Pallavi looked around her, sipping on her third glass of thandai. The entire lawn of RR Mansion had been converted into a grand Holi playground. People thronged brightly coloured stalls offering a variety of sweets and chaats. The heaps of gulaal thalis were being replenished at astonishing speed by the assistants. Children ran around, jumping into huge water tubs and splashing everyone in sight. It was loud, and joyous and Pallavi was calmly soaking all of it in.
She shivered in her wet ivory lehenga choli, grateful for the warmth of the sun. The sprinklers had been reprogrammed to douse unsuspecting guests at random intervals, and she had been the latest victim. Not that she minded. Pallavi loved Holi and all the merriment associated with the festival of colour. She felt an inexplicable joy in her heart on this day, a blooming hope that everything would be better in her world.
Exchanging pleasantries with yet another guest that she had never seen before, her eyes caught Farhad’s across the ground. Surprised at his presence, she excused herself. Clad in a simple white kurta, he reached behind him on the table for some gulaal as she approached. “Happy Holi, Vahini,” he greeted her with an endearing smile and applied a bright yellow colour on her cheeks.
“Happy Holi, Farhad,” she returned the gesture affectionately. “Aap apne Anna ke saath nahi gaye Bangalore? That’s surprising! Yeh jaadu kaise hua?”
Grinning, he offered her another glass of thandai. “Woh aapki dhamakedaar entry ne kal Raghav Anna ko hila diya. He couldn’t finish the work on time and ab sab mujhe karna hai aaj.” He gave her a mock glare. “Yaad rakhunga main yeh hisaab, Vahini.”
“This is just the beginning. Aapke Anna ke pair ke neeche se zameen na khiska di toh mera naam bhi Pallavi nahi.”
A suspicious glint entered his eyes. “Aisa kya karne wali hain aap?”
“Dekhte rahiye,” she leaned towards him conspiratorially. “Kahani abhi baki hai, mere dost.”
He gave an uneasy smile, his brown eyes turning serious. “Vahini, aapko ek unsolicited advice doon?”
“Hmm?”
“Please be careful. Anna’s rage is dangerous and not to be underestimated.”
Pallavi felt a prickle of fear run down her spine. Could Farhad know something about her outrageous plan? Before she could formulate a response, a wave of dizziness washed over her. It vanished as soon as it appeared. She shook her head, wondering if she was getting a sun stroke. The odd sensation overwhelmed her for a moment, and then simmered into a dreamlike thrum in her mind. She staggered slightly, raising a trembling hand to her head.
What the hell?
Perspiration trailed down her back, more ticklish than usual. The sun suddenly felt harsh on her skin. Her tongue was like sandpaper in her mouth. As she turned to Farhad, his concerned visage began to shift in front of her eyes, alarming her. “Wh-what is happening to you? Ek jagah ruko na, Farhad!”
“Huh? Kya?” She blinked rapidly, stumbling back a few steps. Farhad raised a steadying hand towards her, his face an anxious mask. “Vahini, are you okay?”
She sank down on a nearby chair, her gaze turning unfocused. There was a strange ringing in her ears as slowly the world around became dreamlike. She took a proffered glass of water thirstily, closing her eyes in ecstasy as the cool liquid hit her parched throat. Pallavi was hyper aware of everything, and yet nothing at all.
This, she struggled to think for a moment. This is bliss. Oh, that rhymed!
She chuckled to herself.
Someone was saying something, but it receded into a gentle background buzz. She stared at the bottom of the empty glass in her hand, wondering if the remaining droplets felt rejected by her. Should she try to drunk…no, drank…drink them too?
“Vahini, aap…” Farhad was saying something. He was a good man. She should listen. But first things first.
She tried to lift the glass, but her hand felt too heavy. Well, she mused, perhaps it is the destiny of these tiny droplets to soar towards the skies and then, fall like rain for me.
She really liked rain.
Pallavi gave a happy little wriggle at the thought.
“Hello?” Farhad waved in front of her face. “Aap sunn rahi hain na?”
“Zor se…Nahi, zoooorrrr se boliye,” she giggled, slurring the words. Brows furrowed, he repeated the sentence. “Mi aapan aiku shakat naahi. I can’t hearrrr youuu.”
