Whispers of Spring........Prologue

Prologue

Naina sighed softly as she gazed out toward the mountains through the stained-glass window. The first shades of twilight cascaded gently over the mountains and hills. The snowy top of the highest peaks were still veiled in a pale golden misty blanket, which she knew were the last rays of the setting March sun. The night would surround them in no time. That’s how it was here. It always surprised her how quickly darkness shrouded the valley. She never missed viewing the landscape at twilight….she had never missed one in her seven years at Palampur. This period of the day to her was of hope…as if the dusky glow lets the night know that howsomuchever faster it came and for whatever length it stayed, the twilight would always precede it. She kept that thought of hope burning in her….always…even when the darkness locked up in her heart tried to rear its ugly head in moments of solitude.

She turned away from the window and from the night and looked at the beautiful room…the master bedroom of the Rawin Mahal. The magnificence of the room always took her breath away. From the richly embroidered tapestry to the elegant furnishings to the carpets and rugs and antique Oakwood furniture…especially the Victorian bed in the middle…ornate yet elegant. She twirled on her toes with a giggle as she imagined herself as a princess of that room. It felt good to indulge in these typically teenaged fairy tale dreams. The ambiance of this place always had the surreal effect on her. She closed her eyes and her father’s words came from yonder, “One day a prince will come, give you his heart, and take you to his palace. You will then live a life of a royalty. Only a prince for my princess…no one less.” She opened her eyes and smiled mistily at herself in the mirror, “I am glad you didn’t live to see the reality of your princess papa. Dreams vanish, leaving only dust. But I have no complaints. I have Adi.” Her broodings were cut short by the sound of her cell phone ringing. She realized she was holding a pillow cover in her hand as she picked up the phone. It must be Beeji. It was.

“Hello!”

“Naina, how much longer child?”

“I am almost done Beeji. I was just finishing changing the pillow covers of the master bedroom. After this I’ll make that essential grocery list and then I’ll be on my way. Did Adi take his milk?”

“He has finished it. He has gone to his room to get the sword you bought from the fair. He says his friend taught him how to take a stance before a fight. He is going to show me first, and then teach me. With you not here, I am the privileged audience and student.” Beeji laughed. Her six-year-old grandson kept her on her toes and she loved it.

Naina smiled affectionately. Her son sure was a bundle of energy. He was especially enamored by stories of battles and wars. He would sit and listen to Ranima for hours when she regaled him with stories of battles of past centuries. She also had the patience to answer his innumerable queries, saying he reminded her of her own grandson at this age.

“Naina, I am sorry you had to see to the housekeeping. Meenakshiji specifically asked me to give the staff off for this fortnight, so that they can be with their families for the festival. With her in Europe, it was easy to do so. But suddenly this news of her grandson coming has upset my schedule. And this blasted fever is also not helping.”

“It’s the viral going around Beeji. You’ll be fine tomorrow. Anyways, relax. Ranima’s grandson is not due to arrive before Friday. That’s still two days away. I’ll finish getting the grounds cleared too by then….A day of raking and weeding will get the gardens and lawns spruced up. Tomorrow I’ll stack up the kitchen. That boy will definitely land up with a pack of his friends, like last time. I remember Ranima saying how fast the food disappeared from the kitchen. You don’t worry.”

“I am not worried about the Rawin Mahal, Naina. It’s you I am worried about. You already have your own work to see to…and now this.”

“C’mon Beeji….you know me. I love to be in this mini-palace. Rawin Mahal’s got history and it’s got a soul. I am sure if you stay still, you can hear the walls speak….I can.”

Beeji smiled at that. Naina loved mystique, “OK then beta. I’ll accept you at home within the hour. Take the main road. There’s a child kidnapper on the loose…remember? The two sons of Kapoors are still missing.”

Naina chuckled, “Err Beeji…I am not a child, if you haven’t noticed. Relax...OK? I’ll keep the phone now and finish the work. Bye.”

She finished changing the bed linen, fluffed the pillows, and checked all the lights. She was about to turn them off when her eyes lit on the large portraits of Rana Sumer Singh Chaudhary and his wife Meenakshi Devi….termed lovingly as Ranima by her staff. Their love story was a folk lore in the region of Rawingarh, once a small kingdom and now part of Himachal Pradesh. Ranima belonged to the royal family of Rawingarh and Sumer Singh was a *Zaildar, an officer of court. Yet that didn’t deter the feisty princess from falling in love with the handsome Sumer and subsequently persuading her parents for the uncommon alliance. They had two children, a daughter and a son. Between the two, they had given them three grandchildren: one grandson was in the army, and another grandson and granddaughter were doing graduation courses in Delhi. Rawin Mahal, here in Palampur, was given to Meenakshi Devi by one of her uncles as a wedding gift. Once used as a summer retreat, she shifted to Palampur permanently after her husband passed away. Naina’s Beeji, Karuna Sharma, used to be the Mahal manager, looking after its upkeep. She retired from her post two years back, though she remained a close confidante and friend of Meenakshi Devi. However, whenever family visited, Ranima relied only on her friend Karuna to get the house in order, literally. She had called two days back from Paris where she was visiting her sister to inform Beeji that her grandson is coming to stay over. The phone reception was unclear so she could only get the date after that. Since she was running fever, Naina was the happy volunteer.

