Page 287 of A King's Oath

Her nose scrunched up.

“Hey, we talked about this on the plane — no doing that when talking about cricket.”

She did it harder, her grin impish and naughty and so, so pure that his heart ached. Siddharth couldn’t help it — he set his hand atop her head and pressed another kiss to her forehead.

“Let’s go inside now, it’s getting chilly here,” Tara hoisted her higher and he ushered them inside, closing the door behind them.

Tara let Brahmi tumble into the centre of their bed whose bedsheets were tight and crisp for a change. If the boys were in the palace, they would inevitably find their way to this bed, spend hours lazing around until it was time to sleep, and leave their bed a mess. Today, Brahmi was lying in the centre, rollingaround with her arms and legs out, her soft toy sitting on top of her head. Siddharth felt his aching chest tighten, then loosen.

His eyes met Tara’s on the other side of the bed where she was unravelling her hair and getting ready for bed.

“Dada Sarkar!” His granddaughter commanded his eyes on herself. “You promised me you would tell me about Papa and his ponies!”

“I did, didn’t I?” He pulled the duvet up and slid inside, nudging her under its warmth just as Tara settled in from the other side and tucked her in. It was like putting Sharan to sleep all over again. The same drill, except, this one felt far sweeter. His Papa had been right when he had said that you will love your grandchildren more than your children. It’s just how nature will wire you in those years.

“So,” he rested his head on his palm. “Your Papa was five when he first got a gift of a pony.”

“Gift?” Her eyes widened.

“Yes, a gift. From a friend of mine. His name is Maan.”

“Does he ride horses?”

“He used to. Now he doesn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because he is old.”

“Sid!” Tara laughed.

“What? He is old.”

“Not as old as you,” she pointed.

“I’ll show you…”

“Then, then?” Brahmi broke his threat.

“Then, he was inseparable from his pony. I made it clear that the pony belonged to the palace and not him. And still, he would find his way to the stables, even at that age, and play around his pony. Slowly, as he grew, he began to learn how to take care of him. Then eventually ride him. Your Papa fell in love with horses. He would feed them, brush them, learn how to bathe them. The grooms in our stables also taught him how to clear manure…”

“Ewww… potty!”

“Yes, ewww-potty. He learned to do all of that and that is why the horses loved him back.”

“You are doing an s-h-i-t job of turning her from polo to cricket,” Tara commented.

“Shit?” Brahmi asked and her eyes widened. He burst out laughing.

“You know how to spell…” Tara stuttered. “I meant…”

“Shit means potty,” Brahmi enlightened her and his laughter amplified.

“Yes,” Tara chuckled. “Shit means potty but we call it potty, not shit. Ok?”

“Ok.”

“Brahmi?” Tara warned.

---