Page 36 of A King's Oath

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Samarth stood behind the stables, hands on the fencing. The hills rolled out from here, rising gradually like a little child’s painting. All green and lush right now. But come winter, and things would start turning silver.

It was early evening, and the sun was still bright in the sky. It beat down on him, but Samarth had grown up playing in the dry scorching summers of Nawanagar. This was balmy to him. Unlike the painting of his home — those dry rugged landscapes, trees that were green only a few months a year, and the stepwells and lakes that had cropped up every few hundred metres thanks to his ancestors and now the government.

Samarth had a sudden longing for home. For the heat of Nawanagar to tire him out even before he had swung his foot up the saddle. Aam panna, jugs of nimbu paani refilled all around the palace for everybody to keep their energies up, stick kulfis every night… gola parties thrown in the palace for all the kids, his Dada Sarkar’s bribes of kisses to sneak him an extra cup, Hira ben’s stories going late into the night under the peepal tree in Raviraj Garden until most of them fell asleep… his Papa’s bed, where the two of them would lie like vegetables in 16-degree-AC after a long hot day, talking about everything and nothing.

That longing made him take a long deep breath. He had spoken to his father just last night. He spoke to him every night. And yet, it didn’t feel enough sometimes. Samarth worried about his father. A lonesome king, without any support, running the kingdom and pursuing his passion for environmental conservation and management, overseeing the various state-owned businesses including textiles and oil refineries, and thengoing to play a match or two of cricket at their club to groom the new lot of players of Nawanagar. That was, when he was not travelling around the globe.

“Hey,” Ava’s voice startled him out of the thoughts of his home. His Papa, to be specific. But for Samarth, his Papa was his home.

“Hi,” he smiled, turning his head as she came to stand beside him. He took her bag from her shoulder and set it beside his, by the fence. Ava’s forearms came to rest near his, her already small height going smaller as she leaned in and squinted up at his face.

“What?” He asked.

“Why are you sad?”

“I’m not sad. Who said I am sad?”

“You look sad.”

“Because you didn’t write my name on your palm,” he joked.

Her nose crinkled — “You are missing your palace, no?”

“You eavesdrop on people’s inner conversations or what?!” He straightened.

“No,” she chuckled, melting into the fence, her dark, glossy hair glinting in the rays of the sun. Her skin glowed, the tiny red dots of pimples on her forehead looking even ruddier. He hadn’t seen something more beautiful in his life. And hehadseen a lot of beautiful things.

“You always look at the hills and the sun before you talk about your palace and your Papa,” Ava observed. “Even when we sat together, you would be lost outside and then out of nowhere you would start blabbering about Nawanagar horses or that corner in your Dada’s room where you hide when your Papa bores you… what do you call it?”

“Save Me From Papa Club,” Samarth pronounced, awed and overjoyed and exalted that she remembered so much. He didn’t remember even telling her these things!

“So, missing home, right?”

“Maybe,” he stepped closer to her, opening his hand for her. She eyed it, hesitated, then set her hand in his. Samarth caressed the skin of her knuckles. That feeling of a minute ago, of missing home — wasn’t so strong anymore.

“We are official now, huh?” He asked.

“You are such a fattu! Why couldn’t you say it out loud when Tulika asked?”

“Because we hadn’t decided if we are telling everybody. And without your consent, I can’t do such a thing.”

Ava smiled, her body floating closer to his, almost into his. Samarth widened his stance, giving her enough space to select whichever spot she wanted to touch or lean on. She chose his bicep. So he turned to the rolling hills, the sun still up in the sky, Ava’s head on his bicep, their fingers tangling and untangling, playing some game of their own. The silence that reigned then was supreme, and so peaceful.

He inhaled a long breath. Exhaled. That feeling of missing home? It was gone. Completely.

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Samarth felt like a criminal. He had never done this. Never broken the rules, forget breaking the laws.

“Eheeh,” Harsh smacked his backside from below him on the ladder. Samarth kicked back, making the ladder vibrate.

“Fucker, stop wiggling!” Gopi hissed from above him, almost to the window. He glanced down at him and scowled — “Why are you still down there? Climb up!”

Samarth glanced up at Ava and Kresha’s window, then back down at the green garden. The night had fallen thick and dark, it was the weekend, and the matron and security were all bundled tight as per Kirti didi’s latest intel to Harsh. But still his conscience didn’t let him…

“It’s wrong, Gopi… we can’t climb into girls’ room like that.”

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