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Naina neared the landing to go down to the kitchen when she heard a thud and then a curse…a man’s voice. She stiffened. A thief!!! Yes…has to be. She was so busy upstairs that it didn’t strike her that the ground floor would be completely in darkness. She had told Altaf chacha, the Guard, to go and have his dinner with his wife and that she would call him on the intercom once she finished her work…so it couldn’t be him. Whosoever was downstairs had come in unhindered. Blast it! There was another shuffle and more muffled curses, now loud enough for her to make out that he was looking for the light switches. Naina looked around and stepped back into the bedroom she had come out of. She found what she was looking for…Ranaji’s collection of walking sticks kept in a metal container. Her hand closed on the nearest one and she grabbed it, holding it up in a striking position. Very softly she walked down the marble staircase. She saw a man’s form near the main door, holding what looked like a….a rifle!! Dear God! He was armed. 

Naina felt an anger building up. Her inherent fighting spirit egged her forward. No one robs Rawin Mahal…especially not under her watch. When she thought she was close enough, she raised the stick…and the next moment found herself in a stranglehold.

Before she could react, Naina was pressed against the wall, the man’s left arm against her neck, her arms imprisoned above her head in a viselike grip, and a leg across her own two. She was literally pinned to the wall. For a moment Naina was petrified as in the faint moonlight she looked up into dark smoldering eyes and felt his hot breath. She also noticed a sharp jawline and a deep scar that ran all the way from his left temple to jaw. He seemed to be frozen in his position as he looked into wide eyes that changed expressions swiftly in a matter of seconds. Those moonlit eyes were furious now. He drew a sharp breath as a jolt of awareness shot through him. He stepped back with a jerk, speaking in a gruff and deep voice laced with annoyance, “What the…? A woman? Who the hell are you?” He didn't realize he was still holding her arms. That’s when she pushed him with all her might and ran toward the switches. 

The lights came on, momentarily blinding them. Naina noticed two things at the same time: The man was completely off balance and was trying to stand himself straight after picking up a stick and taking the support of the wall...and was having some difficulty doing so. Oh, so it’s not a rifle, but a walking stick. Naina felt a passing sense of relief till she saw the sofa next to the door. A little girl lay on it wrapped in a shawl…sleeping. Her hand flew to her mouth in shock as she deduced the identity of the man…the kidnapper. Thankfully she still had the stick in her hand. She ran to the sofa, bent, and tucked the child well with the cushions, and then straightened to stand in a protective manner.

He had regained his balance and was about to question the girl again when he saw her standing with the stick, ready for another fight…Oh no! Not again. He rolled his eyes.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing…Mr kidnapper.”

“What? Are you crazy or something?”

“Neither crazy nor something. I know who you are. You are the kidnapper who the police warned against. Don’t move…and don’t speak you…you…you bad man. I will not let you come near this girl. I have switched on the alarm signal. Altaf chacha will be here in no time. He will call the police and then you will be in jail, where you belong. Here he comes. Don’t you dare try any tricks.”

“Good God! Do you always talk so much?”

She kept silent….not budging an inch…not taking an eye off him. 

He inclined his head as he studied her disheveled look. She was dressed in a salwar suit…with her dupatta tied across her shoulder into her waist. Quite a few strands of hair had loosened from hair bunched up casually with a clutch and now framed her face. He noticed the determined set of her jaw, tightened lips, uptilted chin, and narrowed eyes. The girl was beautiful. Something stirred within him, making him scowl and feel disgusted with himself. Never again, he reminded himself. Wait till she sees him in totality…that anger and the rebellion will change into instant pity or revulsion. He had seen those looks almost every time he came across anyone. Women….bah! They are so predictable. Nonetheless, whether he liked it or not, he had to deal with this petite, defiant woman who was role-playing a warrior at the moment. This chit of a girl…Who does she think she is? What is she doing here? Aha, a maid…of course. Who else?

He took a step forward and halted as she wielded that godforsaken stick like a sword. And, was that a muted snarl he heard? Unbelievable. If he was not so upset with himself for letting the girl get to him, he would have found the whole situation rather funny.

He raised his hand, “Look…I am not sure what gave you the idea that I am a kidnapper. You must be a huge fan of Hindi movies. Just because I have this scar does not mean I am the villain.”

“This is nothing to do with your scar.”

“It isn’t? You mean it doesn’t bother you?”

“No. However, who you are does bother me.”

“Look Lady…for the last time, I am not a criminal.  I am that little girl's father whom you seem to be guarding.
"Yeah...and I am the Maharani of this palace."
"Well that's the truth. Take it, or leave it. And since you won’t tell me who you are… I shall have to make a guess. Hmm!! You must be a maid. Do the maids do cleaning so late at night in this palace?”

“That’s none of your business Mister. You stay where you are. You surprised me there.” She gestured toward the wall, “But we…err maids…have been taught a few moves as well.”

“Really? Like what?”

“Like…emm…like…” Naina was saved from saying anything further by two simultaneous voices.

Altaf chacha, who had run all the way from his quarters on hearing the alarm, saw the scene and the stranger, and shouted, “Colonel saab!!”

At the same time, the little girl woke up and spoke from Naina’s back, “Papa!!”

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*Zaildar…..A native officer in charge of a Zail in the colonial rural administration of Himachal Pradesh in British India. Each Zail was an administrative unit, extending between 2 and 40 villages.