The Authentic Self

The Authentic Self

Heer took a tour of Shakti’s new place surprised at his choices. Space was decorated in shades of white and beige with dark shade furniture that provided a cosy feel to the apartment. Everything had been placed in a way that there was enough space left to roam around all over. Her favourite space was the near the balcony that had a sofa seat overlooking the balcony, beside it was a coffee table and in the corner, there stood a guitar.

“That’s one of my favourite spaces,” Shakti joined her. He was holding a drink for her that she accepted.

“The other favourite space is the mini-library/study over there,” he pointed at the living room whose one corner had been turned into a mini-open study. A teak wood desk was placed by the large window with shelves behind and a bookshelf on the side.

“That is actually cool,” she told him as he showed her the rest of the place. 

As per his Badimaa’s wish, Shakti was hosting a housewarming party for his family and friends. At first, he was not sure about inviting Heer but then in a spur of the moment, he texted her and invited her over a text message. A part of him wanted Heer to know the real Shakti- the guy who did not wish to chase royal titles. He was just an ordinary guy who wished to be like his father and hoped that his Maasa would accept and love him unconditionally.

“I’m sorry,” Heer spoke up softly as they sat together, “I heard about Sajja aunty’s reaction”. He nodded his head recalling the way his mother had broken ties with him, Badimaa and Kakosa. 

He also knew that his parents had an ugly fight because his father was staying in one of the properties under Sisodia-Songara group.

“Shakti play us something,” one of the guests spoke up as others joined too. He walked over to the corner and picked up his guitar.

Heer sat spellbound as he strummed the strings of his guitar. He looked relaxed, carefree and completely different than the guy she had met in the early days of their engagement. Later, as she sat in her bedroom wondering if she was living life as her authentic self or was she following things that her mother dictated to her.

Meerabai was scared and agitated at the same time. After all these years, that name had managed to enter her life again. The name she wished to get rid off completely refused to let go and haunted her every step of the way.

Bhaisahab was in Chandini Chowk for a meeting in a space owned by Chauhans. I mean if it was a business meeting, wouldn’t they meet at the office or at least a respectable space of his stature and not an old rundown building in one corner of Delhi.

I have heard Chauhan’s have been invited for the fundraiser as well as the ball.

“No”, she thought scared at the prospect of him running into them at the events. “He would leave everything behind to be with them.”

She was well-aware of her position in his life. He had always respected her, treated her kindly and fulfilled his role as well as duties that came along with it.

“He loved her and he still loves her,” her conscience reminded her. “They never came in between anyone it was you who took him away from them”

“No” she threw a vase at her vanity’s mirror. As the mirror shattered into several pieces, all Meera could see was her face in the broken shards. A face that she was unable to recognise anymore.

Surajgarh

The butler ran through the corridors holding medicines for his master. His master old yet stubborn was a man with a razor-sharp mind and a memory that compete with the brainiacs but when it came to medicines and healthy stuff, he became a child. A child that only wanted his favourite dishes and no medicines.

“Now, aim properly,” the elderly man told the children who held slingshots in their hands, “as soon as you see the target, attack”.

The butler came to a halt at the sight of children holding slingshots aimed at the fruit-laden trees. He sighed as his master and the children made the gardener run in circles with their toys and antics.

“Hukum,” he called out to his master who looked at him with the same smile that he had shown him as a child. Sangram Singh Songara-Sisodia was a name renowned in the whole of Rajputana for his liberal thoughts and actions. Everyone had been surprised as he had taken on his daughter-in-law’s surname after his only son’s wedding and successorship to royalty.

The Sisodia’s’ were also a royal family but lesser ones and their ancestors had given up on their titles at the time of independence. He had been raised as an ordinary kid but as soon as he turned 13, some people had rallied for the family and begged them to take charge of the village- their home. So, after living carefree for the first 13 years of his life, Sangram Singh became the son of a royal family (in the name). For him, a title never meant anything and he lived life as he had always- as his authentic self.

“Hukum, Khan sahib will be arriving any moment,” his butler reminded him as they walked back to the nearly renovated haveli.

“Good, set the chessboard,” he told him in his deep baritone voice, “today is the day, I will defeat that Khan once and for all.”

The butler nodded his head before taking out an envelope, “Hukum this arrived from Bijolia.”

Sangram Singh took the enveloped and smiled at the seal, “time have changed but your way of wishing me still remains the same.”

Inside the envelope was a handwritten letter by Hansabai wishing the elder on his birthday. He opened an intricately carved wooden box kept hidden from others that contained all of her letters. In the time of video calls, text messages, and social media, only Hansa maintained her way of communication but that was the way for her- it was her authentic self.