He held her hand and she settled back. They sat together like comrades, hand in hand. Tired and defeated. ‘This was her favourite part when she called the weather…The singing.’

Rano broke into a beautiful song she sang with Rajjo as the clouds gathered. It was an old folk song that described the smell of the mud and the cry of the bangle-seller crossing the street. She could hear Rajjo screaming and running out of the house to the river, wanting to warn people about the broken bridge. Rajjo coloured all her memories. She had no need to look for her outside.

And now all she had was a tired companion. Soon they would have to pick up the pieces and start walking again, hand in hand. Rajjo drew them apart and now Rajjo brought them together again. Rano sensed another salty tear trickle down her cheek. She bid a final adieu to her sister as the raindrops fell in the courtyard. It warmed her soul. It seemed Rajjo was visiting her.

She just stood there getting soaked to the bone with a smile. Karam sat there watching, the raindrops fall. He could hear her laugh in the pitter-patter of the drops. It warmed their hearts as the rain poured from the vaults of heaven. Rajjo was never going to leave them, she was in the raindrops, she was in the wind, she was in the scent of the jasmine, she was in the red kites floating in the sky and she was going to remain as long as the raindrops filled up the seas, for eternity.

Somewhere far away was a man who rowed a boat along the ghats of the Ganga, the evening sun colouring the river orange. The man and the woman sat staring at each other with so much love that it made his heart sing. After ages his throat opened to let the rusty musical notes out, the song he sang for his first love. He sang for the coral river, he sang for the birds, he sang for the two sanguine souls, he sang for the clouds. He sang until the raindrops washed away the tiredness in his soul and filled it with the colour of love.

Acknowledgements

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to express my gratitude to the people who saw me through this book; to all those who provided support, talked things over, read, wrote, offered comments, assisted in the editing, proofreading and design.

I would like to thank Amrita Chowdhury; my editor, Charlotte Merritt; and, the entire team at HarperCollins for enabling me to publish this book.

I want to thank my family – Mom, Prakash and Bons, who supported and encouraged me to finish this book.

And my sister Harman, who listens to all my stories with a smile. The good, the bad and the ugly.

About the Book

About the Book