Gift

Summary:  "Achchi lag rahi ho Biwi sahab, apni lag rahi ho."

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The moment lasts a while. Veer remains standing behind her long after he had withdrawn his fingers from the clasp of that beaded chain.

The gold lotus centre piece of that wedding chain rests cold against her skin, Amrit wonders what kind of a woman wore it before, what kind of a marriage she had, what memories were etched into this cold metal with years.

It will all be rewritten again, with her and him. They were standing at the zero point and life etches beyond - unthinkable long years, empty like pages of a book. Amrit wants to begin it right and without regrets.

She turns around, lifting her eyes slowly to meet his. Her heartbeat picks up for no reason, as if she was seeing him for the first time.

He watches her keenly, eyes raking over her face, and trailing down her throat to rest on that lotus hanging from her neck.

"Achchi lag rahi ho Biwi sahab," he says, approvingly. Then his eyes change, the look in them deepens into yearning. "Apni lag rahi ho."

An exhale she didn't know she was holding leaves her.

"Janam din Mubarakho, Kuwar sahab."

A tortured breath leaves him.

Amrit wonders how many people had wished him in his lifetime, how many even knew his birthday.

"I didn't know, if I did I would have prepared something for you," she tells him unable to help herself.

Veer holds out his hand for her and she takes it hesitantly. He pulls her closer, that yearning still in his eyes.

"You've given me enough. You are enough. Humein aur kuch nahi chahiye."

They start walking back together.

The temple grounds are also a part of the estate and the main residence is only a little distance away.

Neither of them comments on the hand hold, nor do they pull back their hands. His palm is pressed against hers, warm and rough. Her fingers filling into gaps between his, Veer draws circles on the back of her palm with his thumb.

"Hum kuch poochein?"

Veer asks after a while.

"Ji."

"Tum baalon mein kya lagathi ho?"

Amrit whips around and stare at him. She half expects to find him smirking after making her all flustered.

But no, he looks curious and watches her expectantly. Amrit touches her hair self consciously, watching his face keenly for his reaction. Veer realises that he had confused her.

Slowly, he reaches out and touches her hair himself.

"They have a certain scent..." he explains. Color rises to his cheeks and Amrit too colours. She looks away, stealing her gaze.

"Aap ko pasand nahi hai?"

For a moment Veer doesn't reply. Then when he does, his voice is soft.

"It reminds me of my childhood. You know how some memories are linked with some scents. Sukoon milte hai." He catches her eye. "Bohut pasand hai humein."

Amrit touches her hair unconsciously again before replying.

"I put dried jasmin in my bottle of oil. My mother used to do that all her life. I learned from her. Sandalwood is smoke."

The chill of the air descends upon them and Amrit could see her breath. Veer takes her hand that he was holding and tucks it into his coat pocket.

Amrit swallows, but makes no protest. The action pulls them closer still. When he speaks next Amrit feels the stirring of his breath against the side of her face.

"Aisa peheli baar hua hai ke humare janam din ho aur hum akele na ho." He says. "I started the day with you, I wish to end it on the same note. Agar hum kuch maange, toh dongi?"

Amrit's eyes flicker up into his and holds. Her heart is pounding in her ears.

"Maang kar dekh lijiye," she mutters before the last of her courage is extinguished.

Veer smiles slowly. It is a different smile, an indulgent one, undiluted one. It reminds her of those childhood photographs of him that hang in the walls of Shrighar palace.

"Will you put oil on my head?"

Amrit blinks. He wants her to give him a head massage? That is it? How simple was this man? Or how many simple pleasures of life were denied to him? Her heart feels heavy.

"Don't we have a dinner party to attend?" She asks anyway, just to test the waters. "What of that?"

"I guess we will say we are both sick after getting caught out in the rain. It's not like they invited us exclusively."

"You'd rather celebrate the last few hours of your special day alone here instead of going to that feast Kuwar sahab?"

"I'd rather spend all my life with you Amrit, tumhari haan bhaki hai."

"Haan." The word escapes her. "Meri mathlab hai, main thel laga dungi."

Veer squeezes her hand. They have already arrived in the shade of the main residence and could see some servants waiting for them by the door.

"Toh Aaiye biwi sahab, nibhaiye apni wada!"

*

His hair is thick, longer than one would estimate at first glance and curly.

Her fingers sink into their lustre to reach his scalp and Veer leans back, leaning against her knees rather comfortably. He is sitting on the carpeted floor of her room while Amrit sits in an armchair, putting oil in his head with tips of her fingers.

"Have you done this before?" Veer asks, his eyes are closed.

He makes a low sound of approval in the back of his throat when she presses a particular spot.

"No," Amrit admits. She doesn't see the quick flash of satisfied smile that curls Veer's lips.

"But I've seen it been done. Also had people do it to me. I can manage."

"You are doing a very good job," he says and sighs. "You know Anwar has fallen in love. Shaadi karna chahata hai."

"That's very good."

"Woh tumhari dost se." Amrit pauses, her heart clenching painfully. "Noor? That's her name?"

Veer opens his eyes and stares up at her. Watching his curious brown gaze Amrit wonders when he ended up with his head in her lap.

"Kush nahi ho, biwi sahab?"

"Noor maan gayi?"

"Maan jaayengi." He says it with such conviction that Amrit feels a chill in her bones. "Jaise aap maan gayi. Anwar is his father's successor. He will be the next Nawab. Raj karengi aapki dost."

