Incense and Sensibility (The Rajes #3) - Sonali Dev Page 0,91

hadn’t raced up two steps at a time as he usually did, because he’d been preoccupied with contemplating another, narrower staircase suffused with the smell of incense and a warm glowing energy. Craving for it sat like a giant starved vacuum inside him.

Faces that were his life stared at him over delicate teacups suspended in midair. Unfamiliar awkwardness suffused the room.

Of all people, Esha stood and came to him and gave him a hug. He wrapped his arms around her gingerly and rested his chin on her head. She was tiny. The oldest Raje cousin was the tiniest in stature. Barely five feet and possibly ninety pounds soaking wet.

Holding her made him feel better. He tried not to think about how much she would love India and how well the two of them would get on. Something about them was the same, an ethereal quality woven together with strength.

Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her?

Esha looked up at him, the curiosity in her eyes probing at him, then turning to terrible sadness. But she said nothing and let him go.

He did the rounds. Leaning over to drop kisses on his mother’s and sisters’ cheeks, shaking Dad’s hand, and then dropping down at his grandmother’s feet and leaning back into her lap as she dropped a kiss on his head.

“I’m very angry with you, Yashu,” she said, not sounding angry at all.

“I’m sorry, Aji.”

“It’s been two weeks.” She stroked his hair. “How can you do this to your grandmother?”

It had been ten days. But their grandmother always started all conversations with how long it had been since she’d seen them last. He didn’t argue with her. Who in their right might would?

“I called you every day.” He’d been on the road, but that didn’t mean he forgot to call his grandmother.

He also understood counting the days since you’d seen someone better than he ever had. It had been four weeks since he’d seen India.

“That you did,” Aji said. “That’s why I’m going to forgive you. And, well, I know you’ve been busy,” she added, with enough mischief in her voice that he knew she wasn’t talking about the campaign.

The way they were all staring at him, amusement writ large on their faces, reinforced that conclusion.

He looked at Ashna and Nisha, who were both studying him with enough curiosity that if he didn’t know them he’d have checked if something was stuck between his teeth.

“Tea?” His mother handed him a cup. What he needed was a damn tumbler of Philz’s darkest roast, but he took the tea with a “Thanks, Ma.”

Esha dropped down into the couch next to Aji. She was the only one in the room who wasn’t looking like a cat with a cream mustache. “You look exhausted. You’re not taking care of yourself.”

“He looks like he’s been working hard. It’s a look of a man who’s going to win an election.” Dad, naturally. In all his HRH glory.

“Well, good thing he doesn’t have to take care of himself by himself any longer.” This from Ma, who was usually pretty rational. “Having someone living with him will help with that.”

He threw Nisha a look. What are they talking about?

She gave him nothing, just raised a finger and pointed at Aji, who had a significant-moment-incoming look.

“It’s about time. I’ve been holding on to my ring for far too long.” She looked at Ma, and Ma made a production of walking to Aji’s room and coming back with a silk pouch and handing it to Aji.

“The Kohlis want to do a little ceremony. Just a small puja and dinner for the families. They know this isn’t the time for a big flashy engagement party, but we have to think—”

“Ma. What are you talking about?”

“What kind of question is that?” Ma said. “Now that Naina and you have decided to make it official, we can’t fault her family for wanting to mark it with some sort of ceremony. It’s taken you ten years to decide to put a ring on her finger, God knows how much longer it will take for you to make it to the altar.”

His grandmother was still stroking his hair. As gently as he could, he removed her hand, squeezing it before he put it back on her lap. Then he stood, an odd ringing between his ears.

Before he could say anything, Aji extracted a small velvet box from the pouch and thrust it into his hand. “Your grandfather gave me this when we got engaged,” she said, eyes