The Queen piece

Summary : So rahe ho kya - jaan?
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The world tilts on its axis as Amrit reads through Veer's handmade notes. The citrusy scent of his ink still lingers upon those papers. Yet it takes away none of the horror in his words.

Amrit shuts the folder with a shudder. Only her husband would manage to be so brutally honest - even in his words, sharp, unforgiving and stark - that honesty bled into papers.

"Chaliyein Yogi Bhaiya," Amrit tells Yogi, as she settles herself on the passenger seat. Gone are the flowers in her hair, the pearls that she wore. Amrit leaves the Kuwar Rani at Huzenabadh estate and takes with her only the practicality of Ranjhan. Her hair bound into a neat bun and the ancestral Mangalsutra her only adornment. "Chalte hai yeh hospital."

Yogi complies and revives the engine, but he has doubt in his eyes.

"We have tried before Ranjhan babhi, but Chandra Singh Rathod has a tight rein over that place. He doesn't allow a fly in, let alone a reporter. Kuch nahi hone wala..."

"Yeh baat hai?" Amrit says thoughtfully and reaching back into her purse she pulls out her elaborate earrings that she had taken off. She begins to wear them. Yogi nods at her.

"Good decision, challo let's go back!"

"Arre nahi! Nahi!"

"Hum wapas nahi jaa rahein, bass, rasta toda badal gaya hai."

"Huh?"

"Ab reporters nahi ja sakte. Donators toh jaa sakte hai. Kuwar Rani Mrs. Veer Pratap Singh toh jaa hi sakti hai."

"Ab woh kaha se aayengi?" Yogi scratches his head.

"Aap ke saamne toh hai!"
"Ranjhan babhi!" Yogesh chuckles.

"Akif bhai mujhe toh zinda nahi chhodne wala agar main aap ko kissi aur ki Mrs. Banau toh." He shakes his head. "Kripa kijiye iss bechare par!"

Amrit giggles.

"What he doesn't know, won't hurt you or him."

"Ranjhan babhi -"

"I've decided Yogi bhaiya- ab aap ko aana hai toh aaye, na aana hai toh main kudh chale jaaungi."

*

It works. Just as Amrit had predicted, none at the hospital would speak a word against them entering, instead all are too eager to get them in, make sure they see everything.

Yogi does a double take at her, as Amrit simply glides through what he believes to be a pretence. The doctor he had claimed will not open his mouth is practically salivating at the prospect of another royal joining the ranks of the patrons.

"Follow me Your Highness," he says, with his best marketable smile. "I will take you to the ward with the most heart warming stories. You know woh apno se bichadne wali dukhbhari kahaniya! Bhatwaare ke gaav abhi nahi bhari inke..." his voice trails off as they enters the hushed ward. He drops his voice but continues to explain.

"This is all good work done with the blessing of your family elders, especially your mother in law and Rana Chandra Singh Rathod who is - uh - your uncle in law I presume. This entire initiative was his brain child. Here we give free treatment to those homeless, helpless people who were victims of the partition. They have bodily injuries to show yes, but there are far worse bruises on their hearts and souls. So we try to heal them - we try our best."

The doctor points them out to an old man, who sits cross legged on his bed, muttering as he rocks back and forth.

"I should get going now..." the old man is mumbling. "It's evening. There will be the pakode wala out on the street. Chotu would go by himself if I don't go... chotu, chotu kahaan hai?"

The doctor shifts and Amrit exchanges a look with Yogi. Beside the old man is a window and a young woman stands by it. Arms folded against her chest she stares out of the window, uncaring of the show the doctor was putting up for the benefit of his guests.

"Inko kya hua hai?" Amrit reaches out to touch her arm and the girl shakes her off violently.

"Nikal jaao!" She snaps, when her eyes flickers into Amrit's they are full of fire. "Chale aate ho jhooti humdardhi jatane. Humare bhai ko toh lei gaye kam hai kya?"

"Your Highness," the doctor says helplessly. "As I said some people here have such ever lasting impact of all that they lost that -"

"Pagal nahi hoon mein!" The girl screeches, bearing her teeth at the doctor. "Aur tu! Tu kudh ko doctor bhulata hai? Kudh un darindo se mila Hua hai, you are just another sales man - doing a business!"

