HUM AAP KO JANTE HAI: BRANDING THE MAHABHARATA WAY!

HUM AAP KO JANTE HAI: BRANDING THE MAHABHARATA WAY!

BRANDING THE MAHABHARATA WAY!

BRANDING THE MAHABHARATA WAY!

There is a new guy in the world of ‘brand ambassadors’ in advertising. He is a quirky little character named Mel, who suffers from an identity crisis, for he does not know whether he is milk or granola. To put it in short, Kraft has launched a new product ‘MilkBites’, which is actually granola bites baked in milk. It’s supposed to be for people who don’t have time for breakfast. But this MilkBite needs to be stored in a refrigerator, so it’s a ‘pre-made, refrigerated cereal’. It’s a complicated product, which required a different positioning; for here is a cereal, which has to be picked up from a refrigerator in a departmental store! So Kraft decided to use this strange positioning to its advantage and came up with the character Mel, who battles with low self-esteem and deals with identity issues (something we too battle with often!). The character Mel is turning out to be an interesting fellow as you get to know him better through various advertisements; where he tells the story of his confused life, and in the process, also tells us how he is to be consumed.

MilkBites is going to be Kraft’s biggest launch this year and it’s using an underdog to win market share. No great stars, no super achievers. We have a little confused fellow as the brand mascot of Kraft. He is a misfit who has a sad story to tell.

Why would Kraft choose such a character? Think about it. On a TV channel full of happy mascots, here is a sad character, a misfit. As a result, Mel is instantly noticed. More importantly, he is instantly sympathized with, for we all love the underdogs. This is human psychology and it remains the same, whichever part of the world you go to. Everybody sides with the underdogs. Kraft probably is placing its bet on a winning strategy. Look around you and you will find that quite surprisingly, the underdog always wins!

THE CHARM OF A FAIRY TALE

Go back to your childhood and think of all the stories you loved and chances are that most of them were around a character who no one expected to win, but he/she fought against all odds and pulled off the most unlikely of victories. Cinderella became a princess. Rapunzel was united with her parents and even found her Prince Charming after all the hardships. These are very old tales. Yet, till date, they do not fail to inspire, not just us but even Hollywood and Bollywood. Cinema is cinema because of the underdog. Be it James Braddock from the movie The Cinderella Man, an impoverished ex-prize fighter who went on to win against all odds and ultimately even take on the heavyweight champion of the world; or be it Vijay Dinanath Chauhan of Agneepath, who, in spite of all difficulties, managed to avenge the killing of his father – our hearts always reach out for the weak. Julia Robertsmade us fall in love with her as the underdog in the movie Pretty Woman, where life gave her a second chance to make things better. Be itSeabiscuit, Karate Kid, 3 Idiots, Taare Zameen Par, Guru or Koi Mil Gaya; we love to watch the small guy win. This is a story line that always works. This is a strategy that never ever fails.

Take sports, as an example. Today, there is only one player in the USA who is making waves and is being talked about today. He was a star basketball player at Harvard, but after graduation (in 2010), no one showed interest in him. He spent most of the season at the end of the bench and his career seemed to be in the doldrums. But Jeremy Shu-How Lin never let go of his dreams and stuck on.

Then something magical happened this month (February). His team New York Knicks was losing and the coach decided to bring Lin in the game against Jersey Nets. This was the ‘golden ticket’ he was waiting for and he dazzled everybody by scoring 25 points and leading his team to victory. He repeated the same magic in the next match, and the next. The man from nowhere has built a frenzy around himself. He has created a new phenomena called ‘Linsanity’. He is a hero who appeared from nowhere. His story is inspiring kids to believe in their dreams, in who they are and to keep going; even when the going is tough. It’s similar to the storyof the movie ‘Rocky’, where Sylvester Stallone made it, in spite of all the odds against him.

