Two parts together as promised as a sweet apology for the loooooong delay. I'm seriously sorry about how long this takes, and it's been ages since KSM has been updated. But I'm adamant to finish CK before I turn to other stories I have in the burner at the moment. (Spoiler* there are some more Amveer coming your way! *wink*) So, I was working on this for a while. Hopefully, I'll be back with more very soon. 

Let me know your thoughts. And the girls who keep messaging and inquiring about the updates and progress in writing or simply expressing how much you miss CK, you are so sweet - thank you for pushing me on whenever I had been feeling down. This is for you with dozen bear hugs!

Karma

Summary: You haven't fallen very far from the tree - brother."

◇◇◇

Rani ma's study looked as if a storm had wreaked it. It is the first thought that occurs to Randheer as he crosses the threshold.

Things had been turbulent past few weeks. His own thoughts too, had suffered. At times it was difficult to find the calm needed to tackle bad press their own people were creating.

Especially Darpan. Darpan was their pet paper, it ran on Rani ma's money, it thrived on her good name and still found time to sniff around doubts cast on her narrative by a few busybodies.

Amidst it all, keeping his mother sane for the most part of it was proving to be more difficult than Randheer had originally anticipated.

As he enter a delicate tea cup shatters at his feet. Randheer hurriedly moves to his mother's side, taking her hand which starts to bleed.

"Ma sahab, what are you doing?" He cannot hide the edge of annoyance that creeps in. "Dekhiye aap ki haalat..."

With a decisive hand on her back he leads her to a relatively safe chair, and busies himself with tending to her hand.

Her hand trembles in his, Randheer looks up at his mother's face. A corner of her mouth twitches and her fury is palpable.

"He wants to ruin me!" She exclaims, her voice shrill enough to make Randheer jump.

As she jerk her hand off his grip, antiseptic that he wanted to dab on her cut spills all over her hand, straight from the bottle. Nalini hisses, but the maniac glint in her eyes remains. "Woh janvar aur usski woh biwi - raj karna chahte hai hum sab par."

"Ma sahab," he takes effort to keep his voice calm. But Nalini shakes her head paranoia bleeding into her voice.

"Did you see what she has written? Saap hai woh ladki, dasti reheti hai! And people believe her. They believe her! I've seen how they look at me during party meetings -  I can see it! They all believe her!" 

Since Chandra Singh Rathod - Randheer could not think of the man in any other name - got arrested, over charges of plotting for murder and obstruction of justice, since Nalini had lost his influence in her affairs, panic has taken hold of her. And Veer, Randheer thinks of him with resentment, Veer does not leave a single opportunity to drill that fear deeper. 

Maybe it was his experience of living so many years with Nalini under one roof, having seen what unsettles her and why, or he Instinctively knew how to rain on Randheer's weeks worth of effort in preparing his mother's mindset. All he had to do was  dress a certain way, speak to certain people - or sometimes it was simply a smile or a wave, that was needed to reduce Nalini to hysteria. 

Randheer pinches the bridge of his nose, remembering, not for the first time how his notorious brother had warned him of the same. It was the last time Veer had crossed the threshold of their home, with his DIG step father at tow and bunch of officers ready to arrest Chandra Singh Rathod. Vijendra had left the very same day, not caring what others thought about his sudden betrayal. Maybe, Randheer thinks now with a renewed edge of bitterness, he had been acting under Veer's directions all along. 

Veer had been meticulous like that, plucking supporters from their side with a ruthless efficiency. Making them feel the devastation of his victories no matter how small they were. He battled as if he had planned an entire life to wage this war, and they had made the fetal error of blowing horns of its commencement. 

He had told Randheer as much, Randheer reminds himself with that same bitter resentment.

"Ma sahab ne aaj kuch aisi kardi, jo unhe nahi karna chahye tha," Veer hadn't looked at him as he said that, his eyes were on Chandra who had been dragged from this very office by two bulky officers. The man had been arguing his stand to the very last minute. Raizada senior had followed after, pausing only to throw a poisonous look at Veer over his shoulder. 

Veer had smirked at those attempts in vain, his eyes remaining cold. 

"Is Amrit -" 

"Babhi," Veer's voice is vicious and reprimanding. "Aadat daal lo, humein tumhari muh se humari biwi sahab ki naam nahi sunna."

Randheer sighs. The chill of fear and worry hang heavy on him that he couldn't work out a retort to Veer's attack.