"Do you really think that makes up for it all?" Amrit doesn't think before asking, she cannot help the words. "Kya daulat hi sab kuch hai Kuwar sahab?"

When he answers Veer doesn't take his gaze away from Amrit's.

"Nahi. Daulat kuch bhi nahi hai.Na woh guzerein hue waqt lo wapas la sakthi hai, na aane wale kal ko badal sakthi hai."

Amrit closes her eyes and nods, her fingers resuming to massage his scalp.

"Aur iss pal mein, jo daulat humara hai woh tum ho biwi sahab. Aur kuch nahi."

"Achche baate bana lethe hai aap, Kuwar sahab," Amrit chuckles it off rather bitterly.

"Aur achche se baat dhaal deti ho tum," he replies. "Tell me, why you think Noor won't agree? What do you know of her? Which girl doesn't want to be redeemed from a place like that?"

Amrit sighs.

"It's another story of partition. Maano unki dil ke tukde hogaye, kuch abhi mila nahi, kuch woh kudh dundhna nahi chahati."

She proceeds to tell him about Uday and Vashma, about her baby nephew who had gone missing in the resulting chaos of 1947. Veer listens to the yearning in her voice with a drawing weight in his heart.

He thinks of Prem, of how his loss had left a gnawing emptiness inside him.

"Why aren't you using Awaaz to find Kabir? Koi na koi toh information de denge." Amrit doesn't reply. "You know, they are still keeping an eye out for Prem."

Her hands pause.

"Prem?" She asks softly. "Isn't he -"

Veer opens his eyes again and watches her.

"They couldn't find him down there. For three days they searched, police - they even used dogs. Sab kehete hai ke woh chala gaya. Marr gaya. Dil nahi maanta." He exhales slowly. "Agar humara bhai miljaata, toh sab teek ho jaata. Ma sahab bhi..." his eyes searched her face. "Is it wrong of me to hope that? Is it very selfish of me that I wish -"

Amrit's hand brushes along his forehead and his eye lids flutter in response. That hand is cool, soft and soothing. He wishes she keeps it like that, tips of her fingers stroking his temple in absentminded caresses.

"Umeed achchi ya bhuri nahi hoti, Kuwar sahab."

"Daadi sahab bhi aisi kehethi thi," Veer tells her, his voice is thick now, laced with sleep. He adjusts his head more comfortably and starts to tell her about his grandmother.

Then the conversation shifts to children of his cousin, who are around the age of Kabir, Veer tells her. His words draw fainter and sleepier and finally dies out. Amrit peers over him to find that he has fallen asleep.

A warmth fills her heart, and her eyes pricks with the same warmth.

He looks so peaceful when he sleeps. The shadows that haunt his waking hours melt away and he looks younger than his years.

That child from the photographs in the hall glimpses through him. Amrit strokes his head slowly, thoughtfully.

Someone clears their throat standing at the door and Amrit looks up.

"Dulhan Rani." It is Dai ma, watching with those sword like eyes of hers. "Estate club se phone tha, are you confirmed to attend tonight's dinner?"

Amrit waves her off with her hand. Her voice is mellow when she speaks.

"Hum dono nahi jaa rahe. Please tell downstairs not to ring that dinner bell either. Kuwar sahab so rahe hai. Unhe sone dijiye, I will call downstairs for dinner later if needed."

Dai ma looks a little taken aback but nods nevertheless.

"Jaisi aap teek samjhe Dulhan Rani."

"Dai ma," Amrit calls her back when she turns to leave. "Darwaaza bandh kar ke jaaiye...dheere se."

Dai Ma complies, although she is gritting her teeth.

That girl Kuwar sahab brought from nowhere, how dare she, order her, the most senior, the most reverent member of the staff?

If her little prince been alive, he would never let Dai Ma face this kind of atrocities. He would not have maligned the bloodline with refugees.

Oh Shrighar was already polluted by the murderer who would soon inherit it, but now, it would further be tainted by this sort of a woman.

He bought her from a brothel- Rani sahiba says - she might think Dai ma doesn't know of her kind.

The older woman thinks bitterly. Rani sahiba was right. The girl had to be thrown out of their lives, from these pious grounds, as soon as possible.

*

Veer wakes up to find Amrit asleep on the armchair, her neck tilted back into an uncomfortable position.

Her fingers still waved through his hair, frozen in mid movement of stroking.

For a moment he is filled with such tenderness for her that he cannot help himself.

Everything good that has ever happened to him is right here. He removes that hand from his head and draws those knuckles to his mouth, pressing a reverent kiss there.

Her fingers curl in response, but she doesn't wake up.

That hand smells of the jasmin oil she had put on his head. That heady scent which stirs his heart.

Veer stands up and lifts her into his arms, off that hard, uncomfortable chair. He doesn't bother to turn the covers down and instead places her gently in the middle of her bed.

Amrit mutters something incoherent and turns on her side, settling into some familiar sleeping position.

She draws her arms around herself unconsciously as if responding to the chill in the air. Knowing she would wake up if he disturbs the covers even if it is to cover her up; Veer brings his own duvet from the adjacent room and tucks it around her.

He strokes a hand through her hair and draws back. Switching off the lights.

"Good night biwi sahab."  He mutters.

**
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