THE CHARM OF A CHALLENGER

When a loser wins, it catches our attention like no other. This is one strategy that is bound to attract the attention of the consumer who would look at you in a more endearing way than otherwise and all intelligent brands have used this ‘underdog positioning’ strategy to pull your heartstrings and eventually your purse strings! Be it Apple, Amazon or Virgin, we all know about their humble beginnings, for they have always been very vocal about it and never ever lost an opportunity to remind us where they came from. Come to think of it, our most loved brands actually started in a garage. Harold Matson and his friend started making picture frames in a garage in 1945; and to be cost effective, used the scrapes to make dollhouses. They soon found that their dollhouses were selling better than their picture frames and soon started focusing on toys. Their company Mattel Inc. is today the highest grossing toy company in the world! Bill and Dave founded HP in a garage. That garage is today known as the birthplace of Silicon Valley and HP is today a huge company. William and his friend Arthur started making a small engine to power a bicycle from a small shed in 1901. Today, their company is the most iconic motorcycle brand of the world. William Harley and Arthur Davidson founded Harley Davidson. Microsoft may be big, but there is something different about Apple. Maybe that’s because it also started in a garage just like Amazon, Google and Disney. When you know they started from nothing, you like them much more, you believe in them much more and you forgive them much more easily for their mistakes.

In a world of cutthroat competition, this is one strategy that brands should use to connect better with their consumers and win their respect. We all look up to and appreciate someone who, despite all odds, puts up a fight. It’s much like William Wallace from the movie ‘Braveheart’, who as a child watched his father being killed and later saw his wife being murdered. This simple farmer decided to fight against injustice and lead his people to victory. Though he too was captured and beheaded; but his last words were ‘Freedom’, which motivated his people even after his death and helped them overthrow the king. These stories are what make life go on. These are stories that get woven into the very fabric of life andmotivate generations. If your brand has such a story to tell and has not told it yet, it’s time you reworked on your branding strategies and shouted out loud about how you became a hero from a zero.

When a small company takes on the giant, there is a different thrill in that. There is a unique charm associated with ‘challenger brands’. Come to think of it, even our mythological heroes were the underdogs. The Pandavas were the underdogs in the epicMahabharata, and the story of their victory over the Kauravas is so mesmerizing that it has transcended all barriers of borders and language and has been adapted and recreated in so many lands and in so many languages.

The story of the underdog has a universal appeal, which very few stories have. It’s the little guy, the one with faults, who we like more than the ‘perfect man’. No wonder then, that for many, it’s Batman who is the real superhero and not Spiderman or Superman. This is so because Batman is human and he has his weaknesses that he has mastered. He is a hero not because he was born with special superpowers, but because he worked hard to develophis physical and mental capacities. He is the best detective and the greatest scientist who does not ‘fight off’ his opponents, but uses his intelligence to outwit them. He is someone we can aspire to be. He is someone who dares to fail; dares to dream. He is similar to our corporate heroes like Richard Branson, Narayana Murthy & Steve Jobs who started at ground zero, and through sheer hard work and courage, made it big.

Similarly, we all love the brands that are ready to fight the biggies, believe in something and have a vision. We like brands that have the courage to put up a fight; like the Pandavas, who fought the war against the mighty Kauravas, because it was the right thing to do. We get inspired by stories of underdogs. So if you want to stand out and get noticed; if you want to be loved and idolised; let the world know your ‘underdog story’, for that is the best marketing strategy. The Mahabharata did it, so can you!

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HUM AAP KO JANTE HAI: A TOUCHING MORAL By Santosh kumar

HUM AAP KO JANTE HAI: A TOUCHING MORAL By Santosh kumar

A TOUCHING MORAL By Santosh kumar

A long time ago, there was a huge apple tree. A little boy loved to come and play around it everyday. He climbed to the tree-top, ate the apples, took a nap under the shadow...He loved the tree and the tree loved to play with him. Time went by... the little boy had grown up and he no longer played around the tree every day. One day, the boy came back to the tree and he looked sad.

