His wife had to attend to some urgent family business in London so Harsh had seized the opportunity and immediately planned to see Rajjo. She was around Gujarat and this was the closest and fastest rendezvous away from prying eyes that they could manage. An old peeling picture of Rajjo stared at him, stuck on the stained wall of a grocery seller’s store across the narrow lane. He could feel his heart racing as he thought of her with him. Was it her eyes, her soul, her body or was it destiny that always had Harsh in knots. Despite a wife and marriage of five years, he waited to see her like an adoloscent waiting for a glimpse of his first love.

Things were already getting tougher, with the latest party merger between PVP and his own party. They were slated to win the elections next year. His father and uncles expected him to appease the in-laws enough for a smooth merger and a distribution of portfolios within the party. He was supposed to don the mantle anytime soon. Doused in the stink of political ambition, they had made this alliance revolting for Harsh, but how was he to tell them it was making it difficult for him to breathe, let alone live? He just wanted to to travel, explore each day, or perhaps be a student of literature. He wanted to take off from the world. A gypsy at heart, he dreamt of living in a world far away woven in the hues of a perfect delicate rainbow. He waited to break free and overthrow the mantle of his lineage that bound him in chains and party positions. The pressure of coupling with his wife to produce an heir, the noose of vice president to the PVP party tightening around his neck. The only time he could breathe was in the arms of his beloved Rajjo. Now his life was all about waiting to live a stolen moment with his Rajjo.

Dusk gave way to night as he waited. The sky was dotted with multiple kites, and a few moments later it was cloaked in darkness.

She was supposed to walk around for forty minutes and then reach here but it was little over an hour – Harsh was beginning to worry. Thankfully she crossed him. He smelt her before he saw her. She continued to lead and he fell in line. His heart singing, he followed her. The house was just a few blocks away. She knew the address. It had a narrow green wooden door that opened into the street. She went through. Harsh followed, latching the door behind. A cursory glance assured him the guards were in place, they were not followed. Finally they were alone.