NOVEL*Hiding behind a Stranger*Historical fiction-PART 2-Chap 20-31

Teaser for Chapter 21

'We were alr...ready happy bhai-sa... your gesture just m... made us happier...'

'Already happy?'

'Samarth banna... he is referring to the celebrations that were going on here...' the mother spoke up for her son 'we just heard that our Harka baisa's wedding has been fixed...'

'Oh...' The smile that'd only just been born on his lips, died out again 'I see...'

'And it is to a man we already know... and adore...'

'Really?' Akbar asked, the quip blandly slipping out of his lips - though the tightening in his chest warned him that he might not like to hear what was to come.

'The Kunwar of Manswar... have you heard of him?'

'Kunwar of Manswar?' he muttered, with a vague stare

'Kunwarsa Mahendar...' the widow coyly pulled the veil across her face, as a sign of respect when taking the prince's name 'a messenger from Manswar had arrived, delivering this news to Vaid kakasa only a short while ago...'

Rest of Chapter 21 below...

Parnagarh

The sick house...

Those words drew Akbar's half-willing glances back towards the mother-son duo, bringing him to face with one of the most heart-thawing spectacles he'd seen.

As the widow's sniffles became more audible, a very sick boy was trying to comfort his mother - an unfortunate woman who had lost her husband. And would probably lose her only son too.

Yes it was sad, but true - Pappu might not have too long, after all. The boy had trouble moving his hands. Even his speech was slurred, his sunken eyes unable to focus well anymore. His small bony body was scorching with fever - a fever that typically came every evening, to break into a sweat next morning. A cycle that would repeat on and off, on and off, gradually wasting the body by draining every ounce of its reserves.

It was a phenomenon that Akbar knew all too well - he had suffered the same disease as a child. And just like this spirited fatherless boy, he used to smile through his anguish too.

Yet, there was one stark dissimilarity between the boy's present circumstances and Akbar's past.

Despite all of his agony, Pappu had one saving grace. Pappu had a mother, who loved him. A mother, who sat beside him and cared for him through thick and thin - unlike that poor little child who woke up on his sick bed, many years ago, to find that his ammi had left. No, she hadn't died - for, that would be a reality he could've eventually come to terms with.

Instead, she had packed her bags and left - forever abandoning a son, who she presumed was destined to die anyway!

'Don't say that, badiammi... my ammijaan will come back... she can't leave me...'he defended her, even a month after she'd left him with nothing but a letter and a few coins.

'Foolish boy... your ammi has run away with her lover... get that in your thick head! You have two choices - stop fighting the disease and give up your life, so it'll save me the medical expenses... or get well soon, get off that bed and make yourself useful in the house! I am NOT going to sit here and care for you... understood?'

It took that newly-orphaned child months to accept the fact that the very person for whose sake he used to smile through anguish and pain, had given up on him. That the one he loved most - more than he'd even loved abbu - had willingly left him, her own son, because she'd had enough. That she'd had enough of the poverty and debts following abbujaan's death. That she'd had enough of badiammi's taunts. That she had grown tired of leading the life of a widow with a sick son to care for. So tired that she had left bed-ridden Akbar in the care of abusive relatives, to go build a new comfortable life for herself with another man.

Of course, with Allah's miracle, Chachajaan's support and the selfless work of a good healer, Akbar was able to return from the jaws of his death. But nothing could bring back the cheerful child who'd died then. Nothing could bring back the smiles that'd perished forever, when the boy had finally learnt that he must stop calling out for 'ammijaan'.

Here stood a bitter young man in his place today.

Following a deep sigh and a lot of self-will - both of which, were nowhere near enough to settle the tumultuous thoughts in his head just then - Akbar finally ceased his silence 'Shall I fix the bow for you?'

Pappu's eyes lit up like fireworks 'But it can't be fixed... it's broken beyond repair...'

Kneeling beside the boy, he took the bow from the child and inspected its structure closely. Unwinding some of the extra string from one of its corners, he snapped it off. Then, bringing together both halves of the bow, he used the same piece of string to tie a tight seal around the broken joint. It was only a temporary-fix - but it would work for now. 'There you go...' he handed it back, not realising that his lips had curved into a faint smile.

'Thank you...' the boy found it difficult to bring his unstable hands up - but Akbar waited, letting him take as long as he needed 'and wh... what about the br... broken toys for the ressst of the chil...ren?'

The young man paused 'I'll return soon... maybe tomorrow morning... and repair the rest of them for you, alright?'

'Really?' The boy blinked in disbelief

'You have my word!' Akbar assured the kid with a nod.

'We were alr...ready happy bhai-sa... your gesture just m... made us happier...'

'Already happy?'

'Samarth banna... he is referring to the celebrations that were going on here...' the mother spoke up for her son 'we just heard that our Harka baisa's wedding has been fixed...'

'Oh...' The smile that'd only just been born on his lips, died out again 'I see...'

'And it is to a man we already know... and adore...'

'Really?' Akbar asked, the quip blandly slipping out of his lips - though the tightening in his chest warned him that he might not like to hear what was to come.

'The Kunwar of Manswar... have you heard of him?'

'Kunwar of Manswar?' he muttered, with a vague stare

'Kunwarsa Mahendar...' the widow coyly pulled the veil across her face, as a sign of respect when taking the prince's name 'a messenger from Manswar had arrived, delivering this news to Vaid kakasa only a short while ago...'

Bansi

Silver-tusked elephants carrying opulent howdahs. Impressive palanquins. Velvet flags. Stately horses. Trumpets and drums. Mahouts and soldiers. Cooks and maids. Musicians and dancers. The glitter of gold was dazzling, the fanfare drowning everything else in the vicinity.

There was no doubt that the razzle-dazzle of the royal procession of Manswar had left an impact on all bystanders.

Well, all bystanders except for one.

Standing by a high-rise arched jali window on the Eastern side of the palace and flanked by a bevy of delighted maids, Heera watched the blurry chaos of colours and noise - the grandeur not having impacted her in the least. She stood like a marble statue, adorned to perfection so that she could be presented in front of the royal women of Manswar - to be unveiled, observed and judged by their keen glances.

The finest brushstrokes of kohl outlined her doe-shaped eyes, a thin layer of tinted bees-wax glossing her lips pink. Bright red of the freshly painted alta accentuated the pearl of her skin, the ruby ornaments complementing the green silks she wore.

No, she did not need any of these accessories to make her look beautiful. But now that she had them on, she appeared divine - every bit like the famed heiress, whose beauty was worth all of that grandeur and show that the Manswaris were displaying. Which is precisely how kakisa had wanted it - seeing how the Maharani of Manswar was a very finicky woman.

So Heera did her duty - standing like a marble statue, devoid of expression and emotion, braving the blows that threatened to batter her foundations down, constantly wondering why God had put her here. Weren't the burdens of tragedy, responsibilities and heartache already testing her strength to the limit? Why this new turmoil that seemed impossible to get out of?

'But I cannot do this kakasa... he was the man jiji loved... this feels wrong... it is a betrayal to jiji's memories...'

'Do not think that way, bitiya... you are only keeping her memories alive, by taking this step for the sake of duty...'

'I am not in the right frame of mind for this... please try and understand kakisa...'

'But bitiya... that's precisely why you need something positive in your life... something to look forward to... the festivities will brighten your days... the ceremonies will be a good distraction...'

'At least give me time... I beg you...'

'The decision lies in their hands, Heera... we cannot make demands... not when we are the ones in desperate need of their support... I'm sure you appreciate that... don't you want what's best for Parnagarh?'

'Of course I do... which is why I've been trying to do everything I can to secure its future... kakasa... at least give the letter I've written a read... you'll understand...'

'This is far more effective than any letter or message you could be writing... I want to hear no more arguments on this, bitiya... understand?'

She had tried everything she could, made every point she could make. But all her requests had fallen on deaf ears, all her efforts thwarted.

The only hope she now had, was jijasa himself. Like her, he had little interest in this wedding too - after all, he had agreed to it only because kakasa had emotionally coerced him into it. If not, he had been willing to support Paranagarh even without any such arrangement, hadn't he? So he would understand her, and as a gentleman, he would respect her wishes, wouldn't he?

'Yes, jijasa would!'

It was not long before she was led towards the large receiving chamber, and brought in the presence of the royal women of Manswar. All throughout, Heera could feel the feet below her ground, and she knew she was keeping up appearances amid the welcome formalities.

But beyond that she could not process much.

'Heera...' kakisa nudged her elbow with a light tap.

The young lady glimpsed up, focussing on the scenes ahead, to realise that the most prominent figure of the gathering, the Maharani herself, was walking towards her.

'Khamma Ghani sa...' She offered the woman a formal Marwari salute.

A pause later, her response came 'Ghani khamma...'

A long spell of silence followed - an unnerving spell for all present - during which Heera observed the Ranisa for the first time. She had seen the lady before at jiji's betrothal. But it was only now that she got to observe her from such close quarters. And she had to agree with all the tales she'd heard - that there could be no woman who defined the term 'authoritarian', as aptly as this Maharani did!

'The veil...' Ranisa uttered, making no attempt to ease into an informal conversation first 'surely there's no need for it, in here... I would like to see the face of my son's bride properly, please!'

The maids stepped forth at once and gently lifted up the silk by its borders, letting the cloth slide behind her hair.

'My my...' Various sounds of approval erupted amongst different sections of the crowd.

The queen, however, exhibited nothing more than a mild frown 'Not bad...'

Not bad? Heera wasn't naive, and despite the troubled state her mind was in, she could guess that the queen was more impressed by her beauty than she was letting on. Nevertheless, nothing to celebrate about - seeing how she wasn't trying to impress the Manswaris now 'Thank you Ranisa...'

Suddenly; the Maharani snapped her fingers, taking everyone by surprise 'Please leave us alone...'

So the maids dispersed, and most of the relatives too, leaving behind only a few important people in that gathering - giving the young lady the feeling that what was to come might not be pleasant.

'Your eyes... they're pretty... but they're...' the Maharani paused, not completing the rest of the sentence for the sake of civility 'I only hope the disability would not pass on something unpleasant to my son's children... to the royal heirs of our kingdom!'

Kaki let out an anxious sigh on hearing the awkward question that'd been put forth, debating if she must explain on behalf of Heera. But to her relief, the young lady broke her spell of silence shortly thereafter.

'Ranisa... with your permission let me clarify' she decided to dispel the myth since it was her honour at stake here. Besides, she'd already guessed that the superstitious questions would come - only she hadn't expected them to come so soon 'I had an accident, when riding my horse as a child... that's how I lost part of my vision... it is not a disease...'

The stiff lines on the queen's temple slowly eased out. Not only was this girl more beautiful than her sister, she seemed more docile and yet wiser too. Maybe this arrangement would not be as bad as she originally feared 'Ranisa...' she addressed the hostess 'I would like to rest now... we've had a long and tiring journey... but later on... today... maybe our royal priests could sit together... and decide upon an auspicious hour to formalise the relationship between both families!'

'That would be lovely...' kaki exclaimed - after which, a drone of murmurs rose in the backdrop - murmurs that steadily culminated into a cacophony of happy cheers.

Heera managed a formal smile too, to play her part as a member of the celebratory ambience. But her mind was racing. Racing with hundreds of thoughts, worries, and questions. This was all happening too fast. She had to meet Kunwar Mahendar as early as possible, so she could let him know her views about this 'arrangement'. And it had to be done before things went too far. After all, there was just no other foreseeably quicker way to put this wedding on hold.

Next day...

Parnagarh

Jiji ran around the Haveli, with her eyes opened wide

But never did she find me, because I know how to hide!

It'd been long since they managed to gain entry into the haveli. In fact, as soon as the guards had locked up after their routine morning rounds, the two spies had made their way in. But it had taken them a good while thereon, to comb through the many rooms leading up to the main bedchambers. Scouring through every furniture, every corner, in search of the Farmaan was time consuming. Moreover, all this had to be done keeping their heads low, their feet quiet and their voices hush.

Little surprise then that only a few rooms had been covered so far. There were still 30 odd rooms they hadn't even set foot in. Progress was slow. Slower than he would like. And they didn't have plenty of time left. At most, a couple of hours - before the maids would return to sweep the floors, water the plants and light the lamps in the Goddess' shrine.

So wasting not a moment further, the young man moved ahead stealthily to tackle the next bedchamber, following the clues and trusting his instincts as he continued his search of that elusive document.

Every trick uncanny, she may have tried

Every nook and cranny, she may have spied

The poem played in his head over and over, his eyes keenly scouring through the fresh set of scenes that surrounded him now.

A majestic desk at one end, a lavish dressing area at the other. Pieces of grand furniture dotted all throughout, with a sweeping terrace far beyond. It was one of most sophisticated chambers in this mansion - and yet there was a certain warmth about the elements in it, almost like it was the hearth of the haveli. All throughout this empty mansion were the invisible footprints that the Sahiba had left behind in some form or another. But no place were those imprints more noticeable than it was in here.

This was HER personal chamber.

Drawing in a lung-full of air, Akbar stepped into her room - treading upon the very paths where the chirpy sounds of her anklets used to echo until not too long ago.

'I'd hide inside planters, trunks and urns... she'd act like she could never find me... and I would sing this poem to tease her!'

