New World

Summary: "Kuwar Veer Pratap Singh apne khwaabon ko adhura nahi chhodte..."

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Amrit feels a giggle building up somewhere deep in her throat.

Veer's hand squeezes hers and he raises an eyebrow as if daring her to laugh and get them both in trouble.

So far Jogi; the driver Rani Ma had sent to bring them home hasn't caught the wind of their original intention.

They had simply asked him to take a detour through the temple lane, an innocent enough request.

Her arm was finally out of its sling and apart from a small plaster on her hairline, no sign of that unwanted incident remained.

Amrit tucked her hair behind her ear and looked away, swallowing the giggle.

Soon after as they had anticipated the car got stuck in an unmoving traffic, due to the throng of shoppers blocking the lane. On the top of it, some progression was also happening - in distance they could hear the loud proclamations of the blessed lord's name.

Veer sighs dramatically.

"Ek kaam karte hai," he says generously. "If you aren't too tired Biwi Sahab, let's get down and walk the rest of the way."

Jogi looks at them with rather frightened eyes.

"But Chote hukum I was told to bring you straight back and not to let you out of my sight for even a -"

"Well too bad Jogi," Veer is already helping Amrit down. "Hum bachche nahi hai, jo humari peherdaari ki jaayein. Yeh humara sheher hai, das kadam ka raasta hai - we will manage. Right Biwi sahab?"

"Ha - haan," Amrit catches the word he mouths at her. "Aap ke galathi nahi hai Jogi bhaiya...hum abhi aate hai."

Jogi is still confused with this entire prank as they vanish into the crowd. The last sight of Jogi with his mouth half open vanishes in a blur of people. Veer holds her close, their fingers entwined and he chuckles.

"Challo challo, hurry up!"

It takes Veer a moment to realize that Amrit is pulling them in the wrong direction. He pauses.

"Why are we going towards the temple?"

People shoulder past and they are pushed closer together. Veer moves her with his arm when a large man stumbles back ahead of them. The progression is drawing closer.

"Bhagavaan ka naam lein, aur bina darshan ke jaaye, yeh toh galat baat hongi," Amrit replies then seeing Veer's face she adds, " door se darshan karlete hai, then we'll go your way, Kuwar sahab."

"Tum na, you'll get both of us caught phir maanongi. Kher," he shrugs. "Kar lijiye darshan -"

The progression is passing by now and they are showered with flowers. Amrit folds her hands and mutters a quick prayer.

Veer watches her, the peace upon her face, the colour in her cheeks. Sprinkles of yellow flower petals tangled like flakes of gold in her unbound hair.

Amrit opens her eyes and finds that sun warmed gaze on hers. For a moment she is taken aback, those eyes are bottomless - inviting to drown in.

"Hogaya?" Veer says. Amrit makes an unintelligible sound in the back of her throat. "Darshan?"

She nods rather foolishly. His lips curl into a smirk.

"Challein phir?"

She nods again.

"Hold your out hand," he says then, voice tinted with amusement. Amrit stretches out a hand, palm up. "Teek se karo, prashad leni hai."

He places a single, golden marigold flower on her cupped hands. It is in full bloom, glowing in the sunlight. Veer must have picked it up from the progression. When Amrit looks up at him he holds her gaze.

"Peheli article mubharakho, biwi sahab."

"It's done?" Her heart jumps.

There is an odd pounding in her ears. Her words on print - freshly minted! Her eyes prick with tears and Amrit blinks. 

Veer holds her by shoulders and turns her side ways, urging her through the crowd that moved in a different direction.

"Why else do you think we are going to Awaaz office?"

She cranes her neck and looks at him. His eyes are elsewhere, making sure they did not bump into or get shoved by the crowd.

The temple vendors were soon overtaken by vegetables and spices and Veer slid back to her side, his fingers finding and slipping into gaps between hers.

To their left a boy was setting free pigeons his father had bought him, making loud cheers each time one flew towards the sky.

It filled her heart with an odd warmth, the flapping of wings and the joyous cries of the boy.

The air is scented with saffron in the sun, a woman sorting through trinkets of a roadside stall smiled as they passed. They were reflected in several mirrors haging over one shop, an ordinary man stepping by the side of an ordinary woman. Nobody gave them a second glance.

"Sambhalke," Veer maneuveres them both around a puddle left behind by the previous night's rain.

The road is uneven here, full of puddles and jutting stones. They twirl their way through the throng, almost falling into an unconscious - un - choreographed dance.

