~Intrigue.~

"And their eyes met mine in such a way. . . . ."

(आँख उन की लड़ी यूँ मिरी आँख से. . . . .)

************

यशोमती मैया से बोले नंदलाला,

राधा क्यों गोरी, मैं क्यों काला?

"You've got magic in your hands and voice, Kanak," Bahaar's words were accompanied by the soft creaking of the wooden swing where she sat, dressed in a burgundy silk saree, its pallu along with an expensive shawl wrapped snugly around her for warmth.

The cold nip of winter loitered in the air of the verandah, but the warmth of the morning sunlight gave away a gentle pardon.

In the same verandah, Kanak sat cross-legged on a mat spread across the marble floor.

बोली मुस्काती मैया, ललन को बताया. . . . .

Her slender fingers plucked at the strings of the sitar balanced across her lap, coaxing a melody to pair it with her soft voice.

Humming the song herself, Bahaar leaned back against the swing. The soft clinking of her gold bangles rang every time she lifted her teacup to her lips. "You should also play tonight in Tarush's Welcoming Party."

"At the party?" Kanak's hands stilled and she looked up, her eyes wide with uncertainty. "I. . . .I don't think I can. Sudha ne bataya tha ke bhut bade log aane wale hai aajraat ki dawat mein."

(Sudha mentioned that some important guests will be attending the party tonight.)

"That's true, but I know you can do it." Bahaar's lips curved into a soft smile. "Everyone will see how talented my niece is."

Kanak hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly. She wasn't used to such attention and the idea of performing in front of such upper-class people filled her with an unease.

But before she could voice her concerns again, Bahaar continued. "Tarush ko dekhne ka mauka bhi milega. Tum ab tak mili nahi na usse?"

(You'll also get to see Tarush. You still haven't met him, right?)

No, I have. And he doesn't seem like a kind person.

Grimacing internally, Kanak looked back at her sitar, pretending to focus on adjusting its strings, her mood turning sour just at the thought of him.

It's been a few days since that hunting incident, albeit still a little sad for the poor rabbit, she was feeling alright altogether until her aunt mentioned him again.

"I'm sure you must have heard a lot about the preparations for the party." A said sigh was taken from her aunt and Kanak moved her eyes back to her, nodding slightly.

"Yes, Sudha talked a lot about it. The entire estate has been in a flurry of activity even before I arrived, it seems."

"Yes, they're all eager to welcome Tarush. He's been away for so long, and now he's coming back as a grown man, educated, ready to take Charan's place."

Bahaar's smile grew wider, yet she seemed sad. "Charan isn't well these days after all. Grief really does turn people weak and hollow from the inside."

"I hope he will get better soon, Mosi." Kanak's face softened with sympathy at her plight.

"Hm. I hope so." Nodding, Bahaar took a slow sip of her chai again, her gaze seeming distant. "I married Charan a few months after Tarush's mother and elder brother had passed away in an accident."

"And he hates you because of that?" Kanak frowned again, confused.

"Kanak, it's not like Tarush hates me." Bahaar let out a soft chuckle, a hint of something else present in her tone --- a faint wistfulness, perhaps. "No, he doesn't hate me, but he doesn't like me either. I'm simply just one of the many faces around this estate for him."

Her fingers tightened slightly around her teacup. "That's why I stay here, and not in the main bungalow. I don't want his neutrality to turn into hate, thinking of me as a threat to anything he considered beloved."

That's why you didn't have children either - Kanak wanted to point it out but held herself back, staying silent instead while her fingers hovered over the sitar strings, her eyes staring at Bahaar.

And, all she saw was a woman desperately trying to be loved in the same way she loved others.

"I'll perform at the party tonight," Kanak offered Bahaar a smile, adjusting the sitar in her lap as she prepared to play again. "Because you want me to."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"At least pretend to enjoy your own welcome party. You look like you'd rather be anywhere else." Aditya nudged Tarush with his elbow, grinning.

Tarush raised his glass in a mock toast, the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint smile. "I'm here, aren't I? What more do you want?"

"He is just pulling your leg, Tarush," Robert spoke the obvious, loosening his suit tie while holding his champagne glass with the other.

The pair stood near a tall, arched window inside the grand hall of the badi haveli where Tarush's welcoming party was currently going on.