He began his quest in that room, by kneeling beside an arrangement of pots bordering the archways. It was then that his gazes fell upon a particularly large planter. Or rather, the shrub in that planter that boasted the most exquisite bloom of roses he'd ever seen.

'She loves her plants, doesn't she?'

The quiet footfall in the corridors grew louder, as Azeez walked up from behind 'No... no luck in Durga Sahiba's chambers either... I have dug through every pot, planter, trunk and chest... so much so that my fingernails are now raw!'

A short smirk broke free from his lips 'Fine... take a break... sit down...'

'Thank you...' Azeez slid down onto the floor nearby with his back against a wall, his fingers toying with a plant he couldn't even recognise 'these rare plants of Parnagarh... she uses them to heal people...' he smiled 'if only she'd found a cure for all diseases... then innocent children like Pappu wouldn't have to suffer... speaking of which...' he took a peek at Khan Sahib 'what were you chatting with Pappu last evening? That too... for so long?'

'Pappu?' Akbar let out a weary sigh at the choice of topic that Azeez had decided to bring up 'Pappu had a broken bow... I fixed it for him...'

'And what was in that box?'

'Broken toys... he wanted me to fix them too!' the young man answered flatly, before resuming his work again.

'So...'

'So, I told him I'd come by today morning... to have them fixed...'

'But you didn't go today morning... that would've left Pappu very disappointed...'

'I didn't go, because we had to finish this... I'll go later on in the evening... I've given the kid my word... I intend to fulfil it!'

'Oh!' teased Azeez, pleasantly surprised to watch Khan Sahib developing a soft spot for the boy 'You've taken a liking to him haven't you?'

Akbar looked up 'Have you finished asking me all your questions?' His glare was hard, but those eyes were also partly glazed-over by tints of grey, as though he was distracted. As though his mind was revisiting many different dark thoughts at the same time.

'No questions...' Azeez nodded, giving up his playful ways 'I'm done...'

'Then... if your fingernails have rested enough... get back to work!'

As the warning trailed off into stillness, the young chap sprung back into action, joining his master in the hunt for the Farmaan. Yes, Azeez was an eternal prankster and such warnings hardly deterred him. But this occasion was different. Khan Sahib wasn't merely annoyed. There was something unusual about his tone too. A marked change. The man seemed preoccupied, almost troubled - and he had been this way ever since he'd returned from his encounter with Pappu. Now, Azeez wasn't aware of the sinister reasons behind this change, but he could understand the gravity of the situation - and knew when to stop!

Suddenly, and almost out of nowhere, Akbar spoke up - interrupting the very rule-of-silence that he had imposed a few moments ago 'What do we know about the kingdom of Manswar? About the Kunwar of Manswar?'

'Nothing yet...' Azeez replied slowly, curious as to why and how that question had emerged 'nothing apart from the fact that he was betrothed to Durga Sahiba...'

He observed the man who'd brought up the query - the Sahib's eyes were still fixed on his work, but his lips had uncurled into a straight line, almost like he was clamping down on distressing emotions 'Why...' asked Azeez 'should I dislike him?'

'Dislike?' Akbar scoffed 'I'm just a bit sceptical about this Kunwar... and his intentions...'

'What intentions?'

'I learnt last evening that...' he exhaled sharply 'that he is going to be wedded to Harka Sahiba...' 

'Oh!' Azeez' eyes widened as the facts dawned upon him. Harka Sahiba was going to get married to him? That was sudden. No wonder the Sahib had been so unlike himself. 'But, why are you so sceptical about this Kunwar's intentions?'

'Of what I've heard, the Kunwar was positively smitten by Durga Sahiba... barely 4 weeks since she's passed and preparations are underway for him to get married to the younger sister? Doesn't that seem odd?'

'But what if it was Maharaj Chitranjan who'd pleaded with him?' Azeez tried to put across other logical perspectives 'What if the Kunwar is doing it only to protect Parnagarhis?'

'Protect the Parnagarhis? Or protect his own interests?' Akbar grimaced 'You know what... maybe you're right... I've been surrounded by scheming politicians for far too long... I'm unable to trust anyone easily!' With a nonchalant shrug, he reverted back to the search.

Truth be told, the young man had effectively played down his sentiments about the entire affair - that too, by several notches. The bottom line was that he could not get himself to trust Kunwar Mahendar, whichever way he debated.

And that was just his level-headed logical side analysing the situation.

If he let his other side speak - the emotional side - the voices of his rumbling ego roared far more strongly. So strongly that he was beginning to dislike a man he'd never met. Beginning to dislike even the sound of his name. After all, this was the first rival in front of whom Akbar Mahmoud Khan had to bow out - by surrendering something extremely precious. After all, this was the man who could probably give her everything that he could not!

Then again, that was how life was, wasn't it? Brutal!

Closing his eyes for a prolonged moment as he swallowed a very bitter pill, Akbar finally opened his eyelids - his gazes falling upon the planter with the large blossom of roses in it. Having poked and prodded into all the remaining urns lining that wall, this was the only pot he hadn't searched so far. He had kept putting it off, since it felt cruel to disturb a tender bloom that'd been nurtured with such care.

But, it had to be done.

Bansi

The royal gardens

'Ouch'

Gently dropping the plush rose into the flower basket, she inspected the tip of her throbbing finger. A moist blob of red emerged, swelling in size, till it overflowed down the sides of her finger dripping down as tiny droplets of blood.

'You must be cautious around such nasty thorns...' came a genteel voice from behind 'you've wounded yourself... here... please take this...' He held out a silk kerchief for her 'is it painful?'

'These wounds never truly heal, Sahiba... which is why the pain never disappears completely...'

'Thank you...' she acknowledged 'but I'll be fine, Kunwarsa...' Handing over the flower basket to her maids, Heera took out her own muslin kerchief and dabbed the wound dry 'Besides, where there are roses, there will be thorns!' After dismissing the ladies beside her, she turned around to him.

On finally coming face-to-face with jijasa, her emotions welled up, in remembrance of jiji. However, his gentlemanly features remained a comforting ocean of calmness. Chitranjan kakasa had mentioned that he'd seemed devastated by the tragedy when they met last. So watching his profile so composed now, was a cause for some relief 'Greetings Kunwarsa...'

'Greetings...' he wished her back 'lost in thought? You didn't hear me coming?'

'Oh no...' she smiled away her woes, so it would mask the grief in her voice 'I was just collecting flowers for the evening Pooja...'

'I heard you wanted to meet me here...'

A short pause later, Heera nodded 'Yes... I apologise if this caused you inconvenience... and I know this is not the norm... but I wanted to talk to you about something...'

'This was no inconvenience whatsoever... but before that...' he spoke haltingly 'how have you been? We were all immensely worried when we heard nothing from you!'

'I sent you messages... letters of condolences... information... sent one of my personal messengers as well... didn't you receive anything?'

'No...' his tone turned even more sombre 'you have suffered a lot, haven't you?'

Yes she had. And she still was.

'There are mornings I wake up, still unsure if it is all just a horrible dream!'

'I'd warned her not to go... I'd offered to send my men along... if only she'd listened... then... she would be here with us... today...' the Kunwar paused, the skin on his neck tightening, as though he was choking up in sorrow.

'Kunwarsa, you've suffered no less...' Heera wiped the tear brimming at the fringes of her lashes, wondering if she must give him a little privacy so he could mourn in silence.

However, a few moments later, Mahendar had cleared his throat, and returned to relative normalcy. 'Anyhow we are just puppets in the hands of fate... have to follow what destiny decides for us!'

'Oh...' she swallowed a painful lump in her throat, watching how he'd managed to compose himself with such ease. Maybe it was because he was a man that he was so much better at holding back his grief. Maybe it was easier for men to come to terms with such tragedies.

Nevertheless, her own emotions refused to be so disciplined. The droplets of water refused to stop brimming, how many ever times she wiped them dry. Eventually, they burst their banks, forming their own soft pathways down her face. So, for the sake of decency, she averted his glances till she could regroup herself. 'I haven't stopped getting nightmares...' she gazed at the rose bush in front 'especially of the horrible hour, when I'd cradled her bleeding body in my arms...'

Briefly dragged back to the appalling final moments of her sister's life, she continued sharing her anguish over the ordeal - whilst he watched on, in silence.

In a short while though, the sounds of her words began fading away into white noise.

As he tuned out, Mahendar decided to spend his time doing something else - possibly, something more interesting. So, unbeknown to her, his gazes began venturing towards those partly-hidden features concealed behind a sheer veil. Feasting his eyes upon their freshness. She was a rare kind of beauty indeed. Probably the rarest kind. Virginal. Ethereal. Unblemished. Untouched. Purer than the unborn petals of a flower bud, for no other man had even laid eyes upon them.

He had been aware that she was stunning. However, since a part of him had been besotted by the persona of the older heiress, he had never cared to observe the younger sister. But now that he was beholding her from such close quarters, he had to agree - she possessed a unique power to entrance her observers. Remarkable! Moreover, at present, there was an alluring element about her innocence and sadness too. Almost erotic. Especially the manner in which those tears touched her cheeks, and then her lips, before sliding down her neck. If only it were his fingers in place of those tears. 'Not many days to go for that though...'

'Kunwarsa?' Heera's thoughts had screeched to an abrupt halt. She couldn't see from the corner of her eye, so she would never know for sure. But if she relied on her instincts, she would have to say that the prince had been staring at her. Probably gazing at her in ways that he mustn't.

Made uneasy by the very notion, she wiped her cheeks dry and pulled the borders of her veil across the face - deciding to give the man a gentle reminder of how she viewed the kind of 'relationship' they shared, in case he was getting carried away.

'Jijasa...' Heera said, instead of addressing him by the title 'Kunwarsa' 'did you hear what I've been trying to tell you?'

Her subtle shift in attitude did not go unnoticed.

'Yes... I did...' Mahendar nodded with authority, the white noise instantly unravelling into clearer phrases again 'Go on...'

'Then... I hope you would empathise with my sentiments, jijasa...' her manner was kind, but her stance firm 'I hope you would understand that I am not prepared to go through with this arrangement... with this marriage!'

'What?' he nearly exclaimed - her startling confession like an ugly slap on his aristocratic pride. His mind replayed her words for the second time, and then the third - lest he had inferred her words wrongly. But with every instance that he recalled her rejection I am not prepared to go through with this arrangement the blow to his ego came on harder. 'I am sorry, what...' he asked again, in disbelief 'what did you just say?'

'Jijasa... I am not ready for this marriage...' she pleaded with her eyes 'these developments must have caused you a lot of trouble and I apologise for all of it... I shall apologise to your parents for the difficulties this has caused them too...' she glimpsed down at the fingers that she was toying with 'unfortunately, all these decisions were taken in my absence... had I the slightest idea that kakasa would put forth such a proposal, I would have been able to advise him against it...'

As she voiced her thoughts, Mahendar was left grinding his teeth in silence, plagued by visions of his carefully-built plans crumbling down, piece by piece, into dust. It was happening all over again, wasn't it?

'NO!' he told himself the very next instant. He would not let it end this way. He would not give up so easily - especially not after all those painstaking efforts he'd taken so far! Forcefully shutting away the frustrating visions, he came back with a calculatedly-gentle retort 'But why do you say that you are not ready for this marriage?'

Heera lifted her eyes to study him. She could sense a subtle difference in his tone. Was it disappointment? Was it confusion? She couldn't make out yet. 'Because jijasa...' she paused 'I am not in the right frame of mind for a wedding now...'

'Don't take this the wrong way...' the Kunwar explained, feeling the growing strain of keeping up this show of decency and chivalry 'I don't want this wedding either... but I am going through with it, because I'd given your sister my word... I'd promised her that I would take care of Parnagarh, and take care of you!'

Yes. Heera could make out what it was - it was frustration! His entire speech would have sounded noble - had the tinges of annoyance not slowly crept in by the end of it. 'Why the frustration though?' the mystified young lady was forced to ponder - particularly when considering the timing of it all. Was he just stressed, or could it be something else? 'So, you're doing all this for the sake of a promise you'd given jiji?'

'Of course! Why else do you think?'

'Then you must remember that you'd given her TWO promises, jijasa! And if you remember the first, you surely wouldn't haven't forgotten the second promise... would you?'

'I'm bound forever by two precious aspects of my life that a marriage cannot change...one, Parnagarh... two and more importantly, my sister...'

'I wish that my lands and my people continue to remain under our joint charge'

'And when my sister weds, it would be to a man of her choice, much like I am following my own preferences.'

Parnagarh

'We have about an hour left, before the maids are meant to return... if we don't find the Farmaan now... shall I come back in the night to...'

'No...' Dismissing the suggestion by a flick of his palm, Akbar continued to take brisk strides along the empty hallways, past many-a-stately room 'we can't do this at night... the security outside the haveli increases after sunset... besides, we'd need to use a lamp to find our way around... which might attract attention... if we don't find the Farmaan today, we'll return tomorrow...'

'Maybe the Farmaan is not in this haveli at all... we've searched all the important rooms, haven't we? The library, the reception rooms, their bed chambers, the cellars, the shrines...' Azeez paused 'Shall I look in the shrines again?'

'Go ahead...' Akbar nodded, relieved that he would be able to contemplate in solitude again. And as soon as his student had hurried off in the opposite direction, the young man went back to silently reciting the only clue he knew - Durga's final message.

Jiji ran around the Haveli ...

