Page 314 of A King's Oath

Samarth tore his eyes from Ava to Brahmi, and the anxiety of a second ago melted. She was trying to keep herself from doing her favourite little jiggle. Kresha was holding onto her hand and she continuously tried to skip and jiggle. A flash. A blink. And a memory ripened in his heart. Of a teen Ava skipping her way to Badrinath, making a whole gang of people who weren’t even religious follow her. His eyes misted.

Her hand had opened to him then and he had been brighter than the world had thought him to be because he had taken that hand without a second’s thought. Because she had become his Badri then and remained unwavering in her commitment to tide him through the penance of this life.

Life wasn’t done yet, neither were its misgivings. But now she was officially his protector. In her shade, he would make the best of himself, his children, his family and his Nawanagar.

The blur of purple came closer and Brahmi’s eyes met his. They pleaded, as if he wouldn’t let her do what she damn well pleased. Samarth bent forward and opened one hand.

That was it.

She was running towards him, faster than he had ever seen her run. Amid laughs and sighs and camera shutters she ran. And crashed into him.

“Hi,” he threw her up and into his arms.

“You wearing girl jewellery, Papa,” she thumped on the sapphire satlada adorning his chest.

He laughed — “This is the boy kind.”

“Mama’s looks better,” she pointed.

“Mama’s always looks better,” he agreed, following her finger and meeting the eyes of the girl who was always the better one. Avantika was the princess today, eyes at half-mast, the ghaghra regal around her feet, her head covered like the timid girl she absolutely was not. He smirked,thatsmirk. Her cheeks suffused with colour. After all these years, he had still managed to do that. He wanted to pump air and race around on his horse, shouting out to all of Nawanagar like a newbie jockey on his first chukker.Come on!

Ava reached him and stepped atop the bajot readied there. Stepped up now, she came eye-to-eye with him.

“Tame pan, Rawal,[102]” Purohitji dictated, pointing to the matching embellished stool facing her.

“Give her to me,” Papa demanded, hands out for Brahmi. His daughter wound her arms around his neck and held tight — “No!”

“It’s alright,” Samarth held her tight and stepped up on the bajot.

Ava looked at him then, full force, her brown eyes so full and so happy. They handed her a varmala. He accepted his own, one hand firm, the other under Brahmi’s legs.

Ava’s hands rose to garland him. Shouts and warnings echoed from behind him to not bow his head.

“Should I?” He asked Brahmi.

“Yes!” The ever-loyal Mama’s girl hurrayed.

He chuckled, bending at the knee like he once used to bend to look her straight in the eye. Ava garlanded his neck, grinning at their daughter who clapped the loudest and cheered the brightest.

“Rawal,” Purohitji cued between chants.

“Help me hold this up,” he muttered to Brahmi and she proudly caught hold of the other half of the varmala.

“Come on!” He quietly pushed, and with one side held by him, the other by his daughter, they garlanded her mother’s neck. It was unorthodox, but his life, Nawanagar’s present and soon its future would also live out unorthodox. In the best way possible, if he had any say in it. This, today, what was being telecast live, would also cement Brahmi as his — completely, unequivocally, eternally.

“Rajmata, gharcholu padhrao.[103]”

Samarth stepped down and helped Ava down, then looked on as Rajmata unraveled a fuschia pink bandhni saree and covered Ava’s shoulders with it.

“Rawal, lagna mandap taraf prasthan karo.[104]”

He turned from Ava with a look —see you in a minute.

Or more,she silently shrugged with her eyes.

————————————————————

It did take her longer to come but when she did, she came draped in her favourite fuchsia. The saree Rajmata had presented to her was wrapped around her in such a way that hardly any white peeped. The start of their new life.

---