Both Kuljeet and Arjan could not help but stare at the petite woman, driven by an unknown dark passion, her face carved in granite working around the compound; a wounded cygnet one would want to embrace.

‘There is something about her that worries me.’ Kuljeet said to Arjan.

‘Her quiet determination…,’ sighed Arjan.

Kuljeet did not know how to respond to this stubborn girl.

Rajjo moved without thinking. Her mind was numb to wetness or the unease, cramps or hunger. She was consumed by passion. All her movements were in tune with a desire and there was no deeper truth to what she had discovered for herself. Desire was the seed and cause of all movement. Desire was the starting and end point of action.

Rajjo was going to take her desire, seed it in a flower pot, nurture it and make it grow until she reached the end point.

Her ambition was written in gossamer prophecies: to become another Rani Maa.

August 1991

The rain pelted down. Monsoon currents from the Bay of Bengal were coming in hard and fast. People would be busy working in the paddy fields at this time. But even the thought of her village and home did not lift Rajjo’s sagging spirits. Rajjo had been here a month but she was still struggling to get past her kitchen chores and move on to something more mainstream. Moreover, Kuljeet had made her share a room with a girl called Asha. She was fair, in her early thirties, plump and surly. She prayed to God almost twenty times a day and had memorized every word of the holy book. She despised Rajjo as she had never seen her pray.

Once or twice Asha had broached the subject of God and divinity, only to hastily retreat as she sensed Rajjo’s stance. Since then Asha had written her off. One night as they slept, Asha curtly announced, lying in her little cot, that she would pray to God for Rajjo so he could forgive her impudence.

Rajjo had stuffed the bedsheet in her mouth to avoid a retort. If she was to stay on in the room and the ashram she had to keep her mouth shut and pretend to tolerate Godliness. But God was not the only reason for discord in the little room they shared. Asha snored loud enough for the whole village to hear. She had warned Rajjo about her sinus problem but now it was killing Rajjo. It was clear as daylight that Rajjo and Asha would never find friendship.

God and sinuses were not the only problems. Rajjo had taken a liking to a beautiful little flower pot gifted by a follower from Singapore. It was an exotic plant, and the devout had called it a fairy slipper. Rajjo loved the name as much as she loved the delicate pink flower with a white lip, dark purple spottings, and yellow beard. It was a dainty exquisite creation sprouting from the little pot and Rajjo had begged Arjan to let her keep it. But Asha was convinced the plant would kill her, as she was allergic to flowers and pollens.