She saw him then. He was the first one to get out, and wore a white kurta over jeans and boots. He was devastatingly handsome and Rajjo knew him by name.

Harsh Vardhan Singh.

The crowd stirred into action, some moving forward with garlands. A haphazard welcome followed. Organizers and party workers jostled with each other to get closer to the guests, including her husband who was trying to move through the crowd to make his presence felt. The other man, slightly older than Harsh Vardhan, with a moustache and a serious expression, was the senior political leader who was going to give the speech. Harsh Vardhan Singh was being groomed to take over the reigns of his political dynasty.

Rajjo could feel something pass through her body. Did he look at her? Suddenly self conscious of how she looked and what she wore, she tucked a stray strand of hair covering her face. Little did she know she made a vision standing in the clear daylight, wearing a flowing blue salwaar kameez as clear as the wild blue yonder, her curls dancing around her heart-shaped face in excitement. Her blazing amber eyes captivating one and all.

He had spotted her in the crowd and walked straight up to her with a smile. He took the garland she held on to and thanked her, looking into her eyes with an arrested expression on his face.

‘Thanks…’

‘That’s not for you… actually it is for the other gentleman, I was told,’ blurted Rajjo.

Harsh Vardhan froze for a second and threw his head back and laughed. Rajjo, slightly self-conscious, her cheeks burning, tried to get the garland back lest he refused to return it. Harsh gently offered it to her and walked ahead. Rajjo’s eyes followed him. He turned one last time to look straight at her and then he was gone. Swallowed by the crowd.

She heard someone call out her name. It was Seth-ji. He was stewing with rage. But never did he raise his voice at his beloved wife. With a benign smile he asked her to let go of the garland as he wanted to use it to welcome the other idiot politician.

Rajjo quickly handed over the garland to Seth-ji. She was sure he had seen the exchange with Harsh Vardhan. There was a look on his face like he was going to make her pay for this. She could sense it in the smell of the gutter that rose to engulf her.

Running all the way back, her cheeks burning, Rajjo didn’t know why the interaction with Harsh had affected her so deeply. Why should she bother? They were strangers, ships passing in the sea, and the sea was so vast that they were not going to converge in this lifetime. With a heavy heart she lay down in the dark room with printed bed sheets, staring at the ceiling. She could feel the frosty blade against her breast; she had tucked it in her brassiere so she could feel its presence at all times.