Partap's Fiat, all four tires flat, sat inside the gate of the home, around it overgrown grass in the small yard. The door to the fron room was ajar.
"Anybody home?"
"Come in."
Right arm in a sling, Pratap extended his left hand to shake Jagat's and said, "I'd been thinking about you, I got caught up..."
"In protecting Muslims in the turmoil of the mindless partition," said Jagat completing Partap's sentence.
"Would you like something to drink? Lassi, tea or something else, I'll make it."
"I just had tea at the college, your arm? and how is Mrs. Partap?"
"I lost her, a massive heart attack, gone in an instant. I'm all alone now."
"My friend, I'm so sorry for your loss. I just lost Preeti. She gave me freedom to fight for independence which is now here and the country no longer needs me."
Both of them looked into each others' eyes that had teared up.
Partap promised to have Moustachioed's bungalow cleaned up and rented.
"I need to go to Zillapur to attend some Trust stuff," said Jagat getting up.
Lost in all that had happened to the country, Partap and him, he reached the Naths' Mansion; Teg was watering the roses.
"Papaji so nice to see you, you came alone? How are Sameer, others and Preeti Mom?" asked a smiling Teg who missed Uttam; he saw him in Jagat and felt Jagat treated him like a father would a son.
"All at school, doing well but...,"Jagat couldn't bring himself to say more; he could tell Partap; he too had lost his wife and could understand.
"Son, Preeti mom not with us anymore," he finally said it. Teg began crying. Jagat was holding Teg in his embrace when Sujata walked in carrying shopping bags.
"How are you Jeeja Ji? When did you come back from prison? Preeti Bhain and children, how are they and why is he crying?" said Sujata noticing Teg sobbing.
"Sujata, your sister is no more," blurted out Jagat looking away at the old mango.
Sujata and Preeti had a close bond, one a young widow and the other separated from her husband for prolonged imprisonments. He had known Sujata for a long time and she was still as beautiful as when he first saw her while spending his first night with the Naths. At the time Teg sat on the kitchen floor doing his home work, Jagat remembered. Even then he was physically pulled to her; now he wanted to cry in her presence and yet not; it was hard being a man of others' expectations, not feeling or sharing sadness, hurt or pain; he had had it being stoic and all that. He wanted to be just a normal human being but what he had become in public's mind stood in the way. He couldn't just be, cry, laugh, yell, scream like any other Zillapurian, Indian; he was expected to be strong, on a pedestal. He realised he may have covertly yearned for the pedestal, its importance and accolades but he knew he was a regular erring human being the society may not let him be.
"Can't be, so young, must be hard for my nephews. I know Seeto is there but a mother is mother. God is blind Jeeja ji," Sujata interrupted his thoughts.
"It wasn't God; was definitely a two legged killer."
An urge to hug him coursed through her head. She had served him and Preeti food and beverages during their countless visits. They had managed the Trust and the Nath's Mansion together. Preeti had called her a sister she didn't have. She had felt close to them. They were not fake egalitarians, she thought and she remembered Preeti saying to her, "Losing one's
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