would be late noon by the time he would complete all of his chores, like it was now, and his body would be famished. But there would be nothing left. The members of that house would have eaten. The managers would have eaten. Why, even the maids would have been fed. But not this fatherless boy.
Yet, no one would care. And those who did, were too frightened to raise a voice.
All, except one - Abbu's old servant, who swept the kitchens.
When no one was watching, the elderly man would ravage through whatever ingredients he could lay his hands on and whip up a hot meal for the child. Some days wouldn't be so fortunate, and he would have to go so far as to steal a few pieces of bread so the boy wouldn't go to bed hungry.
'Made this especially for you...' the man would say, as he'd secretly place the plate in front.
'Thank you...' the boy would say, and gobble up the meal. The salt in the food would sting his chapped boyish palms and bleeding knuckles, like acid on a burn - but raging twinges of hunger would numb all of that. The rice would be undercooked and coarse, the meat over-spiced. But, he would relish each morsel.
And, not only did the kind old slave feed this youth, he clothed him too - many-a-time stitching up the rips on the tunics himself. And this he did not only so it'd keep the boy protected from the weather, but also so it would cover the tracks of burns and lashes on his back - marks which other children chose to ridicule him about.
'Chacha jaan...' the 12 year old would smile with gratitude ever so often 'when I grow older and become a big man... I'll take you away with me... I'll care for you... and I promise... I'll eat no one else's food, but yours... I've become so used to your delicious dishes...'
'Thank you...' the servant would respond with a warm smile. Of course, he assumed that those words were merely a hungry boy's appreciation of his efforts.
But for the 12 year old, those words were a pledge he'd meant with all of his little heart. A promise he would keep up many years later too.
After all, it was the selfless service of an elderly servant, which served to remind a boy during his most vulnerable years that not everyone had abandoned him yet. That not all people were out to abuse him. That humanity was still alive.
Today that boy had grown into a powerful young man, with the world at his feet. If he wished, he could have the finest Mughalian chefs working in his kitchen. He could afford to order a banquet in the noon, a feast at night, and there'd be numerous servants waiting to do as he pleased.
But how much ever this young man might have hardened up, there were some scars that could never be forgotten. And for all the power that he might have accumulated over the years, there was still a small corner of his heart that anguished over the home that was snatched away, over the innocence that was cruelly lost.
And Chacha jaan's barely-edible food was one of the few sane memories from a very muddled adolescence that continued to remind Akbar of that lost innocence. That he could continue to relate to, as the 'home' he never had.
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