"Kaisi hai woh?" He asks defeatedly, with a sigh. "Aur unki ba -"

"Did you guys plot it all here?" Veer cuts him off, looking around the office. "Ma sahab, Rathod, tum aur Farook?" The disgust and accusation in his eyes make Randheer drop his gaze. "At one point of time I thought you deserved to be beaten black and blue for what you dared to do," he takes a step closer. 

"Then I realized you were my brother and I punished myself instead because I thought - I honestly thought - by separating you from the family, from the sort of bringing up you'd have received I had made you turn out like this. But now - now seeing certain things," the way he pauses on the words, make Randheer gulp. "Certain people," he pauses again, leaving no doubt in Randheer's mind that Veer knows, all there is to know. "I know better. You haven't fallen very far from the tree - brother."

"Veer -"

 
"If you didn't feel a shred of shame to sit on the same table as that dog and plot to harm the woman who you made tall claims of love, I don't see how you will ever redeem yourself." 

Words are thick on his mouth. He hates himself for just listening, when this man who was no better than any of them, who was half the reason for all Amrit's suffering takes the moral high ground against him. He couldn't...Because Randheer knew that Veer had a point. He himself had felt rotten inside from the moment he had realized what he had done. But the choice he made, between Amrit and his mother - at least in his eyes, that choice was a rightful one. Between a woman who had waited and loved him for decades and a woman who simply moved on, he was obliged to choose the former. 

"I chose my mother. Humein iss baat ka garv hai," he manages finally.
Veer chuckles.

"Anything that helps you sleep," he inclines his head. "Remind your mother something for me. I told her this once. The first time she hurt my wife. Humein zakam dene walon ko hum baar baar maaf nahi karte. Unse kahiye, maafi katam hochuki. Ab saza  dyi jaayenge." 

"How could you do this to your mother?" 

"Jaise unhone apni bete ke saat ki, waise hi. Ek ek galti ka, ek ek saza sunane wale hai hum. Hisaab raklijiye, apne galtiyon ka."

"One by one he is taking them all away," the shuddering voice of his mother calls him back to the present. Randheer looks up at her pale face. There are shadows under her eyes, from where he is crouched at her feet, he could see how delirious she looks. 

"Apne baap ke tarah..." She continues to mumble. "Did you see that picture from last evening?" She asks then clutching Randheer's arm. "He was talking to Naradh. The man is practically drooling to get his daughter married off to him. You'll see, he will cash on that too." She chuckles darkly at that. 

"That naagin will learn a very good lesson if that happens. While she is ruining me with her venomous writing, there goes her patiparmeshwar looking for new queens!" 

"Veer can't marry again," Randheer says incredulously. "He wouldn't." 

"He can. He would." The conviction in his mother's tone makes him hesitate. "He is royalty. It's not unheard of. And he has already distanced himself from that wench, hasn't he? Whatever bubble she lives in - he has no further use of her. Once the child is born - if he cares enough -"
Randheer stands up agitatedly. 

"You are speaking nonsense Ma sahab," he says without much conviction.

"This is why I asked you to think about Anaita. It could have been easy. It would give me -"
For the first time, Randheer feels an edge of resentment towards her too. 

"Would you have me replace Veer in the bargain you made with Naradh now? Sell me off to him?" 

"Don't talk like him -!" 

"Good night Ma sahab," Randheer bites out, leaving before he tells her something he might regret later. 

But her words remain clawing at him. He grips a fist full of hair and tugs, trying to clear his head. Trying and failing to convince himself. Randheer goes to his own study and picks up the receiver before his mind could console his heart against this step. 

* 

Ring of a telephone is shrill in the wee hours of morning. Amrit hadn't been asleep for more than an hour. She wakes up to the sound and remains staring at her ink stained fingers for a while. The ringing does not stop. Telephones of Huzenabadh estate were controlled through a central exchange handled by Farida Begham's press office. An operator always sat there, taking note of each call to pass through him, directing them to the line of intended recipient. Amrit hadn't known that until Omar brought her a call record ledger, asking why she was refusing to call her husband. 

In this wee hours of morning the operator thought she should take this call. That itself makes her worry. Amrit sits up carelessly, forgetting in her agitation that it has been weeks since she couldn't stomach such sudden movements. Her stomach lurches and bile rises to her throat. She swallows thickly, fisting one hand and clutching her eyes closed. 

