But where would he find her? He could not wait to meet her and give her the gift! It was carefully wrapped in an old newspaper, tucked safely under his arm. He looked at it once more just to see that the gift was securely tied in when he saw the newspaper headlines. V.P. Singh had taken oath to form the government with the National Front on 6 December 1989 and Rajiv Gandhi had lost the elections.

The paper looked almost three-to-four months old. Whatever political games they were playing up there, Karam hoped the whole terror threat would subside soon. He wanted to get out of the village and look for a city job but with the violent situation in the state, youth like him had to stay holed up in their villages. Extremists recruited the unemployed Sikh youth to form the backbone of the militancy, to create an independent state, Khalistan. He shrugged the pall away and focused on the few ladies sitting in a circle; singing folk songs, clapping and dancing in the courtyard. A mosaic of red, blues and greens moved around. Their voices echoed through the lanes of the village. The folk poetry and songs they sang had been etched in their hearts since they all were little girls watching their mothers perform the dance. They mouthed the folk poetry handed down by generations.

Usually the festive atmosphere would lift Karam’s spirit but not today. By now the ladies had brought Rajjo’s mother and sisters into the circle too. Rikki was here but where was Rano! She would know where Rajjo was!

He had to find Rano. He bumped into Rajjo’s overweight brother Sheru, eyeing a tray of sweets and helping himself to some. His younger sister Rikki was trying to shoo him away telling him the sweets were counted as per the guests attending the function. Their mother would force them out of his stomach if they fell short for the guests. Sheru was least bothered and continued with his quest to fill his ample belly.

‘It’s our sister’s wedding, the guests hog and go, we get to eat nothing? What’s the point?’

Karam hesitantly approached the squabbling siblings.

Both of them ignored Karam’s urgent question regarding Rajjo’s whereabouts. A glacial foreboding rose in his gut.

Was she with him? The boy she was talking about? The one she had met with Reet’s husband? Was he the groom’s cousin or something? No, it can’t be! But given Rajjo’s captivating beauty only a blind man would not fall in love with her at first glance. He had to find Rajjo and find her now!

He turned around to spot Rano walking with Reet’s mother-in-law, carrying a few Phulkari dupattas in hand as gifts for the bride and her sisters. Karam glanced at his own little offering, also a phulkari dupatta. Green and orange needlework done in a spectacular style, considered auspicious. It had a verduous green cotton as a base, with floral embroidering in contrasting silk threads of orange and fiery fuchsia. He’d bought it after making a special trip to the city and haggled with the shopkeeper till his throat was parched and sore. Rajjo was going to love it! If only he could find her.