His confounded expression at the Marathi and sing song voice was comical. Pallavi laughed, waving cheerfully at some more strange guests. “Farhad, aapne ‘begaani shaadi mein Abdulla deewana’ suna hai?” she gestured wildly, nearly falling out of the chair. “Apni Holi mein bhi waise hi deewane begaane bulaye hain aapke Annane. Hai kaun yeh log?” She hiccupped, waving at more people. “Hi everyone, I am your hostress…oops, I mean hostess. What a funny word. Why is English so hard?”
At Farhad’s sudden silence, she looked back at him. He was gesturing at someone and raising his hands to the sky for silent help. Highly offended, she followed his gaze. And then froze.
There, a little way ahead, in the shade of the mango trees, stood an unmistakably masculine figure. She rubbed her eyes, her mind struggling to catch up. Dressed in a traditional cream dhoti kurta, a tall man was staring straight at her, looking aloof and formidable.
Raghav, her treacherous heart skipped a beat. Raghav…
She stood gingerly, ignoring Farhad’s protests. “Raghav?” she uttered, his name an anguished longing.
He is here.
He came.
“Vahini?” Farhad placed a placating hand on her shoulder. “Aapki tabiyat theek nahi hai. You should sit down.”
“No,” she turned to him, swaying on her feet. “You didn’t tell me Raghav aaya hai?! Why? Surprise tha?” Her face lit with pure joy, she looked back towards the trees. And then gaped in disappointment.
He wasn’t there anymore.
She stepped forward unsteadily, scanning the busy surroundings. She had seen him, she was sure of that. The sun’s glare made her shield her eyes, trying to spot a tall figure among the revelers dancing on Rang Barse.
“Pallavi Vahini,” Farhad spoke forcefully, coming to stand in front of her. “You need to sit down! Aapko chot lag jayegi.”
“Farhad, Raghav hai idhar. Aapne jhooth kyun bola mujhe?” she hiccupped, stumbling against a table. “Humari pehli Holi hai aaj.”
“What are you saying?” Farhad pinched the bridge of his nose, looking very much like he was praying for patience. “Raghav Anna Bangalore mein hain abhi. Idhar kaise ho sakte hain? Vahini, lagta hai aapne bhaang wali thandai pi li hai. You need to sit down.”
“Bhaang?” She tested the word on her tongue. It meant something, but she couldn’t quite focus on it yet. Pallavi allowed Farhad to push her down gently on a nearby chair.
“Yes, please sit here. I will get some lemon soda for you, okay? Don’t move!”
She pouted in dismay as Farhad walked away. He was lying to her, she was sure of that. She had seen Raghav. He had come for her. The piles of coloured powders on the table caught her eye. “Ghamandi Rao. Rang hi toh lagana tha mujhe. Thoda ruk nahi sakta tha,”she huffed. “Veda manus.” For some reason, that Marathi phrase seemed funnier than the English words. She giggled to herself.
“Pallavi.”
That voice.
Her name.
Was there a more beautiful devastation?
She closed her eyes, the syllables in that deep timbre ringing long in her thoughts. This sound was her ecstasy and her pain. Her salvation and pure destruction. A dichotomy that existed within her very soul.
“Pallavi Rao!”
She startled, wincing and holding her head as the world spun around her. It was a kaleidoscope behind her eyes, a place where she spun deeper and deeper in a never-ending spiral.
An eternity later, when the spinning faded, she gathered the strength to lift her eyes. Raghav’s tall silhouette was in front of her, blocking the sun. “Can you hear me? Tum theek hai?”
She stared at him, slowly closing and opening her eyes. “Tumhe kisi ne bataya hai that you are very very tall? Like a Euca…lyptus tree. You can eclipse the sun and the sky…and the moon and the stars too…raat ko, of course.”
“Of course,” he agreed dryly, slipping his hands in his kurta pockets. The posture was so endearingly him that it brought a soft smile to her lips.
Raghav’s visage was shrouded in shadows, but she greedily raked her eyes down his form. What if he disappeared again? She didn’t want to spend this Holi without him anymore.
“I think we should head inside now,” he broke the silence, an unusual tenderness in his voice. “Tumhara haalat theek nahi lag raha hai, saree ka dukaan. Zyada thandai pi liya tumne?”
“But I am the hostess!” she spread her arms with flourish, standing up for emphasis. Raghav caught her elbow as she teetered. “Main kahin nahi jaungi. Not until the last man…or woman…or child…” she hiccupped again, waving an admonishing finger under his nose. “…is standing. Captains go down with the ship. Titanic nahi dekhi tumne?” She blew an errant lock of hair away from her face. It fluttered in the air, before settling back against her lips.
