Chapter 7
Iwas trying to walk as fast as I could. His footsteps trailed behind me at the same pace.
What the hell just happened?
A girl?
How could I have had such bad luck in just a month?
No, the girl wasn’t the misfortune; my choice was indeed one. But I didn’t agree to the bet.
Yes, I did not. I did. Ugh... But I didn’t respond to him either.
“Why are you running?” I heard his voice, and a shiver ran down my spine. I took a deep breath, trying to focus on reaching the kitchen while ignoring him, but with his long legs, he quickly caught up to me.
As we moved through the less crowded, empty corridor, with all the attendants rushing joyfully, he said, “Don’t worry, I’m in no rush. You can take your time.”
The hidden meaning behind his words, the teasing, made me take a deep breath and look at him, momentarily pausing my feet.
“It’s wrong; you’re getting married in just four months,” I mumbled.
Fear surged through me as he inhaled deeply and suddenly stepped forward. I instinctively stepped back, glancing around.
With another step closer, I felt my back hit the wall behind me. I shifted nervously from one foot to the other, watching him approach, erasing the two-foot distance between us.
My voice turned shaky when I asked, “What are you doing, Kunwar-sa? Someone will see us.”
He replied slowly, “Tooti-footi, kacchi-pakki, nakli-asli hi sahi, thodi si patni to ho na humaari, shart haari ho to poori to karni padegi hi.” “Real or fake, broken or half, you are my wife, even if just a little. Now that you’ve lost the bet, you have got to do that. ” His words made my cheeks flush.
I couldn’t understand why his voice weakened my knees.
I tried to come up with a response, especially to the half-wife comment.
“Aap humaare pati nahi hain... vidh…” “You’re not my husband… I’m a wid…” I found myself speechless by the end, unable to finish.
The colourful memory of that day and the thought that he could die after marrying me echoed in my ears.
How can I be a bad omen for the person who saved my life?
“Say it,” he urged, his gaze intense, and I opened my eyes, staring back at him with equal intensity.
“This is wrong. You should act as if I’m dead,” I spoke helplessly. “Please, I know you’re just teasing me, but don’t do this.”
He inhaled deeply. There was a calculated pause between us, and he nodded slowly.
“Fine,” he said. “But even if you weren’t my half-wife and had lost a bet, I would still ask you to keep your promise. I’m committed to my bets.”
“But I didn’t agree.”
I noticed an attendant approaching us; I immediately pushed him aside and kept walking.
“You did,” he said, trailing behind me.
He seemed truly happy for the first time since the incident. Yet, his presence made me feel uneasy.
I averted my gaze and observed him as he twirled his dagger.
“Waise agar sabko pata hota to tumhe humaari bhateeji Kaaki-sa pukaarti ya Maasi-maa?” “Let’s say if everyone knew about us, what would my niece call you, Kaaki-sa or
Maasi-maa?” he inquired, his lips curling into a teasing smile.
I clenched my jaw. “My dead husband has five children, and I’m technically their mother, so what would they call you? Father?” I countered, and he turned to me with annoyance, making me smile.
“Shut up,” he whispered; a victorious smile etched on my face as we walked into the kitchen together.
As soon as we stepped through the door, we became strangers again.
I noticed him reverting to a serious demeanour. He asked everyone to pay attention before lecturing them about the sweets they needed to prepare. It was early morning, and no one had gotten any rest, not even for a moment. It felt like a festival in the palace.
“Suno,” “Listen,” he called, as always.
I didn’t know why, but I thought of him every time I heard anyone saying ‘Suno’.
“Ji,” I replied, watching him animatedly count on his fingers.
“Eight hundred tons of gram flour for laddoos25?” he asked, furrowing his brows.
I lowered my gaze, recalling that during Ranaji’s coronation ceremony, we had ordered two hundred tons of gram flour to accommodate all the kingdoms. This time, the feast would encompass six times as many people as the last: all the villages and kingdoms across southern Indira.
“We will invite one hundred and nine villages, so I think we should plan for one thousand five hundred tons,” I suggested.
He had it jotted down with the help of an assistant.
“And dried fruits?” he asked, and I calculated the amount of dried fruits while assisting him with the details.
“Ten tons of cardamom, one hundred and fifty tons of almonds, one hundred and fifty tons of cashews…” I said, and he widened his eyes at me when I finished.
“I thought laddoos looked smaller,” he remarked, making me chuckle softly. I shook my head.
“Yes, only if a small group is eating, not when the people of one hundred and nine villages are going to feast,” I replied.
