‘Only for that one performance, sir,’ said Abhimanyu. He couldn’t help but smile, recalling the day when, as an unabashed fourteen-year old, he took Bhairo’s performance apart when asked for his opinion after a royal court performance his mother had arranged. His naiveté had been on full display in the presence of the stalwarts of his mother’s gharana.

‘Anyway, Meera, you can’t be good tonight,’ said Bhairo.

Meera looked puzzled.

‘Or else you’ll spoil my act.’ Abhimanyu and Bhairo laughed at seeing Meera blush.

Bhairo had put her at ease, enough for them to briefly chat about music. A genuine discussion with one of the greatest Hindustani classical vocalists did wonders for her confidence. Soon, she realized that she couldn’t let go of this incredible opportunity.

A few moments later, Meera sat by the microphone, ready for her big moment, as the curtains opened to reveal a crowd of hundreds. But she could spot Abhimanyu in an instance, looking right back at her with a reassuring smile. On that day, as he took in that diminutive figure on the stage, her nervous heartbeat ever so perceptible through the dull thumps of her slender, ivory neck, Abhimanyu knew that Meera Apte was finally where she belonged.

The fact that Meera’s performance was well received that night didn’t come as a surprise to Abhimanyu. There were some initial jitters, but she held her own. Abhimanyu could have told her about being more aware of the acoustics of the room – singing in a bedroom was not the same as performing on a stage. He could have given his honest feedback on how she could improve her riffs, or how to avoid the Marathi pronunciations and inflections that crept into her vowels. He could have dissected the performance in great detail. Instead, he professed his love to her in the ten-odd minutes he had with her while walking her from the backstage to the crowd that was waiting to congratulate her.

‘I have a confession to make,’ said Meera as they reached the verandah on their way back. ‘I am good at reading people, but I couldn’t have been more wrong about you. You’re not like others like you. You genuinely care about my family, and for that I am thankful. You might not think much of giving me a chance to sing tonight, but it means the world to me. For the past few years, all I ever wanted was to have a foot in the door. And despite of training so much and being so focused, those opportunities never came my way. You took a chance on me tonight – I cannot thank you enough.’

The usually shy prince was not bereft of a certain romantic flair when he gently put his finger against her lips, so close but still not touching her. Even in the darkness, Abhimanyu caught the glint of a tear in her eye. ‘Enough. You’ll walk out of this door with the world at your feet,’ he said. ‘You will have anything you want, any man you want.’ He paused to drop his finger and let his hands hang by his sides, palms open. ‘You said you can read people. Well, I’ll be an open book. From here on out, there’s nothing in this world I want more than to be with you, to wake up to your voice and see your face till the sun sets and beyond.’ Meera stood there motionless, except for the tear rolling down her cheek. ‘I am bad at this, Meera. So this is me humbly asking for you to consider a life with me. If you agree, I promise you my dedication towards you. If you don’t, you’ll see the last of me tonight. But know that I’ll be happy for playing a small, inconsequential part in your destined success.’