He’d moved to Mumbai six months ago with a plan.
And it was time to put that plan into action.
‘That went off well, didn’t it? I think the last one is our guy.’
Abhimanyu and Pakhi were seated in Aravalli, the hotel’s Rajasthani restaurant. They’d just finished interviewing candidates for the position of head chef. One of Abhimanyu’s primary conditions each time he hired the head chef for any of his hotels was that he or she should have mastery over all the cuisines served in the hotel. Among the candidates they’d interviewed today, the most promising was a fifty-seven-year-old portly man who’d worked in some of the best hotels in Delhi, Lucknow and Chennai.
‘Yes,’ said Pakhi and added, ‘Arvind seems to be the guy we’ve been looking for.’
Abhimanyu smiled. He loved the way she’d said ‘we’. Somewhere between all the interviews, they’d reached an unspoken truce of sorts. The elephant in the room seemed to be preoccupied and he had enjoyed the last three hours with Pakhi, smiling every so often at some of the pointed questions she’d thrown at the candidates. And each time one of them gave her the answer she was looking for, her face would light up like a Christmas tree. He wondered if he should push his luck and see how far the truce would go.
‘What do you say we retire now and go exploring early tomorrow?’
Abhimanyu saw the light dim a little in Pakhi’s eyes. He knew she was battling with feelings within. He had a suspicion he knew what she was going to say, but he wanted to hear her say the words. You really are a glutton for punishment, Abhimanyu!
Oh, shut up.
But, to his great surprise, Pakhi said, ‘Can we go to Hawa Mahal?’
14
Pakhi watched the second’s hand in her watch move slowly towards twelve. Damn! Could this thing move any slower?
After a quick Rajasthani thali for dinner, comprising of simple kadhi, besan gatte ki sabji, lauki ke kofte, pyaaz paneer, pulao, roti and balushahi for dessert, Abhimanyu told her they would leave at 7.30 a.m. the next morning, giving them one whole day to visit places.
She’d also spoken to Gehlotji after dinner last night and he’d assured Pakhi that Abhimanyu was the best guide she could get. ‘Arre, beta! This boy has been all over the city. He used to come here every year with Pratap Saab.’ But upon Pakhi’s insistence, he suggested a few places anyway.
Pakhi smiled, now thinking of Abhimanyu as a young boy. She knew he’d lost his parents when he was very young and that his grandfather had brought him up. She’d witnessed first-hand the bond between them. She was sure they would have been even more adorable when Abhimanyu was growing up. She wondered if he’d been the kind of teenager who brought his girlfriends home. Would Daji have been angry with him? Pakhi knew the old man well enough to know that he would have probably teased Abhimanyu about it.
What about Tamara? Was Abhimanyu back with the supermodel? The thought came out of nowhere and left a bitter taste in Pakhi’s mouth. She didn’t want to dwell too much on the ache deep within her heart. Besides, it was going to be 6 p.m. any minute now.
Shit!
How had she not realized that the second’s hand had done quite a number of circles and the clock now read 6.30 p.m.?
She had exactly an hour to get ready.
‘Crap!’ Pakhi cursed loudly, and thanked her stars Abhithi was nowhere around to hear her.
Because of its proximity to the hotel, Abhimanyu chose Nahargarh Fort as their first stop. And judging by the look of awe on Pakhi’s face he knew he’d chosen well. He didn’t want to tell her that this fort was just a glimpse of Jaipur’s grandeur. He’d rather wait for her face to light up every time he took her somewhere beautiful.
‘You know, legend has it that this place used to be haunted at one time.’
‘Really?’ Pakhi turned around from a jharokha she was looking out of and all but ran towards Abhimanyu, clearly excited. Momentarily, Abhimanyu was distracted. He loved her simplicity. Dressed in a simple white kurta that had a bit of chikan work, dark blue jeans, and kolhapuris, she still managed to look absolutely stunning. She wore small gold hoops in her ears, her nosepin was a tiny gold leaf and the only make-up she had on was the kohl that lined her big, almond eyes, which were brimming with curiosity.
God! This woman was full of surprises. The women he knew would have jumped at the chance to huddle in his arms pretending to be terrified.
But not his Pakhi. She’d much rather hear the legend.
