Abhimanyu declined and proceeded to ask about the land ownership issues. Madhao informed him that nothing had changed since the day at the railway station. He had been shuttling from one government office to another without receiving a clear answer from any department. He was hoping for a quick resolution as the medical bills were piling up, and had also taken a loan from the jagirdars to buy some time. Abhimanyu apologized, saying that he hadn’t been able to look into the matter so far due to his own predicament, but assured Madhao that he would take it up soon after the elections. He explained that all he could do was lobby as it was a government issue, and not one that could be solved by the royal family. The old man understood, acknowledging the fact that thousands more like him were facing the same issues with no end in sight, which was the way things were when it came to the blurred rules of ownership disputes.

‘I appreciate your understanding,’ said Abhimanyu. ‘For now, all I can advise you to do is stack up your shop for tomorrow morning. I’ll be addressing the people at the nukkad.’

Abhimanyu’s impromptu plans had the thakur’s men scrambling through the night. Security arrangements were made as they raced against the clock. A shamiana was propped up next to the old man’s shop in the dead of the night. A printing press located two towns away churned out campaign posters and trucks were dispatched at the crack of dawn to bring in as many people as humanly possible to attend the campaign rally. Abhimanyu oversaw all the arrangements minutely through the night, until everything fell in place in the nick of time and he had one hour left to prepare his speech.

Both Uday Singh and Ajay Singh were rather surprised at seeing Abhimanyu so wholesomely involved in the campaign within days from the time he arrived in Ranakpour from New York. He had become the de facto face of Uday Singh’s campaign as Ajay Singh went off trail frequently when army duty called. For well over two years, Abhimanyu spent every waking minute preparing the strategy and execution of his father’s campaign. Through endless nights, through the shooting pain and splitting headaches caused by his barely manageable post-surgery wound, through the awkwardness and occasional shame and humiliation of undignified political wheeling and dealing, Abhimanyu’s fervour only grew with each passing day. The fallen prince had overcome his misfortunes and had found his footing, people contemplated.