Every trick uncanny...

Every nook and cranny...

But never did she find me...

He recalled the rhyme for the umpteenth time, racking his brains for an alternate interpretation of its contents. And it was sometime during this exercise that a few 'telling' words in each line gradually started standing out.

Jiji ran around the Haveli, with her eyes opened wide

Every trick uncanny, she may have tried

Every nook and cranny, she may have spied

But never did she find me, because I know how to hide!

Focussing on these new words as fresh cues, he tried to work a new angle to the entire mystifying puzzle

'A place where BOTH sisters RAN AROUND... a place which is probably NOT a nook or cranny... a place you can look around, with your eyes opened wide...'

His steps slowed down. His glances panned across the entire breadth of the haveli, surveying its sweeping interiors from where he stood 'Ai Khuda...' a quiet outcry escaped his lips, as he realised the spot that he was at.

It WAS a place where both sisters could run around.

It WAS a place that had no nook or cranny.

And it WAS a place from where you could look all around, with eyes opened wide.

It was also the only place they hadn't searched yet - the Hallways!

Teaser for Chapter 22

Akbar was spontaneously drawn towards the second painting, tempted to admire the profile of the younger sister. But, setting aside that temptation briefly, he made the conscious decision of paying heed to the older heiress first. Maybe it was respect - since he'd heard tales aplenty about her. Maybe it was curiosity - because he'd never seen the lady before and he would never see her again. Whatever the reason, he went on to study the face of the badi baisa first.

Durga Sahiba. A 17 year old noblewoman, who'd lived by her principles - and sacrificed her life protecting them. The 'Ustaad' in him could relate to those rare qualities. So he did what he would do, when he met any other great warrior. Bringing his palm up to his forehead, Akbar bent forth to offer Late Durga Sahiba an 'Adab'.

After a solemn spell, he shifted his focus towards the second portrait.

With none around watching or judging him, the grimness came off straightaway - his gazes rife with both, fascination and dejection.

Full chapter below...

Making a hasty visual inspection of the corridors that connected all the inner walls of the haveli - Northern, Southern, Western and Eastern - he spotted a segment that he hadn't been in yet. The Eastern side. Quickening his pace at once, he approached the Eastern hallways - till somewhere along the way, a sight caught his fleeting attention.

Slowed in his tracks, Akbar peeped up for a better view.

The small ripples in his brows immediately evened out when he saw what it was that'd managed to grab his attention, his features blanketed by a thin sheath of amazement.

It was a large set of twin paintings, impressive replicas of the two sisters that hung majestically on a wall.

'What if the Farmaan is hidden in its frame? Or in one of the planters around here?' were the first thoughts that came to his head. Yet, and in the very same breath, his keen glances didn't fail to recognise the true masterpieces that those artworks were. Soon, his footsteps followed the direction of his glances, leading the young man towards the paintings that were a true likeness of the two heiresses.

No doubt, his mind was still charged up with this hunt for the document, his blood pulsing with an urgent fervour to see this mission successfully completed. However, that would not stop him from taking a few moments out of this hunt, to look at the two portraits.

Akbar was spontaneously drawn towards the second painting, tempted to admire the profile of the younger sister. But, setting aside that temptation briefly, he made the conscious decision of paying heed to the older heiress first. Maybe it was respect - since he'd heard tales aplenty about her. Maybe it was curiosity - because he'd never seen the lady before and he would never see her again. Whatever the reason, he went on to study the face of the badi baisa first.

Durga Sahiba. A 17 year old noblewoman, who'd lived by her principles - and sacrificed her life protecting them. The 'Ustaad' in him could relate to those rare qualities. So he did what he would do, when he met any other great warrior. Bringing his palm up to his forehead, Akbar bent forth to offer Late Durga Sahiba an 'Adab'.

After a solemn spell, he shifted his focus towards the second portrait.

With none around watching or judging him, the grimness came off straightaway - his gazes rife with both, fascination and dejection.

Even in the form of a portrait, she exuded charm and finesse, her eyes spellbindingly radiant. Even through a still-image, she could breathe life into a place, her vibrancy somehow uplifting the dark ambience of the hallways.

Charm. Finesse. Radiance. Vibrancy - they were reminders. Reminders of what she'd brought into his life, and elements she had taken away with her when she left. As though the numerous other reminders in Parnagarh weren't troubling-enough already, this unexpected meeting with her painting had to happen!

His gazes then trailed to the flushed cheeks and soft lips that'd begun stirring up memories too. Memories of those bewitchingly feminine smiles - an addicting sight that he'd stolen many glimpses of, in the stable-yard.

Whelmed by an inexplicable sense of belonging, Akbar moved closer, his hand meandering up towards her profile. However, he stopped mid-air and curled his fist into a ball, preventing his fingers from yielding to temptation.

A few instants later, the clasp slackened and his fingers broke free. 'No...' He tried clenching his fists again, to hold himself back - only for his fingers to break free again.

'What would you gain by doing this?' he asked himself 'More pain? Further loss of peace?'

But attraction was a strong drug - and Akbar hadn't found the antidote to fight its effects. Eventually, his palm found its way up to her face, so that his thumb could lightly graze her cheek.

'Yes, it's real!' The simmering impulses returned. Impulses just like the ones he'd experienced when he'd actually touched her face, in the canal. The only difference was that he hadn't been in his senses then, but he was in his senses now - well aware of what he was doing. Well aware of the invisible hold she had on him. A 'hold' from which his resolve to break free was weakening further with every passing day.

'So you admit you miss my presence in your life, Khan Sahib?' she seemed to giggle at his predicament 'Then, why are you letting me go... why are you letting me get married to another man?' the imaginary giggles then faltered, into a nervous sigh 'Why are you betraying me to your Shehzaade?'

His palm nearly flinched, as one driving force of his life suddenly clashed against the other - compelling him to recoil his hand and step away from the painting.

Sick house

'Pappu...'

'B...buuut it'sss neaarrlly evennin maasa...' A string of low disconnected sounds slipped out of the boy's mouth, his ribs heaving and falling in wheezy breaths between every strained syllable 'Samarrrtth bhai-sa was ssuppossed to vvissit mee ththis mornning... '

'He must be busy elsewhere...' she whispered, unbothered about wiping the droplets of water on her face, savouring every remaining motherly moment she had left, by affectionately stroking his coarse hair 'now you must rest beta...'

'Maasa... ddo youu ththink... he gottt annnoyedd withth mee?' Pappu slowly closed his eyelids - his body so weak that it failed to produce tears, his eyesight so dysfunctional that he couldn't even see his mother's face anymore 'I asskked himm to mendd ththe trrunk full off ttoys becausss I din want ththe othther chilren to bee left withthout toys... I promisse nott to trrouble him anymorre... pleassse ask himm to comme talkk to meee...'

'Beta... we've tried looking for Samarth banna and his friend... but, couldn't find them both... they will come, when they get time... calm down...' she wept, watching the light in his small features fading 'don't stress yourself... rest now, alright?'

'I jjusst wan tto meeet him once...'

Haveli

'The sun is about to set...'

As his mate's hush warning echoed about the hollow corridors, Akbar ground his teeth in restless agitation 'It's nowhere in or around the painting... then where could it be?' he exhaled, ruffling a few fingers through his hair. He'd inspected the frames of the pictures and the walls behind them. He'd searched the decorative pillars that bordered the portraits and probed inside the planter that sat under them. Yet no sign of the Farmaan anywhere.

'When do you think we must leave?'

'Soon...' Akbar nodded, his stormy stares rolling along the corridors at the speed of a gale-wind, in a frantic last-ditch attempt to hunt for objects he might have overlooked. The two men had to be on their way out shortly - the possibility of finding the Farmaan within such a small interval seemed quite bleak. But for whatever reason, something inside him refused to let go of that final shred of hope - still believing that he would solve the puzzle today. 'Checked here... and here too... then, where?'

As the sounds of his own impatient heartbeats grew louder - each thumping beat, an added reminder that he was losing in this race against time - the wheels in his head turned quicker. He hastened around the hallways, pursuing a hundred possibilities, simultaneously.

'Checked in there...'

'And there...'

'What's left?'

The young man relentlessly charged on, till he was back at where he'd started. The tension in his mind had escalated to such an extent that his head felt like it would implode from the pressure.

So, he took a deliberate breather. Slowed down. And sifted through one thought, before moving on to the next.

'Could it be that I'm reading too much into this? What if the poem was only a warning... asking Harka Sahiba to hide? What if it wasn't a clue to the Farmaan at all?'

'NO!' a cry ratted his guts the very next instant. In the past ten years, his instincts had rarely been wrong. And if anything, the gnawing feeling in his bones was stronger than ever now! It HAD to be a clue.

He glanced up at the badi baisa - partly intrigued, partly in awe 'Where have you hidden it, Durga Sahiba?'

He bore into her dark eyes, seeking answers.

Jiji ran around the Haveli, with her eyes opened wide

'Eyes opened wide?'

Suddenly, it struck him - call it intuition or inspiration - but Akbar spun around. To note what it was that those dark 'wide-opened' eyes were facing!

And there it was, a few feet behind him - a large square-shaped stone planter. He had passed by it, but hadn't noticed it earlier since it was partly-hidden by a set of drapes.

It seemed to hold no special place in this haveli - neither did it appear as attractive as the marble planters nor was it as bright as the clay pots. Even the plant in it was not special in any way. It was just an unremarkable old stone box.

Then again...

'I'd hide inside planters, trunks and urns... she'd act like she could never find me... and I would sing this poem to tease her...'

Having recalled the Sahiba's words, he observed the planter closely. It was large - the perfect size for a child to slip into. It was strong - it would hold a child's weight without toppling over. And it was old - which meant, it could've been around even when the girls were kids.

A tingle ran up his spine, making his hair stand on end, as he pulled up his sleeve and dashed towards the stone box, two steps at a time.

'We must leave... I can see the ladies walking up from the valleys, in the distance... the guards will reopen the haveli doors soon!'

'Yes...' Having barely responded to that frantic murmur, Akbar thrust his hands into the soil, digging away using every ounce of force that he could muster.

It took him only a short while to reach the very bottom - but all throughout, he could feel nothing apart from the odd sensation of wet mud slipping into his nails or slimy roots brushing against his skin.

'Darn...' hissing in frustration, he continued his quest - prodding and scraping the mud along the sides.

'Argh' Abruptly, his actions were brought to an immediate halt. Something sharp inside the pot had scratched his knuckles. Something metallic and cold that obviously did not belong at the bottom of a pot.

Curling his fingers around the slim object that neatly fit within his fist, he brought it up to the surface - his intrigued features coming alive with a glimmer of fascination as the buried box finally saw the light of day.

It was a brass rectangular case. Heavy. Possibly an heirloom. Not surprisingly, its surface was coated with a thin film of green, since it'd been sitting under the pot for a month now. Nevertheless; however tarnished its appearance, Akbar knew the sturdy brass holder must have done a good job of protecting its contents.

...

...

A bead of nervous sweat trickled down his brow and fell upon his wrist, awakening him to the fact that everything else around him had come to a brief standstill. His throat parched from the heat of feverish breath, Akbar swallowed back on some of his agitation before going on to break the small clasp, almost certain of what the case was safeguarding. His fingers then flicked open the lid to unravel the mystery and witness the marvel for himself.

An old rolled up scroll, sealed and intact!

To his trained eye, it took less than a blink to recognise the original seal of the Mughal court.

Here it was, finally. The Farmaan!

An authentic document that proved the Shehenshah had promised Mansabdar Jagat Prasad Singh and his family all rights over Parnagarh and its neighbouring lands.

It was only a thin flimsy roll of record - but this flimsy roll had cost one heiress her life, and sent the other one into exile. It had become an unhealthy fixation for the Shehzaade's ego, and thus for many-a-Mughal general too. It would decide the fate of hundreds of lives - and in its own small way - the future course of the Mughal Empire too.

Suddenly, the document did not feel so thin and flimsy anymore. It felt heavy. Uncomfortably heavy, in fact - so much so that he couldn't wait to unburden himself of it.

'If we don't leave now, we risk getting caught... we can return tomorr...' Azeez froze in his spot, his mouth left agape by the unexpected scene he'd just stumbled across 'w... w... what... what is THAT in your hand?'

'The Farmaan...' Akbar replied with a quiet sigh

Shaking off his stupor, the young man ran forth to kneel beside his master, forced to express his brimming excitement in the form of low whispers 'Ya Allah... y... you... found it... Ya Allah... congratulations... you've done it!'

'Yes' he nodded slowly 'I found it!'

'Huzoor will be elated, Khan Sahib... when he comes to know of this!'

'No doubt...' Akbar paused 'Huzoor would be elated'

'Another achievement... another feather in your cap... what a proud moment it'd be when you hand it to him...'

Akbar didn't respond to that last statement though. 

'A proud moment?' Somehow, he wasn't sure this was an achievement he was going to be proud of.

Bansi

'Greetings baisa...'

'Greetings...'

'Greetings baisa...'

'Greetings...' Heera nodded her head - at faces both, known and unknown - as she traipsed through the long-winding corridors, towards the formal receiving chamber. Having received an urgent message sometime back, she was on her way to meet with the Kunwar of Manswar - a meeting that she wasn't sure what to make of.