"Come and play with me," the tree asked the boy. "I am no longer a kid, I don't play around trees anymore." The boy replied, "I want toys. I need money to buy them." "Sorry, but I don't have money... but you can pick all my apples and sell them. So, you will have money." The boy was so excited. He grabbed all the apples on the tree and left happily. The boy never came back after he picked the apples. The tree was sad. One day, the boy returned and the tree was so excited.

"Come and play with me" the tree said. "I don't have time to play. I have to work for my family. We need a house for shelter. Can you help me?" "Sorry, but I don't have a house. But you can chop off my branches to build your house." So the boy cut all the branches of the tree and left happily. The tree was glad to see him happy but the boy never came back since then. The tree was again lonely and sad.

One hot summer day, the boy returned and the tree was delighted. "Come and play with me!" the tree said. "I am sad and getting old. I want to go sailing to relax myself. Can you give me a boat?" "Use my truck to build your boat. You can sail far away and be happy." So the boy cut the tree trunk to make a boat. He went sailing and never showed up for a long time.

Finally, the boy returned after he left for so many years. "Sorry, my boy. But I don't have anything for you any more. "No more apples for you... "the tree said. "I don't have teeth to bite" the boy replied. "No more truck for you to climb on" "I am too old for that now" the boy said. "I really can't give you anything ... the only thing left is my dying roots" the tree said with tears. "I don't need much now, just a place to rest. I am tired after all these years." The boy replied. "Good! Old tree roots is the best place to lean on and rest. Come, Come sit down with me and rest." The boy sat down and the tree was glad and smiled with tears.......

This is a story of everyone. The tree is our parent. When we were young, we loved to play with Mom and Dad...When we grown up, we left them... only came to them when we need something or when we are in trouble. No matter what, parents will always be there and give everything they could to make you happy. You may think the boy is cruel to the tree but that's how all of us are treating our parent.

To Tame a Dangerous Lord By Santosh Kumar

I wish you were still here to counsel me, Maman. You never warned me that a man’s kiss could be so thrilling, or that a simple embrace could shatter a woman’s senses. It was a most startling revelation!

Near London; September 1817

“Of all the dratted ill luck,” Madeline Ellis muttered as she peered out the inn’s bedchamber window at the dimly-lit stableyard below. “First the stage and now Lord Ackerby.”

Her heart sank at her worsening predicament. It was vexing enough that the stagecoach carrying her to London had lost a wheel in the middle of a torrential rainstorm this afternoon, stranding her an hour short of her destination, which meant depleting her meager funds on a night’s lodging at a posting inn. But now the lecherous Baron Ackerby had somehow found her trail.

Madeline had just retired for bed when she was alerted by the commotion of the baron’s traveling chaise arriving in the cobbled yard of The Drake. She could see his lordship’s elegantly-garbed figure below in the lamplight, could hear his imperious voice giving orders to change his team while he inquired inside.

When his gaze swept upward, Madeline ducked behind the window curtain to avoid being seen.

“This is beyond maddening,” she said through gritted teeth.

For years Lord Ackerby had merely hinted at his desire to have her for his mistress, but recently his unwanted advances had become disgustingly overt, and eluding him was proving an exercise in futility.

Madeline winced at the thought of the persistent libertine finding her here. She couldn’t believe Ackerby was actually licentious enough to try to ravish her to force her compliance, but even so, she was far too vulnerable in her nightdress and bare feet. Regrettably, though, she had no dressing gown with her, since her trunk was still strapped to the back of the stagecoach. And her cloak was clammy and damp from traipsing down the road in a pouring rain after the wheel mishap. She likely had no time, either, to pull on her muddy half boots. Doubtless the baron would inquire of the innkeep if a lady of her description—medium brown hair, average height, drab attire—had passed this way today. And he would be directed to her bedchamber upstairs, where the flimsy door latch would provide scant deterrence. Heaven forbid.

In determination Madeline squared her shoulders. With her employer’s recent demise and her brother’s untimely departure, she had no one to depend on but herself. So you might as well take action instead of standing here frozen like a halfwit, she scolded herself. Besides, she was a soldier’s daughter who had learned to be strong and self-sufficient.

