Page 184 of A King's Oath

“Sharan and Tara?”

“Both good. Everybody is fine. Everything is fine in Nawanagar.”

His hand tightened. Samarth added his other hand to soothe the skin of his knuckles. It was red, the knuckles split and dried. Papa didn’t even wince when his fingers touched them.

“Rawal?” Ajatshatru Kaka pushed open the door.

“Yes?” They both answered in unison, heads turned to the door.

“Rajmata wants to FaceTime,” he smiled, his eyes on Papa.

“Rawal?” Papa’s incredulous voice sounded. It was loud, like his old voice. Samarth turned his head in time to see Papa’s shock, surprise, smile and tears in the same breath. The tears didn’t flow, unlike his own that hadn’t stopped. Papa had better control over his emotions.

His chest rose and fell in deep breaths as he again stringed slow words — “You are Rawal?”

“Temporarily,” Samarth patted his hand. “Until your flight touches down on Nawanagar soil.”

Papa’s eyes fell shut and he sighed.

“Ajatshatru?”

“Ji, Bade Rawal?”

“Did Samarth’s Rajtilak take place?”

“Ji, Bade Rawal.”

His lips smiled, eyes still shut.

“Rajmata did it herself,” Ajatshatru Kaka added, making Papa’s smile freeze on his lips. A moment passed, and it widened. His eyes slowly opened and Samarth was taken aback by the spark in his eyes, as if he was back.

“Then that is not temporary, Rawal,” his Papa addressed him. Samarth remained silent. This was not the time for that conversation.

“Rajmata wants to FaceTime you, Bade Rawal.”

“Not like this,” he shook his head. “Get an audio call.”

Ajatshatru Kaka dialled her number on speaker phone and waited.

“Ajatshatru? Is he awake?”

“Hi, Tara,” Papa said in his clearest voice, accepting the mobile in his free hand. Samarth let go of his other hand and nodded at Ajatshatru Kaka.

“Sid…”

They closed the door behind them to that muffled sob.

————————————————————

“Stop the car, I’ll go on foot from here,” Papa ordered as their procession reached the crossroads outside the palace. It was a procession that had kept multiplying at every signal, every junction, every crossroad on their way from the airport. Their entourage of cars had been slowed down to a crawl with the masses of Nawanagar moving with them, craving a glimpse of their Rawal who had not only cheated death but saved his colleague in circumstances where a man couldn’t save his own life.

“Papa, you are not supposed to strain yourself,” Samarth protested.

“I am fine.”

Samarth eyed his father. The last five days in the hospital of Ushuaia might have brought his vitals, organ systems and mental activity to equilibrium, but his body was still weak, his weight way below an acceptable amount. Even though he had gotten himself groomed before their flight and had donned hispatent white kurta-pyjama, nobody could deny that he belonged inside a car and not on foot in the heat of a Nawanagar noon sun.

Before Samarth could protest though, he had thrown open his door and stepped out to wild cheers. Chants of his name. Tears. Screams. He walked like he hadn’t been stumbling to the bathroom only last night, hands up and joined, waving, smiling. Samarth quickly brought up his rear, scared he would hurt himself if he tipped over.

---