Page 44 of A King's Oath

Samarth followed her down the airport, the space empty. He saw through the glass wall ahead and realised why. Only his Papa’s flight was scheduled for this slot, the plane idling in the distance, the palace cars parked. His Papa’s magnificent figure emerged from the largest of those, patent white kurta-pyjama and black waistcoat. Samarth quickened his steps, observing the broad back of his father flex as he raised his hand to the line of dignitaries waiting for him, then began to move down it to greet them.

The airport security at the door asked for his ID and Samarth handed it over.

“This way, Kunwar,” the lady opened the door to the tarmac. Samarth accepted his ID and ran down, the December sun feeling warm in the cold winds. He skidded to a stop at the end of the line, eyes straight ahead, waiting for his father to finish greeting everybody. He knew his father had seen him. But etiquette, manners and protocol dictated that he wait for Rawal to acknowledge him first in public.

His father reached him, and Samarth folded his hands, bowing his head — “Rawal.”

A beat, then his father’s hand landed on his shoulder. Samarth bent down to touch his feet.

“School chhodi ne aavya chho, Kunwar?”[13] His father asked him sternly as he rose to his full height and met his eyes. Samarth read the joy there. But he also knew his father was Rawal first, and he was his Rawal’s Kunwar first.

“Rajaa layi ne aayvo choon, Rawal,”[14] Samarth answered. His father’s face, so like the one he saw in the mirror every day, but multiple times more rugged, more handsome, more bearded, more… everything, stretched into a smile. He tugged him into his chest and Samarth went in, circling his arms around his chest and laying his head on his shoulder. He didn’t reach his Papa’s shoulder yet, as Santram Kaka had rightly observed.

His father squeezed him, thumped his back, then held him back by his biceps. He looked at him a moment, then turned his face to the dignitaries and nodded.

“Walk with me, Kunwar,” he commanded.

Samarth fell in step beside him, the red carpet flowing from the plane stairs coming closer and closer.

“Keep a check on Dada Sarkar,” his Papa reminded him, his voice heavy. They had talked about exactly this thing last night too. Samarth wanted to roll his eyes. His and Papa’s nightly calls stretched for hours at least thrice a week. And yet he repeated the same stuff again and again. What was it with parents and parroting, he couldn’t understand.

“Take care of yourself,” Papa repeated. “And in worst case scenario, fly immediately to Nawanagar and…”

Samarth stopped him right there — “Nothing is going to be worst case about your trip, Rawal.” His voice was hoarse. He did not want to even think of such a scenario, forget prep for it. This one thing, he never wanted to prep for in his life.

His father smiled — “We are Kshatriyas, we need to always be prepared for worst case, beta.”

“Papa,” he protested. “You have gone on this voyage twice before.”

“And one of those times you weren’t born, while the other time you were a baby. This time you are of age. I know I can tell you to be ready. Can I?”

“Yes, Rawal.”

“Then if something goes wrong, immediately fly to Nawanagar, go to my study, grab the keys from my secret drawer along with the Raj Sinh Mohar. Stand tall in the court in front of everyone and declare yourself the next king of Nawanagar. Do not be ashamed, or embarrassed or think about the glumness of the timing. Ok?”

“Yes, Rawal,” Samarth answered because that’s what he was expected to do.

“And remember, you won’t have to do that,” Papa’s strong, heavy hand circled his nape and gave it a shake. “Even though I am going to the end of the world, I am coming back.”

Samarth grinned — “I told you you are.”

“What should I get for you?”

“Nothing. I have everything, Papa.”

He gave him a look.

“Really!” Samarth chuckled. He indeed did have everything. All the gadgets, all the clothes, all the shoes he needed. He had the best polo gear in the world, or the closest to best, thanks to Maan bhai. He had his horses. He had Ava. He didn’t need much else.

“Ok, I’ll call you if I think of something,” Samarth added to pacify his father.

“You better. Now go, and miss me. We will talk every night, your time.”

They reached the end of the red carpet and his father turned to him, one eyebrow raised — “And Samarth?”

“Yes, Papa?”

“What is this I am hearing about Avantika Kumari Raje of Gwalior. Some classmate of yours?”

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