“You don’t understand, Bhai Sa,” I began, but stopped when a bitter smile crossed his face.
“You’re right. I don’t understand. I don’t understand how you can be a hero to the world and still let down the one person who depends on you. There will be other heroes for the country, Sam. But you’re Navya’s only hope.”
Bhai Sa passed away that night, but his words echoed in my ears long after I completed all his last rites. Long after my Rajyabhishek. He was right. I couldn’t abandon Navya to her mother’s care because Nilanjana would just pack her off to a boarding school and forget all about her.
So I did the right thing. I quit the army and tried to settle into my new civilian life. But I was never meant to sit at home and twiddle my thumbs. Thanks to a well-trained staff, the palace ran itself, as did our family chain of luxury hotels. They didn’t need any input from me. Which meant I had all the time on earth to brood about my last case. About the disaster that led to Mani’s death.
Hira Singh cleared his throat loudly and dragged me back to the present.
“Why are you still here?” I snarled.
“Pardon me, Hukum. But it’s not healthy to cut yourself off from the world like you have. Not for you, and definitely not for our little princess. This palace needs a new queen. And you won’t meet anyone if you’re locked in your study for the rest of your life,” he said firmly.
I would have liked to fire him for his insolence, but Hira Singh would just snort at me and go about doing his own thing. That was the disadvantage of having staff who had served your family for generations. They became more like your family than your real family. Hira Singh was more of a grandfather to Navya than Nilanjana’s own father, who hadn’t bothered to check on the child since Bhai Sa died.
“Hira Singh, is my new queen standing on the other side of that door?” I asked dryly.
“No, Hukum,” he replied.
“Then leave me alone until she is. And tell whoever it is to get out of my palace!”
“Is that any way to talk to an old friend?” asked a familiar voice from the doorway, and I whirled around in surprise.
My old Commanding Officer, Col. Bhagat, smiled and nodded at Hira Singh, who slipped out of the room as silently as he had appeared.
“Sir, this is an unexpected surprise,” I said, rising to my feet immediately.
Col. Bhagat returned my salute.
“I hope it isn’t an unwelcome one,” he said, as he lowered himself onto one of the comfortable wingback chairs in the centre of the room.
“Not at all,” I murmured, wondering why the grand old man of 10 Para was here at all.
Col. Bhagat was my CO when I was first deployed to the unit, and from there, he had gone to better and greater things.
He leaned back in his chair and looked around my study appreciatively.
“I expected to find you surrounded by scantily-clad concubines feeding you grapes by hand,” he said.
“You’re a hundred years too late for that, sir,” I replied, pouring him a patiala peg of my best single malt. “My grandmother kicked out the last of the concubines when she married my grandfather. The only person who feeds me grapes is my three-year-old niece.”
He looked me up and down critically and raised an eyebrow in enquiry.
“Are you done playing Maharaja, Deora?”
“I’m not playing at anything, sir. I made a promise to my brother and…”
“What about the promise you made to your country?” Col. Bhagat broke in sternly.
“I’ve paid my dues to the country, sir.”
“And what about the promise you made to your unit the night you lost Mani?” he asked, and my knees almost buckled with grief.
Ihadmade a promise to my men that night. Across Mani’s remains.
“I will find the man who did this,” I had growled. “And I will make him pay.”
That unfulfilled vow was the reason I spent every night in this bloody palace tossing and turning on the Mulberry silk bedsheets, awaiting the break of dawn. But Col. Bhagat had no way of knowing that. And I didn’t appreciate him using Mani’s death as a tool to get me back in the Special Forces.