An amused smile graced his mouth as he tugged her closer. She noticed the long shadows of his eyelashes falling across his cheeks. He had such beautiful eyelashes.
“That’s very brave of you. But you are a hostess, baby. Not a captain…” he murmured, brushing the strand away from her face. She trembled as he tucked it safely behind her ear. “Hostess agar ghar nahi jayega toh guest toh idhar hi tent gaad dega na.” His knuckles ran down her cheek, dark brooding eyes lifting to hers.
“Stop being a soilsort…spoil sport,” she scowled, stepping away from his distracting touch. “Aaj Holi hai, don saheb. We can’t just leave! Humko toh celibate…I mean, shelly brate…karna hai. Oh wait, yaad aaya. Mujhe tumhe bhi toh rang lagana hai!”
“Pallavi, no-“
She pivoted exactly as Raghav extended a restraining hand. His fingers caught in her blouse’s dori, the strings coming swiftly undone. Pallavi whirled in horror, looking comically thunder struck. “You…” she squeaked. “You…!” Sentences eluded her, her outrage contained within that one word. Raghav looked as astounded, watching her cover her chest in intoxicated confusion instead of her bare back.
He raised a placating hand, approaching as if she was a skittish cat. “Listen…Main yeh fix kar sakta hai.” Her eyes glared daggers as he stepped closer. Pallavi backed away in response. His nostrils flared in irritation. “Don’t act like a child. Where is your bloody dupatta? Stay still and turn around. I will fix-”
Before he could complete the sentence, she was running. “Pichi ammayi,” he swore under his breath, watching his wife’s smooth back in full display for others. This woman would be the death of him!
Pallavi stumbled into and past startled guests. A couple of them turned to greet her, their greeting turning to startled cries as a rogue sprinkler sputtered to life. The tail end of the shower doused her again, much to her dismay. People scattered away from the water, laughing and joking gaily. Grateful for the distraction, she rushed into the garden shed, closing the door in blessed relief.
When she turned around, her eyes grew huge. Rows and rows of gulaal thalis, water gun packets and other Holi paraphernalia were scattered around the small room. Cartons lined all corners, piled high towards the ceiling. The hem of her lehenga became stained with dirt as she dripped water all over the dusty floor. The shed was dimly lit, with only one window open towards the other side of the garden. A musty smell in the air immediately made her feel claustrophobic.
She hurried towards the open window, gulping in a lungful of fresh air. Beads of perspiration dotted her forehead. She was drenched but feeling hotter than ever.
“Pallavi? Are you okay?”
Pallavi turned at her husband’s voice, panic rushing through her veins. Raghav’s large form blocked the door, before he shut and locked it. “What-what are you doing? Lock kyun kar rahe ho?”
He walked towards her slowly, hands raised in surrender. “Tumhara jaisa hi aur log hai bahar. I am just trying to help one crazy ziddi person at a time.”
She swallowed, feeling the cool air against her bare back. “I-I am…scared,” she admitted softly, gazing into his eyes with naked vulnerability. He stopped a few steps from her, an inscrutable expression on his face.
“Mere se?”
“Shayad,” she answered honestly, taking in a deep breath. “Kuch samajh nahi aa raha hai.” She veered towards the window, clutching the bars tightly. “I feel…cornered. Trapped. Ek darr hai bahot dinon se. Aisa lagta hai ki ek hawa ka jhonka aayega aur apne saath meri duniya uda le jayega.”
“Are you talking about your ex-husband again?”
The glacial edge to his words made her wheel in surprise. She sucked in a breath at the glittering menace behind his irises. “You want to go to him. That’s it, isn’t it?”
She shook her head, distracted by the play of lights behind him. The more she stared, the darker the shadows became, as if winning in an invisible fight. Would they consume her if she stayed?
“Answer me, Pallavi.” Raghav cupped her cheeks, bringing her gaze back to his. Her heart thumped frantically, as he loomed over her like a monster. “You want to go back to Mandaar. You believe ki woh zinda hai. Iss liye jab tumereku pata chala ki main Bangalore jaa raha hai, toh tumne kal raat hi apna suitcase pack kar liya.” His fingers lingered over her jaw, before disappearing under the heavy mass of her hair. “Kab jaane wala tha tum mereko chod ke?” His words were mere breath, hanging heavy in the small space between them.
