Chapter 32
The next day signaled the procession of instructors in Shashi Gupta's house; a procession that continued in succession for the next four weeks. In these four weeks, each day for Khushi was like a mountain that she had to climb. There were numerous fittings for clothes and numerous lessons to get through. Each night she fell in bed and slept the sleep of the dead. There were so many things to learn; the correct way to address people, the correct way to behave, the correct way to wear clothes, her posture, her carriage, her speech, all of them received a polishing. Difficult as the process was, Khushi never complained. Her quick mind absorbed whatever her instructors taught her while her gypsy instincts guided her. In the company of these instructors, she realized her social side, the one that had never flourished in the banjaara community courtesy of her mixed heritage and parentage. But in this setting, where her instructors guided but never judged her, she flourished. She concentrated on learning all that she was told and attending fittings although she had no idea what clothes she had to wear for her sagai and wedding she she only attended fittings; the clothes and patterns were chosen by Mamta and Garima.
However, the biggest advantage of these four weeks was that she had no time to brood on her future. In fact, she did not even have time to think about it. In the learning process, four weeks passed very fast and before she realized it, the day of her sagai arrived. As had become Garima's habit, she woke entered Khushi's room to wake her up but as usual, Khushi was already up and showered. A maid followed Garima in the room carrying a breakfast tray while Garima herself carried in sagai joda and jewelry that had arrived from Devgarh Palace that morning.
Garima looked carefully at Khushi as the girl turned from the window through which she had been gazing out and noted the small changes. The short curls had grown some more and now tumbled around her shoulders. It was not even a fraction of the length that Khushi had had previously and Garima felt a pang of sadness as she envisaged the pleasure dressing that luxurious hair would have given her. But this short hairdo also had its own charm, framing her delicate face when loose plus the shoulder-length would allow them to dress it to some extent. Khushi had always been slim and small boned and her illness had rendered her skinny. These past months as she gained her strength, she had put on some weight but not much. From skinny, Garima thought, Khushi qualified for thin with very slight curves now. Her face appeared impossibly delicate now with the huge hazel eyes that dominated her countenance. The learning process that Garima had viewed with mixed feelings until now had brought about some positive changes, she acknowledged. Khushi now carried herself with confidence, her posture erect and graceful, shoulders straight and head held high. When she walked the limp was non-existent now but Garima knew that extent of injury to her leg had been quite severe. Bad weather and tiredness would most likely bring the limp back while the wound had not healed and still required bandaging. Her other cuts and lacerations had filled out but her body was criss-crossed with scars, some light and some dark red. The dark ones would take time to fade.
Being a woman, Garima would never want a bride to carry any scars on her body but in Khushi's case Garima was waiting for her groom to see for himself the damage his thoughtlessness had caused. And that was another dilemma, she acknowledged. She had no idea how Khushi and the Maharaja would approach the subject of intimacy. Since the Maharaja was marrying her, effectively banishing any gossip and elevating her social status, for some people it was a foregone conclusion that he had made amends and intimacy was on the cards. But in Garima's opinion, he had not even started making amends. She had no idea how he would view this whole scenario since he had been crazy about Khushi anyway. Yet, it was not a topic she could discuss with anyone either; not her employer or Khushi's future in-laws and most certainly not the Maharaja himself. Relations between a husband and wife were sacrosanct in their culture and no one should interfere was the consensus. She certainly had no intention of discussing it with Khushi. Why increase the girl's burden, she thought.
"Chal Anu, it's time to get ready."
"Ji."
And that was the only reply she received. Khushi looked tense and pale. Her eyes were shadowed and she was holding her mouth tightly. Her hands clenched her dress tightly. Now that the day was here, Garima felt Khushi's panic and anguish clearly. But apart from comforting her, there was nothing else she could do. Today was her sagai and in a week's time, she would depart this house for the mandir where she would stay a week before her marriage. Garima joined Khushi at the window and slipped an arm around her comfortingly...
In Devgarh Palace, the Maharaja rode out on Sultan at the first light. He had arrived in Devgarh late the previous night and gone to his suite right away. Now he was taking this early morning ride although the morning beauty did not register in his mind. He rode to the clearing, stopping at the verge of it and looking at the small area. He recalled the early mornings that he had spent here with Khushi. Those mornings when he had teased her, cajoled her, those few mornings when he had been angry with her after she had refused to admit she came to meet him, instead claiming she came because he blackmailed her. Then had come those sweet mornings after the banjaara wedding when she had let him kiss her. Those sweet and shy kisses had obliterated from his mind the much wilder ones he had shared with other women before she came in his life. With a feeling of bitterness and regret, he recalled that those few kisses had been the same ones that had caused such upheaval in her young life. Or rather, it had been him causing the upheaval; the kisses had been his weapon'. What life with her would be like, he wondered. How had she responded to the lessons his mother and Dadi had arranged for her? Did she resent him for them, for bringing even more changes in her life? Or had she adapted to them well?
At this point, he realized with considerable surprise mixed with a healthy dose of shame that he did not know enough about her that he could predict her reactions. For him, he acknowledged painfully she had been an individual less and a wildly beautiful girl after whom he lusted more. On all those mornings, he met her; he had heard her mentioning her Maayi but had never asked about her father. He never even knew she was adopted until Maan Singh mentioned it when he brought news about her. He had admired her beautiful hazel eyes and longed to kiss, to caress that soft milky skin but never made the connection between her mixed looks and the fact that she was probably only half banjaara. It was courtesy of his Anjali Di that he got to know four weeks back that she was indeed a half-breed and illegitimate; the result of some rich man's pleasure probably.
Why had he regarded her as somehow being less of a human being and more as the object of his lust? He remembered comparing her to Naina many months ago. Why had he regarded Naina, a rich and educated girl who did not need any man's protection or largesse as worthy of his respect and his name and this shy, delicate girl as worthy only of his lust?
