They could hear the important guest and Seth-ji discussing politics. While Rajjo waited for the fried potatoes to heat before she could serve them, she stole a moment to think about him. Harsh Vardhan. Her mind wandered around the man who had come down from the skies in the chopper. There was something about the way he’d held her gaze. It was the same feeling she had when she had guzzled her first glass of alcohol in the cold winter.

Rajjo peeked at the guest again through the green curtain.

As she made a trip to the drawing room once again, she sensed an odd stench that hovered around their guest like an old wet blanket. The minister was a burly bearded man with glasses, more fit to be a wrestler than a politician. Rajjo caught him leering at her lustfully as he sipped his drink.

Rajjo went inside again to serve another round of fried snacks and she could feel the guest’s insolent gaze all over her.

Jasbir initiated some conversation with Rajjo about her village and the weather, but she deliberately kept her head down and the conversation to a minimum as she served some paneer.

Somehow her heartbeat had picked up pace and she could feel herself sweating in the cold dead night. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She could smell a foul wound festering – but could not understand her discomfort. She was aware of the tension in the room as Seth-ji watched them. And then as she passed Jasbir his hand accidentally brushed her back and went lower. Rajjo looked at her husband who merrily ignored the act, nursing his drink and swaying to a classical Punjabi number that belted out from a giant stereo covered with a white embroidered scarf.

Rajjo hurriedly retired into the kitchen. Relieved to find Kesar, wrapped in reams of warm clothing, guzzling down the dinner Rajjo had given him to eat.

It was time for the main course to be laid out.

Seething from Jasbir’s impudence, Rajjo reached for the jar of fiery ground red chillies, took a spoonful and sprinkled it in one of the main dishes. Kesar watched with his mouth agape, and his hand frozen midway. Rajjo winked at him as she took the food out to serve.

She came back inside the kitchen where Kesar waited for her with a worried look. Just then a bout of coughing followed. Rajjo did not move as Kesar hurriedly wiped his hands on a rag and ran out with a jug of water and a few glasses.

From what Rajjo could hear it seemed they both were coughing their lungs out. Rajjo bit her lower lip to stop the urge to chuckle. It felt good. The high of the drink made consequence seem like a fuzzy detail.

Kesar came back with a worried look. Rajjo wanted to share a hearty laugh. She turned to peek from the jaded green curtains through the haze of cigarette smoke and crooning of the old song. She could see Jasbir wiping his mouth with the handkerchief. His eyes were watering and his nose was an angry shade of red.