“He thinks me defenseless, Maman, but he will discover differently,” Madeline added as she searched her reticule in the darkness.

She had the admittedly eccentric habit of talking to her late French mother, seeking her unspoken counsel. Jacqueline Ellis was long in her grave, much to the grief of her husband and two children, having been carried off by a deadly ague the winter when Madeline was thirteen. It had been the saddest day of her life. But carrying on imaginary conversations with her dear departed mother made her feel as if Maman were still with her.

To Madeline’s further sorrow, her father had been killed in the war five years later. And her only remaining family—her younger brother Gerard—had left the district this week, having secretly eloped to Scotland with his childhood sweetheart.

Madeline felt a trifle better when she located her small, single-shot pistol in her reticule. Yet she didn’t relish waiting here like a helpless mouse being hunted by a bird of prey.

“And soldier’s daughter or not, there is no shame in retreating when the odds are against you,” Madeline reminded herself. Papa would have said it wasn’t cowardly to flee under such circumstance, merely wise.

After checking that the pistol was primed and loaded, she opened her bedchamber door and peered out. The corridor was empty, she saw in the dim light of a wall sconce.

Slipping from her room, she shut the door quietly and crept down the hall, heading toward the rear of the inn. She could hear laughter and raucous masculine camaraderie from the taproom below as she rounded the corner searching for a place to hide.

To her relief, she saw an open door to what was obviously a parlor rather than a bedchamber. A welcoming fire crackled in the grate, while a low-burning lamp illuminated the near side of the room.

Hearing an ominous tread of footsteps on the staircase behind her, Madeline slipped inside the parlor and took up a defensive position behind the door.

Dismayingly, Baron Ackerby’s persistence had only been emboldened three weeks ago when her longtime position as a lady’s companion ended with the passing of her elderly employer, a crabby but dear noblewoman. At the moment Madeline was heading to London to seek work at an employment agency, since it was even more imperative now that she find the means to support herself. In championing the course of true love, she’d helped her brother elope to Scotland and had given him all her remaining savings.

Madeline loathed being in such a vulnerable situation, virtually penniless and at the mercy of a powerful, wealthy lord who thought he ruled everything and everyone in proximity to Chelmsford, Essex. She was convinced that Baron Ackerby wanted her chiefly because she had always resisted him. Why else would he pursue a spinster of somewhat plain looks and outspoken wit if not for the challenge of vanquishing her?

Apparently, her stubborn defiance only roused his determination to have her for his mistress. Even so, Madeline could scarcely believe Ackerby’s gall when he’d voiced his humiliating proposition outright not two hours after her employer was laid in her grave!

Madeline’s bloodlines, too, were a strike against her. The French émigrés in their community were generally poor and had little defense against the whims of the nobility and gentry. Madeline was only half French—her father had been a captain in the British Army and a brilliant intelligence officer serving under General Lord Wellington—but even so, she had little protection now against a lascivious nobleman bent on owning her.

Standing there in the parlor, barefoot and scantily dressed, Madeline shivered. Perhaps she should have wrapped a bed quilt around her to stave off the chill. Even holding her pistol at the ready, she felt vulnerable. She despised this feeling of powerlessness. She could feel her heart beating much too rapidly as she wondered what excuse the baron would have given to the innkeep for following her—

Just then the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Evidently she was mistaken about the parlor being empty, for she sensed a threatening presence behind her.

Her heart practically stopped when a man’s strong fingers suddenly closed around her wrist like a manacle. Gasping, Madeline whirled to face him, but the next instant he claimed her pistol and hauled her against him. She was jolted by the impact as arms of steel clamped around her body, holding her immobile.

Stunned, she gazed up at her raven-haired captor. He was tall, powerfully built, with a sense of danger about him that was unmistakable. But it was his physical masculine beauty that took her breath away: Strong, chiseled features, winged black brows, and dark fringed blue eyes.

