A variety of prayers and chants brought him back to the present. They blared from various corners. Booths were set up for registration and payment. Someone slapped a yellow VIP band on his wrist and then looked at his slip, angrily switching the band to a green colour – normal entry. People wearing black uniforms and with walky talkies managed the crowd as they escorted some important-looking guests and whisked them through security.

Just then he saw a woman cross the foyer. Kesar recognized the familiar face instantly. Neeta Shahani. She was from the inner circle of Durga Maa and had made quite a fortune with her association. He would watch them closely while monitoring the cable TV coverage. Perhaps by watching them he would know more about Rajjo. Kesar knew about all her aides by heart. She was in charge of running the TV channel business but lately the rumour mills suggested she had distanced herself from the inner circle. She was strictly looking at the business side of things.

Kesar worried about Rajjo not recognizing him, or not being happy to see him come for a favour. A sense of foreboding rose in him yet again, should he meet her unabashed like this? Should he wait for a more appropriate time?

Kesar came back to the present as he was ushered into a dark amphitheatre. He was taken in by the elaborate stage set up with professional lighting, music and other technical apparatus. A huge stage, lit up like a jewel amidst a sea of people, made him pause. Different levels of seating made the view clear from all corners. A mammoth assemblage sat there, waiting in anticipation. He had just made it in time as a woman in a black sari – Kesar recognized her as Chhoti Maa – addressed the crowd and told them to prepare to greet their Guru Maa who was going to deliver them from all the worries and impediments of life.

Kesar remembered this woman on stage as Rano, Rajjo’s sister, who had come to take Rajjo away when she was battered. Kesar remembered the face, he remembered that time – the heat was rising up, the grass had dried up and Rajjo’s wounds kept him awake. That was the time Rano had come to visit her sister and she had refused to go with her.

A roar of devotion, appreciation and excitement ran through the packed amphitheatre. The roar was so loud and powerful that it almost carried Kesar along with it. He had no time to pause or breathe. It was all happening too fast! He felt he was one of them. He wanted a piece of her too!