"I mean, guys, this celebration could use a little more excitement." Aditya shrugged and held up his own flute for a refill from the waiter who walked by.

"I'm sure you'll find a way to liven it up, Aditya." Tarush shook his head. The black bandhgala suit he wore complimented his broad shoulders and quiet, confident stance.

On the other hand, Robert chuckled softly. "Aditya's idea of excitement is probably breaking a champagne glass or a bottle of wine over someone's head." He took a sip, looking away before adding. "Not to mention being in headlines for tomorrow's newspaper."

Chuckling along, Tarush nodded in agreement with Robert's statement before his eyes found that of his father, Charan Maurya, who sat in a plush armchair nearby, his frail form partially covered by the throng of guests. The years had taken their toll on him, and his health had been declining with each passing day.

Silently, Tarush watched him as he gestured occasionally to the guests who approached him, a light smile adorning his mouth as he received their well-wishes.

"Hey!" Aditya retorted. "But speaking of excitement-" He stopped, his eyes narrowing as he looked toward the entrance. "Who's that?"

Tarush followed his line of sight, raising his glass intuitively, the polished surface of the glass catching Kanak's figure as she entered.

She wore a shimmering white anarkali that seemed to glow under the chandelier's light, gathering everyone's attention. Her dupatta, adorned with silver threads and resting on her shoulder, cascaded like a veil made from the stars of the very galaxy.

Her hair was braided and adorned with tiny jasmine flowers, and her movements were graceful yet slow as she stepped further into the hall, her sitar cradled carefully in her arms.

But it wasn't her attire that drew Tarush's gaze --- it was her eyes. Those baby blue orbs searching the crowd for someone familiar.

Kanak.

He recognized her immediately, the memories of the hunting day flashing in his mind - though he didn't know why. It was new, something weird.

She's just another face.

He took a sip from his glass, letting the liquid burn his throat as if to dismiss his thoughts.

Just another voice.

Yet, deep down, he knew it wasn't true.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The deeper she walked into the hall, the more Kanak's steps hesitated, her fingers gripping the sitar's neck more tightly than necessary.

The weight of so many eyes on her was unnerving. She had never performed for such a large gathering, let alone one so grand and full of strangers.

Yet, she exhaled softly, forcing herself to focus when her eyes briefly found Bahaar, who gave her a reassuring nod and a warm smile from her seat near Charan.

But when her gaze accidentally met Tarush's, she felt a jolt.

His expression was unreadable, his charcoal grey eyes sharp and inexorable, locked onto hers as though they were searching for something.

Her throat felt dry, her heartbeats quickening as memories of the hunting day came flooding back --- the crack of the gunshot, the lifeless rabbit, and the coldness in Tarush's voice.

And now, here he was again, watching her with the same unnerving intensity like back then.

Shaking her head, she quickly looked away while the murmurs in the hall quieted as she sat cross-legged on the small platform prepared for her performance.

Adjusting the sitar on her lap, she let her fingers hover over the strings, her eyes scanning the crowd nervously. Her aunt, Bahaar, offered her another encouraging smile. And taking a deep breath, Kanak plucked the first string.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Tarush?" Aditya's voice cut through his thoughts. "You're staring."

Tarush's brows furrowed feebly, and he turned his head away. "No, I'm observing."

It was a lie.

His eyes returned to her almost immediately, drawn not to her appearance but to the subtle movements of her lips.

Her lips, they moved slightly as if rehearsing something in her mind before the first vocal of her song sounded, and the sight stirred something inexplicable in him.

His grip on his glass tightened, the crystal rim catching the edge of his lower lip while his focus just remained fixated on her eyes and lips as if they held a secret - one which only he could uncover.

She is nervous.

He thought, noticing the faint tremble in her hands. And yet, she went on, singing and playing her instrument with such skill that no one else seemed to notice.

When her baby blue eyes met his grey ones again, his lips curved into a vague, almost mocking smile.

It's just a fleeting weird coincidence. It's nothing.

Finally, he took another sip of the champagne in his flute. His gaze stayed glued to Kanak's face, tracing the curve of her lips as they kept moving, singing.

And it will pass soon.

Nothing will change.

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Q - How was the chapter, people?

Short. I know. Sorry, it's an exam week :⁠^⁠)

Anyway, don't forget to complete the target and I'll update soon, okay?

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