Earlier that day, she'd been quietly confident that the prince would empathise with her wishes - he'd always come across as a selfless young man, a noble well-wisher of the family. However, after having met him in the rose garden, she wasn't so sure. She'd left the place sensing strange vibes from him, and with more questions looming in her head than ever before.

In the hours since then, those questions had given rise to all sorts of doubts. Unsettling doubts about the prince of Manswar - which beyond a point, seemed so far-fetched and implausible that she had begun second-guessing her own instincts. 'What am I doing?' she asked herself thereafter, wondering if the bitter events in her life lately had turned her into a cynic 'Jiji trusted him... and loved him so much... she wouldn't have misread him! No... I must have misunderstood him... '

Thus, temporarily setting aside those convoluted thoughts, she'd set off with a clearer mind, hoping to start afresh. If nothing else, she HAD to do so in the hope that they might be able to work something out. The Kunwarsa was still the only person she could turn to, if she wanted things to go a certain way. And this evening, the young lady needed his support more than ever - seeing how she'd just learnt a short while ago, that the families were about to formalise their relationship the next morning.

On arriving at the chamber, Heera was ushered in, and she soon realised the prince wasn't alone. His two companions - the Senapati and his cousin - stood beside him, engrossed in chatter of some sort.

'Greetings...' Tejraj wished the heiress, followed by the Senapati.

'Greetings...' she wished them both back, deducing from the flustered notes in the cousin's voice that her arrival had interrupted something - possibly, a heated argument.

An awkward lull followed, with everyone waiting for someone to speak up. 

Till the kunwarsa took matters into his own hands

'Please wait outside...' he suddenly announced 'I mean everyone!' he added, obviously referring to the Parnagarhis.

Heera was surprised. Even if it was a formal area, it felt odd to be left alone in a room with him. That too, past sunset. But she chose to relent for now.

'Please wait outside' she turned to her people 'All of you, please...' she had to emphasise, when Bajrang and Daya did not move from their spots.

'Yes baisa...'

Once the duo were alone, Kunwarsa approached the young lady, a good bit of princely conceit sharpening his attitude 'When we met at the garden, matters got slightly out-of-hand... I put it down to shock, because everything is happening so swiftly... so...' he drew in a deep breath 'before we move on to other things tomorrow, we should clear the air... I would like to give you another chance to explain yourself'

'What?' her brows knit into a frown as she heard him out. Move on to other things tomorrow? Explain herself? What did he mean? She had explained everything quite clearly earlier, and expressed her regrets very politely too. Was that explanation not kind enough? Nevertheless, she ignored the grumbles of her ego and decided to apologise for her decisions again 'Jijasa... I am sorry if I've hurt your sentiments... I am sorry for the trouble this has caused you and your family... but please understand... I do not want this wedding...'

Mahendar practically winced, as every word she uttered pricked him bitterly. He had called for this meeting, expecting she would've come to her senses and take back her words - not to hear her repeat the same speech all over again! 'I'll tell you this...' wrestling with his mounting temper, he attempted to compose himself - so the situation wouldn't get any worse than it already was 'after the marriage... I will give you time, to return to normalcy... you will never be forced to do something you're not comfortable doing... that's a promise!'

'A promise?' He wasn't listening to her, was he? Instead, he was trying hard to make this wedding happen! Heera had come here, prepared to give him the benefit of doubt. But the questions that she'd set aside for the sake of diplomacy, came flooding back - forcing her to put up those guarded barriers again. 'Jijasa...'

'Harka...' Mellowing down even further, he advanced towards her.

'I am happy to wait for your sake, after the wedding... till you are ready to accept me as your husband...' Her face was veiled. But his glimpses fell upon her fair palms and the sight of how one of her fingers were running patterns over her knuckles. Was it a sign of nervousness? If it was, it somehow gave him sadistic pleasure to see her intimidated. He wanted to seize those palms and coddle them in his clasp. But alas, he had to restrain himself from doing so 'so, tell me... are you still so sure that you do not want a wedding with someone who is being so noble towards you? Why?'

Astonished by his advances, Heera took a calculated step back 'Jijasa' she darted him a displeased glare 'but why would you want a wedding with someone who is not prepared to accept these nobles gestures from you?'

'What?' With her rebuttal being delivered so graciously, Mahendar was left wondering if it was indeed a rebuttal, or if she was toying with him 'Can't you see... I'm doing this for the people of Parnagarh... and for you...to keep YOU safe!'

'Just stay safe, Sahiba!'

Drawing in a deep breath as she dismissed the tell-tale words that'd returned to haunt her, the young lady forged ahead.

'You must remember these claims, jijasa...' Heera spoke up 'I gave my word to Durga and I will protect her sister for as long as is necessary, but not in THIS way!' she paused, waiting for him to realise that she had just repeated his own words 'This is what you'd told Chitranjan kakasa, hadn't you? You'd assured him you didn't need a wedding to protect Parnagarh, I'm curious to know what has changed in the past 10 days, jijasa?'

'W... what?' his breathing grew ragged as he struggled to come up with an answer 'Yes... I had said so then... but now that I think about it... your life is in danger... constant danger... and... what better way for us to make sure no harm comes to you than to make you the princess of Manswar...'

Her gentle eyes narrowed, as Heera read him like a hawk. In fact, she'd been reading him all along - and much to her growing horror, had watched how he masked his simmering anger by a diluted show of concern and empathy. With such effortless ease, did his voice and expressions change! The man was a stellar actor. No wonder jiji had misread him.

What's worse, he had come up with another reason to ensure this marriage went ahead - making it quite clear what he wanted from this deal. Was he always this two-faced or was the greed for Parnagarh blinding his goodness?

'You've been chosen to become the Kunwarisa of Manswar...' he pressed on, taking her ongoing silence as a good sign 'there can be no greater honour than that!'

'Forgive me for saying so jijasa... but for me, the greatest pride lies in my being the baisa of Parnagarh... no other honour can surpass that!'

'How dare you...' Mahendar snarled. 

Having finally exhausted his stock of patience, he thrust his sharp jawline right into her face. Yes, he was fed up. Fed up of putting up a show. Fed up of putting up with the two sisters - especially with this partially-blind exiled one! So, he let her see him for who he was 'Is there someone else in your mind then?'

'Someone else?' Her heart lurched into a frenzied beat saying 'Yes'

'No...' she lied and quite convincingly, in fact.

'Then... why are you turning down this proposal? What do you gain by doing this?'

'And what do you lose when I turn down this proposal, Kunwarsa?' She asked with a crafty calmness, though only she knew how wildly her inner-rage was flaring-up by then.

'Fine Harka Bai!' he waved his palm dismissively 'You are smart... you have it all figured out, don't you? Then, you don't need me doing your sly work for you... you can explain yourself to our families...' He flaunted a sarcastic grin as he put her up to a challenge he was confident she would back away from 'the priests are formalising the wedding tomorrow... try stopping that... try turning down the Maharana and Maharani of Manswar in a hall full of dignitaries and guests... try disobeying your kakasa kakisa... and let's see what happens!' he came near her ear, to deliver his final blow in the form of a soft whisper 'Good night... hope you sleep well...'

The prince subsequently stormed off from the chamber, leaving her stranded with nothing but her own emotions to fend for herself - leaving her in a place from which she had no escape!

'Ma Bhavani...' Heera inhaled all the air her lungs could take as soon as he left, clutching onto the nearest support so she wouldn't fall to her knees. In his presence, she'd taken care not to retreat, not to appear worried and not to tear-up. But now that she was alone, her emotions burst their banks. She was angry at the way he was bullying her. Resentful that she could do nothing about it. Distressed about a marriage that she did not want. And felt helpless at the fact that she didn't know how to stop it.

Yet, it was not these emotions that were rattling her the hardest.

It was the betrayal. The horrendous betrayal from a man that they'd considered their 'own'. A man, to whom jiji had devotedly given herself. And to think that all of it was just a sham - that he had been faking love for the sake of Parnagarh.

'Why Ma... why?' Heera drowned in an ocean of grief, desperately holding onto the only saving grace amidst this ugliness to stay afloat - that jiji was not alive to witness this betrayal. That her sweet sister had escaped the clutches of this evil man in time.

This Kunwarsa was precisely the kind of selfish aristocrat that the sisters had wanted to save 'the wealth of Parnagarh' from - and hereafter, it lay upon Heera's lone shoulders to ensure such a thing did not happen.

But, how was she supposed to do this? How was she supposed to go against a man who'd tricked his way into the hearts of her people? How was she supposed to raise her voice against him at this stage, when only a few might believe her? 'Ma Bhavani help me!'

Sick house

'Once we finish meeting Pappu...' Azeez whispered 'shall we ride out of this town, for a while... to celebrate?'

'What for?'

'Well...' the young man shrugged 'we always celebrate when we've completed an assignment successfully, don't we? So...' he gleefully rubbed his hands 'How about the puppet show that's about to start in the village? That would be interesting!'

'Maybe...'

'Or better still... why not visit the food-and-drink stall on the crossroads to Parnagarh? Would you treat me to something there?!' the chap licked his lips in anticipation 'I remember the gravies he was serving... they looked delicious!'

'Let's see...'

'Let's see?' Azeez had to try hard to keep his excitement from waning. Here he was, coming up with ideas, to infuse some sort of jubilation and cheer into their conversations. After all, what Khan Sahib had accomplished was no mean feat - it was a feat that'd put their enemies, especially Khalil, to shame. Now this called for some merrymaking, did it not?

Then, why was there an obvious lack of enthusiasm in the Sahib's tone?

By all means, Azeez didn't expect him to break out into loud bout of celebration. However, at the end of every successful task, the master's features would liven up with pride, his eyes would flaunt a sense of achievement. Currently though, those expressions were missing. It was as if, the Ustaad hadn't derived any satisfaction from seeing this mission complete.

Unless of course, the alternative was true and Ustaad really wasn't content. If that was the case, it meant, the man was beginning to experience something he'd never experienced in the face of duty before - a moral dilemma. It meant, Khan Sahib was having second thoughts about this assignment! 

Did he have other ideas for the Farmaan too? Hopefully not. Because ANY such thing would be too dangerous at this stage - so dangerous that the aftermath was almost unthinkable!

Fighting off a shudder in his spine, the silenced Azeez decided to keep his opinions to himself as they stepped into the sick house - the nagging doubts in his mind having put an end to any enthusiasm he'd had about the mission until a moment ago.

On entering the hush dormitory, they skimmed through the weary faces within, for signs of Pappu or his mother. But the duo were nowhere in sight. It was nearly nightfall and the entire hall was dim and silent - with most of the sick residents and their carers winding down for the night.

So, they approached Vaid kaka's personal room. He would be able to tell them if Pappu's lodgings had been shifted elsewhere. Besides, this would be a good opportunity to slip the haveli's keys back in, by engaging the man in a chat.

Pacing up to the small room, Akbar called out to him.

'Vaid kakasa... may we come in?'

'Come in...'

A short while later, the scuffle of footsteps echoed, as the old healer walked out of the shadows.

'You?' he questioned, a shade of doubt cropping up in his sleepy voice when he recognised the men who'd entered his room 'Where were you both? We were searching for you...'

'We were busy fixing this...' Akbar indicated towards the trunk of toys balanced between his arms 'Pappu had wished that these broken toys be mended...' Setting the box on one side, he dusted his hands clean 'now the rest of the children would have toys to play with... but, where is he? I'd like to show him what we've brought.'

'Oh!' kaka grimaced, remorseful for the tone he'd used with the guests earlier 'That is indeed very kind of you both...'

'Thank you...' Akbar nodded, and waited for a further reply. But the healer said nothing thereon. Unsettled by the silence, his subsequent question came up more hastily than intended 'you haven't answered me... where's Pappu?' He was looking forward to surprise the boy with the trunk of toys. And he might not openly admit it, but somewhere deep down, he was looking forward to see the smile it might bring on his face. At least that way, Akbar hoped he could realise a sense of achievement today. Something that would possibly lighten the stony feeling in his heavy heart. 'Kakasa?'

'I am sorry...' the old man whimpered, his eyes dropping low 'I thought you would've heard... but Pappu passed away...'

'What?' a guttural yell escaped Azeez's lips, as he turned to his master in utter shock.

But Akbar didn't respond. At least, not at first. He couldn't - what with his speech momentarily stifled by a sudden pool of emotions. Ever since he'd arrived at the sick house, there was a fear lurking at the back of his mind - a fear that he would be greeted with unpleasant news like this. Yet somehow, the fear hadn't prepared him for the crushing blow of grief dealt his way when the news actually arrived. 'Pappu... passed away?'

'He was repeatedly calling out for you, Samarth beta... which is why we were searching for you both... in fact, his last words were for you... anyway...' he wiped his misty eyes with his frail hands 'it seems like that child did a good deed on his death bed too... he ensured the other children here would have something to be happy about!'

Sometime thereon, they dragged their feet out of the sick house, each leaden step heavier than the previous one. Till they eventually reached the threshold of their dwelling and plonked down on their verrandah, their spirits still reeling from the tragedy. They had lost men before - but the men they'd lost were hardened soldiers, who'd sacrificed their lives in the line of duty. Losing a child was different - a kind of misfortune they had never dealt with - and Azeez neither knew how to comfort his own self, nor his master.