Amrit laughs out loud when they have to raise their hand hold and make an arch for a newspaper boy's bicycle to paddle past. It is hilarious, but at the same time refreshing; it is life as she has not seen before.

An out of place carriage carrying bolts of cloth rumbles past and Veer is shoved towards her by the the parting crowd. They stumble, turn and his hand comes up to cover her head before they hit one of the bordering walls. A basket of saffron unsettled by someone scattered flakes of red everywhere.

Veer braces his elbows on the wall and pulls himself away from it, wincing - also, effectively caging her between him and the wall.

Amrit looks up at him and wonders why a sudden flicker of pain crosses his face before he masks it. It reminds her of that night at Chandni chawk when they had stumbled into a similar position; two practical strangers striking a deal. They had come a long way since.

"Thank you," Amrit dabs at her eye, overcome by her own heart.

Veer looks down at her, takes her hand in his and pulls her away from the wall. His thumb swipes over the back of her palm.

"Tum humari ho toh tumhari har khwaab humari hai Biwi sahab. Aur Kuwar Veer Pratap Singh apne khwaabon ko adhura nahi chhodte."

They cross the smaller road and come to a entrance of a two story building. Inside Amrit could hear the tell tale sounds of a press at work.

But Veer pulls her towards the smaller, stair case leading to the upper floor.

"Aake sub se mil lo. But, don't call me Kuwar sahab here. They don't know. For them I will stay Akif and you Ranjhan. Begam sahiba ki maanna hai ke there is no weapon powerful than anonymity."

Amrit nods slightly, but unconsciously tugs at his hand.

"Kya Hua?" Veer asks her.

"Then what will I call you?"

Veer reaches out to tuck her hair, tips of his fingers drag along her cheek.

"Akif," he says simply.

"Akif..." Amrit tastes it on her tongue, it leaves a tinge like saffron - an exotic, unfamiliarity. But Veer is already pulling her upwards.

The office is a hive of tapping typewriters, rustling papers and people walking from table to table.

They all pause when the two cross their threshold and then goes into an uproar.

"The newly wedded couple everyone!" Somebody shouts out.

There is clapping, good natured booing and a good load of curious looks. Amrit hides her face against Veer's shoulder reflexively. Veer is laughing, a hand slung lazily around her shoulders. For a moment, they are an ordinary couple, with no context to suggest otherwise.

"Aye haye," someone coos.

"Ranjhan babhi toh battaiye, iss bande se aapki mulaakat kaise hogayi? Kuch pyaar mohabbat ki bhi baat hui ya sirf likhna likhawana hua?"

Amrit looks at the young man with glasses who speaks. He has a camera slung over his neck and when she turns to look at him he flashes it.

Then he smiles cheekily.

"Maaf kijiye, you two looked too good not to get photographed."

"This is Yogesh," Veer nods at him. "Resident cameraman - sab ka Chote bhai. Yeh Kamal hai," he points at a girl who greets Amrit with an ecastic smile. "Neetu. Roshni. Navaaz. Yeh Chotu. Yeh Rizwan. They are the in house team of Aawaz. They edit what we write, do the unsavoury part of publication while writing themselves. Aawaz inki kandho pe chalti hai."

"You are being too modest Akif bhai. What you do being field agents is a lot more risky at times." Kamal says. She offers Amrit a chair and looks at the plaster on her head concernedly.

"Jaise ki, aap dono ke saat hua yeh haatsa. Kitna achcha din tha aap dono ka, barbaad ho gaya."

Veer flinches at the reminder of that day, but then shakes his head to get that thought off. He lays a hand on Amrit's shoulder.

"Inko woh article toh dhikaiye."

"Abhi haazir hai...!" Someone replies to laughter and Rizwan brings the paper to Amrit.

"Akif is already a darling of our readers. His angle with you - they are just going to gobble up."

There it was, the first of many to come - her words, literally captioned, Alfaaz - e - Ranjhan: a letter unsent, stare at her in black and white print.

Amrit takes a deep breath, filling her soul with that scent of ink and paper, the sound of soft tapping in the back ground and the presence of these people - her colleagues now, a new form of a family.

"You write well, Ranjhan ji," Rizwaan adds.

"Yeh janab humare deputy editor sahab hai, successor of Begam sahab." Veer told her slowly. Rizwaan smiled at her warmly.

"Welcome to Aawaz."

**
Listen to the song in case you missed it! :-)