She shivered, partly with fear and partly with irresistible desire. He massaged the base of her scalp, his touch unravelling and holding her in a timeless loop. Pallavi placed a hand over his chest. “Raghav, main-“
“Kab?!” he bellowed suddenly, his eyes shining with merciless rage. She uttered a cry of surprise as his hand twisted in her hair painfully. “Aaj? Kal? Kidhar jaane wala tha tum aisa chupke? You thought I will not come to know?” She pushed at him feebly, her arms feeling like dead weights.
“Stop it,” she cried out. “Mujhe dard ho raha hai. Please…Stop it…” She raised teary eyes to his baleful ones, wanting nothing more than to curl up like a wounded animal.
He let go of her with a guttural growl. She shrieked as he punched a carton, sending a motley of colours tumbling down to the ground. The dust sent her into a coughing fit. It was everywhere…under her feet, on her clothes, in her eyes. Swirling in her lungs. She sank down to the floor, her hands clutching her throbbing head.
“Pallavi?” She felt Raghav drop down beside her. “Kya hua? Is it your head?” He sounded frightened. She would have laughed if she could gather enough breaths. He patted her back soothingly, drawing her into his arms. “I am sorry…I am so sorry…” She clutched his sturdy arms, taking comfort from the very man who had hurt her.
“I am scared,” she sobbed, hiding her face against his warm chest. “My head hurts. Saans nahi aa rahi hai. I don’t know what is happening to me, Raghav. I don’t want to die. Please…” She inhaled his scent, her breathing harsh and panicked.
He held her closer, rocking her in an age-old rhythm. “Hush, darling. You are not going to die,” The steady beat of his heart seemed to centre her. She focused on the rhythmic sound. He placed a kiss against her head. “Sab theek ho jayega. It is just the bhaang playing with your mind. Kuch ghanton mein theek ho jayega. I promise. Just don’t panic, okay?”
She nodded, lapsing into a soothing silence. He stroked her hair, humming an unfamiliar song. The vibrations made her drowsy, her breathing getting slower and deeper.
“Raghav?” she murmured sleepily after a while.
“Hmm?”
“Maine bhaang nahi pi hai.”
He chuckled softly. She felt the rumble through his chest, rousing her from the sleepy trance. “Not intentionally, I know. Holi mein log aisa masti karta hai. Thandai mein bhaang dal deta hai. Tumko aadat nahi hai, isliye tum panic kar raha hai.”
Pallavi lifted her head, almost fearful of meeting his eyes again. “Tumhe kaise pata ki maine bhaang pi hai?”
Raghav smirked. “Mereko pata hai tum sanki hai, saree ka dukaan. But itna bhi nahi ki aaj ka special performance notice na karoon.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Main sanki toh tumhare performance ko kya kahenge?”
She immediately regretted touching the volatile topic again. Raghav untangled himself from her, raking an agitated hand through his hair. He got to his feet, pacing the room like a caged beast. His lips moved silently as if he talked with himself.
Pallavi stood up slowly, leaning against the wall for support. Watching him was making her nervous again. Whatever he was debating, she prayed that the rational side would win this time.
“Pallavi…” he exhaled tiredly, pausing in front of her. “I don’t want to scare you. But mereko mera jawaab hona.” His probing gaze pinned her to the spot. “Tum samaan pack karke kidhar jaane ka plan kar raha tha?”
She swallowed, bracing for an explosion. “I-I can’t tell you.” A muscle ticked in his jaw as he stared at her silently. “But I promise main kuch galat nahi karne jaa rahi thi. In fact…sahi karne jaa rahi thi. You-you deserved it.” She finished lamely, averting her eyes. This was her secret, a safe place she dared not reveal at present.
“I almost didn’t believe it…” he whispered, as if more to himself. “You…you planned to leave me.” The haunted look on his face tugged on her heart strings. There was a wild terror in his dark eyes that she had seen just once before – the day when he had had a panic attack in the temple stampede.
He stumbled back as she reached for him, bumping into the boxes behind him. It dislodged another gulaal thali, sending it clattering to the floor.
Pallavi turned her head instinctively, avoiding the flying powder. When the dust settled and she looked at him again, sudden horrified laughter escaped her mouth at the sight. His impeccably groomed hair and movie star face was coated with a layer of bright pink dust. She giggled, unable to stop even at his ferocious glare. He shook his head like a dog, trying to brush the offending colour off him.
“It suits you,” she couldn’t help adding. “Happy Holi, Ghamandi Rao.”
