She had to look for Kuljeet. She was the one who gave orders around here. People were not too fond of her, but they didn’t hate her either. They were just indifferent.

Rajjo went around the ashram looking for the familiar limping figure wearing her trademark woollen scarf in blue or military green colour over her white sewadar uniform. She could smell the food being cooked in the huge kitchen for the community lunch. It was a familiar, comforting smell.

As Rajjo walked the length and breadth of the ashram looking for Kuljeet, she once again stopped at the big black gate with a board that announced to the outside world, Shradha Swami Foundation! Rajjo walked through the corridors, peeping into the rooms alongside. The beds were occupied with people who were unwell. Rajjo had been on one of the beds till a couple of months ago. Some rooms were allotted to sewadars who stayed in the ashram. There were others, mostly volunteers, who visited from the nearby villages to pray and partake of the community meals.

Rajjo had also seen a few young armed men welcomed in the compound, given food and rest, only to slip out in the middle of the night like phantoms. Rajjo had not given it much thought. One moment she wondered what was happening in the world outside and then she did not want to bother.

She checked for Kuljeet in the administration wing, a large hall that had a cheap wooden table with some plastic chairs strewn around. A handsome man, all of thirty, sat behind the desk immersed in some papers. He wore a long blue robe. He was Arjan Singh, someone important. He had the kindest eyes and, like Kuljeet, he religiously read the holy book and offered his prayers. He had fair skin and a gentle voice. He towered over most people in the ashram and Rajjo often wondered how was he so contained and nimble even with such a huge frame. The day-to-day running of the ashram took place between Kuljeet and Arjan Singh.

Arjan smiled fondly at Rajjo, but despite making an effort Rajjo could not smile back.

‘I am looking for Kuljeet…’ She muttered.

‘She is in the langar ghar…,’ he spoke kindly as if he was talking to a scared child.

Rajjo was touched at the way he spoke. This handsome man with melting brown eyes, he was going to be in Rajjo’s life. She felt a warm breeze envelop her. It seemed as if there was a connect between him and the places she had known and liked while growing up, places familiar. Yes, he was going to be by her side. Rajjo shrugged the thought away, staying a second longer, examining that feeling. And then she left, securing her faded red shawl tighter.

Rajjo rushed to the langar ghar where food was being served to people sitting in rows on long red carpets on the floor next to each other. Rajjo could see used plates stacked up in one corner, indicating that the lunch service had ended.