Arnav shook his head. He had messed up big time. He really had! He was getting engaged to Khushi today and married in two weeks. He had not a single idea how she was viewing this marriage to him or for that matter how she was regarding him. He had no idea to what extent she blamed him for the mess in her life. Once she had come to him to save her from marriage to someone she did not love and he had refused her. Now she was marrying him, the man responsible for her being in this state; the man who had let her down not just once but many times since then. The first when he refused to marry her and the second when he dishonoured her in front of her tribe and after that, many times and in many ways. All her problems could be laid at his door and she was marrying him! God, what a mess!
But more importantly, he had absolutely no idea what her health was like! After being beaten and whipped, he had no goddamned idea of the extent of her injuries! He wondered if there was anyone he could ask about it. He ran over all the people in his mind and regretfully realized that he could not ask anyone. Not his mother or dadi or even Anjali Di and most certainly not her father. But maybe he could ask the lady in Shashi Gupta's house; his housekeeper. She had looked after Khushi and she would probably know. He thought for a moment and then discarded the idea; he could not ask her. The social strictures in his homeland would not allow him to broach such a personal subject with another woman and asking his own family would require them to probably ask Khushi herself. It would likely embarrass her. Maybe he should wait and judge for himself after they were married and sharing the same suite. But then would she allow him close enough to her. Somehow, he doubted it. More likely, he would have to ask her openly and distress her even more. What a goddamned mess, he repeated loudly and savagely this time.
When the sun's rays penetrated the foliage and shone down in the clearing, Arnav turned Sultan around and cantered back to the palace. With the ladies of his house angry at him as it was, it would not be wise to be late for the pooja and rituals before they had to go to the mandir for his sagai ...
In the suite she had always occupied in Devgarh Palace, Anjali Singh Pratap hurried out of the bathroom in her underskirt and choli, her sari lying on the foot of her bed ready for her to drape. She was some steps away from her sari when the door of her room swung open and her husband walked in, studying some papers in his hand. So engrossed in the business proposal in his hand he had been, it was only when Prithvi Singh Pratap was well in the room that he realized that this was not his room in his palace in Surjangarh and that he had not knocked the door. He stopped and looked up to see his wife, partially dressed and one hand outstretched towards the sari lying on the bed. He stared at her as she stood in her blue underskirt and choli, her slim lithe figure displayed in the form fitting garments. She blushed and looked away from him, rooted to the spot. He noticed her embarrassment and quickly turned around. Anjali snatched the sari and started draping it, long practice ensuring that she was decent in just minutes. When he heard the soft jingle of Anjali reaching for her jewelry, Prithvi turned around and tossing the papers on the bed, hurried in the bathroom.
Anjali breathed a sigh of relief when he was gone. In the five years of their marriage, her tall and very handsome husband was staying with her in her mayka for the first time. Normally he dropped her home and came to collect her. The most he did was spend the day here with his in-laws. Embarrassing moments like these were bound to happen Anjali reasoned. At home in Surjangarh, they occupied adjoining suites and had their own sitting room, bedroom and bathroom as well as dressing rooms. All her life, Anjali had seen that her parents occupied the same suite and had expected the same when she married Prithvi five years ago but she had been surprised when on their wedding night her husband announced that they had adjoining suites with a connecting door in between. It was so that they could each have their own privacy, he said and their servants and relatives concluded that it was an idea that Prithvi had probably picked up in the years he spent in London amongst English aristocracy. No one except for themselves knew that the connecting door between their suites was never opened or utilized. The Raja of Surjangarh and his Rani had never shared a bed before they arrived in Devgarh for Arnav's sagai and wedding. Last night had been a nightmare for them. They had tossed and turned for the better part of the night until Prithvi had risen and dragged a chair to lounge in, turning it away from the bed and eventually sleeping there. It was then that Anjali had slept.
In the early days of her marriage, Anjali had assumed that he was waiting for them to know each other better before they shared a bed. Later on, she had even wondered if there was something wrong with him. However, she eventually realized that there could be nothing wrong with Prithvi. After all, he kept a mistress. But it was much, much later that she had known that his mistress was also the love of his life. He had married Anjali in order to fulfill his family duty and responsibility. The anguish and bitterness of those early years, coupled with everyone's expectation to have a child and the comments when no good news was forthcoming had now given way to a fatalistic attitude. In the middle of it, two years ago had come Prithvi's moment of madness, as Anjali preferred it think of it now. After that episode, Anjali had learnt to ignore her husband. It was the only way to keep her sanity after that. He made it easier since he was never home, always out looking after his business, his lands, fulfilling his responsibilities and then spending time with his mistress. He spent very little time in the palace in Surjangarh. However, he was unfailingly polite and courteous when they did happen to meet. He ensured that she never lacked for anything but that was all. She was his responsibility and her husband had to be the most responsible man around!
The bathroom door opened and Prithvi emerged. By then Anjali was dressed and ready to leave. He came to the mirror and their eyes met for a second before Anjali walked away. In private, she barely spoke to him although in public they were known as the ideal young royals, him being so handsome and she being so lovely and the pair of them treating each other in a gently affectionate manner or rather, he did and she just smiled in response.
Anjali put her husband out of her mind, no easy feat since she had loved him from the time she had been a seventeen year old but she had had plenty of practice. There were many arrangements that she had to oversee for the sagai. Her own life was empty but she was determined that poor Khushi's new life would have a beautiful start. Everything had to be perfect, Anjali had determined earlier, not just for the Maharaja's prestige but also because brave and hurt Khushi deserved a beautiful sagai. Maybe the beautiful trappings would give her some pleasure in a day in which she otherwise was bound to be scared...
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