‘Yes he is… he is, Rajjo. Get your numbers in order before it is too late.’ Rajjo laughed heartily at Kuljeet’s faith.

‘I need to pray, and I will pray for your forgiveness.’ Kuljeet stood up. Rajjo left the room with a smile. Rajjo hoped they could become good friends in time. At the door she stopped suddenly. Her deaf ear erupted with a tune.

‘And Kuljeet, your mother has forgiven you, she says to visit her’.

A shocked look sat on Kuljeet’s pale face; the question evident. Rajjo whispered softly, spilling her secret from one ear to another.

‘Sometimes when I connect deeply with a person, my mute ear starts talking. It’s an urge, like an urge to itch or sneeze. It happens very rarely though.’

Kuljeet looked up at the ceiling thanking God for his grace.

‘He has his eye on you; don’t disappoint him! You are in his grace.’

With a disbelieving smile, Rajjo walked out. Kuljeet’s words followed her to the darkened corridors.

‘Which is a swan and which is the crane? It is only by his glance of grace. Whoever is pleasing to him, is transformed from a crow into a swan…’

Kuljeet stood in the dark room for a long long time, breathing over the words Rajjo had said to her. Her mother had forgiven her. A place long forgotten was coming alive with warm colours. From this moment, she had a lot of grace towards this tempest called Rajjo.

8

8

End November, 1992

A couple of weeks had now passed since Rajjo’s talk with Kuljeet. Time was running out but Rajjo was still waiting for an opportune time to talk to Mehtaab further. After that night, Mehtaab had not spoken about it. Rajjo was getting restless. Fear of failure, the black-headed demon, was eating her heart again.

Driving her thoughts away, Rajjo focused on the telephone as she stood at the dirty roadside PCO booth. The dusty phone receiver stuck to her ear. Then she could hear the phone ringing for eternity while she waited on the other side. This was her thirteenth phone call and she knew if she did not speak to Harsh Vardhan this time, she would not make the effort again.

She wanted it to ring and then quietly die out, like the last vestige of hope in her heart. Then in the last minute, a voice picked up, and her heart sank again. She recognized the hushed, hurried hello. Despite having never met the man Rajjo knew she disliked him. When she heard his voice, she had a vision of a disgruntled man with odd hair and pockmarked face. Like he was upset with the world for waking him up.

‘Sir is not in, who is this?’

‘Sridevi!’

‘I will pass on the message’.

Rajjo hung up, annoyed. Because of this man she had started giving out names of Bollywood heroines to annoy him further. Wondering if he ever passed on her messages to Harsh Vardhan.