Page 63 of A King's Oath

“Maan bhai eats all the junk food and still manages to win every game!” He chimed. “At least, until he played, that was the norm. I once went to his game in Baroda and he treated me to cheese puff after the game. I won’t mention the number of cheese puffsheate.”

Kaka’s polite face split into an indulgent grin.

“I have seen only one game of his, right here in Devgadh. The entire town came out that day. The stands were full, people occupied the sides of the ground. Remember, Meena…?”

Samarth sat upright, listening to him reminisce. He had some of his own stories. And even if he had come prepared to use Maan bhai’s influence on them as a last resort, as Kaka kept talking about Maan bhai — his idol, Samarth didn’t think twice before diving in.

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“It was the last chukker, no goals scored on either side,” Samarth recounted. “Last one minute, and then Maan bhai’s mallet snapped into half. Like right there while he was scoring left and right!” He built it up, that iconic game in Delhi. Samarth had been sitting in the shed of Devgadh’s team — the grooms, the spare horses, the doctors — everybody on the edge of their seats,including his Papa, who stood on one side. It had been his Papa’s treat for his 10th birthday, taking along all his friends for Maan Sinh Devgadh’s Polo match.

“I thought he would stop. But…” Samarth chuckled, trying and failing to hold back his laugh, “he stole the mallet from his opponent by his side and kept going.”

Kaka’s eyes widened.

“That’s not the end. His opponent was Vaasudev Raje, 5 foot 7. Maan bhai is 6 foot. The mallet was too short for him, so now he is playing hunched over his horse.”

Samarth held his arms apart to show the difference in mallet sizes, making Kaka laugh out loud.

“He won. And then when they refused to give him the trophy and declared it a tie, he just turned to us kids and said — ‘At least I taught Raje how to hit goals with his mallet.’”

Noise at the door broke their laughter. Samarth turned. And saw Tara Devi at the threshold. For a long second, bordering indecent, he kept staring at her. HisPapahad chosen her. And Samarth couldn’t look away from the lady who had made his Papa so happy. She looked just as miserable as him, in fact — more so. Her curly hair was loose around her shoulders, her white kurti fluttering in the breeze cutting into the house from the open door. She stared at him, confused.

Samarth got to his feet.

“Jai Dwarkadhish, Tara Devi,” he folded his hands to her. “Do you remember me?”

She blinked, probably trying to place him.

“We met last year in the orange orchard here in Devgadh’s palace. During the resolution meeting…”

“Of course I remember. Kunwar saheb,” she folded her hands and bowed her head. He bowed his head too. For a second, his tongue was tied. This was a woman. A lady. How could he talk something like this directly with her? He wasn’t averse to talking to girls. But this was…

No.Samarth bolstered himself.For Nawanagar. For Papa.

“I was just telling Kaka and Kaki about Maan bhai’s polo matches,” he started with the easier topic. “I was so small but I remember each one of them.”

She smiled. And like her mother, her smile was just as small, soft, and kind. “I have seen just two, and those were his practise sessions here in the palace grounds.”

Her voice was soft, even though her demeanour looked like that of a warrior.

“I always loved polo,” Samarth continued the thread of conversation, finding it easy to go on with her. As a prince, from a young age, he had been taught to talk to people of all ages, backgrounds, beliefs. With her parents, Maan bhai’s topic had been easy to breach their walls. Strangely, with her, his own topic seemed easier. After all, they had talked that night freely, even if shortly.

“I don’t know how,” he pointed. “My Papa tried to make me love cricket but it didn’t stick, so he finally surrendered me to Maan bhai to learn.”

She was listening to him intently until he mentioned his Papa’s name.

“Please, sit, Kunwar saheb,” she offered, her gaze going to her parents. That was when Samarth knew he had to come to the point.

“I was waiting for you to come,” he said, stepping towards her. She stilled. Samarth took a deep breath, saidJai Dwarkadhishunder his breath and opened all his cards.

“My father is a man of others,” he stated, eyes on her. “He has given his life to Nawanagar and then to me. For the first time, he had something for himself. And even that he gave up.”

“What do you mean, Kunwar saheb?”

“You would think I should be embarrassed while I ask this, but when it comes to my Papa, I am not embarrassed. Tara Devi, I have come here to ask you to come and marry my Rawal.”

She frowned, glancing at her parents behind him. Samarth followed her gaze, turned around, and stepped towards her parents, folding his hands together. If they had a problem with him being a problem, which they certainly did, then he had come here prepared to make this promise — “I, Samarth Sinh Solanki of Nawanagar, promise you that Tara Devi will come to Nawanagar as our Maarani, will be treated with respect, love and adulation, and that Tara Devi’s heir will rule Nawanagar.”

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