"Nurse!" The doctor bellows. "Inko inki dawa di ki nahi?" He looks at Amrit apologetically and Amrit seeing the opportunity rubs her fingers along her forehead.

"Doctor sahab can I have a glass of water?"

"Of cause! Of cause! I'll get you one myself -"

"Arre nahi aap kyun takleef..."

Amrit allows her voice to trail off as the too eager doctor is already hot on his heel. The moment he is out of earshot she turns to the girl.

"Gita Chaudhuri?" She asks. "Akif ko woh khat aap ne hi likhi thi na?" At her gesture Yogi supplies her with the letter. "Yeh wali?"

"Who are you?" Gita's eyes widen and she watches them suspiciously. "Yeh kya naya chal hai?"

"I'm Ranjhan," Amrit tells her. "Akif is my husband."

*

The suspicion in the girl's eyes melts away slowly. It gives way for grief and betrayal that she kept tucked against her heart to show.

"Koi meri baat ka yakeen nahi karta."

"Main karungi," Amrit promises. "And through me everyone will."

She reaches out to hold her hand.

"Is everything in the letter true? Has this happened with lots of people?"

Amrit knows that she doesn't have time for a complete account in these circumstances. So she urges for confirmation instead of details. Gita is smart enough to understand.

After all they are both thorough with the content of the letter. That accused the hospital to be involved with their patron Chandra Singh Rathod in an elaborate scheme involving the refugee children.

These people had a network operating between the borders during the partition era and consisting people who had promised fleeing families safe passage across the border. Instead they would drug them, traffic them to different places for different purposes. Especially children, who were of adoptable age - like Gita's younger brother who she claimed was three and half at the time of the partition and was taken by Chandra Singh Rathod himself and was currently -

"Raghveer?" Amrit clasped a hand to her mouth. "Rajkumari Nayantara's son?"

Gita shrugs.

"Chandra Singh Rathod wants an heir, from what I gathered. This elaborate scheme was designed by him for that."

Amrit thinks of Vashma and Kabir. Could it be possible that they were victim to this scheme as well? Was Kabir also given to some aristocrat as an adopted child?

Gita misreads the distanced look in Amrit's face as mistrust.

"None of the people here are mad," she says. "They are not talking about dead people. Bass woh joh sach bol rahein koi sune, yahi nahi chahte yeh log. Issi liye hum sab ko pagal kaha jaata hai. If you still don't trust my word, you should go and search the outer storage warehouse. That's where they keep the records, the unofficial books. At the end of every month the hospital discards a ton of paperwork to hide the gaps in their records. Disappearances written off as deaths, truth written as trauma and families vanish into -"

Amrit stands up as the doctor returns. Gita doesn't move. Instead it is Yogi who takes over the job of offering Amrit water. When he speaks his voice is low.

"Ab kya karein?"

"One of us has to go and check the warehouse," Amrit mutters over the rim of her glass. "If both of us go it will attract attention. Also, nothing in the should be moved. Which makes you - Yogi Bhaiya - the best person to go there. You can take photographs of whatever is in there."

"Nahi nahi hum aap ko kaise -"

"Your Highness?" The doctor is back with his sugar coated words. "Shall we continue with our tour? There is a lot more to be seen here."

Amrit only gets a moment to give Yogi a fleeting nod as the doctor hurries her out of the ward and along the passage.

Their monotonous conversation gives Yogi enough time to slip away. Amrit hopes he manages to find the right warehouse for Gita hadn't given them any directions.

So one of these men should be the man Vashma was waiting to find. How many more were out there? How many more girls ended up in brothels and how many more children grew up believing strangers to be family? How many more families would these people cash on, before their ultimate doom?

Of their doom Amrit is certain, Chandra Singh Rathod would never succeed in this futile pursuit of getting his daughter's son named as his heir.

The Panchayat would hear none of it and Veer once he comes to power will put an end to all their dirty work. This dance of theirs would last only until the water starts to boil and they realize they've been stewing in the pot all along.

Lost in thoughts Amrit stumbles over something and propels forward. Her hand seeks perch against what happens to be a door which pushes open and she stumbles inside.