He smiled. “You’re so smart. I thought you’d be dumb,”
I inhaled deeply. “I’m delighted to know that there is a shift in your perception about me,” I mumbled, and he stared deeply into my eyes for a few moments before responding in a similarly slow tone.
“Want to know about any other changes?” he asked.
I sighed, rolled my eyes, and returned to assigning everyone their duties for the day.
Finally, when I was done, I told all the attendants to take a break since no one had slept.
However, I realised Nandani had welcomed her daughter, and we still hadn’t had the sweets.
I watched Prince Agastya leave with a few cooks and attendants toward the storeroom while I took out a pot to make kheer
(a sweet dish).
I worked on a small stove to avoid looking at the fire, since it was just for family members.
After boiling the rice in the milk, I made the kheer and garnished it with dried fruits. I served five bowls for Ranaji, Nandani, Prince Ranvijay, Princess Aishwarya, and the youngest Prince, Kunwar Agastya.
I walked into Nandani’s chamber and noticed her sitting with Princess Aishwarya. The baby struggled to latch onto her nipple. She looked hungry, but it seemed difficult for the little princess to grasp her mother’s nipple.
Nandani raised her gaze as I approached with the plate.
“Since it’s a celebration, we shouldn’t set the sweets aside,” I said, smiling.
Princess Aishwarya stood up. “I will take the first bite,” she said excitedly, picking up the bowl.
I smiled at her and sat beside Nandani. As I looked at the baby, I felt I would never experience the feeling of holding my baby in my hands.
Some things are just not meant for you.
“She’s struggling,” I mumbled, and Nandani nodded, lifting her gaze to meet mine.
“She is,” Nandani said, looking back at me. “Here, Suman, take your baby in your arms. You cared for her better than I did to bring her into this world.”
She placed the baby in my hands.
The baby opened her eyes and looked at me, distressed, which made me chuckle.
“She craves your scent, Nandani,” I said. “Children recognise their mother’s scent from the womb and seek it immediately after birth,” Leaning in, I kissed her forehead. “May God bless her with all the happiness and love a girl deserves,” I added, returning her to Nandani.
Nandani once again put the nipple in her mouth and pressed her breasts, as the physician had taught her. Once the baby started tasting, she learned.
I smiled, and a tear of joy rolled down my cheek.
“You should rest now, Jiji,” Princess Aishwarya said, and Nandani nodded.
“I’ll take the bowl for Hukum,” she added, taking another bowl. I smiled at her as she left.
Setting another bowl for Ranaji next to Nandani’s on the bed, I said, “I’ll send Ranaji in.”
Nandani smiled and nodded. “And you should rest too, now,” she said, and I leaned in to kiss her forehead.
“You need rest, Rani-sa,” I reminded her. She chuckled, realising the deeper meaning behind my addressing her with her formal title.
I took the plate with the last bowl and left her chamber. On the way, I saw Ranaji talking with the physician.
“Ranaji, Rani-sa is asking for you,” I informed politely, and he smiled.
“Of course.” When I was about to walk past him, he stopped me. “Suman,”
I turned to face him. “Ji, Ranaji,”
He removed an expensive necklace from around his neck and extended his hand toward me.
“This is for you,” he said, and I felt a shiver run of a shock rush down my spine. Something struck me hard.
Sweat pooled in my palm as I cautiously extended my hand and watched him place the necklace into it.
It felt heavy. But the reality felt heavier.
For the past few days, I had seen myself as more than a maid.
“You took great care of Nandani,” he said.
I bit my lower lip, suddenly at a loss for words, and replied, “It’s my job and responsibility.” My voice came out shaky.
“Also,” he continued, “if you see Agastya, please tell him to let me know before he leaves for anywhere.”
I nodded slowly and turned to walk away.
My pace slowed, and my mind felt tense with all the memories and thoughts of the last four years.
I was a maid, just a maid. Why did I act like something more for the previous few days?
Once I entered Kunwar Agastya’s chamber, I called out, “Kunwar Agastya!”
I waited and heard from the other side, “Come in.”
As I took a few steps into the chamber, I found him sitting on the couch in the bedchamber, holding rolled letters in his hand with an inkpot beside him. The lamp illuminated his surroundings, although the room’s corners remained dim.
Kneeling, I placed the plate in front of him.
“Did you taste it?” he asked, and I shook my head absentmindedly. My fingers clutched the beaded necklace.
“It’s only for the royals,” I said.
He dipped his finger and sucked the tip, then shook his head. “You forgot to add sugar,” he said.
It wasn’t possible. I shook my head in disbelief. “No, I didn’t,” I retorted.