Devi’s voice echoed, ‘They say this is the world’s largest unsupported structure! God knows what those people knew back then. I think they had help from the gods. The Devas. They came from another planet!’ Rajjo enjoyed Devi’s mindless chatter as she walked through the building. ‘You know, I heard a guide telling a tourist about a mile-long hidden passageway that led to a location near the Gomti river!’

Rajjo hoped for a hidden passage like that to escape her own life. ‘There were other passages from this place that were rumoured to lead to Faizabad, Allahabad and Delhi,’ Devi said.

They were supposed to meet near the bhulbhulaiya. She spotted Arjan standing there in his blue robes and next to him, sat Kuljeet, hunched forward. ‘I’ll come back.’ Rajjo left Devi standing there and walked towards her friends.

Arjan, a few years older since she had last seen him, smiled at her. His face lit up as he saw Rajjo approaching. It was a handsome face. His tall frame was leaner than she remembered and his hair peppered with white. As she approached them a fragrance of a distant secure and warm memory filled her. It was the smell of incense sticks that doused the village temples and small shops in the mornings. As they crossed the streets wearing uniform and lugging their school bags, the incense smell hung around welcoming a new day in the village.

They met like long-lost friends with deep hugs and sat in a companionable silence for a while. There was no hurry to ask any questions. Rajjo just wanted to be with them. They walked around the maze and Arjan pointed out gently. ‘You chose a place of faith.’ Rajjo did not question it or deny it. The trio continued walking through the imambara in silence.

‘The roof is made of rice husk. It is the only structure where the sponsor and architect are both buried. It was built in the time of famine. So the masses built it up in the day and the noblemen brought it down at night, to create more employment. Famine continued for over a decade and the construction of the building continued for this time.’

‘Awadhis are too proud of taking alms,’ muttered Kuljeet.

‘Yes. It was a food-for-work arrangement. He employed thousands of people to work day and night. Around one-fourth of the work done during the day was demolished at night against payment. There was always the scope of work for the people. It is also said that before distributing muskmelons amongst the poor, Asaf-ud-Daula used to get jewels inserted into them.’

The general banter soothed her as she walked along. But it was only a matter of time where her turmoil came back in her head and in her eyes. Harsh was battling for his life, the shadow whispered in her ear, ‘Only you can find his breath,’ where should she start looking?