‘I have told those idiots not to keep rallies on any festival days or concerts or something that is entertaining the crowds somewhere else. Now they realize Maan Singh is performing in a nearby city! Idiots. That cuts my crowd further! Now how can a singer sing in this freezing weather? Why would people drag their arses out to hear him sing, why can’t they hear his audio tapes instead?’

Rajjo by now had understood the basic thing. They were supposed to fill in the seats by hook or by crook. Realizing her husband was a smart man with ample experience, Rajjo readily soaked in all that he had to offer.

Rajjo felt vibrant and alive for the first time in days. Last night, after Seth-ji was satiated and fallen asleep, Rajjo sat by the window staring at the mango tree and the red diary sitting in her lap. She thought of the lunatic professor who once lived here and wished she could meet him.

She smiled at her foolishness as Seth-ji caught her expression. ‘What are you so happy about today, my aunt is still alive!’ He cackled at his own joke.

‘You know I have read, a thing will continue to grow if it has an inherent pattern. All life forms have it. All plant life grows in patterns – an oak tree always grows taller and drops acorns and a baby will eventually grow taller and become a full person. I want to be an oak tree, grow taller – I don’t want to be a shrub…’ Rajjo had decided last night, that she was an oak tree, being a shrub was not how her story was going to end. She was going to learn and grow.

Just then Seth-ji’s nasal acrid voice cut in her thoughts. ‘Burn that red book you keep reading. That mad professor wrote in it. What happened? He went ballistic. I am going ballistic with the rally, and we can’t have three ballistic people in the same house, it will affect my real estate on the house…no one will buy it at a good rate!’

Rajjo just stared with an odd expression at the incoherent blabber Seth-ji spouted. He wearily sat on the dining table, rubbing his hand on his almost bald head. Just then the phone rang and Seth-ji barked into it impatiently.

‘How do we fill in the numbers? The villagers are not going to rain down from the skies, they ask for food, money, clothes! Madhuri Dixit is not descending upon the city that truckloads will throng the rally!’

Seth-ji, annoyed, slammed the phone yet again.

Rajjo placed a hot cup of tea on the table and muttered.

‘Offer them something they can’t resist’.

‘I am offering them something already, some money and free food. Now do I have to offer them my house and my head?’

‘Depends on whom are you offering all this to?’

Seth-ji turned to look up at his beautiful young bride.

‘Get the school children to fill up the seats. Offer them sweets and something cheap. Talk to the teachers. Where else are there numbers and big crowds? They will come for half the price of the villagers and fill up the crowds…’