Rajjo walked up to Gurbaksha who was still moving non-stop, lifting heavy sacks, his face carved in stone, instructing the workers where to place the chairs on the stage. Rajjo quietly offered him a cup of tea. He continued to work as Rajjo stood there, willing him to look her in the eye and take the tea she offered to him.

Finally he reached out for the glass. Rajjo whispered, ‘It’s OK to just sit and breathe sometimes. It’s OK. Rumi says, “The sum of my entire life is no more than these three words. I was raw, I got cooked, I got burnt.”’

There was a look in his eye, like Rajjo had reached out to an old wound and eased the throbbing pain with a whiff of cool air. Gurbaksha went back to doing his work.

Before she could stop herself she blurted, ‘They are going to place the chairs on the stage. I was thinking if they did it in a semicircle it would be better, given the width of the stage here. It would look more aesthetic.’

Gurbaksha looked at her and nodded. Like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to follow Rajjo’s suggestions.

Rajjo walked towards the wooden platform and started helping the workers to figure out the right placement for the carpet.

Dusk was upon her as she worked away happily on the stage when she heard an appreciative whistle. It was Raahat, winking at Rajjo, raising the glass of tea as a toast!

Rajjo screamed at him, ‘Fuck you, Raahat. Get your ass here and do some work!’

He just chuckled.

Rajjo smiled as the sweet scent of victory clung to her. Gurbaksha had accepted her. His self-odious armour had been chipped.

Before she could rejoice a bit more, she spotted Kuljeet standing behind them. Her mouth readying for the next sting. She and a group of others, including the surly Asha and Arjan, had heard this exchange.

‘This is a religious commune; we serve in God’s name. If you live here you speak with dignity and responsibility…’

Kuljeet marched off with her army of followers. Rajjo and Raahat exchanged an amused look shared by Arjan. Rajjo was happy. She had escaped the oubliette of Kuljeet’s kitchen and she was never going back!

August 1991

The entire compound was alive with movement as they were hosting a two-day celebration event in the ashram for Rani Maa’s birthday, ending with her sermon. A special kirtan and snacks had been organized throughout the day. A chilled sweetened drink made of milk, sugar, rose essence and water was being distributed in the compound, and various kiosks had been especially built to offer food served on leaf plates.

Huge blocks of ice were being lugged around to keep the drink cool. Giant vessels brimmed with the milky liquid. It seemed to Rajjo that she and her sisters could easily dive in the huge containers and swim around in the icy cool fluid, the colour of pale pink butterflies that smelt of a rose garden.