Page 29 of A King's Oath

“One and a half hour, Kumari,” Kirti didi resounded. Ava swallowed, then glanced around. Samarth pulled the bottle of water and handed it to her, unable to look away even when she opened the cap and poured some down her throat. He hoped he wouldn’t step into the creepy territory with the way his eyes couldn’t leave her.

“What are you listening to?” Ava whispered, capping the bottle.

“Nothing,” he mouthed, reaching to pull his AirPods out. But before he could, she shifted closer to him and stole one of them. Samarth’s body locked as she pushed it into her ear, Jagjit Singh’s baritone echo singing about bowing to that Krishna who had taught the world the secrets of karma in the middle of battle.

Ava’s eyes met his. Samarth did not look away. He wasn’t embarrassed about it. He wasn’t ashamed or shy of this side of him. But he would have preferred to unleash his various facets on Ava slowly. Steadily. Giving her time to digest them.

He expected her to return his AirPod. Instead, her eyes softened — that soft expression that was reserved for him. And that one time for Cherry. Her lips stretched into a smile, those tiny dents by their sides appearing again. She pushed the AirPod tighter into her ear and pushed her body closer into his. For the lack of space, Samarth opened his arm to let her settle there. It was… otherworldly — at this hour before dawn, in a car gliding up the mountains, towards a temple he had wanted to visit ever since he had come to Saraswati Crest, with a girl he had recently discovered he had wanted to be with since that first time she had shared bench space with him, listening to something that most teenage girls would have run away from.

Shyam ke ras mein, rang gayi Meera, Raskhan toh ras ki khaan hue… Jag se aakhein band kari toh Surdas ne daras kiye…

Ava pulled her phone out, dragging the brightness tab down and opening a chat with him. Samarth could see her typing the question —I know Meera.Who is Surdas?

She hit send. His phone pinged. He went ahead and switched off the notification sound to not disturb their song. Then began typing.

He was a poet devotee of Krishna

He hit send. Typed more —

Was blind since birth, but wrote lakhs of couplets on Krishna’s life as if it was all happening in front of his eyes

Ava’s face turned up to him, her lips rounded in an ‘Oooh!’

I have heard about Ras Khan, though— she sent.Became a Krishna bhakt and wrote lots of poems. My Naniji has cassettes of Ras Khan that she refuses to convert into a pen drive :D

Samarth chuckled. The song changed to another from the same album.Baat nihare Ghanshyam, naina neer bhare…

You don’t mind that we are listening to this?

Why?

Just

Ava looked up again, a frown marring her smooth forehead. She pulled her phone up and typed at lightening speed. Samarth tried to peek but her head was buried inside it this time. And she typed for so long that he chose to rest back, head on the cold glass of the window. His phone lit up silently to a message. His thumb hovered over the notification. He wasn’t sure how many marks worth of answer she had sent and which way it swung. He tapped it open.

My Naniji is a vaishnav

Samarth’s mouth dropped open. That’s it? That’s what she had been typing for ages? Her body vibrated under his arm and he knocked his knuckles over her forehead. She laughed harder, but quietly. Another message popped up on his screen. A long one.

I might not have a playlist of bhajan-kirtan but I do worship Krishna too. Not daily and all. But I think I have a special connection with him. With his Dwarkadhish king swaroop. My Naniji told us these stories and I loved how he took all his people to the sea, created a whole kingdom there on an islandand ruled without declaring himself king. Imagine the power he must command to do that without forcing anybody.

The power of love—Samarth texted back.

Her text was prompt.Which version do you connect with the most?

Him with his mother.

Why?

Samarth felt the twinge that he rarely felt. Nobody had ever asked him this. But then, nobody had ever asked him which version of Krishna he connected with the most, forgetwhydid he connect with Krishna out of all the gods out there.

He didn’t have an answer to Ava’s question. At the same time, he had a 25-marker to give. That much awareness had come within him to figure out why he adored that part of Krishna’s life. A tap of Ava’s hand on his cheek, and he startled out of his thoughts. She waggled her eyebrows, hair falling back into them. Samarth reached out his free hand and pushed it off her face, tucking it behind her ear. Her eyes smiled.

And for all the times she had looked at him like that, she deserved the answer to this question. Samarth grabbed his phone from his lap and typed one-handed. It took him longer than usual, framing his words, deleting and rewriting, checking if he hadn’t gone ahead and burdened her with too many of his life’s truths too early. After all, they weren’t even officially dating yet. She hadn’t given him a sure shot yes. And his father had taught him enough to understand that a girl’s no was a no, and her yes wasn’t a yes until she said so.

Samarth took a deep breath and hit send.

Maybe because I don’t remember what it feels to be like that. With a mother who will run after you, chase you up for stealing something she has been making, and then pull you close and squeeze you tight. My mother left us when I was small. She is alive, just not in touch too often.

---