Gurgling with laughter she ran through the long, never ending corridor. Her dupatta billowing behind her, in shades of sunny yellow, fiery orange and brilliant green. Rupam, fast at her heels, trying desperately to catch up.  “Hey Chori! Wait till I catch you!” he panted. “Not today, You will have to do better than that!” she yelled back turning round the corner, her tinkling titter scattering like glass marbles.  Banno! She had survived! In that huge haveli where for two generations, there had never been any signs of a baby girl, she was the cynosure of her grandmother’s attention. Her big black eyes, reminded Grandma of Ma Bhavani! The kul devi! Her own baby girls never lived to see the light of day, she recalled with a heavy heart. Not because they were ill, or born still but because their grandmother had buried them alive. No place for girls in their home! When her daughter-in-law was writhing in the throes of labour… she had entered the room quietly, like a fox on the prowl.  “How is it going Rukmini bai? Why so long?” she had inquired impatiently, amidst groans and grunts and piercing cries of pain. “Just a little longer Baisa!” said the wizened old midwife in her calm measured tone.  “Waaa! Waaa!” came the lustful cry of a baby at last. In a trice Shanti devi had picked up the baby, the umbilical cord still attached, covered in blood and fluid. Looking for the male identity, she scowled in disappointment. But the little mite had caught hold of her finger, in a tight clasp and would not let it go, as she bawled on lustily.  Shanti devi in her sunset years, drew the courage from deep within her withered heart and wrinkled soul to allow her grand daughter a few gulps of air. Outside the room, the men were waiting!  “Congratulations Bhawar Singh! You have been blessed with the Devi herself!” The father looked down,crestfallen, as if a box of mithai had been snatched from his hands. Heartbroken he dragged his feet to the courtyard and his room across. “Never mind son!” she whispered softly as she patted his back, letting him vent his male ego in not siring a son. “Its all her fault! That woman is to blame for giving birth to a girl! “She has tarred my face black…” bawled the fully grown, mustachioed and bearded man. “Its all right son! This one is special. Like me!” “Like you Baisa? Like you… Baisa!” In the labour room… Tears rolled down the cheeks of the tired mother. Her body convoluted in pain, and shrieking for relief. Clothes drenched in perspiration and soaked in emotions. “Your daughter is here… Let her suckle!” rasped the old Lady. *** In the old cavernous palatial house, rising out of the sands of the desert, amidst a few beaten down old huts, sounds of joy gurgled after years of grave silence. As the baby started crawling, she won everyone’s heart. A child’s gibberish was punctuated with mirthful laughter. The very house celebrated. Everyone, that is, except for her father. Her constant companion was Rupam, the boy from next door. A boy born to a couple after many years of being issue-less. A gem, to be treasured he was the sun and moon to his parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts. His mother would help out in the haveli from time to time, and also provide companionship to Banno’s lonely mother. As the children grew, they were dispatched to the local school. It was unheard of, that a girl was sent to read and write, but Shanti devi, was slowly changing as time passed by.  Most times they would walk side by side- Banno and Rupam, but often they would break out into sprints, tagging one another or simply racing to see who would touch the school gate first. School was a serious matter for Banno, who loved books, reading and teaching her classmates. Rupam would often be seen running, chasing the others or standing outside the class. Banno would thus spend hours helping him to catch up with his studies.  After school the children would be seen at the edge of the village picking ber, from the stunted, thorny bushes, devouring the sour fruits without flinching, which the adults gave a wide berth to. “Lets go to the ground beyond the keekar, today!”  announced Banno one afternoon.  “Why?” “ Gulabo was saying there are some fawns and even ducklings in the small lake! I have to see them!” “I have to go to play gilli danda! We have a match!” “Cmon! You play gilli danda with those useless fellows everyday! You can’t let me go alone, can you?” she pouted. All of ten but she knew how to coerce him into doing her bidding! The desert is beautiful in its raw appeal.  Wading through the sand dunes, the children laughed and yelled as they made their way to the lake side. The little fawns nuzzling their mothers, were a sight to behold. The flock of ducks cavorting in the cool water, with strings of ducklings added colour, while their squawking rent the air.  Banno’s eyes grew larger and larger, like saucers, while Rupam instinctively dropped his bag and went sprinting to catch a duckling. “What are you doing?” laughed she in quick pursuit.  “Getting one for you… so tomorrow you can play with it at home!”  “No, don’t take it away fro its mother, silly. She will die. I am happy to just watch them.” “You came all this way just to look? You don’t want one for yourself?” “I have you to play with… why would I need anyone else? You are my bestest friend in the world!” “I Know,” said he. “How?” “Because you are my bestest friend, in the world,” he tugged her plait, as he ran on to the water’s edge. *** Living in the desert with its difficult challenges and even more difficult people, her heart had hardened. Where watching children take birth would be a celebration, watching them die, some buried with her own hands, broke her heart. Not having any say in it, was worse.  Watching Banno, brought joy to her heart. Like a withered sapling struggling to spread out in regal splendour among the boulders, the child watered the vestiges of maternal love in the withered soul. “Who is my favourite?” the septuagenarian would ask in her hoarse voice. “Banno!” she would say and giggle, while caressing her grandmother’s face, smothering it with sweet kisses. She wanted Banno to have everything she was denied. So, the girl went to school. She learned to read and write.  “I am going to be a teacher when I grow up, Dadisa!” she announced one day. “Why so?” asked her indulgent granny. “I will go from village to village, teach children and read books.” “And who will help you?” asked the doting Dadi. “Why? Rupam of course!” The grandmother was stunned.  Like a movie, the everyday scenes of innocent play unraveled in her mind.  “Rupam! Of course!” she muttered.  Next week Banno came back crying from school. Shanti devi was heartbroken. Running up to the young girl, she wiped her eyes. “What happened sweetheart?” she asked rocking her in her arms. The mother also came running from the interiors. “Rupam has gone away. He was not at school. How will I live Dadisa? He is my best friend!” “Shhhh! Don’t cry my child. We will find another friend for you.” consoled the grand dame. “No! I want only Rupam… He is my best friend. I love him!” and there were fresh tears in the dark beautiful eyes. The little heart was inconsolable. Her mother held her for a long time, consoling her.  When the storm had quelled and silence reigned the room she pulled out the child’s favourite book, and sat beside her, pointing at the various pictures, reading out aloud. Now, the poor lady could barely read and so was making many mistakes. Banno wiped her tears and focused on correcting her dear mother. Time has a habit of passing. For some it is quick but for some others it weighs heavy and drags along.  Banno grew up fast. Her tall lithe body was gracefully draped in the traditional poshak and beautifully dyed dupattas. She moved gracefully like a leopard around her home, helping her mother with household chores and narrating stories to her grandma.  Ever since the disappearance of Rupam, she had withdrawn a little but these ladies were her life lines, and of course her books.  She was turning eighteen, in February. Her father, uncles and grandmother were on the lookout for a suitable match for her.  But, Banno was set on becoming ‘Banno teacher’! If anyone asked her, what gift she would like, she always asked for books.  Setting up her latest acquisitions in the cupboard, humming to herself she caught the image of a young man on the neighbouring terrace. “Who could it be?” she wondered and went to the window to have a better look. Recognition dawned as she stared at the young man now waving to her. The sharp aquiline nose, the dark eyes, the smiling mouth all what she remembered clear as day. “Rupam?” she  yelled incredulously as she ran to meet him. Her thick dark plait snaking behind her as did her billowing dupatta. All three metres of rich magenta, tied and dyed emerald green in places to create intricate patterns.  Her feet sped across the cool stone floor, as she reached the corridor outside his house and swooped down on him, laughing with joy on seeing her best friend. His strong muscled arms enveloped her in a warm hug pulling her to his wildly beating heart. They were left speechless as they laughed, cried and called out each other’s name. At long last, they separated to have a good look at each other. Suddenly, Banno became aware of the passage of time, as she took in the rakish good looks of her friend and was conscious of having grown up and a child no longer.  Rupam was zapped speechless, looking at the doe eyed beauty. Like some Heavenly nymph. “Banno! Where are you?” rang out the loud authoritative voice of her grandmother. It startled her. She tugged at Rupam’s arm to lead him to her home, but he resisted, indicating, he would come later.  “Coming!” she yelled and ran back. “See you on the terrace after dinner,” she murmured. Instinctively she knew there was a lot he had to tell her, and a lot more she wanted to ask. Restless and on an edge, the rest of the evening was a torture. Finally she could escape to the terrace, longing to talk to her childhood companion. There he was waiting impatiently, glowing in the moonlight. They fell into each others arms before they found their voice.  “Why did you leave without telling me? Do you know how much I cried?” she accused him. “I am so sorry my dear Banno! I have never wished to hurt you, don’t you know that?” “So, tell me what happened? Where have you been? And how come you are here?” she shot back, looking accusingly. “Whoa! Relax… One thing at a time! My parents were crying that night. They kept talking in hushed tones late into the night. I was feeling terrible. I knew it was something to do with me. Next morning as I got ready for school, my mother was getting ready too, along with my father. As if we were to go on a long trip far away. We didn’t go to school, but went to the railway station and then on to Jodhpur. I was excited to travel by train, eat pakodas and drink chai on the train, but I missed you. They said we were going to meet our cousins. But it was a lie, to keep me away from you. I have finished my schooling. I am studying to be a doctor now. My Dadi is not well, probably she will not live long. We have come to meet her. But I have come to meet you one more time.” “Oh my God! Who forced you away from me?” she gasped, blinking away the tears threatening to shed. “When the time comes I will tell you. I have been miserable away from you.” he whispered as he cupped her face gently in his big, soft hands. “I think I am in love with you!” she whispered as she buried her face into his broad chest and sought places to bestow her kisses. “I love you! I know for sure! You will soon be eighteen. Old enough to vote and take decisions.” They laughed softly together, watching the moon, in no hurry to separate again. *** Bhawar Singh entered the room practically sprinting, to where his wife sat preparing a paan for her mother-in-law. “Good to see my son springing like a goat in season! What is the reason for your joy?” “A Seth from Jaisalmer has asked for our Banno!” “What? Marry our darling to an old buzzard… have you lost it?” growled the old dame. “Not to him Baisa (he laughed) … his son, Yudhveer Singh! It’s a very good match. They have a house bigger than ours and are worth much more.” “We are marrying our child, not selling cattle. When will you men learn the difference? Invite them here.” *** The newly found, old love thrived in secrecy. Age was not on their side. Being young adults they were expected to maintain distance and forget they were childhood best friends. Love knows no bounds and often finds its way between hearts unbidden. The young lovers were lying under  the keekars, at the edge of the village. These hardy trees were symbolic of the struggle  for existence in the desert. They could hardly provide shade like the Banyan or the Peepul, but they did take away the sting of the burning sun. The leaves and twigs claimed to be medicinal too, but the thorns did not spare anyone. “Tomorrow they are coming Rupam” whispered Banno. “Who?” asked he innocently, not wanting to agitate her further. “What if they approve of me and the alliance is formalised? I don’t think I want to marry anyone else now.” “So, madam has decided to marry someone. Who is the lucky man, Madam?” murmured Rupam.  “Ufff! Stop joking. See how my heart beats”, she placed his hand over her racing heart. “Don’t worry, I will go to your father and ask for your hand. Does that make you feel better?” he reassured her. The haveli wore a festive look. It sparkled and glowed as it lay spruced up, bedecked with strings of golden marigold flowers and emerald green mango leaves. Both precious in a land bereft of colour. Strings of jasmine and tube roses  festooned the courtyard, perfuming the air. The guests arrived in the evening. The cars though dust laden, bore the distinction of being expensive. The men were tall, regal in their bearing, in tasteful attire and flowing turbans. The ladies- an old aunt and a youngish sister-in-law of the prospective groom, in bright silk and chiffon poshaks, veils drawn over their head and halfway down the face. Their jewellery, mostly family heirlooms glinted and sparkled, announcing their expensive bearing. Banno’s heart sank as she caught a glimpse of them. What could she do? The aroma of the meal served, filled the fragrantly bedecked hall.  There was the aromatic smell of the delectable pulao, the dal- baati, the special mohan thal mutton curry, gatte ki sabzi and ker sangri, served with puffed pooris. It was a feast for maharajas. Laughter and banter ran rife as the meal progressed. The ladies were entertained separately of course.  It was soon time for the ladies to meet Banno.  She was called into the room. And she walked in slowly and deliberately. Finally when she was asked to sit down she did so awkwardly and with little grace. After the introductions, Shanti devi asked her to lift her veil. The two ladies waited like hawks to pounce on a helpless dove. They were rendered speechless. “Banno! Its alright, you can go now,” said the old aunt, visibly startled but trying to retain her composure. Bowing politely, as she joined her palms in namaste, Banno turned to leave in haste bumbling her way out. Deliberately she chose to be without any grace. Soon, they were told that due to the squint in her eye, Banno could not  be chosen to be a part of their family. Bhawar Singh was livid. “Calling my daughter, squint eyed! There must be a problem with the old lady herself,” he huffed. Shanti devi called Banno that afternoon. She asked her to press her temples and massage her head. The gentle caressing hands of the dear girl, made her feel drowsy. She was dozing off to sleep. “How come they said you are squint eyed, Banno?” she whispered softly. Taken totally by surprise, Banno blurted, “I deliberately squinted my eyes. I didn’t want them to like me.” Peals of laughter filled the room, as the old woman rolled with amusement.  “Don’t you want too marry that rich and handsome Rajput? I saw you looking at him from the balcony.” “Dadisa!” she wailed in mock horror. “If you like him so much, why don’t you get married to him?” “Is there someone special my Banno would like to get married to?” In a gush of young love, she babbled to her darling Grandmother her new found love for Rupam.  “I want to marry my Rupam, only Rupam!” said she as she proceeded to seal it with a kiss on her Dadisa’s soft, plump cheeks. As the old dame hugged her, Banno missed the look in her eyes. That evening, Banno waited a long time on the terrace, but no one came to talk to her, hold her warmly, or kiss her lovingly. She fretted and fumed, at first with annoyance, turning to concern and ending with a torrent of tears.  Next morning she steeled her heart and went to check on Rupam.  It was a horrifying sight to see him in bed, he had been attacked and lay badly bruised. He had sent for medicines to help himself heal. After all he was a medical student, nearly a doctor. “What happened?”she whispered as she sat by his side,burning with pain and rage. “I tripped and fell,” said he with a loud laugh, turning into a whimper of pain. “Who did this to you? Tell me my dear, I need to know.” she whispered as tears flowed free. “Go home Banno! I will come and see you soon.” He clasped her soft hand to his lips and then placed it over his heart. “I promise!”  Tearing herself with difficulty, she walked home dejected. Carrying her heavy heart, she sought the comforting presence of her Dadisa, and ventured into her room. Sounds of heated arguments, arrested her feet. Standing outside the closed door, she tried to make out what was going on. “Why is he still alive?” asked Dadisa. “He is a young man, a medical student for God’s sake. This is not the 1950s that you can kill anyone you want and no body questions you,” said her father. She gasped with horror. “Once before, you had committed the same mistake. You should wear bangles and sit at home. Not only have my hands rocked your cradle, they have throttled many who didn’t deserve to live.” rasped the old woman. “He was merely a boy years ago. I didn’t kill him then,I didn’t kill him today.” “ I hope you wont have to kill him tomorrow!” “You disgust me, Mother!” Her cry of horror brought feet running to the door. Banno was lying in a heap at the door, having passed out from shock. Her mother desperately fanned her and crooned Banno’s favourite lullaby. As she came to her senses, Banno pleaded with her mother to take her to Rupam.  “He has to leave now, Ma. They will kill him.” she cried. “I will die too, Ma!” “Hush my sweetheart! Everything will be fine! Lets see what can be done. Ok?” “My birthday is on 28th, so from the 29th I will be old enough to take my own decisions, wont I? The extra day in February makes me free faster.” *** When she woke up in the middle of the night, the window creaked as the breeze blew outside. Looking out, through it, she caught the crescent moon. Like her it seemed to be struggling against the world tonight.  Her mother had dozed off. She gently arranged the covers around the tired old woman and tiptoed out. Drawing the dupatta close for warmth and comfort, she moved on.  Nobody saw her enter the house beside, nor did anyone witness her waking up her beloved. Nobody saw them leave quietly. The old grandmother woke up feeling restless. She turned on her side, seeking a more comfortable position, and sat up with a gasp. “What are you two doing here?”  “Waiting for you to wake up Dadisa,” said Banno calmly. “I will call your father right away and have this boy killed!” “So, its you behind all this!” she said coldly. “I haven't let you live so you can tarnish our family name, chori!” The enraged lady hissed. “You have to keep us here for two days Dadisa!” “No,You will keep us safe till three more days!” said the man through his pain “Why? How dare you demand anything from me?” “It is her birthday on the 28th, and this year she is turning 18. In three days she will be legally allowed to take her own decisions! I have sent a letter to my professor, indicating all that has happened to me. In case I don’t reach Jodhpur on the 29th of February, he will come here, with the police,” Rupam explained.  Love had won!  Shanti devi let the two be, as she closed her eyes, turning within, for some much needed introspection. The old lady knew when she was beaten.  Beaten by her own. Glossary Chori- girl Baisa- Mother Dadisa- Grand mother Keekar- Hardy tree found in the desert, also of medicinal value Haveli- Big house, generally denoting prosperous owner Kul devi- Family deity Dal-baati, ker-sangri - Rajasthani dishes Poshak- Traditional dress of Rajasthani ladies