Therefore, after an interval of mournful silence, the young chap decided to make his way inside the hut, to prepare dinner for the two of them. It would be a brief distraction from the prevailing gloom. Besides, he could sense that the Sahib might like to be by himself, at least till he could regroup from the shock.

So, he straightened his shoulders and stood up 'I'll be back later...'

But just as he opened the door to enter the hut, he found his way blocked by the riding whip - a scene that instantly reminded him of the light-hearted banter their group would share at the end of a long day.

He looked at the man who'd stopped him 'Sahib?'

'Where are you going?' asked Akbar

'To prepare us some dinner...'

'And what were you planning to make?'

'Pilaf... some lentils maybe?'

Akbar took a good while to glimpse up. And then a little more, to respond.

'Why? Lost the appetite for those mutton gravies?'

Azeez's eyes widened, pleasantly surprised to note the rise of a warm frown on the Sahib's face. He had expected the man would be morose. Even a tear or two at this point wouldn't have been so unexpected. But a warm frown? That too, such an endearing one? 'Well...' he smiled back, still in doubt if his eyes and ears were playing tricks on him 'if you're happy to treat me to those gravies, I can assure you that I haven't lost the appetite for them!'

'Good...' Akbar shrugged a shoulder

'Alright then... lead the way, Samarth bhai-sa!' Azeez slowly alighted the steps, wondering if it was the tragedy that might have caused a subconscious change-of-heart in the Sahib.

However, Akbar knew it wasn't a 'subconscious' change-of-heart, but a 'conscious' one.

Whether it was the call-of-duty, or simply his nature to do so - Akbar tended to put 'work' above everything and everyone - even above those he loved. Not that it was wrong.

But, had he made an exception that morning and visited Pappu first, he would not have lost the opportunity to make a child happy. He would not feel like he had betrayed the trust of a child - a feeling he could really do without at this stage. And to think of it, all that child had wanted, was to spend a few moments with him.

Nevertheless, if he could help it, he wouldn't repeat that mistake again. After all, Azeez had wanted nothing more than a few moments of his time either.

And according to plan, if they left for the capital in the morning to hand over the Farmaan, he might not get a chance to taste those gravies from that food stall again, would he?

So, not wishing to lose yet another opportunity to make a young chap happy today, Akbar rejoined the man, teasing him back as he did so 'Let's go Charanjith...' 

Chapter 23

Bansi

As her soaking-wet tresses were being held to dry over smoky incense, another maid came forth with a bowl of sandalwood water - a lotion to calm her skin that'd turned a coral pink after the steaming hot bath she'd just stepped out of.

'If only' thought Heera 'there's some magical solution to calm my 'nerves' too'

Nerves from wondering if the heartfelt letter she'd sent to her Godparents through Gauri, had been read. Nerves from wondering if the message was having the desired effects - and if she would be able to explain herself convincingly, when she'd meet them in the next hour.

Dear kakasa and kakisa,

Firstly, please accept my apologies for disturbing you at this early hour.

However, I was compelled to send you this message now, since the matter is of utmost urgency. I had visited your quarters twice last evening, but both instances you were away - understandably busy, entertaining our guests.

A few days ago, I had expressed my reservations regarding this marriage. At that time though, I was simply uncomfortable with the thought of a wedding since my mind was too perturbed with grief and worry. Since then, my feelings against this marriage have only grown stronger, almost turning into a gnawing fear that never goes away. In fact, I have started having a premonition that this union might end in doom, going against precisely what you wanted - a safe future for Parnagarh and your daughter.

I do not have the least doubt that you always have my best interests at heart. Kakasa has cared for us sisters like a father. And had it not been for kakisa, jiji and I would have never known the love of a mother. Which is why, I am writing as a daughter would to her parents. I am reaching out to you both in the belief that you would understand and empathise with my sentiments - just like how Bapusa would have, if he were with us today.

I implore you to hold off on the ceremonies for a while, till I can explain everything in private, later on.

With kindest regards,

Heera.

Half the night she'd spent mulling over an escape plan from this frightful hellhole that she was getting pushed into. She had no proof of the Kunwar's intentions - and raising her voice against someone so influential would only backfire against her. As a result, she'd eventually resorted to a small amount of trickery to achieve her goal. Deliberately using ominous words like 'premonition' and 'doom' in her letter - would compel her God parents to take notice of her pleas. Possibly rattle their superstitious sentiments too.

And if this would lead to them having second thoughts about the wedding, all the better - a feat she would've achieved without pinning the blame upon anyone. At least then, they might hold off on the ceremonies - giving her more time to confess her suspicions about the Kunwar.

A short while thereafter, footsteps were heard outside the chamber, interrupting the bustle in the dressing area.

'Baisa...' Bajrang called out from the entranceway

'Yes Bajrang?'

'Forgive me for disturbing you, but the matter is urgent... y... you... you have been summoned to the Sabha Niwas...'

The young lady instantly sat up 'The Sabha Niwas? But, by whom?' She waited for an answer. 'Bajrang... please reply...'

'The Ranasa and Ranisa of Manswar have called for you...'

'What?' her brows crinkled, a feeling of dismay looming over her features.

Just as she was planning to meet with kakisa to disclose her suspicions about the Kunwar, this interruption had cropped up! What could the Royal family of Manswar want with her - that too, a few hours before the ceremonies? And why at the 'Sabha' of all places? 'Bajrang, I am getting ready...' she informed, trying not to fret herself into a frenzy 'so please inform them that I shall be there, as soon as I am dressed...'

Suddenly, a series of muffled arguments were heard from the other side of the walls, as though her response had given rise to a banter in the corridors.

'What is it?' Heera asked 'What is going on?'

'Baisa...' A man eventually yelled over the commotion - a voice she'd never heard earlier 'I have personally brought a message from the Ranasa and Ranisa of Manswar... but your guards are not letting me speak...'

She sighed 'Daya banna... Bajrang... please let him speak...'

'Thank you...' the messenger instantly acknowledged, almost with an air of impudence 'The Ranasa and Ranisa of Manswar want you to arrive at the Sabha, alone... which is why they have sent me to escort you... and they want you there NOW, baisa!'

'What?' gasped the ladies

However Heera was silent, her fingers instinctively clutching her chest in alarm. She looked up at Gauri for reassurance, but the chief-maid was rendered speechless by the perplexing situation too.

This message was not the kind of message that a king and queen would send to their future daughter-in-law. The contempt was evident in its undertone. No wonder Daya banna and Bajrang had not wanted her to hear it directly!

'Do kakasa kakisa know about this?' she enquired 'What do they have to say?'

'They have been informed...' the man assured her 'but, I can say nothing further than that'

Heera glimpsed at her state of undress, her frowns gradually beginning to reflect shades of humiliation and disapproval 'Give me half an hour...' she paused 'or at least quarter hour... and I will be at the Sabha...'

'But baisa...' the messenger immediately countered 'Ranasa and Ranisa are not prepared to wait till you adorn yourself to perfection... they have a few questions to ask, and they want you there AT ONCE! Forgive me...' he quickly added 'these were their words, not mine!'

The ladies in the room stood stock-still - dropping whatever it was that they were doing. Their baisa had never been dishonoured like this in the past. She'd grown up amongst folks, who gave respect and received respect. So, to have such a message delivered by a man, and to have it announced in front of her people and guards was disconcerting.

Nevertheless, the unkind message came with its advantages too, wiping out the anxiety and nervousness that Heera had been battling with for so long. It had flared-up her generally-tame ego, ensuring she withstood the unwarranted disrespect like a rebel.

'I'm coming...' she announced.

While the rest of the women watched on, aghast - Heera stood up, gently tugging away her hair from Gauri's hand and tying the damp tresses into a loose matted knot. With the maids too dumbstruck to make a move even by this point, she decided to help herself to the veil beside her. Folding the lengths into 4 uniform pleats, she draped it across her chest, tucking the ends in neatly. Nudging aside the platters of flowers, ornaments, fragrance and jewellery, she reached out for a small box.

A dot of kumkum on her temple, a dab of kohl to ward away evil and a pair of bangles to make sure her arms weren't bare. She was ready in a matter of moments.

'Dhani...' Gauri finally snapped out of her daze 'quickly... the alta has been done halfway... finish applying it... we can't let Heera walk out like this...'

'That's alright Gauri...' Heera smiled softly and pulled her veil low. Grabbing a long shawl, she wrapped it around to preserve her modesty. 'I will be fine...'

The walk to the Sabha Niwas was an unpleasant experience. Not only had the royal orders dragged her out of the chamber in a state that wasn't ideal for public appearance, she was going to face the royal guests alone. But what could have happened that had driven the Manswaris to resort to this form of hostility?

Just then - and almost as if in answer to those troubling questions - she spotted the unmistakably arrogant gait of the Kunwar in the distance. He was walking towards the Sabha too, from the opposite end of the corridors.

'So, all this drama is HIS doing?' A rush of horrifying doubts flooded her mind, a cold drift numbing the fingers that'd clenched the shawl 'Has he informed his parents about my unwillingness? But, why would he do that after challenging me so confidently last night? Did he realise I wasn't taking the bait when he found out about my attempts to get in touch with kakisa? So, before I could disclose anything to anyone, he's done it in his own scheming way, hasn't he? Ma Bhavani... please give me the strength to fight this...'

Keeping up her guard higher than ever, she forged ahead to brave this meeting.

As the duo jointly approached the Sabha entrance, Mahendar dismissed the messenger and the two guards present there.

'Greetings Harka Bai...'

There was a sort of devious melody in his voice - it was unnerving. And as if that was not enough, he went on to observe her with sympathy. After all, if it were not for the silks and the radiant beauty, the way she was dressed could pass her off as a maid.

Was this his way of showing how superior they were to the Parnagarhis?

'Greetings Kunwarsa...' she smirked 'why am I not surprised?'

'Then be prepared to be surprised...'

'We'll see!'

Following a hearty laugh at her facade of confidence, Mahendar mellowed the deviousness in his voice - to make a final attempt at fixing this 'Look... I request you once again... let's forgo this animosity... it's fruitless! You do not need any further problems in your life... if we both march in like enemies, the damage will be irreparable... I can put a stop to it now, if you choose!'

His words weren't entirely pointless. After all, there was still time - and there was more to be gained by making truce than by making enemies 'This wedding will benefit us both... I will take care of you and of your people... I will protect you from the Shehzaade... you will get to control Parnagarh, as you wish... that is a PROMISE!'

However, Heera could recognise the fresh trap being laid out for her. 'A PROMISE jijasa?' A resigned smile crept on her lips as she recalled where it'd all started from 'Like the many promises of love you'd made to jiji?'

'Fine! Have it your way...' Mahendar snapped 'But, wait and watch what I'm capable of doing!'

He clicked his fingers in front of her eyes.

She refused to bat an eyelid, even though her throat had gone from dry to parched 'I'm waiting...'

Sabha Niwas

As she traipsed into the hall, pride might have kept her head high and her pace steady - but her nerves were beginning to play up again, twisting her insides into queasy knots. Especially when she was brought to face with the intimidating audience of Ranasa, Ranisa and a few other dignitaries whom she couldn't recognise.

'Heera... bitiya...' The old couple dashed to be by her side, their faces blanching white as they observed the state she was in 'what is this?'

It was obvious to her that kakasa kakisa were thoroughly flummoxed by the developments. To be fair to them though, they must have only read her letter a short while ago. And by the time they could make sense of it, far too much had happened. Evidently, her arrival had only complicated matters more.

'I'll explain...' she managed a nervous whisper, before turning to the Manswaris 'Khamma Ghanisa... you'd asked me to drop everything and come here urgently... so, here I am!'

After a very tense interval, kakisa spoke up 'Is there a problem, Ranisa?'

'Yes there is a problem!' the queen uttered with an audible sigh 'When Maharaj Chitranjan had brought us this proposal... he'd praised your Goddaughter to the skies... but this morning, I've come across quite a few disturbing facts that compels me to question her upbringing... and even her character!'

'My character?' Heera's eyes widened. She had expected bad. But this was turning out to be worse.

'Upbringing?' Chitranjan broke his spell of silence 'W... what do you mean Ranisa? Our Heera has very high morals... you must be mistaken!'

'Maharaj...' disputed the king of Manswar 'then, why has she been secretly meeting our Kunwar behind our backs?'

'What? That cannot be true!'

'But, it is!' Stepping amid the womenfolk, Ranisa lowered her voice, her eyes cringing in shame 'I have learnt that they spent a good while together... alone in a room... last night?'

'No!' kaki gasped 'My daughter would never do such a thing...' she turned to the young lady in horrified confusion 'you wouldn't, would you?'

'Kakisa, it's an exaggeration!' Heera protested as soon as she could get over the startling accusations 'I met him but...'

'So she DOES admit to meeting him, then?' Ranisa's strong retort had trampled over her attempts at an explanation 'Which decent Rajput girl would do such a thing? Can she not wait until after marriage to indulge in these romantic pursuits? This is scandalous!'

'Please understand, Ranisa... nothing of that sort happened...'

'Whatever DID or DID NOT happen... the reality is that our family has come to know of this affair! Our relatives are not happy... our son's name is being tarnished!'

'OUR name is being tarnished!' added the Ranasa

'Bitiya... say something...'

'B... but I am, trying to... Ranisa, please hear me out once!'

