In a bid to save the man she loves, Amrit ends up making a deal with the uncompromising Kuwar Veer Pratap Singh. Bound by mutual weaknesses and wounds they hide from the world the two goes from unwilling pretenders to unlikely allies. Sometimes, it...
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Summary: Veer ko apna banana aazaan hai. Par usse chhod na - na mumkin. Usse aadat nahi hai muhabbat ki, apne dil na deni hai toh usske dil mein uttarna bhi nahi. Barbaad kardenga woh - tumhe, kudhko aur Poore duniya ko..." ◇◇◇
Dinner in Nawab Junaid Hussain Siddiquie's estate is a stately affair.
They are joined by the polo teams, still nursing bruised arms and egos - the in house team of Aawaz, who circle Farida in a tight knit group and political associates who cast suspicious glances periodically at Veer.
They had arranged refreshments in small tables scattered all over the garden, lit by lanterns in over hanging branches, lamps set on the tables and some of the prettiest garden lights Amrit had ever seen.
People of different circles mingled together, socializing, sampling snacks as they waited for the dinner proper.
Amrit had her much awaited discussion with Farida, sitting in the former's cozy office and now wandered through the garden feast aimlessly - looking for her make believe husband.
"Aap kaha ho Veer?" She muttered to herself for the umpteenth time.
But then, where would he be? Somewhere that offered him the only refreshment Kuwar sahab was fond of.
How stupid was Amrit not to check the bar first?
And of cause there he was. Nursing a drink in relative seclusion.
The bar, or probably some of it has been arranged into a garden gazebo for the occasion. Just as Amrit arrived Veer poured his drink over his knuckles, where even at distance she could spot a gash. He winced, suppressed a hiss between his pursed lips and clenched his jaw.
"Dawa dardh kar tha honga," Amrit says as she stands before him. "Lekin har dardh dene wali cheez dawa nahi hoti - Kuwar sahab."
"Arre Aagai tum?" He greets her, raising the glass. She takes it off his hand.
"You aren't drunk are you?" Veer shakes his head.
"Bohut saal hogaye gham chupaate chupaate ke ab nashe ne bhi saat chor di." He reaches for the glass but instead Amrit takes his hand, examines the wound.
"How did this happen?"
"It's a sport injury Amrit, very common in the game." He shrugs, then meets her eye. "Why are you looking like that?"
Amrit sits on the stool beside him and takes her handkerchief to wrap around the wound.