The telephone keeps ringing. 

She stands up clutching one of the bed posts, trying to suppress the feeling of the ground swaying beneath her feet. The receiver is cold against her ear. 

"Hello?" 

Amrit frowns at that voice. 

"It's you." She says without feeling. Her tongue feels like sandpaper and bitterness leaks to her mouth. Amrit takes a seat at her desk and thumbs her finished article absentmindedly. The man on the other end says no more. Amrit runs a cold finger across her temple in frustration. This silence is uncomfortably foul. 

"Boliye Devar sahab," she says in the end, unable to take it anymore. A day that starts with Randheer's call...she thinks darkly, taking a gulp of air and struggling to keep herself from gagging. Randheer's frustrated sigh is loud enough to reach her through the receiver.

"I want to meet you, ask your new guard dogs to allow that." 

"I'm available at Awaz office on Wednesdays and Saturdays. See me there, if you want to." She takes no effort to hide her annoyance. Amrit knows that day was a Wednesday and decides on a whim that she would not be going anywhere near Awaz for a week or two. 

"You know I wouldn't come anywhere near that place. Anyway, the conversation I hope to have isn't suitable for a press room."

"Oh," Amrit swallows again, massaging her throat, her fury begins to stir. "I'm sure you speak from experience but at our newspaper private conversations don't end up on front page." 

"Says the woman who is dissecting her private life on a low grade newspaper-"

"Devar sahab lagta hai aap ko yaad nahi ke shuruvaat kiss ka tha."

Randheer's sigh is an audience sign of his frustration. 

"Will you stop this madness Amrit?" He asks in the end, an ugly edge to his tone. "Do you think you'll change things by doing this? Bhai ke shabashi ke liye kar rahi ho yeh sab?"

If she hadn't been too occupied with trying to keep the content of her stomach where they currently remained churning, Amrit would have laughed. Randheer speaks like a petulant child. She'd have taken offence at his words once upon a time, now his words merely amuse her. His denial of his mother's guilt, the way he somehow ends up clinging to absurd justifications only made her chuckle. 

"Are you laughing at me?"  

"Haan. Hasi toh aati hai. To think that you feel I'd give justifications about my relationship to you." 

"Amrit..." 

"You need to sort out your own thoughts Randheer. You don't want to help me, don't deceive yourself like this. And I don't need your help. I'm not blindly following after some imaginary idol thinking I'm siding with everything holy. And I don't want you to enlighten me about my husband. If you have free time despite everything going on, reflect on the people you spend your time with. Reflect on your choices. If you really regretted what almost happened with me twice," she pauses for emphasis. "It is time to leave the bias and think who was responsible for those incidents."

"Veer is talking with Narad Sha!" Randheer cuts her off stubbornly. "Have you ever wondered why?" 

"Why not?" Amrit asked him incredulously. "He can't very well run and hide when they move in same circles." 

"Amrit - aren't you even remotely worried about your own position? He was supposed to marry Anaita since he was eleven! And honestly, how long has it been since you last saw him?"

Amrit crumples a paper in her fist and counts to ten before answering. 

"And what are you offering?" She asks sarcastically. "Let's say you are right, what are you offering? What is your solution to my hypothetically failed marriage? Are you hoping that I'd return to you? Are you hoping that I'd come and say - you were right and I was wrong?" 

"Amrit..."

"I will never forget that you knew Farook was after us and you remained silent. You - who knew everything vicious thing that man is capable of. You - who I thought would save me - help me. I will never forgive that." 

"Am -"

"So stop wasting both your time and mine and tell me what you want. I know Nalini Devi's press Secretary wouldn't speak to me to discuss my married life which is frankly none of his business." 

"You are provoking Ma sahab. It won't end good."

"Do I have permission to quote you in next issue?" 

"You are not getting it!" He bites out in a frustrated hiss. "You think this is a game? She is dangerous and she thinks you are responsible for all her suffering. Why don't you understand that Veer is using you like a shield? Doing his dirty work - you'll end up hurt! Kiyun karti ho yeh sab? Aakhir kaun hai woh tumhara?"

"He is the father of my child." 

"And instead of protecting you - he is out for a power grab. Amrit, be honest to yourself, is he really worth it?" 

"He is worth more than anything I could possibly do. " 

"I don't think I'll be able to keep you safe any longer if you keep insisting of continuing this stupidity." 

"I never asked you to," Amrit says finitely. "I have a husband to do that." 