'I have a suggestion...' intervened one of the dignitaries who seemed to want to stop the situation from taking a more unpleasant turn 'as it is we were meant to get the two of them married in a few months' time... why not do it now and be done with it? That should bury any scandal!'

'Yes...'

'Yes I agree...'

'No!' her soul hollered in protest, since her voice had already turned hoarse from numerous unsuccessful attempts to be heard. Alas! The Kunwar was feeding them a ridiculous story about a romantic affair that never happened - dragging her name, along with his, right down into the gutter. Thus leaving the families with no option but to rush ahead with the marriage. How petty! And yet, how effective - because everyone seemed to be buying into it. Especially kakasa kakisa.

The young lady was suddenly tempted to hurl her abuser a volley of ugly words and glares, but that would achieve nothing apart from giving him another reason to gloat.

Instead, she chose to set out on a silent warpath, brainstorming for ideas, mentally skimming through every shred of logic she could use. The only way to get people to believe her over him, was if she managed to lure the Kunwarsa into revealing his true colours - for which, she needed a series of crafty comebacks.

'YES, I admit... we did meet twice...' she ultimately announced 'alone...'

Surely enough, the strategy worked. The intriguing admission had shushed all noises around her, rousing everyone's curiosity - notably the Kunwar's! 'I wanted to know how Kunwarsa was feeling... from what I'd heard, he was devastated after jiji's death... so... as Durga Bai's sister, it was my duty to assure him that he mustn't feel pressurised to go ahead with the marriage...' she shrugged her petite shoulders casually 'Of course, I had assumed that since he loved jiji so dearly, he would appreciate my gesture... maybe, even feel relieved to hear my words...' she nodded humbly 'but I was mistaken... he was perfectly fine... and on the contrary, he is looking forward to the wedding...'

Ranasa Ranisa were confounded.

Kakasa kakisa were confused.

But Mahendar was aware of what she was trying to do.

'Darn!' He rolled his fists as he struggled to internalise the fury.

A Caravansarai - in a town enroute the capital

With the hot sun beating down upon dry Earth, Akbar wasted no time in leading the two horses towards a shady patch, walking past the lazy noon scenes of a Caravansarai.

The enclosure was overcrowded with vehicles and animals - bullocks and camels loitering beside carts and caravans, as they idly swatted their tails about while munching upon fodder. It was not a pretty sight - rife with the overpowering smell of dung and infested with flies. But it would have to make do.

This town was one of the covert spots where Ustaad's closest spies assembled to swap information. And according to prior arrangement, Ibrahim and Sayyid were inside this rest house now, anticipating his arrival, awaiting further instructions from their Sahib.

So, once he'd found a secluded spot that was clean enough, he secured his steeds to a tree, tying the ends of the thick rope into a unique kind of knot - an effective deterrent against horse thieves and the sort.

'Thank you, my pets...' he patted their long necks gently 'for travelling relentlessly from Parnagarh... it's been a long journey... a couple of days more, we'll be at the capital... and you'll get your rest'

Dusting his palms, Akbar walked up to his saddle, paying little heed to the rumbles echoing from within. Yes, unbeknown to Azeez he'd skipped a couple of meals, and his empty stomach was complaining about it. But he'd had to do it, or they might have run short of money on their way here.

No doubt, Akbar was a man who planned ahead and planned well. But even the intelligence officer in him hadn't planned for that moment of emotional impulse when Samarth Singh would 'willingly forget' a pouch full of coins on Vaid kaka's table, as an anonymous donation for the sick house.

Thus leaving him with only a few coins to last them through the trip from Parnagarh to here.

Grabbing his bag from the saddle, Akbar made a routine check of its most important belonging - the tunic, within which the Farmaan had been secretly sewn in.

And then, he checked for the small memento tucked below - the embroidered drawstring pouch.

Her gift!

Letting his rugged features relax and his gazes grow warm, the young man loosened its strings and opened it.

'By the way... I... I wanted to give you this... Maharaj kakasa's laddus... the maids had mentioned that you'd enjoyed them during the feast...'

There it sat. One last laddu that he had stored away for himself, wanting to preserve the perishable token for as long as he could. However, the laddu was beginning to lose shape. And it looked like it might not last for long.

Maybe time had come to accept her gift.

Following a long sigh and a short smirk, he took the first bite.

Heavenly!

It could be because he was absolutely famished. Or because it was a sweet he really loved. Or probably because he was savouring a beautiful gesture from a very beautiful person. But he relished it - every slow bite of it - even more than he had on the first instance that he tasted it. It reminded him of lovelier times in his life. And as he licked the last miniscule crumb off his fingers - he wished the Laddu didn't have to finish, just like he wished those lovely times had never ended.

Sabha Niwas

'Everybody knows I loved Durga with all my heart...' Mahendar smiled through clenched teeth 'now let's put aside these differences and prepare for the ceremonies, shall we?'

It was his tenth attempt in the past half an hour to bring the meeting to an end, his tenth trick to diffuse the situation. He wanted to stop this before she could craftily let slip anything else - or he risked the exposure of all his plans and plots.

However, this lady was turning out to be a darned genius at deflecting his arguments and he was falling short of ideas to wiggle out of her mind games. 'We have to go on... for Durga's sake... and let's not forget that your kakasa is equally eager for this union to happen... it is at his request that we are here!'

'Oh yes... of course...' Heera nodded, as though she genuinely appreciated the man's sacrifice 'but while most of us are doing this for the greater good... there is someone amongst us, who is more than eager... almost restless that this marriage should go ahead, don't you think?'

'What do you mean?'

'For instance Kunwarsa... we were alone in the chamber last night... and we both agree that what happened between us was anything BUT romantic!' she deliberately paused, glancing at her Godparents to ensure the gist of her message had sunk in 'Our guards and maids wouldn't dare to spread to such rumours... it's obvious I wouldn't tell stories that would malign my character... so, I'm left wondering who cooked up these dirty tales about us, to speed up the wedding?'

A flash of bitter desperation glimmered in his eyes, as Mahendar felt a few extra tentacles of the trap tighten around him - a trap that SHE was supposed to be caught in, not HIM! 'You're accusing me? A prince? Of spreading gossip? I am an honourable son, following my parents' wishes here, that's all... I would never do anything like this that would disregard my father's name!'

'Oh! But didn't you conveniently disregard their wishes, a few months ago? By adamantly professing your love for jiji then?' her reminders came armed with a knowing frown 'You were adamant about wedding jiji then... adamant about wedding me today... wonder why?'

'Wh... what...' Mahendar scowled, his anger slowly floating back to the surface as he stuttered for the right words to argue back. His patience had already been stretched to the limit after pandering to the egos of two young heiresses for months - his wounded regal pride was now crumbling to bits, constantly assaulted by one insult after another. 'Ridiculous!' his tone grew louder 'Then for whose sake do you think I'm doing all this, Harka Bai?'

The moment he asked that question, he realised he'd set himself up for failure - a realisation that came a moment too late!

'Thank you' Heera breathed a sigh of relief on watching how the first few layers of his mask had come off. Her family should believe her now - they would be able to see him for who he was. 'Basically Kunwarsa' she persisted - despite kaki's repeated attempts to get her to stop 'I wanted to show everyone that you are neither doing this for jiji's sake... nor for your parent's sake... you are doing this only because you want Parnagarh and the iron ores that lay under them!'

A wave of low gasps ruffled the silence - some angry, some repulsed, but most in shock!

'How dare you accuse our Kunwar of all these things?' the enraged royal couple stepped up in support of their son

'Maharaj please ask your daughter to take back everything she's said!'

'She is sabotaging this wedding!'

'Yes!'

'Heera, please be quiet...' The visibly despondent hosts hastened to patch up the fast deteriorating relations, clinging to hope that the marriage could still go ahead. Because the alternative - an enmity with Manswar - would not be good for either Parnagarh, or Bansi.

Having said that though, a part of them had begun understanding that their daughter was making sense! That this Kunwarsa was not all they had made him out to be 'I'll tell you what bitiya... let's discuss the rest of this in private...'

'You may go on... but there is nothing left for us to discuss' Ranisa scoffed, looking down upon the entire family as if they were a poor excuse for royalty 'Manswar will never accept such an arrogant young lady as its Kunwari, anyway! She only cares about her ego - even more than she cares about the future of her people... so, we shall have the last laugh when her dear Parnagarh is ruined!'

'Ranisa, I would lay my life for Parnagarh, if needed...' Heera corrected the queen with the kind of quiet confidence that stifled those accusations at once 'you can ask any of my people and they would say the same!' she turned to her Godparents 'And it is because I care so much for Parnagarh that I had to bring out the truth now'

'Let's leave... why are we standing here, after such humiliation?'

'Yes, we leave at once!' the Rana roared 'Maharaj and Maharni of Bansi, you both shall be sorry for siding with her! Get rid of this lowly lady from your lives if you don't want to suffer too!'

With that ominous warning, the Rana and Rani of Manswar spun around, making their haughty retreat towards the entrance - unresponsive to kakasa's pleas or kakisa's tears.

'One moment... maasa... bapusa...' came Mahendar's voice out of the blue - stopping them in their tracks. 'I have this nagging doubt that's just cropped up...'

He went close to Heera, unperturbed that he was being closely watched 'You got what you wanted!'

'Maybe...' she mumbled, wondering if she must indulge him with any further replies.

'You've been against this wedding from the very beginning, haven't you?!'

She said nothing.

'You claim you're sabotaging this wedding for Parnagarh, but I wonder if there's another reason too...' he paused 'maybe someone else?'

'Nothing of that sort!'

Tch...' he tapped his forehead 'I should have realised this when you reminded me of Durga's second promise... which states that you should be allowed to wed a man of YOUR choice...'

'What do you mean?' Heera frowned, alarm bells going off in her mind

'I mean... an unmarried Rajput lady, who defies society... defies authority... and even her family... generally does it for only one reason - her man!'

A sly grin returned to his face, as he saw the smile being wiped out of her lips. 

'Aidabad?' he whispered - low enough to leave an impact, but loud enough to be heard by her Godparents.

Her face stayed cold and plain, as she made a conscious effort not to flinch. Not to gasp. Not even to blink. Pity though, Heera was not as good an actress as him 'Aidabad? What about it?'

'You were there for two weeks... which is long enough...'

'Yes... so?'

'You stayed at a Mughal businessman's house' he candidly observed her features for signs of a reaction, like a hawk would observe its prey 'Didn't you?'

'And your point is?' Heera retorted, drumming a reminder into every inch of her body that she mustn't giveaway anything.

'I heard that the two of you spent time in each other's company...'

'Kunwarsa...' Chitranjan grit his teeth 'put an end to this disgusting topic... I will not stand back and watch this any longer... our Heera bitiya is purer than gold... so, stop throwing around these baseless accusations...'

'You didn't stop her when she had things to say about me... so, let me speak, Maharaj!' With a sneer, he turned back to the young lady 'Since, you were opposed to this wedding, I was curious to find out if there was some secret you were hiding... my spies informed me about this Mughal man, but I never gave it much thought - even when I heard that you both met and talked a few times... after all, he IS a Mughal... and traditionally, we Rajputs know to keep away from Mughals... we despise them...' he'd stressed on the word despise 'but now that I think back... it adds up!'

'A few formal discussions... that's all...' Heera hissed, desperately wishing there was something else she could do to shut him up right then and there. How dare he do this? How dare he ransack her secrets - personal secrets that she'd kept locked deep within? How dare he pry open her most intimate wounds in public, leaving her exposed? 'It was routine business... what else could it possibly be?'

'Really? You were discussing business?' Mahendar smirked. He thought he'd seen traces of pain in her eyes but he couldn't be sure. At least, not yet. 'What business could you have with an eminent horse trader? I forget what he's called...'

'Akbar Mahmoud Khan Sahib!'

The agony that'd just forced itself up, left a trail of burn as she pushed it back down.

Heera glared at her challenger, her unbroken stare awash with a fresh pang of hatred. Yes, she was aware that he was toying with her. That he was going for the kill. But there was only so much she could do to keep it together. Helplessness. Desperation. Anguish. Exhaustion. Loneliness. Self-pity. A broken heart. There was only so much of it she could take 'It was just business...' she lied again, striving her level best to make her lie sound as convincing as possible - but not before her left eye had involuntarily misted up 'nothing more...'

There! He'd seen it, at long last. In her eyes. He'd found what he was searching for - 'a lover's pain'. He was sure now.

'It IS him, isn't it?' Mahendar gasped, almost surprised that his suspicions had turned true 'Ma Bhavani... save us... not only are the Mughals taking our lands... they're taking our women too!'

He took a conscious step back, suddenly repulsed by the very notion of a marriage with her, as if this baisa had turned into an untouchable. No amount of power and fame was worth pursuing a woman who was worse than used goods. That too, used by a Mughal.

'Maasa... Bapusa... and all this while she's been maligning MY character...'

'Shameful indeed, my Kunwar...'

'This is not true' A hot tear burst its bank when she found herself at the receiving end of several disgusted sighs from onlookers. Another tear came gushing down when she noticed the mortified expressions on the faces of kakisa kakasa 'He is twisting the story, like always!'

'Imagine the scandal when the rest of our community come to know of this... I wonder how many Rajput kingdoms will come to Parnagarh's help then...'

'You are accusing me without proof, Kunwarsa...'

'You forget...' he murmured 'scandal doesn't need proof... a few willing ears will do!'

