It was a cold day Rajjo woke up to. Grey and dull with the temperature dropping to 12 degrees outside, Rajjo shivered inside the house. The puny heaters plugged next to the bed and layered clothing were the only solace against the biting cold.

The overcast sky loomed as she collected the damp clothes from the terrace. She would have to put the fan on in one of the rooms to dry them and get rid of the musty smell. But how could she get rid of the sense of foreboding she was feeling within? It had been there from the moment she had woken up today. Rajjo had pushed it far behind in her brain, so that the warm scent of the handsome man would take over. Thinking about him made the chores and the sense of unease bearable. It amused Rajjo that she drew comfort from this stranger on a cold grey winter morning.

As she glanced at the calendar she also realized it was the last day of the year. She removed the calendar and shoved it in a drawer. The passage of time irked her.

With a sigh she focused on preparing for the dinner tonight. Out of curiosity she had found out more about the minister visiting them. She had learnt he was a powerful man, a promising candidate, looking after an important portfolio in the party. He was associated with important issues like women’s rights and health care. Seth-ji had proudly informed Rajjo how Jasbir Singh had been known to him for a long time and was going to help him with his political ambition and cable TV business.

Rajjo sneezed again. She could feel a headache creeping up.

She was feeling under the weather with the chilly winds, or perhaps something else. She found some time to dig into her trunk and visit her red diary before she had to prepare everything.

Just then the old grandfather’s clock tinkled. Another hour had gone by, it was almost six and time for Rajjo to be ready for the evening. Her dinner party was arriving at eight-thirty.

She could hear the birds flying homeward, reminding her of walking back home along the little canal that ran through their village after sunset with her siblings. She shrugged the thought away and lit up the gas with a matchstick, hoping Seth-ji would be satisfied with her efforts for the evening.

Strains of a classical song could be heard from somewhere inside the house along with the smell of Rajjo’s cooking. The dinner guest had arrived and was happily devouring the snacks prepared by Rajjo while she served them drinks. She had mastered the art of fixing a glass of whisky just the way her old husband liked it. She hated the pungent smell of whisky but sometimes she gulped it down when Seth-ji was not looking. The burning sensation warmed her from head to toe. As she stood on the kitchen counter making another round of drinks for the men, she gulped down yet another neat little peg of whisky. Kesar, who was chopping onions for the salad, chuckled. It was their little secret.