Prem Nath had left two hours ago but Harsh had decided to stay for another day. This morning, he had come to the serene ghats to clear his head and remind himself that Rajjo was a Godwoman, who could add much to the party’s influence. She had a mass following that could strengthen the party’s fortunes and they would be successfully perceived as a ‘Hindutva’ party. He had to make her comply or win her acquiescence. But was that the only reason he’d stayed back? The niggling thought chewed at him.

His security detail indicated that Rajjo was still around the Manikarnika ghats.

Harsh could not believe that the naïve chit of a girl with wide, doe eyes who called him so often, who wore her heart on her sleeve had become this Godwoman. He had no pious thoughts when he’d seen her clad in that muslin sari. Her waist-length hair whispered secrets in the passing wind. He was yet to feel a more luscious mane than hers.

He was married. A soft whisper hushed the imagery. He reminded himself that he was just going to stay here and pursue her for the benefit of the party leadership. If he convinced her to endorse the party, Harsh’s grumbling father would be more than happy for a while and stop complaining about Harsh’s lack of appetite and ambition in the political arena.

He was almost about to give up his hunt for Rajjo when he saw her sitting by herself on a ghat. Harsh knew her hotel was nearby and his hunch was correct. She had come out to enjoy the morning sun at the steps. Their eyes locked briefly as she sipped on her warm cup of tea. Harsh greeted her with a nod and sat on the steps. As he sat on the cold stone, he cursed himself. Perhaps he should have gone closer and sat next to her, exchanged a greeting at least! As time ticked by, Harsh gazed at Rajjo from a distance. He sat on the cold stone still warming under the morning sun, drowning in a river of desire. A similar vivid and haunting memory violently drew Harsh in.