Unable to hold any longer she slams the receiver down and runs to the adjacent washroom, throwing up the bile that rose with a punishing disgust. 

I don't think I'll be able to keep you safe any longer...

So it has come to that. Threatening. Amrit thinks of the calls she had received at Awaz which she kept unanswered. Of the letters that Awaz staff handled in her place. All of which, they were careful not to be passed on to Veer. But now, the words of deterrence came from somewhere closer home. From a man she had once considered family and future.

**** 

Continue down for Part II

****

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=efKh-qAW2fY

Seventy Seven - Part Two

Mohabbat

Summary:  Bohut Kaaz ho tum...

◇◇◇

Amrit washes her face with ice cold water and presses her mouth with the back of her hand. After the last dry heave her stomach seems to have settled for the time being. But her throat continued to clench in anticipation of more. Swallowing once more she picks up the shawl neatly folded on her chair and makes her way outside.

Moisture of the lake and cold of thinning away night hangs heavy in the air. It feels soothing on her cheeks and caresses goosebumps on her arms. 

Amrit having done this a few times previously, simply clutches the shawl on her shoulders tighter. Guards of Huzenabadh estate no longer hinder her path, despite the ungodly hours she'd choose to venture out. 

A beam of light dances at her feet and without turning around Amrit knows it is Katham Singh following at a discreet distance, with torch in hand and ready to assist her if she needed. Knowing Anwar's vigilance and Veer's own concern that sometimes frustrated her, Amrit is certain there are other guards following unseen. She has learned to turn them off, allow the dawn to clasp her instead and sooth any traces of nausea that linger.

Steps leading down to the boathouse are no longer slippery, still Katham Singh comes to her aid at once. 

"Kuwar Rani sahab, kaha chal rahi ho aap? Lijiye, haat taam lijiye, kuwar sahab will skin me alive if you are to slip the slightest." 

Amrit couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her. She hadn't forgotten the first time they had taken this particular flight of stairs and how both had slipped and steadied each other. There is a trace of an echo of that laughter in the air, it lifts her spirits a little. Amrit takes Katham Singh's offered arm.

"Don't worry Katham Singh, your skin will be safe." 

The younger man chats while they climb down, telling her about the estate in general, and the errands he had run in the meantime. Amrit allows the words to wash over her and dips her toes in the cold water. Nothing looks more inviting than the boathouse at dawn. There's a line of golden sunrise etching behind it, slightly dusting the lake in mauve.

"You can go now Katham Singh," she tells him at the door. Amrit is fond of him, yet the boathouse is their precious secret, Veer's and hers. Nobody else belongs there, even by invitation. 

Katham Singh nods promptly.

"Please don't try to climb up alone Kuwar Rani sahab," he implores. "There is a telephone installed inside, aap bus phone kijiye aur hum aajayenge." 

Inside, the artist's retreat remains untouched. It makes her hold her breath. Every time Amrit crosses the threshold of this particular place it feels as if she crossed some invisible barrier into Veer's heart. 

The stacks of unused supplies are covered with dust covers and the work table is littered with pinned sketches in various stages of progress. Amrit runs the tips of her fingers across line drawings of Megha, in vivid details she would not have believed possible to capture in pencil lines. There are oil works of Ranimehel, of lakes and streams and views outside windows she has never seen. 

Then there is her. 

Amrit. Her eyes in charcoal and oil. Oh just her hands, or her face. A side profile, face half hidden with cascading hair. Or looking over her shoulder. How well he knew each line of her being. As if he had etched them himself, somehow, somewhere. Or as if he had mapped each inch of her with such keen attention. The latter, Amrit knows to be true, and the thought heats up her cheeks. Hasn't he though...learned her with such finesse that the memory itself stirred her heart.

Rising carefully, Amrit tiptoes across the room and opens the door leading towards back rooms. It opens into a short passage, marked with a door to a small bedroom. 

Spare clothes hang in a wardrobe by the bedside. Shirts splattered with paint, work - worn and comfortable. A scent that she identifies with Veer has seeped into their very fabric. She takes one of them out and buries her face in its comforting folds, taking a seat on the bed as she does so. 

The discomfort that lingers from morning sickness slowly wears off and she lays back into those unfamiliar pillows. If she kept her eyes closed and held that shirt close enough, she could build a fragile illusion of being in his arms, something, Amrit realizes she craves a little more each day.
Maybe it isn't just her, maybe the baby craved his presence as much, that each morning inadvertently, her thoughts brought her here - into the corner of the world Veer had carved for himself. Even when it was void of but a few traces of him. 

