but Gauri could sense emotion simmering under the surface.
She looked for a chair to sit on since she felt her trembling legs give way. She found it difficult to take in that not only was Madhav Dada, her dear brother, gone but Baba, her father, was in a coma.
Unable to locate a chair, she simply collapsed on the side of Maharaj’s bed. Thick tears clogged her throat and she looked at the now frail and spent man who had protected her and looked after her as well as he could in her childhood.
All through her childhood years Gauri had been taunted by the bitter truth that she was the result of a one-night stand, conceived as part of her cunning and greedy mother’s devious plan to trap the wealthy Maharajah.
When her mother had died in an accident, the Maharajah had taken five-year-old Gauri to his home, overruling his family’s disapproval and disregarding scandalous gossip. He hadn’t shirked his responsibility as a father.
But Gauri hadn’t been able to fulfil her responsibility as a daughter. She bowed her head in shame. In the end she had failed him. And, rather than see the disappointment in his face every day, she had run away. She had wanted to spare him further humiliation.
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