‘Have you ever thought what might have happened had Anarkali found a way to escape from the stone prison she was kept in as punishment?’

Rano smiled ironically, ‘She was doomed to haunt the pleasure garden as it slowly filled with tombs and weeds and ruins as time eroded away the glory of the Mughals. Karam, we have built those gardens as well. We have an empire to run. I want her in flesh and blood. Not a haunting shadow.’ Then she added in a dreamy voice, ‘You know, back then in the village, when the fires were lit in the courtyards for everyone to sit around and share stories… When I was waiting for my little sister to come in to the world… even before she was born my grandmother whispered in my ear that I had to look after her. How do I sit back and let this happen to her?’

Karam shuffled in his seat. Rano turned to him once more. The colour of red fiery autumn leaves smouldering in her eyes. ‘I want to know how this happened. I want to know if you played any role in what happened. I don’t want any secrets between us.’

‘You think I would do anything to harm Rajjo?’ Karam looked away, uncomfortable with that scorching gaze.

‘They used to sing it a lot back in the day. Do you remember that song? Every Sunday we would run to the village headman’s house – his living room filled with families who came to watch the Sunday movie on Doordarshan on the old television set. I still remember the cold big hall, peeling green paint on the wall, the imposing wooden dining table. The cold floor we sat on. You remember? You used to come too. Not to watch the movie but to watch Rajjo. One particular song caught my fancy and Mother explained to me why the man was pitifully crying. He was pleading to all. Lovestruck he cried out to the world to destroy a mosque or tear down a temple, but never to break someone’s heart as that is where God lives. But perhaps that’s where the devil lives too?’ Rano was too close to the truth. Karam wanted to breathe steadily and quell his ire.