Concession

Summary : Veer is exhausted of fighting with the world and Amrit begins to see.
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[For the purpose of this chapter let us assume that attempt to burn Amrit's tattoo and the related fiasco has happened, in a different universe where they went to the other palace for the pooja mentioned the chapter before. In this AU, still there is no sign of Randheer. ]

Unlike Delhi, Doulatabadh estate palace is a ghost of an era gone by. Though the mighty royals who had once dwelled these halls had succumbed to changing times and circumstances - they had left their traces behind in carved wooden panels, painted ceilings and heavy wrought ornate knick knacks.

Here was no hustle bustle of a developing city, instead the wind sang laments for long departed friends and footsteps of servants echoed in the halls. Instead of the electric night lamp that she had grown accustomed to during her short stay at the Delhi manner - an ornate kerosene lamp was lit. Dusk cast dancing shadows upon Veer's face.

He slept on, undisturbed, and Amrit watches from the chair where she sank soon after the doctor had left. It's been hours, and she hadn't moved.

Agar ek beta hi chod na tha toh Veer kyun?

The words, vicious, distraught and corrosive kept replaying themselves. Amrit couldn't imagine those were words of a mother - worse yet, one that had already lost a child.

While she would understand and empathize with Rani Ma's actions towards her - what was this deep seated hatred she had for her own son?

And Veer - what was he but a product of this acidic environment? Even rocks are cut through by relentless streams, sure, it takes time. It happens gradually. But aren't the stones shaped to the will of the stream? Wasn't Veer too, shaped with all those pricking edges to hold this relentless prosecution?

"Dhekiye Kuwar Rani Sahab," the doctor had said adjusting his thick glasses as he stood straighter. "You will have to stop Kuwar sahab from this nonstop drinking. Aap ko inki peena rokh na honga, otherwise, aage jaake it'll be difficult to save him."

Amrit shudders at the implication. She had always known he was destructive, but perhaps- she thinks now - he's simply trying to chase away his ghosts.

"Woh sirf aap ka beta nahi, humara bhai bhi tha-"

Amrit closed her eyes. Feeling a lump rising in her own throat. She did not want to feel this burden. She did not want to know. But there was no way to undo all that she had seen, there was no way for her to return to seeing Veer the way she did before. Never again would she look at him and not see the shattered look that flickered over him - like an eclipse - when his mother wished him dead.

Slowly she rises to her feet, deaf to the tinkling of her anklets that had once kept her awake at night. The weariness of wearing those heavy jewels settling in and making itself known in knotted muscles and aches down her neck.
They were yet to perform that veneration which brought them to this old palace. It would have happened today had Veer not pulled his disappearing act and Chchaji cooked up the new problem of gifting her bangles. Now, in the wake of all revelation Amrit wondered if Rani Ma would agree to taint her family temple with the presence of a scarred woman as she called her. Perhaps their stay here no longer served any purpose.

Veer frowned in his sleep, a lock of his hair fallen between his brows. Unconsciously, she reached to brush it back. Amrit paused, realizing her action only when her fingers had combed into his hair. Reflexively her fingers curl sinking into their lustre.

Veer's eyes flutter open before she could retrieve her hand.

"Apne kamre mein jaao, humein sona hai..."  he mutters, before turning away and tucking his face into the pillows, blocking the light.

Amrit pulls back her hand as if she had been electrocuted again, as if the mere touch had left its burning impression on her insolent fingers. Veer snores softly, once more succumbing to his drunken stupor.

What was she doing?

Amrit berates herself, clinching her fists.

Why would she sympathise with him? Why would it matter if ...

Aage jaake inne bachana mushkhil honga...

She flinches at the reminder of the doctor's words. Then flinches at her own faltering emotions. Amrit flees the room before she is compelled to re-analyze her motives. But she cannot bring herself to close the door that separates them. Amrit leaves it open a crack and settles on her rocking chair, resuming her watch over Veer through the crack in her door. Feeling foolish for the same. Had he been awake, Veer would have laughed his head off at her good will. He was unaccustomed to general human kindness and now Amrit knows why.

She doesn't feel her eyelids drowning heavy, or doesn't realize how her body sinks into a more comfortable position. Amrit is unaware she had fallen asleep until she is awaken.

A haunting malady filters through the crack in the door. Amrit is reminded of a group that had come to perform in Lahore. She had sneaked out with Vashma to watch their performance. Those men had violins, flutes and drums - she remembers the cheerful sounds they made.

But the melody that filled the room, filled her heart until it tightened in her chest and filled her with an urge to scream, cry or do both was nothing like those gleeful songs of Lahore.

