‘I don’t blame you for what happened in the past. I never have,’ she said to Abhimanyu. ‘It was circumstance. But we’ll have ourselves to blame if we repeat the mistakes of the past.’ Moments passed in silence before Abhimanyu spoke. ‘Meera, I’ve been selfish. I understand what you’ve said, and god knows I love and respect you even more now than I did a few minutes ago. I don’t want you to give up anything for me. All I want is to be with you till the very end, if you’ll have me.’

‘I want to be with you too, and I am certain that life will show us a way to achieve that. Trust me, my love,’ said Meera, smiling at him. They spent the remaining days of their rendezvous in marvellous lightness, talking about everything they had missed out talking about, going to museums and Broadway shows, palatial hotels and curbside stalls, soaking it all in, stretching every moment. Rather than recreating the past, they lived in the moment. ‘Imagine a new, promising batsman cracking a cover drive for a boundary,’ Abhimanyu would reminisce later, likening life to cricket as he did often. ‘Ten years later, the same batsman hits the exact same cover drive with the same result. The shot would bring the same joy, but feel different. That’s how we felt. Not better, not worse. Just different.’ When the day arrived for them to fly back to Bombay, not an ounce of dread did they feel. The trip had given them a lifetime of memories to live by – they would have been more than happy to mine those moments even if they were never to meet again.

Chapter 25

Chapter 25

‘It seems smaller than I remember,’ Abhimanyu remarked in a quiet voice. He was looking over the Orient Club grounds from the lobby restaurant, seated opposite Ranjit Singh of Songadh.

‘It’s the optics, I guess. They added a few more stands,’ Ranjit Singh explained. That and a smattering of four-storied apartments that had cropped up on the west end of the grounds did make it look a little cramped. It was no longer the only piece of land challenging the Bombay shoreline. Abhimanyu couldn’t help but feel envious when he looked at his old friend. The tell-tale signs of a comfortable life had all but disappeared: his body was taut, his shoulder broad and square, not an inch of extra fat around his middle. He looked like the top-level batsman he was.

‘So, what’s the plan?’

Abhimanyu took a deep breath and went on to list a bunch of names.

‘Sayaji Bhindwal, HRH Madhaorao Alwar, Nizam Siddiqui of Allahabad, the Kartars of Bhiwandi. Ranjit Singh of Songadh. I could go on.’

Ranji Singh flashed a smile.