Having dealt the final blow, Mahendar walked out on her, quite pleased with how well his gamble had paid off. He might have lost a few rounds, maybe even the battle - but he hadn't bowed out like an utter failure. He'd rendered his enemy disarmed, vulnerable and wounded.

Of course, that wasn't all. Once Khalil and the Shehzaade would hear the news that Manswar and its strong Hindu allies were withdrawing support from Parnagarh, there would be no valleys left, no Harka Bai left! But after having lost both, the Farmaan and the chances of owning Parnagarh - it was his only hope of getting something back from this mess. By gifting the Shehzaade this news, he would be gifting the prince Parnagarh itself - a certain means of gaining more power in court!

Inside the Sarai...

'You wouldn't believe what I saw on my return from Bansi...' yawned Sayyid as he stretched his legs out on the floor, with his back against a wall.

If the Caravan park outside was crowded, the hall inside the Sarai was a picture of chaos. Traders, messengers, shopkeepers, families and travellers chose to halt here for a rest, picking any and every corner in that noisy dormitory-styled hall that was available. Having said that though, the place was only meant to be a temporary lodging. And the Sarai managed to give many a weary traveller a place to eat, chat, laugh, play cards and maybe nap for a few hours, before they could resume the next leg of journey to places afar.

Picking a private corner that wasn't particularly overlooked by anyone, Akbar's men had seamlessly merged amongst the crowds, sprawled across the floor like tired tourists with plates of food and snacks lined in front.

'What did you see?'

'The royal family of Manswar travelling towards Bansi... I heard that Kunwar and Sahiba are getting married... in fact their wedding must have been formalised this morning...'

'Shhh...' Azeez stopped swaying the fan that he'd been using to keep the flies away from his master's food 'Sayyid, don't mention this news in front of Khan Sahib... it'll only upset him further... Parnagarh has already upset him enough...'

'Why?'

Peeping over his shoulder to make sure the Sahib wasn't here yet, he spoke in whispers 'Sahiba's wedding... having to betray the good people of Parnagarh... passing away of a small boy called Pappu, whom he'd grown fond of... all of it has been playing on his mind'

'Oh!' Ibrahim was about to help himself to a piece of bread from the platter of food, but his fingers suddenly stopped midway 'Wait... would you say he is having second thoughts?' his low tone dropped to an inaudible mutter 'Second thoughts about the Farmaan?'

Azeez looked on, worried 'I can't say for sure... maybe you should talk to him... I cannot questi...' Having noticed from the corner of his eye the emerging silhouette of his master, he dropped the conversation at once.

'Salaam...' the men instantly sat up straight, greeting Akbar with a special wide smile on their faces - a code for 'well done' - used whenever the group had accomplished a mission successfully.

'Salaam... and thank you' He greeted them back with a nod, following which, his dark eyes slowly narrowed, noting Ibrahim's expressions. Then, Sayyid's. Then, Azeez's. And finally, Ibrahim's again.

A subtle frown curving his brows, Akbar took his spot in front of his plate and pulled his sleeves up. 'Go on my men... help yourselves...' he offered them food, before drawing one of the plates close.

'It was piping hot when I bought it...' Azeez shook his head 'I'm sure it's turned cold now... what took you so long, Sahib?'

Akbar didn't reply. Instead, he tore out a piece of bread, dunked it into the meat gravy and started eating it.

'So, how was Parnagarh?'

'Cut to the chase...' Having chewed down his first morsel, he glimpsed up at his friend through a sly glare 'Azeez has told you everything... and you have something to ask... so, just ask!'

'Fine...' Ibrahim admitted with a semi-awkward shrug 'You're not having second thoughts, are you?' he raised his brows 'Second thoughts about the Farmaan?'

'And if I did?'

The smiles and grins immediately disappeared.

The men were not amused - not amused at all.

'We would strongly advise you against it...' they studied him worriedly, their glances stern and reflective 'but...'

'But?'

Ibrahim drew in the longest breath 'But if that is what you want...' he paused, his steady stares mirroring his unwavering loyalty 'we will stand beside you... till the end!'

Akbar observed the heavy cloud of grimness hanging over their faces.

'No...' he eventually shook his head with a smirk, putting them at ease 'I will not betray my Huzoor'

But from the 'telling' look on his face, the men knew that their Sahib hadn't revealed everything that was on his mind yet. He must have other plans too.

And they weren't wrong.

True, Ustaad would never betray his Huzoor and the beauty of Parnagarh might not be something he could preserve. But, Ustaad could - and he intended to - safeguard its people. In exchange for the Farmaan, he would extract a promise from the Shehzaade that Khalil or any other generals never be allowed to handle the mission, thus protecting its people from atrocities and bloodshed for as long as he was alive.

Besides, Samarth Singh had taken home a few lessons from Pappu's short life. Unlike that poor kid, he'd been blessed with a second chance and he planned to spend at least some of his days hereafter, doing good for others. If there came a time, that the people were forced to vacate the valleys following Shehzaade's orders, he would use his resources - all the money, manpower and means that was practically affordable - to help them rebuild a new life elsewhere.

Suddenly, and almost out of nowhere, a man slipped in to join their gathering, drawing Akbar out of his thoughts.

'News for you, Khan Sahib...' the informant murmured near his ears.

'Yes?'

'The devil has returned... to the capital... he's plotting...'

His jaws stopped moving - what with Akbar biting down upon his teeth instead of the piece of bread in his mouth. Khalil back from Kabul? So soon? Why? 'To instigate Shehzaade against me!' 

'Ibrahim... Sayyid... Azeez...' he ordered his mates in a hush tone 'Offer the horses some fodder and drink... then saddle them up and load the bags... I'll be with you very soon... we have to leave for the capital now'

CHAPTER 27 - Part 1

'BAISAAA'

The skin on their ankles and wrists cut open, as the guards tried freeing themselves from the restraints. There was nothing worse than having to sit back and witness their baisa being grappled and manhandled by those filthy palms.

'Nooo... please...' Heera wanted to lament too as his savage grip tightened, crushing her jaws even further. The clasp was painful. Mortifying. And frightening. The poison pill hidden under her ring was merely inches away. If she could somehow get hold of it, swallow it, the end would be much swifter and far less agonising.

'What's the point of extending this torture, Heera?' She asked herself many a time, the flames of her spirit nearly extinguished.

But, those few sparks that hadn't been doused out yet gave her the answer 'You're doing this for the sake of your people!'

So, she decided to ride out this storm out too.

Khalil eventually let go, when he realised that the mist in her eyes was not going to come gushing down as tears.

'What do you want then?' He bit the sides of his teeth into a vile half grin

As the sensations gradually returned to her face, she ran a finger upon her throbbing bruised cheeks. 'We w... were planning to... we w... were coming to the capital to meet the Shehzaade... we are not planning to put up a fight...' her heart was pounding so loudly, she could barely hear her own words 'we are happy to give him access to mine the valleys...' she managed to look up again, and glance back at those hideous stares 'all we ask, is that our lives, our homes and our fields be spared... as it is, you have the Farmaan... You have taken away my sister's life...'

'WHAT!!!' Khalil burst out into a loud throaty laugh that continued ringing in her ears long after he had stopped 'You sisters like acting over-smart, don't you? The older sister thought she would fool me by handing over a fake document in place of the Farmaan... but, what happened? She ended up losing her... errr...' he scratched his beard with a grin, as though the older baisa's death was nothing but a source of entertainment to him 'anyhow... we all know how she ended up paying for her choices... and what a sad waste of life... since our Huzoor has asked us to go ahead and seize Parnagarh, anyhow...' he paused 'now YOU are trying to act over smart... what do you think is going to happen to you?'

Heera's fingers had turned white from having clutched the edges of her veil so tightly. His acidic words grated against her raw wounds, leaving her enraged. So enraged that if someone had inflicted a hundred slashes on his face at that point, her gentle heart would not have melted. However, there was something that stopped that overpowering rage from bursting its barriers and coming up to the surface - something that'd distracted her just in time - something he had mentioned.

'A fake document? A fake Farmaan?' How could this be? If a fake document did indeed exist, jiji would have surely told her about it, wouldn't she? This man HAD to be lying. Making up stories. Playing mind-games to unsettle her.

'God!' Her head ached. Heera tried reading her captor through hazy eyes, looking for signs of trickery.

Granted, his expressions were petty and unpleasant - but from what little she knew of him, she couldn't catch anything different. Besides, what advantage could this man have, coming up with such a story now?

SO, if he wasn't lying, when did jiji have this fake document prepared? After returning from the horse fair? Then, why didn't she leave behind a message?

'Or maybe she did... an... and I...'

Jiji ran around the Haveli, with her eyes opened wide

Every trick uncanny, she may have tried

Every nook and cranny, she may have spied

But never did she find me, because I know how to hide!

So, was jijis's final message - their childhood poem - not meant to ask HER to hide? Was it a clue letting her know where the SCROLL had been hidden?

Heera nearly took her palms to her mouth in shock 'But if the original Farmaan is still out there, safely tucked away, WHERE is it hiding?'

Jiji ran around the Haveli, with her eyes opened wide

Every trick uncanny, she may have tried

Every nook and cranny, she may have spied

'Oh my! Has jiji put it... is it in...in the Tulsi pot in Ma Bhavani's shrine... or maybe in my favourite hiding spot... that old stone planter that sits opposite our paintings in the hallways... yes that HAS to be it!'

As the realisations hit her - one after another, Heera wanted to weep in relief - much like a suffocating child who'd briefly found some air to breathe. She wanted to spare a few moments mourning for a sister who'd watched out for her, even during her last hour.

But she couldn't. So, she forced down that pool of liquid that'd rushed up to her throat. 

Instead, the young lady had to learn to derive a burst of inspiration from what were possibly jiji's final attempts to save their lands - a masterful ploy, that she would NOT allow to go to waste.

So what if the Farmaan no longer interested the Shehzaade? So what if these plunderers had given up their hunt for the scroll? She would rekindle their interest in it again. She would sell the Farmaan to them, by convincing them of its importance - this was the only means she had at present, which could be used to buy herself more time!

'Hey...' A loud bark right in front of her face made her jump 'WHERE are you lost in thought again?'

'The Farmaan'

'Oh... yes... yes... yes... here comes the Farmaan again!' Khalil mocked, bobbing his head as a jester would 'Frankly speaking, I'm bored of hearing that word... the Shehzaade's given me orders to have you beheaded... so, this conversation is a total waste of time...'

'Would it still be a waste of time, if I told you I know where the original Farmaan is?'

'Hmmm' the general slowly cocked his head back. So, the Sahiba had decided to confess now? After all this while? Unexpected, but not entirely surprising.

His fingers reaching for the side of his cummerbund, Khalil kept one eye on this impressively shrewd 16-year-old and another eye on the dagger that he'd drawn out. 'Tut tut tut...' His fingers stroked its glistening blade, as though he was getting ready for a dangerous game of some sort 'it's not good to lie, Sahiba... especially not when there is a knife pointing at your neck'

'I'm not lying... if I die today, the secret of the Farmaan dies with me... and that serves no purpose'

'Anyway, not interested in that silly document...' Khalil sighed 'Huzoor had his best spies... even our best officer... keeping a close eye on you and your people, over the past few weeks... when THEY couldn't find the Farmaan... our Huzoor lost patience too! So YES...' he spat near her foot 'this conversation IS A WASTE OF TIME!'

'Best officer... keeping a close eye... over the past few weeks...'

The colour on her skin became pale. And paler. Till it'd faded to a ghastly white as the air from her lungs was steadily sucked out. 

'Don't worry about me... I've grown immune to such poisons and venoms!'

She recalled the man who made that statement, and the confidence with which he'd made it.

'Khan Sahib? Could he be the...'

She recalled his skill and strength. His knowledge and experience. His power and influence. She recalled his secretive lifestyle. His connections to the capital. His Marwari that sounded as authentic as his Urdu. And thus the doubts that'd once plagued her, returned with a vengeance.

'Oh... God... no...' She suddenly clutched her chest. Maybe because she did not know what else to do or how else to react. Maybe because she wanted to search for her heart - since it was beginning to feel awfully hollow within.

Just then, her mind went blank. It was too terrifying to face her own thoughts - more terrifying than the sight of the savage ogre that stood in front. A white sheet blinded her vision and her head began spinning.

If Dhani, who was kneeling nearby, had not caught her in time, Heera would have collapsed upon the floor.

When she did come back to her senses, and hold on to Dhani thereafter, the young lady could not make out if she was in Hell or on Earth. Her head was throbbing and the fresh spasms of acute stress had temporarily blurred most of her vision.

'NOOO... NOOO... no... no... no... no... no... no... no... no... no... you cannot afford to go blind now, Heera... wake up... wake up... or all your plans will go to waste...' Following an incredible struggle with her failing body, Heera somehow reopened her eyes 'Stay upright... think straight... come on... come on... COME ON!' she screamed at her mind, to snap it out of its stupor 'Khan Sahib? Really, Heera? Are you really suspecting his involvement with the Shehzaade? With KHALIL, of all people?'

Yes, she was disappointed with the young man. She had a right to be. Yes, she was angry with him! She had a right to be. But did that give her a right to accuse his character of something so horrible - based on a handful of odd coincidences?