Amrit caressed her belly thoughtfully, overcome by an affection that moistures her eyes. 

"You miss papa don't you?" She mutters. "Me too. Ek baar aane do unhe. Pakad lenge hum zor se, aur kabhi wapas nahi jaane denge. Hmm?"

She closes her eyes once more, listening to the sounds of night turning into morning and the softest hum of the lake. 

And the telephone installed beside the bed begins to ring. Amrit feels like cursing, half certain that it must be Randheer once more, ready with his annoying justifications and advice. She considers letting it ring itself to silence, but her sense of tranquility is already broken either way.
She picks up the receiver.

"Hello?" 

"Tujhe Zehan-O-Dil Mein

Utaar Rakha Hai MaineYaad Bhi Aa JayeTo Mulakat Si Lagti Hai..." 

Her heart skips a beat, then settles itself into some niche of comfort. Amrit is unaware of the sigh that escapes her parted lips, as she sinks into the pillows, receiver pressed into her ear. His laugh, warm and mischievous, pours into her ear, full of promise and love as always. 

"Caught you, madam." 

A beat of silence and he clears his throat. 

"Kuch boliyein, Biwi Sahab..." 

Her sigh this time is plentiful and stated. 

"Aap boliyein, main sun rahi hoon." 

"That defeats the point of telephone conversation," Veer says in a tone that makes her imagine him shaking his head. "Achcha yeh batao, here I am sitting at your desk on Awaz, hoping to run into you, and where you are?"

"Laying down at your secret retreat, trying to imagine you here with me," Amrit replies, her eyes closed. "Sunrise it no time for a politician to visit a press office, kuwar sahab." 

"I thought you'd come to see the print. No. That's not entirely true. I come because I was certain you would ask any call from Awaz office to be forwarded to you immediately." 

"So you found a way around my demand." 

"I missed you enough that it has made me creative." 

Her throat tightens at that. Amrit knows not how to reply anymore. 

"Hey," Veer says quietly. "Don't cry." 

"I'm not." She says petulantly, wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist. 

"I'm going to sort through your mail pile," Veer informs her promptly. "Good God, Amrit do you have a fan - mail established?"

"No. Veer, let them be." 

"Oh no why? Any secret admirers that need setting straight about -" he pauses, Amrit sits up knowing full well what sort of correspondence he might have come across. "You've been keeping secrets biwi sahab," the temperature of his tone has dropped a few decrees. "How - dare - they!"

"It's an occupational hazard," Amrit tries to downplay. "I don't mind. I truly don't. Those letters - those threats - they only mean that I'm doing things right. That I'm making a difference. That my work is felt. Aur phir kissi ne kaha ta Jo sach hai woh kehene se kabhi darna nahi..."

"Achcha?" He asks, still sounding rather furious, but warmth leaks into his tone despite anger. "Kiss ne kaha tha?"

"Humare pati ne," Amrit settles back on her pillows. "Unki baat hum nahi daalte."
He chuckles albeit sadly. 

"Why did you keep this from me biwi sahab? Batai kyun nahi - hmm? Maan Liya you didn't call - par itne saare khat likhti reheti ho - why didn't you say a word - anything -?"

Amrit expells a sigh, choosing her words. 

"Kuch pareshaniya aise hote hai, jo kissi ke kaande mein sar rakh ke sunayi jaate hai, likkhe nahi jaate."

"I don't entertain any ideas towards Anaita Sha," Veer says abruptly. Amrit blinks. 

"I know." Her tone is candid. "We might not have started towards one another, but we are each other's destination aren't we? I don't doubt you - Veer. It would mean I find my own love lacking. That I have no faith in myself." 

A beat passes in silence. 

"Veer? Kuch boliyein."

"When I think I have found an answer to how much I love you, you go and make me start all over again. Bohut kaaz ho tum, kitna, kaise, kiyun...in sab ke liye lafz nahi hai humare paas. Par tum jo ho, jaisi ho humein yakeen nahi hota ke rab ne hum par itne karam kiye, humein tumhari qaabil samajh kar..."

"Jo hoon, aapki toh hoon," she says freely, without a hint of arrogance. Veer hears that endearing hint of smile in her voice. For a moment he spins a dream of a child with that smile, that love in their eyes. It brims in his eyes, that dream, so close and almost real, a home and a family that she has given him.