The inside is dark and cold and lights flicker in distance. Behind her the door shuts with an ominous snap. There is a thud of a bar being put as Amrit turns sharply.

The door is shut.

By the bluish dim light if the room she could see the silhouette of the man who closes it. Amrit bangs on the door, Loud enough that there can be no mistaking.

The doctor,  or rather she would think of him as Chandra Singh Rathod's henchman because the man did not deserve the honour of his profession, chuckled audibly.

"What did you think, that you reporters would sneak in with your slippery disguises and we wouldn't know?" He says darkly.

"Bohut aaye te, lekin gaye nahi. Rana Chandra Singh Rathod ke yahaan dhoke ki maafi nahi hoti - Ranjhan Sahiba."

Amrit raps on the door harder, pushes it with her shoulder. It doesn't move let alone open.

"Think about where you have gone wrong," the man outside the door says in parting. "You have ample time to think about it - before dying a slow, torturous death. Haan shayad, usse pehele neend aajayenge- you have emptied the entire glass of water I brought."

"Get me out right now!" Amrit yells. "What is this place? Where am I?"

There is a strong pungent smell in the air, a particular scent that she used to associate with - Amrit's heart makes a sickly lurch - dead bodies - formalin, her head reels, was she - was she inside a -

"Jaha tumhe Waise bhi pohochni thi humne pohochwa di. Zada hukum chalane ki zaroorat nahi hai Ranjhan sahiba we both know you are no princess of anywhere!"

The man talks no more.

His retreating footsteps echo in the passageway. The cold air inside the room rises in smoky swirls and as the doctor has indicated Amrit starts to feel the drowsy effect of whatever mixed into that water.

It is a strangely familiar feeling, the odd lightness of her head, the lead - like heaviness of her limbs. As she sinks to her feet, and collapses on her knees it is the thought that rules her head.

This drug induced haze was rather similar to what happened with her the other night at Ranimehel.

The shadows in the depth of the room moves. As her eyes adjusts to the dim light Amrit could see the covered silhouettes of the bodies still in their deaths.

There were no moving shadows there. She tells herself, as more shadows move. It was her drugged brain playing tricks on her.

No shadows.

No shadows.

No - in her ear she could hear Farook laughing. Distant, but unmistakable.

He is watching her from the shadows she is certain.

Amrit curls into a ball, arms wrapped around herself. The stench in the air makes bile rise to her throat.

She hadn't eaten, but her stomach churns. It's cold. Cold enough for the air to burn in her eyes and all along her wind pipe. Her fingers feel numb.

She stands up with effort, wobbling but determined and slams her hands on the door to keep her steady. There has to be a way out.

No, Amrit refused to give in so easily. Behind her she felt the creeping sense along her spine that the shadows were moving closer.

No. She wouldn't think of that. Instead she would think of getting out.

Of getting out.

Getting out.

Out.

Her thoughts are hazy too and her limbs heavier each minute. She tries and fails to lift her arms. Her steps falter and her vision blurs.

The shadows are upon her. The cold is biting now. That laughter rings in her ears.

Her eyes stings and Amrit blinks, unseeingly.

Was Veer still sleeping? It's a stupid thought, but she thinks of him anyway. Has his fever gone down? Was he still dreaming of being abandoned to suffer through a fever alone in his childhood? Would he wake up and find her gone and think of her in similar terms?

"So rahe ho kya - jaan?" Her lips tremble over the words, unwittingly, involuntarily.

Her eyes blink heavily, and the door beneath her palms actually rattles. Though Amrit had not stopped trying, despite the shadows despite her own failing health - she knows it's not her efforts that made the door finally give in.

No.

The bar put into place locking her in has finally been lifted and the Amrit falls forward as the door swings open. She falls into warm, waiting arms that wrap iron tight around her. She falls against a cold heartbeat that feels like home.

Tucking his chin against the top of her head, Veer speaks in a tone Amrit hasn't heard before.

"Now is a pretty good time to start begging for your lives."

**
The plot thickens. I'm back from my visit home and thank you so much for all your wishes, it was lovely I had a great time!
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