He might have unfairly turned her away. But how could she overlook the fact that he'd been very fair to her people? Despite their many differences, he had given them shelter when they had nowhere else to go. Why, he'd even stepped forward to save her maids' honour when no one else would.

And what about the many occasions, when he had watched out for her? Saved her life?

'Just stay safe, Sahiba...' THOSE words were surely not an act! Such a person involved with a sub-human like Khalil? 'No!'

Couldn't be.

Shouldn't be.

She DIDN'T WANT it to be.

'Has misery made you a mad woman? Don't be spiteful Heera...' the desperate young lady reasoned for then, as it was the only way to drag herself away from this mess 'besides, this is not the time to add to your problems... this is not the time to be delving on this... delving on HIM!'

'Tch... tch... tch... seems our lovely Sahiba is not feeling too well...' Khalil winked at his men 'must we make her feel better?'

The suggestive remarks were met by loud cheers and sneers from his men, compelling the heiress to come to her own defence in a hurry.

'Best officer, did you say?' She resumed from where she'd left off, though uttering every syllable through a throbbing headache, was turning to be sheer agony. 'I was thinking... the Shehzaade must've wanted the Farmaan badly if he put his best men on the job...' she paused 'even his best men couldn't find it... so, one could only imagine the kind of name and fame it'd bring to the man who actually does hand him the original Farmaan!'

Heera waited for a response - expecting a nod or a scoff.

Instead, Khalil startled her and everyone else around, when he immediately plunged the knife towards her neck.

Fortunately, he decided to stop, just short of her skin.

He observed the pearl of sweat that came trickling along her cheeks. He liked it - it gave him the upper hand, knowing how nervous he made her. Having said that - he also knew the Sahiba was right. Again. Getting hold of the Farmaan now, would give him an edge over the Ustaad.

In fact, she had him figured out so well that it was getting both, fascinating and exasperating. And what was worse - he couldn't figure HER out yet.

She looked as delicate as a flower. In spite of that he couldn't uproot her. Why? From where was she deriving this resilience, this invisible strength?

Gently tugging out one of the locks from her hair with the knife, he twisted its strands around the steel tip, playing with the curls - aware of how unsettling it must be to have a sharp blade right next to one's eye 'So, what do you want in return, Sahiba?'

He knew he shouldn't be asking a prisoner that question. However, he couldn't help asking it.

She washed down her nervousness 'Please spare the lives of my people... and I will give you the Farmaan... it's a promise...'

'How clever, Sahiba! No, thank you... you tell me where it is... and we'll find out for ourselves...'

'Alright...' Heera drew in a quick breath 'It's in the 146th pot, outside the 23rd room in the East wing on the first floor...'

'SAHIBA!' His glares drilled right into her hazy gazes

His grisly stubble scraped against her face, making her sick in the stomach. But Heera couldn't lurch backwards. She couldn't even turn away - what with the blade precariously sitting at the corner of her eye.

'I am not acting over-smart...' she tried to explain calmly 'I am an herbalist... you've been at the haveli... you must have seen... I grow A LOT of plants...'

'Hmmm...' Khalil tilted his head, his lips eventually curving into a crooked grin when he couldn't come up with anything else to counter her wit for then. 'And what assurance that you'll keep up your promise?'

'I'm sure you've heard... a true Rajput lady never goes back on her word...'

It took the general a while, but he retracted the knife from her neck - much to the relief of all Parnagarhis. 'Take her...' he smirked with contempt 'keep her under watch... away from her maids... away from her guards... we'll see what has to be done.'

No. Of course, he wasn't planning to keep up his end of the deal. He had no interest in sparing the lives of her people. But, taking HER life? THAT, he was beginning to have second thoughts about.

'Khalil Sahib... what are we waiting for? Why don't we kill them all now?' asked one of his closest men, who'd been a silent bystander so long 'Why don't we finish her off and be done with it... like the Huzoor had ordered us to?' His brows furrowed, as he observed his master busy watching the Sahiba being led away. 'Khalil Sahib?' he had to press on, when he received no reply.

'She will lead me to the Farmaan...'

'And then?'

'Well...' Khalil slipped the dagger back into its holder 'what fun in crushing a flower to a pulp under my boots? I'd rather plant the flower in my mansion's harem... and enjoy its beauty everyday...'

'What?'

'I'll make her my slave!'

In isolation...

With no strength left in her knees and her eyes blind to the paths she was being led on, Heera stumbled upon low-hanging vines and thorny bushes as she made her unsteady way in the darkness. Her feet were already bruised from brushing against jagged rocks, and it was quite a struggle to keep pace with five hefty soldiers.

However, she didn't put up much of a resistance - not even when they'd dragged her petite form away from the presence of her ladies and guards. She was too fatigued to protest - and if anything, she could do with a breather after having spent the past half an hour smothered under the weight of Khalil's intimidating stares and disgusting ideas.

Thankfully, the agony didn't last for long, and sometime later, she was crudely nudged towards the foot of a tree.

'Which direction have they brought me in?' her foggy senses wondered, while her hands were being bound 'We walked uphill... but not too far from the camp...' She cast a couple of sly glances over her shoulder. But it was pitch black and all that was visible, were hazy images of grey thickets.

Just then, she heard a muffled snort. A long breath, and she could smell it in the air too - manure. 'The horses? They're nearby?' 

Had they walked all around the camp, to the opposite side, in order to isolate her from her people? Had they brought her to a spot not far from where the horses were standing?

'Perfect for me...' she thought 'when the opportunity arises!'

'SIT THERE... and you better not get bright ideas...' the man snarled into her ears, once he'd finished tying the ropes into an achingly tight restraint 'UNDERSTAND?'

'Bright ideas?' she smiled faintly, hoping her weak voice would lull the man into a false sense of assurance 'But, I am a blind... hurt... tired young lady who can barely walk two steps...'

'Khalil Sahib will be here for you...' he warned, leaving her in the company of two soldiers 'Keep watch... she's a smart one!'

No sooner than she was left alone, the tears that'd been forcefully suppressed, swelled up - one after the other. 'Oh God!' she lamented the humiliation she'd had to bear at the hands of these monsters. She cried, frightened and uncertain. She cried for her people, for poor Gokul, and for her jiji. And she cried about the unresolved doubts and feelings about Khan Sahib that simply refused to go away.

She cried till the time her throbbing head could take it no more and her swollen eyes involuntarily closed shut - till sheer exhaustion forced her to succumb to slumber.

The chase...

'Come on...' the heel of his boot nudged the sides of his horse, goading it to move quicker, though a part of him knew it was impossible to travel any quicker 'COME ON...'

It was past midnight. The air was chilly, but his breath was as feverish as the desert noon, his skin flushed to a fierce red.

Suddenly, something came over him and he stopped before a high branch. On the spur of the moment, he made a sharp tug at the reins, forcing his horse to take a left. The young man was now deviating from the typical routes, plunging right into the heartlands of these remote forests. 'We might have to search here...'

His group were barely able to match pace, but one of the men somehow managed to ride faster and catch up with the Sahib

'Where are we going, Sahib?' he asked, concerned by this unexpected detour.

However, Akbar didn't explain himself. He kept going, deep into the woods.

And kept going.

And going - until his actions started appearing almost reckless.

'SAHIB!' the student shortly caught up with him again, yelling aloud over the parade of hooves this time, so he would be heard 'Please stop...'

Compelled to slow down, Akbar finally turned around to face them.

'Sahib... why have we taken this detour into the dense jungles? These woods are endless...'

'Why are we abandoning our original plans?'

'Why aren't we sticking to the usual routes?'

'Sahib... you haven't slept last night...'

'Or even the night before... do you want to rest first, Sahib?'

Akbar heard them out. And he noticed how they were staring at his hands while they spoke - maybe because the calluses on his palms had cut open - some of them even bleeding - from constantly whipping the reins. All in all, they feared he was turning into a madman, didn't they?

'So...' he smiled at both - himself, and the position he'd been put in. 'I take it, you're all trying to imply that I'm losing my mind?'

'Sahib... we would never dare to think such a thing...'

'But, we ARE worried for you...'

Akbar shut his eyelids.

'Khalil and his army passed by that town several hours ago... if they'd travelled by the 'usual routes' we SHOULD've come across them by now... I can guess... they have taken a detour...' his fervent glances searched the pitch blackness 'they're out here somewhere... in the midst of these thick jungles... so...' he clicked his fingers 'If you're satisfied by my explanation... and convinced that I'm not losing my mind, shall we make a move?'

They lowered their eyes.

'You know best, Sahib...'

'As you say...'

In isolation...

'What?' Heera awoke with a start, when she heard the boisterous echoes of laughter beside her 'H... how long have I...'

Her vision took a short while to adjust to the surroundings. But when it did, the young lady realised that it was just as dark as it had been when her eyes had shut. 'I haven't been asleep for long... b... but...' Heera's hands protectively moved over her attire 'Oh my God... thank you...' She sighed - infinitely relieved to find herself in the same state she was in, when she'd fallen asleep.

Her gazes were then drawn towards the silhouettes of the two soldiers who'd been standing guard. They appeared to be whispering to each other - laughing and jesting like fools. Not surprisingly, there was a strong stench of alcohol in the air too.

'The Sahiba...' she heard bits and pieces of their conversation, as the men spoke 'The Sahiba... has been peacefully asleep for the past couple of hours... imagining that our Khalil Sahib is going to spare their lives...'

'He'll chop their heads off, very soon...'

'Of course...'

'But, what about the Sahiba?'

'He plans to force her to give up Farmaan...'

'And then?'

'Make her one of his slave girls...'

'She'll become his favourite slave girl!'

Another round of unruly chuckles followed.

'God... save us' Heera cringed.

Not that she wasn't aware of the way Khalil's mind worked. She always knew she'd only bought from him a few precious hours - maybe a day, at most. And within this timespan, it was up to her to think up a plan - to try every possible means and save as many lives as she could. If not the lives of her maids and guards here, at least those lives at Parnagarh she was responsible for.

So, she sat tight, waiting for the right break. And it came, when one of the men left for the tents, to refill his flask - while the other was fast asleep, his snores ringing aloud.

The opportunity was here. Luck was still on her side. Probably best to finish it now.

So, she set her plan into action.

'The Marwari racer...'

Discreetly pulling out the yellow kerchief from the side of her skirt, she unfurled it open on her lap. With her wrists tied and her eyes barely able to see what she was writing, the lady had to use her fingers to guide her.

Dabbing out whatever kohl she could from the edges of her eyes, she used it as ink to scribble a message. But half way through the first word 'Help', her fingertips were dry. The kohl had run out. 'What else can I use to write... maybe my blood?'

Heera peeped around, searching for something she could use to prick her fingers, when something sharp poked her elbow instead. A low thorny plant. Twisting around, she pulled its twigs for a better feel 'Yes!'

It was a wild berry plant. She'd found her 'Ink'

Before long, she'd crushed a few berries between her fingertips, using its juice to trace the 'Help' on the cloth, followed by rough directions - co-ordinates that might direct someone - anyone - to them.

Letting the dye dry, Heera tucked the kerchief back in and went on to remove the anklets from her feet. Hush as a mouse, she stood up - her eyes fixated upon the silhouette of the sleeping guard throughout, watching for signs of movement.

Thankfully, they did not move.

'Ma Bhavani... please help us...' was all she could say, as she started out on this quest.

The trek towards the horses was tougher than Heera assumed it would be - with only her senses to lead her along. She passed tree after tree, her heart pounding against her ribs, fervently praying that there were no pairs of eyes watching her. Time was limited, but her pace had to be slow, so she didn't end up tripping or falling. Her feet stepped on sharp stones, but she had to remain silent, biting down on her teeth when the pain got unbearable. Thus, she kept going, till she finally reached the place where the horses were standing.

It took her a few moments to identify the Marwari racer, her hands faltering from one steed to the next. However, when she located the horse, a soft smile broke through her lips - a gentle wave of happiness carrying her sunken soul from the darkest depths, briefly pushing it up to the surface. The feeling was short-lived - but it was a poignant form of happiness she couldn't explain.

With a sigh, Heera pulled her kerchief out and began tying the bright cloth to the horse's reins - where it would be visible. It was a struggle to do so with trembling palms and bound wrists, but she managed it somehow.

Once done, she glimpsed into the animal's eyes and then placed her head against it, making a final plea 'I'm not very good with handling horses... but I am going to try...' she gently stroked its neck 'my people say you're a special horse... if so, please prove it... please find someone... anyone... please bring some help to us, if you can...' she paused to wipe a tear 'and if you can't... please find your way to Parnagarh... warn them of what's to come... you did this for jiji... do it for me too... now go... quietly...' she gently nudged it on its way, hoping the sound of its hooves would not draw anyone's attention to it 'and may the Goddess be with you!'

Hope was slim. And this plan was a long shot - unlikely that it would work. But at least she knew that she was trying everything she could.

Gradually, Heera retraced her way through the shadowy pathways, trying to work out if there was any other means of escape. Unfortunately, she couldn't think straight. Her ears kept filling with sounds of her own ragged breath and thumping beats, her hands still quaking from the rush of having done something so risky. Ironically, it was only when she spotted the outline of the lone slumbering soldier and the tree she'd been isolated at, that her heart began settling.

'My lovely Sahiba... where have you sent that horse off to?' a voice had suddenly crept up from behind.

part 2 continued below...