At her last stop, the Tara Tarini temple, she covered her forehead in red vermilion, to mark the start of her journey. The red on her forehead was symbolic of the sacrifices needed to carry her through this path.

She was ready to bleed.

10

10

THE news of Harsh’s recovery spread. Rajjo patiently waited for her turn to meet him, wandering in her small ashrams, keeping a low profile. She had withdrawn from public life on the pretext of ill health. She knew time was not her friend. She also knew she had to wait for the right moment before she planned her meeting with Harsh. It had to be at the time when the vultures slept for they moved in flocks, soaring over the habitation, waiting for a chance to swoop in, waiting for the carcass. She was not going to give them an opportunity to strike again. The nameless faceless vultures who bred in her backyard.

After months of deliberation, the time was finally here for the meeting she had awaited. She had planned the meeting in Orchha, a quaint town in Madhya Pradesh. It was some hundred and twenty minutes from Gwalior. She was staying in the Jahangir Mahal that overlooked the river. It was a three-storeyed structure built in the Indo-Islamic style, with hundred rooms, several courtyards, hanging balconies, porches and domes. The moment she entered from the elaborate and traditional gateway with the front walls lined with turquoise tiles, the sight of the magical palace with windows and airy balconies, she knew this was where they would meet for the last time.

Wearing a white muslin shirt and loose pants, her face covered with a pale scarf, Rajjo was blending in as a tourist in the forgotten town. A number of beautiful temples, big and small, were built around the banks of the serene Betwa river that flowed through the town from the crimson light of dawn to dusky twilight. She wanted to have her last meeting with her lover in this magical place. She had to tell him about her vow. She had made a deal with God.

‘If he spared Harsh, she was going to forsake her empire – the ill-gotten empire she had acquired selling his name. Now she had to surrender her own self’.

Her voice echoed in her head, as she sat watching her reflection in the beautiful waters. Her long dark curls falling below her waist hid her face from the curious onlooker.

She wanted to see the images of the future mirrored in the magical river, but she could see none for now. She had a vow to keep.