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.

Rajjo glanced at a few empty chairs in the yard under the guava trees. A few patrons were leaving post the community lunch, some were mingling with the sewadars, enquiring about Rani Maa’s next visit. The only place left for her to check was the kitchen.

As Rajjo walked across, her heart started to beat faster. Would she let her stay and work? What if she refused, given Rajjo had not lifted a finger in the past few weeks. Even her disinterest in God was quite clear.

The large kitchen crammed with workstations, giant utensils, washing areas, buckets to chop vegetables and food stores welcomed her. Kuljeet was in the middle of it all, ordering around two sewadars who were taking stock of the pulses, oil, wheat and rice. She saw Rajjo entering the kitchen but ignored her. Rajjo stood in one corner waiting for her to finish. Then suddenly, in between her hectic instructions and ordering groceries, she paused and addressed Rajjo. ‘You will need to wear the white salwaar-kameez, like the other sewadars and take on their duties if you want to stay on…’ Kuljeet stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

Rajjo, shocked that she did not have to ask, nodded.