The music swell with pain, as tears welled in her eyes and fall in scattering notes. Amrit had crept back into Veer's room before she knew it.

She wonders what she had expected. A gramophone or radio playing maybe. But the sight of Veer with his back to her, half lit by orange firelight and half drowned in shadows - with violin tucked under his chin was certainly not what Amrit expected.

Those deliberately cruel hands that had handled a gun with such threatening precision, now caresses the sharp strings with a devotion she could not describe. She creeps closer, drinking in the music, enthralled by it - touched on some deeper level where her brain no longer questioned her motives.

His eyes are closed. The peace in his face hurts to look at. The music ripples around them, swelling and falling - rising and sinking - it leaves her inside burning in such an excruciating sense of emptiness. Amrit wishes - no, wills him to stop. She could take it no longer. That soft lament which went on and on and on.

As if he had heard her silent pleas Veer's fingers pause. He doesn't open his eyes.

"Woh main -" Amrit begins.

Veer looks at her and she forgets what she was about to say. Amrit swallows.

"Have you heard Mozart?" Veer asks suddenly. Amrit's eyes flickers to his in surprise. "Nahi?" He pulls a face. "Beethoven? Yeh sunno phir!"

And he tucks the violin back against his chin and begins, this time the music no longer cries- instead gentle notes scatter like rain drops. It's not yet cheerful, but fills her with solace somehow. Amrit feels her eyes closing as the music draws to a close.

Veer packs away the violin, with a reverence he did not show the gun.

"This belonged to baba sahab," he reveals without invitation. "Dus saal hogaye since I've last touched it."

"You play well Kuwar sahab, why did you stop?" Amrit asks before she could stop herself. She had seen the peace in his face as he played, she wondered why he had to seek a temporary peace in alcohol when he had this - this gift from heavens.

"Rani ma does not like it." He smiles bitterly to himself. "Jiss cheezon mein humein kushi mile unko woh cheezein manzoor nahi hoti. Jaise ki tum -" he gestures at her with his chin. "Rani Ma has no problem with you Amrit what she has a problem with is her belief that I'm happy with you. What does she know -" he shrugs.

"What is that tune called? The one you were playing before I came?" Amrit diverted the topic.

"It doesn't have a name." His voice is terse. "I used to play for Prem you know. Jab woh theen saal ka tha, and I was six beginning to learn the violin. That was the only way to put him to sleep."

Amrit watches him, watches the shadows filtering across his face.

"Why are you telling me all this?" She asks in the end. "You said you weren't crazy enough to trust me."

"Aaj ladne ka mann nahi hai humara," he says simply. He looks weary indeed. "I keep fighting - Prem se, Rani ma se, tum se, kudh se - aaj mann nahi hai."

"Veer," she tastes his name on her lips. He looks up at her. His reddened eyes searching. "Mat kijiye aisa," she reaches him involuntarily a hand reached out to snatch his flask. "Kudh ko barbaad mat kijiye. Mar jaayenge aap, the doctor said -"

"Aazad ho jaaongi tum." He snatches the flask back with that scathing retort. "Kush hongi woh." Veer unscrews the hip flask as she watches with disappointed eyes and drinks deeply, wipes his mouth.

"People who live as if they've been buried alive - unkhe liye mouth ki dua maanghi jaati hai Kuwar Rani sahab, zindagi ki nahi. If you are doing this out of the kindness of your heart, dua karo ki tum bhi aazad ho jaye aur hum bhi."

"No wife prays for their husband's death Kuwar sahab."

He chuckles.

"I thought no mother prayed for their child's either. Both of us are wrong." He tells her, with his hands on her shoulders.

"Completely wrong! Chalo issi baat pe ek jaam ho jaaye!" He reaches for the flask again.

"Nahi!" She halts his hand with her own gripping his wrist. "No more."

Veer clicks his tongue.

"Chaar kadam - Amrit," he taunts. "Chaar kadam, bhoolna nahi. Qureeb aaongi toh tabah ho jaaongi..."

There was still a fire in his eyes, yet now that she looked from closer she saw those flames as the self consuming ones they were. So he did know he was walking down a path of ruination - so he did it all deliberately. Amrit swallows, realizing for the first time that perhaps she could have saved him had she never lost his trust. She was that last straw and she too had failed him.

Veer was not a good man. Amrit knew that she owed him nothing. But still, she did not want his death on her conscious. And she had already taken the plunge anyway.

"Ho jaane do," she says.

**
The music above is what I imagine Veer played.