‘Whose ghost? A prince’s? Or his wife’s? Was she like a woman scorned or something?’ Pakhi asked.
‘Whoa!’ Abhimanyu put a steadying hand on her shoulder, and just for a second, he wondered if he’d gone too far.
But Pakhi covered his hand with hers and squeezed it, which was her way of telling him to answer her questions.
‘OK, so the story goes like this,’ he began. ‘Way back in the eighteenth century, when the fort was being built by Maharaja Sawai Jai Singh II, the construction was disrupted every now and then. Some say that when the labourers returned to work in the morning, they would find all their work of the previous day in shambles.’ Abhimanyu saw Pakhi’s eyes widen with keen interest.
‘It is believed that the spirit of Nahar Singh Bhomia, a Rathore prince, was responsible for the disruption. When the maharaja found out that the land on which the fort was built belonged to the prince, he built a special temple inside the fort dedicated to the prince and renamed the fort Nahargarh.’ Abhimanyu finished.
‘Oh, wow!’ Pakhi gasped, her eyes huge now.
They spent the next hour exploring the fort. Pakhi was particularly keen on visiting Madhavendra Bhavan, a two-storey structure comprising of suites for the king and his twelve queens. The suites and rooms were connected through hallways and had intricately carved frescoes adorning the interiors. Pakhi was surprised to see that the kitchens and lavatories had modern fittings.
‘This place is beautiful,’ Pakhi sighed wistfully as she looked back at Nahargarh one last time before leaving.
Once in the car, she called her father. He assured her that everything was OK and that Abhithi had no difficulty sleeping the previous night. At the mention of Abhithi’s name, Pakhi saw a small smile spread across Abhimanyu’s face. Pakhi was still keen on keeping their interaction to a minimum. She wasn’t sure getting attached to Abhimanyu would be good for Abhithi.
What about getting too attached to Abhimanyu yourself?
Shutting the voice in her head down, she asked, ‘Where are we going next?’
As soon as she spoke, her stomach rumbled noisily. She would have been embarrassed, except Abhimanyu’s stomach growled just then.
‘Oh, well,’ he said, looking slightly sheepish. ‘Breakfast, perhaps?’
Stuffed with delicious bajre ki roti, tamatar mirchi ki sabzi and bajre ka churma from a small roadside eatery where Pakhi had delightedly plonked herself on a charpoy, she walked into Heritage Textiles and Handicrafts with Abhimanyu. For Pakhi, the place was nothing short of Disneyland.
The first half an hour was spent ogling at every piece of fabric and print she could lay her hands on. She nearly bought a pashmina shawl and a block-print sari, only to set it aside because something else caught her eye. They were then guided to a small room where artisans demonstrated the block printing technique with various kinds of vegetable ink.
An hour later, they walked out laden with shopping bags. Pakhi had gone a little overboard. She ended up buying not only the pashmina and block-print sari she had first seen, but also a cashmere poncho, a white cotton dress with tiny sequins on a magenta and green hand-printed border, a yellow quilted silk jacket and a hand-block-printed quilted jacket. She also placed an order for three hand-block-printed jackets for Abhithi, and two block-print razais. The manager of the store had assured her that he would have her purchases delivered to the hotel by evening.
‘Where are we going now, Abhimanyu?’ she asked breathlessly as she got into the car.
‘Towards Badi
Choupad,’ he said as he checked the rear-view mirror before reversing out of the parking spot.
‘I’ve heard that name before,’ Pakhi squeaked excitedly. ‘Are we going where I think we are going?’
‘You’ll have to wait and see, sweetheart,’ Abhimanyu smiled at her.
She couldn’t help it, she smiled back. And the air suddenly changed. Hope seemed to have suffused the car as the two of them laughed together. Pakhi wished she could pack this moment. Everything about it was perfect – from the way Abhimanyu’s hair nonchalantly fell onto his forehead to his dimples that managed to make an appearance despite his thick beard. He caught her hand in his and brought it to his lips, and for Pakhi, the tectonic plates of her world shifted. She moved closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder.
