He knew about the torrid love affair and the very latest rendezvous Rajjo had had with Harsh, and it broke his heart all over again. The day she came back for him in the village, to tell him that she needed him, he had stopped looking at her with lovestruck eyes. But he knew she was never going to be his. Was that enough for Karam?

She stood there in a mango-coloured sari, an expensive leather bag dangling from her arm. She smelt of a different world. He could not smell the village in her. She was on a different path. She waited for his answer.

He was done with the cycles of battling the harsh winter, burning the crops to start a new one, harvesting, storing and selling. Despite the hard backbreaking work Karam did to forget Rajjo, everything reminded him of her! Every monsoon. Every cloud. Every raindrop. She loved rain! The only way he was going to stop pining for her and yearning for her was if he could be around her.

Her voice washed over him once again. ‘I promise you, you will have more money than you know what to do with and we will be rich. I need you to work with me.’ With an overcast sky behind her, Rajjo stood tall and proud staring at Karam. He could hear the storm around him and he could see it in her eyes. Those beautiful brown eyes that reflected the green of the fields, and the blue of the sky.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked in a gruff voice, careful not to be too excited just yet. She’d pointed towards the Shani deity residing on the filthy side road with an old tired man offering some fresh flowers and replacing the old shriveled ones. ‘Nothing much! Just selling him.’

Karam was stumped as she uttered the words. He’d worshipped this diety day in and day out. Despite the Saturdays he devoted to him, he had not given Karam what he wanted the most. It was easy to give him up. As she turned around to walk away, Karam was one with the sway of her hip. Karam had taken all of one second to decide the next course of his life. There was no other answer for Karam than to follow Rajjo. He simply nodded and walked out of the fields to follow her. Karam’s father still covered in a sodden crumpled scarf, feet soiled in mud, his hands holding a sickle, called out to Karam but Karam took off his robes. He was glad to get rid of the sweaty afternoon smell.