“Shut up,” he bit out, looking around for a duster or a mirror or a usable cloth.
She watched him search, a mischievous gleam in her smoky grey eyes. Pallavi edged sideways, towards the other rows of colour. Quickly grabbing fistfuls of a darkened indigo, she inched towards him, her hands behind her back.
On the count of three, she coached herself internally, watching him swat his pinkened dhoti ineffectually.
One…He opened the supplies cupboard.
Two…He cursed in Telugu as items began toppling to the floor.
Three!
Just as she pounced, Raghav spun, catching her wrists reflexively, inches from his face. She groaned in disappointment. His nostrils flared as he glanced at her coloured fists, the powder falling between the cracks. “Tumko lag raha hai tum koi panther ka species hai? Itna awaaz se stealth attack kaun karta hai?”
“Main,” she sighed forlornly, imploring him with puppy eyes. “Colour lagane do na mujhe. Already Hello Kitty ke brand ambassador lag rahe ho. Aaj Holi hai, Raghav!”
“Madam,” he pursed his lips, shaking her wrists to dislodge more powder. “This is hard colour. Do hafta tak colour nahi jayega. Confiscated item hai from one of the guests. Raghav Rao ka party mein only organic colours are allowed. Yeh sab nonsense nahi.” He made her open her fists and drop the rest of the powder. “Aur mereko koi colour nahi hona. I don’t play Holi.”
“You are no fun.”
She didn’t like the answering glint in his eyes. “I can be fun,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb against the inside of her wrist. “Tum mauka kahan deta hai mereko.” Her pulse throbbed in response to his provocative touch.
“Jhooth,” she breathed, tugging her hands free. “You don’t want me. Itna pata hai mujhe.”
“Is that what you think?”
“I know this. Why else would you avoid me for so long?”
“Why else, indeed.”
In a couple of long strides, Raghav caught her shoulders, spinning her roughly towards the window. Ignoring her startled exclamation, he gathered her damp hair up and over one shoulder. Cool air raised goose bumps on her naked back. She could feel his eyes moving down her body. It gave her a strange thrill.
Pallavi’s breath hitched as he trailed a finger over her spine, tracing the contours like a connoisseur. “You have the softest skin,” his words were a husky whisper. “Almost like…satin.”
He placed his hands on either side of her shoulder blades, igniting a heady rush of lust in her body. In the slowest…most torturous pace, she felt his palms travel down her bare skin. “I lie awake at night, thinking of you,” he murmured against her ear, pressing his thumb caressingly on her lower back. “…wondering if I should touch you this night. Whether you would let me. And if you do, would I be able to stop at just a touch…or would it take a kiss…the taste of you on my tongue…”
Her mouth opened in a silent “oh”, as she gazed unseeingly at the swaying trees. Molten heat pooled in her core at his seductive words, her legs shaking from the effort to keep upright. He massaged her lower back, stopping just short of the curve of her butt. “I imagine I am inside you, so deep that you become a part of me. We move together till we reach the stars, and then I gather you in my arms and I am home.”
“Raghav…” she groaned in agonized longing, her hands grabbing the bars for support.
He drew her against his chest, placing open mouthed kisses at the nape of her neck. “Yes, baby. I do want you. More than anything in this world. You are mine. If nothing else, that is what you will remember today…and never forget again.”
There was a sudden sinister quality to his words that penetrated her lust befuddled intoxicated brain. He bit her shoulder in warning as she tried to turn. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him reach for something, her heart pounding in fear and inexplicable arousal. Then his hands were on her back again, brazenly smearing a powdery substance on her skin. She could tell it was the gulaal.
Before Pallavi could say a word, her senses were ensnared by the erotic touch of his finger on her back. All of who she was, who she had ever been, culminated into his amorous mouth and that devastating finger on her skin.
“What do you feel, my love?” he growled, nipping a sensitive spot at the dip of her shoulder.
“You,” she breathed shakily, eyelashes fluttering shut at the pleasure-pain. “Only you.”
His finger slowly moved in an irrevocable unwavering sequence on her heated skin.
“Who do you belong to? Tell me, Pallavi.”
He boldly imprinted the answer on every part of her being, finishing the gulaallettering on her back.
“Raghav Rao,” she sighed his name, her head lolling back in surrender against his chest.
Raghav Rao, accepted her throbbing heart.
Raghav Rao, whispered her stained soul.
* * *