Ch13 The Burden of a Throne #3
And on top of it all, I had to tell everyone back in Kashi the truth tonight. How would they react? If Mamaji came here to take me back, what would I do? No stop. Don’t let your mind run away with worst-case scenarios, I scolded myself. Be positive. Nothing will happen unless it does.
I took a steadying breath and began preparing the puja thali the way Dadi Maa had taught me.
Then I climbed up to the terrace. The rooftop looked beautiful: potted flowers around the edges, a stretch of very realistic artificial grass, a large swing in front only the fairy lights were missing.
I made a mental note to fix that tomorrow.
I placed the thali in the sitting area and stood still, looking up at the sky.
The moon was hidden behind heavy clouds; it was almost nine, but there was no sign of the first silver light.
I thought of Dadi Maa’s words from the morning if a couple holds hands at the moment the moon’s first light falls on them, they become bound for life, across lifetimes.
How tender and meaningful our rituals are, I thought.
Even the smallest gestures carry so much weight.
I sighed and joked aloud to the empty sky, “Come on, Chanda mama, hurry up I’ll starve waiting.”
A faint movement behind me made me jump.
I turned quickly there was nothing. Probably my imagination, or loneliness playing tricks.
To distract myself, I went downstairs and asked a servant if there were any fairy lights in the house.
He bowed and said yes, then brought a bundle of pretty lights up for me.
A few of the servants hovered behind, anxious: “Madam, you shouldn’t be the one to put these up; if anything happens, Mr. Rudraksh will not forgive us.”
I smiled and refused their protection. “No, I’ll do it. Don’t worry.”
Then I climbed back up to the terrace, fairy lights in hand, ready to string them across the night anything to fill the quiet and stop my mind from wandering into fear.
I reached the venue and headed straight to the swing.
I wanted golden lights there, so first I checked the circuit nearby to make sure the bulbs were working.
Once everything was confirmed, I carried the stool up and began fixing the lights.
I kept pausing I had this strange feeling someone was staring at me from behind, but there was no one.
I forced myself to focus on the lights and kept working.
After a while I’d finished most of the wiring.
I climbed down and switched the lights on but they didn’t light.
I muttered, “They were on just a moment ago. What now? Maybe something’s loose.”
I made a mistake: instead of fixing the loose wire from the ground, I climbed the stool again with the lights still on.
After fiddling a bit the bulbs flickered, so I concentrated even more.
Then, before I knew it, my saree got caught around my feet and I started to fall. I shut my eyes.
A few heartbeats later I realized I hadn’t hit the ground two strong arms had caught me, and I was swinging safe in a stranger’s embrace.
When I opened my eyes slowly I was surprised to see Rudraksh standing before me, with that ascetic look, holding me in his arms.
I blinked; my gaze rose to the sky. The first ray of moonlight soaked us both.
Just then the fairy lights that had fallen around us the ones with the loose wiring suddenly flared to life.
All I could see were Rudraksh’s deep eyes. It felt as if the whole world had vanished behind him. Then Dadi Maa’s words flashed in my mind, and I suddenly knew: the first moonbeam had fallen on both of us, and I was in Rudraksh’s arms, wrapped in twinkling light.
In that moment the world seemed to stop. Rudraksh’s cool fingers holding my waist sent an odd little flutter through my chest. I was lost in my thoughts until his sharp voice snapped me back to reality.
Rudraksh: “Is your brain loose or what? Or like your height, did your mind stop growing and stay small?”
Whenever someone teases me about my height, I lose my temper. Who says taller people can make fun of me?
I snapped, angry.
Me: “Maybe your brain’s grown too big for itself that’s why there’s no space in it, just like your height.”
Rudraksh, in his cold, teasing tone, said,
“When God was distributing brains, where were you?”
I shot back sharply without missing a beat,
“Taking wedding vows with you.”
Rudraksh snapped angrily, his voice echoing through the quiet room,
“What was the need for you to climb up here like a monkey in a saree to hang these stupid lights, huh? What if you had fallen and broken your back?”
I looked at him, trying to hold back a smile and said softly,
“But I didn’t fall, did I? You caught me…”
His jaw tightened as he shot back,
“And if I hadn’t come in time, then what?”
I met his fierce eyes with a calm yet dramatic tone and said,
“Wahi hota jo manzūr-e-khudā hota.”
(“Whatever was written by destiny would have happened.”)
For a second, his anger melted. The corner of his lips curved into a faint smile that rare one that makes his otherwise intimidating face look almost human. He slowly set me down on the ground, our eyes still locked.
Then, without a word, we both started untangling the fairy lights that had wrapped themselves around us laughing quietly, almost awkwardly as the soft golden glow flickered between us, reflecting the unspoken spark that neither of us dared to admit.