Abhimanyu drove through the ever-busy Tripolia Bazaar, towards Badi Choupad. As they entered the Pink City, Pakhi’s breath whooshed out of her. They drove past pink stucco buildings that dotted the roads on either side. There were small stores, hawkers, handcarts that displayed colourful fabrics, women selling clay wares, restaurants, a couple of lodges, and a host of other establishments. Despite the commotion on the street, the scene around Pakhi was absolutely mesmerizing.
But this was just the beginning. When she finally laid eyes on Hawa Mahal which came into view just as the bus ahead of them turned in another direction, Pakhi’s heart melted. This was grandeur. This was beauty in its simplest, yet most magnificent form. As she peered out of the windscreen, craning her neck to look at the five-storeyed palace in front of her, Abhimanyu swiftly took a right turn onto a smaller road, and then took another right which led to an even narrower road through an archway. There he found a parking spot in the shade of the tree, and they both got out of the car into the Jaipur heat.
But Pakhi didn’t seem to care about the heat. She wanted to get inside the palace premises. Hawa Mahal was the main reason Pakhi had agreed to come to Jaipur in the first place.
She quickly grabbed Abhimanyu’s arm and steered him towards the entrance, which was to the rear of the palace.
At 2.30 p.m., Abhimanyu had to drag Pakhi out of the palace complex. The woman simply refused to listen. During the last half hour, he must have told her that they needed to leave at least twenty times. But Pakhi being Pakhi, decided his words shouldn’t come in the way of her ogling and that was what she did for more than an hour.
At every level they climbed, she would stop and examine every nook and corner. Every now and then, she’d whip out her phone and take a few pictures. She’d even coaxed him into posing for a few pictures and had taken a couple of selfies. He wondered if she would keep those photographs or if she would delete them soon. Not wanting to dwell on that bit of unpleasantness, he’d finally squared his shoulders and said, ‘OK, Pakhi, I’m leaving. Do you want to stay or come with me?’
He thought that would be enough to jolt her out of her musings. But no! She actually waved goodbye. The sun had turned oppressive and he was ravenous. ‘Dammit!’ he cursed under his breath, and grabbing her arm, he frog-marched her out.
Even now, as they were ushered to their table at the super-crowded Laxmi Mishthan Bhandar, all she could talk about what the honeycombed, hive-like architecture of Hawa Mahal.
‘Did you know the palace is said to be shaped like Lord Krishna’s crown and that it has nine hundred and fifty-three jharokhas with beautiful latticework?’
Abhimanyu smiled at their server who looked at Pakhi like as if she’d lost her marbles. Abhimanyu suspected she had, but simply told the waiter, ‘Bhai saa, do menu card le aana.’
When the man left, Abhimanyu turned his attention to Pakhi and realized that she had actually not stopped talking. Oh my God! What have I done?
‘Pakhi, sweetheart,’ he covered her hands with his and said, ‘Why don’t you drink some water?’ He poured some water from the jug into a glass and handed it to her. She took it, but was about to say something again when he cut her off.
‘Pakhi, I’ll listen to whatever you have to say. But for now, please drink some water.’
The server came back with two menus, and after perusing them for a minute or so, they ordered food for an army – kadhi chhokanwali, ker sangri, govind gatte, boondi raita, roti and dal baati churma. This time the server thought both of them had lost their marbles.
Although they had no place left for dessert, they ordered ghevar, malpua and badam halwa.
The short walk from the hotel to where the car was parked behind the palace helped them digest a little bit of the insane quantity of food they’d just consumed.
‘We have a final stop before heading back to the hotel,’ Abhimanyu said as he strapped on his seatbelt. ‘Are you up for it?’
Pakhi could only nod.
It was close to 9 p.m. by the time Pakhi and Abhimanyu got back to the hotel. Their last stop had been Amber Fort. By the time Pakhi had finished her exploring, it had been close to 7 p.m. So she’d asked if they could stay on for the light show. Abhimanyu couldn’t bring himself to say no to her. Somewhere between Hawa Mahal and Amber Fort, he’d concluded that he wouldn’t be able to refuse Pakhi anything. A strange sort of calmness settled over him as the realization hit home.
On their way back to the hotel, she’d rung up her father again, and this time she even spoke to Abhithi. His heart melted at the way she spoke to her niece. Abhimanyu realized he missed the little sweetheart. He’d watched Tom and Jerry after many years that day in Kolkata.
