“Hriday!” I shouted, leaning over the balcony rail, my voice breaking the silence of Banaras. The city had already surrendered to sleep, its streets cloaked in stillness, but here,beneath my balcony,the heirs of the Agnivanshi clan were anything but quiet. Hriday stood directly below, arms straining as he tried to wrap them around the cold iron pipe, failing miserably with every attempt. Each time he slipped, his forehead knocked against the metal in stubborn defeat. Beside him, Vidyut clawed at his own hair in exasperation, as though his frustration alone could pull Hriday upward. And then there was Yuvraj,calm, detached,lifting a glass bottle to his lips while offering words of encouragement, his lazy drawl entirely at odds with the chaos unfolding before me.

“Dekhaa, maine kaha tha na mere Yuvraj aayenge!”