"Smile a lot," he tells her. "So that our daughter learns to smile like you."

She chuckles and hums. He could imagine the indulgently sweet curve of her lips just then.

"It could be a son you know?"

"Still, he would have mama's smile."

"But his laugh should be papa's," Amrit adds softly. "Poochonge nahi?"

"Kya?"

"Woh kaise hai?"

"Jo door ho unkhe baaremein poocha  jaata hai. Tum dono toh humare paas rehete ho. Humare dil mein. Humare sapno mein. Tum se door ho jaau the mar jaayenge hum -"

"Shh...!" Amrit cuts him off. "Don't say things like that. He misses you - you know. And he is very fond of your boathouse. I already know where to come if he starts to get cranky after being born."

"He or She can have the boathouse for theselves," Veer promises softly. "Amrit...?"

"Haan ji?"

Veer laughs at that response and the playfulness behind it. But he sobers up quickly.

"You know my secretary Manju ji says it's ominous to think of baby names until well into the last trimester. But I have a request to make - you know if we - if the baby is a boy -"

"Indra." Amrit says softly. Veer inhales sharply.

"How did you -"

"After your father. Because he deserves to be remembered. And loved. And to stay with you for a long time."

Veer presses his eyes with the heel of his free hand.

"I love you."

"And Veer - after you," Amrit continues. "Oh what a grand name it would be. Indra Veer Pratap Singh."

"And he would be a great man too - thanks to you."

Amrit doesn't contradict that because she knows he means it. Veer who had not known a mother's love, would wish none of his childhood upon son. Her throat tightens with a need to hold him close, as much as she was beginning to yearn holding their child. Hold him and shield him, from every trace of that past. And it reminds her...

"You will need to take extra care about Nalini Devi," Amrit tells him slowly. "From what I hear, she is at the end of her wits." 

"And where you hear that...?"

"Randheer," Amrit bits the word cautiously. "He spoke a little while ago. Made a pathetic attempt at a reconciliation or a threat - I'm not sure which."

"Did he now?"

"Chhodiyein, he has nothing meaningful to say. Honestly, I'm tired to trying to make him see reason. But  sometimes he gives away more than he intends to. Like this warning about Nalini Devi."

"What can she do biwi sahab -" 

"Oh - cornered animals have a vigorous bite." 

"I'm seeing her vigorous bite," Veer is skeptical as he sorts through Amrit's mail. "All she is capable of is petty threats and slander. Good that you don't take these calls, or read this rubbish. It's all -"

He falls silent suddenly that Amrit finds it odd. She could hear the rustle of paper from the other end, if she closes her eyes she could almost convince herself that she heard Veer's sharp intake of breath. Amrit sits up  properly. 

"Kya Hua?" 

"Kuch nahi. Something has popped up. I'll call you again, sometime. I have to go now."

"Veer -"

 
"Apni kyaal rakhiye biwi sahab. I'll be thinking about you." 

The line goes silent after him. Amrit holds the receiver to her ear for a moment longer, savouring the last echo of those words.

I'll be thinking about you.

Slowly, loneliness creeps in. He hadn't promised to come, as she had begged in her last letter. He hasn't even promised to see her soon. It did not matter when she could hear his voice pouring in her ear, but the moment the call ended the emptiness gnawing at her returns with vengeance.
Amrit wonders how she is going to cope with the ceremonies of Vashma and Uday's Nikah without her husband at her side, and her throat tightens at the thought. Burying her head in the pillow, she lets the emotions finally take rein. 

She misses him. 

Oh she misses him. 

Nothing had a meaning unless he was at her side and his absence hurts like a wound.
On the other side of the line, Veer starts turning pages on the telephone record, circling a certain number with a pencil. 

It is indeed time for him to leave, but before he does, he scribbles something on a piece of paper plucked from Amrit's desk and hands it to one of Awaz staff saying,
"tell Yogesh or Rizwan to come and see me." 

Somewhere else, where those words weren't meant to be heard, in the shadows another receiver is put down, and a note is made on conversation transpired. A red light blinking to indicate recording dies off at the turn of a switch. The wheels of fate starts to turn oiled by folly and foul worth ages. 

**
Happy one year anniversary to the show that gave us Amveer, that silver line in otherwise pointless cloud.

Until we meet again....