‘I think my favourite place in Amber Fort is the Baradhari Pavillion,’ Pakhi declared as they got into the elevator, bringing Abhimanyu out of his reverie. Stifling a yawn, he nodded his approval of her choice.
‘I can imagine dancing with Hrithik Roshan there,’ Pakhi added.
‘What?’ he blurted.
Pakhi smiled at her sleepy companion. Poor guy. She’d really worn him down.
When they reached her door, he asked, ‘Do you want to go down for dinner or just order room service?’
Pakhi wouldn’t have minded going down and trying out one of the other restaurants in the hotel. More than anything else, she wanted to sit inside one of the miniature jharokha mahals in the gardens. But Abhimanyu was really tired. So she said, ‘We can just have food sent up.’
‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’ll have them send something light to our rooms.’
He turned to walk away to his room when Pakhi put her hand on his arm. Abhimanyu turned around to pull her into his arms. He couldn’t stop himself, he didn’t even try.
‘Abhimanyu,’ she whispered into his chest.
‘Yes, sweetheart?’
‘Could you have the food sent just to my room?’
15
The moonlight filtered through the curtains as they swayed in the light, night breeze. A wonderfully surreal glow was cast in the room. Abhimanyu woke up to find Pakhi lying across his chest, her right arm flung across his middle and her legs intertwined with his.
They hadn’t made it through dinner. Hell, they hadn’t even ordered dinner. The bed had been too inviting and the two of them had simply fallen onto it, clothes and all, and let sleep take over.
Glancing at his watch, he saw that the time was just a few minutes past midnight. Slowly, he got out of bed, careful not to wake Pakhi and walked out onto the terrace. He’d always loved Jaipur at night. The city was simply breathtaking in the soft moonlight. The few stars in the sky lent their own unique glow to the overall beauty of the view.
In the gardens below, the miniature jharokha mahals were bathed in moonlight. A few of them were occupied by couples finishing their meals. Abhimanyu waited until everyone had left before walking back into the room.
He gently shook Pakhi awake. She opened her eyes, all groggy and disoriented for a moment. He planted a quick, chaste kiss on her forehead, ‘Come, I want to show you something.’
Together, they walked out into the gardens, the moon lighting their path. He took her to the jharokha mahal at the very end of the property.
Once there, he lifted her into his arms and walked into the mahal. Her hands draped around his neck, Pakhi rested her head against his shoulder. Abhimanyu sat down on the ledge and repositioned Pakhi in his lap so that her back was against his chest and her head was tucked under his chin.
Everything about that moment was magical. Abhimanyu did not want it to ever end. He thought about the last time he’d felt this way and that’s when he realized how new this was to him – new and, therefore, special. Sitting there with Pakhi in his arms on a moonlit night, he couldn’t fathom his life without her.
An epiphany accompanied that acknowledgement. It came out of nowhere like a firefly and seeped into his chest and settled in the left-hand corner. Abhimanyu welcomed the accompanying warmth with a fierce sense of gratitude. He was sure the firefly’s light was going to be permanent, much like its residence in his heart. He was also sure that he had to tell Pakhi.
But not just yet. He would tell her soon, when the time was right.
More right than this moment?
Yes, he thought to himself.
I have a feeling we’re just starting.
‘Did you have a good time, Bai saa? Did you go to Hawa Mahal?’ Gehlotji asked Pakhi at breakfast the next morning. Abhimanyu was in the kitchen and had asked Gehlotji to keep her company.
‘Yes, Gehlotji,’ Pakhi smiled. ‘We did. It was absolutely magical.’
‘Ah! I’m glad,’ the old man continued. ‘When I was a boy, the area near Badi Choupad used to be my favourite haunt. My father had a textile shop there.’
‘Wow! And is that shop still there?’ Pakhi asked, her interest piqued once again.
‘Na, Bai saa,’ he replied, looking a little forlorn. ‘After my father passed away, we had to sell the shop to make ends meet. But after I returned to Jaipur, Abhimanyu Banna helped my sister set up a small store in Tripolia Bazar. It is quite close to Hawa Mahal.’
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