Eyes that were pinning her with a deadly look at the moment.

Dear heavens, Maman . . . what have I done? Madeline wondered before silently answering her own question.

Evidently she had jumped from the proverbial frying pan into the fire.

She swallowed hard, wondering if it would benefit her to scream.

Rayne Kenyon, Earl of Haviland, had seen a good deal in his illustrious career with British Intelligence, but it was not every day he encountered a woman garbed only in a nightdress brandishing a pistol.

And to think he was just lamenting again how dull his life had been of late, Rayne reflected as he tightened his hold on the intruder.

He didn’t take kindly to the threat of weapons when he was unarmed himself. Besides, the last female to brandish a pistol at him had been a French spy out for his blood. Therefore, when this scantily dressed interloper had barged into the private parlor where he was awaiting the arrival of a relative, his survival instincts had taken over, along with his highly trained reflexes.

But now that he’d disarmed her, a different set of impulses swiftly gained control. His senses registered the lush warmth of her body, the sweet scent of her skin, the luminous shock in her wide gray eyes.

Bloody hell, Rayne thought wryly, clamping down on his urges. It was damned foolish to be lusting after a strange female who might be bent on assassination. Although it was unlikely anyone wanted to kill him just now. His days as a spymaster were long over.

And she looked startled enough that he doubted his assassination was her chief aim.

“I b-beg your pardon,” she stammered, her voice shaken and breathless. “I d-didn’t realize this parlor was occupied.”

He relaxed his hold a measure, although he kept one arm around her waist while he examined her pistol.

When he saw her eyeing the weapon longingly, Rayne shook his head and lowered the pistol to his side. “I’ll keep this, if you please.”

“I would not have used it on you.”

“Then why were you carrying it?”

She went rigid upon hearing footsteps out in the corridor. “Please,” she whispered urgently, peering over her shoulder toward the door. “Don’t give me away.”

She was clearly concerned about whomever was out in the corridor.

“I hope you will forgive me,” she added suddenly, turning back to him, “if I ask you to kiss me.” Then wrapping her arms around his neck, she lifted her face and plastered her mouth to his.

In his dozen years working for the Crown, Rayne had rarely been caught so off guard. But the press of her full lips against his was an utter surprise, one that sent a jolt of pure pleasure rocketing through him.

Her mouth was ripe and warm, as was her body, so once more he reacted on sheer instinct: He returned her kiss with an involuntary hunger.

Her taste was keenly arousing and unexpectedly sweet. Without thought, Rayne increased the pleasure by parting her lips with his thrusting tongue.

At first she stiffened in response, as if startled herself by the novelty of his action. Yet she opened to his exploration, perhaps because she was too stunned to do otherwise.

He might have gone on kissing her for some time if not for the gruff male voice intruding on the intimate moment.

“What the devil is the meaning of this!”

To Rayne’s regret, the woman in his arms gave a jerk and pulled her mouth away. She was flushed and trembling when she turned to face the newcomer, but under the circumstances her poise was admirable when she said coolly, “Lord Ackerby, what brings you here?”

She obviously knew the tall, auburn-haired gentleman who was pinning her with an intense stare.

“Why, you, of course, Madeline. I heard that you had left Chelmsford to look for employment, so I thought to convey you to London myself.”

“That is kind of you, my lord, but I have no need of your assistance.”

“Certainly you do. You currently have no income, and no means of transportation.”

Her chin raised at a slight angle of defiance. “I can manage on my own. And as you see, I am busy at the moment. I should think even you would realize it is ragmannered to interrupt a tryst.”

The nobleman looked taken aback before his eyes narrowed with skepticism. “You intend me to believe you came here to meet your lover?”

“You may believe what you choose, my lord,” she replied sweetly.

It had taken Rayne little time to realize she was pretending a liaison with him in order to thwart her pursuer. Deciding to go along with the charade for the moment and play the part of her lover, he tightened his arm around her waist possessively and drew her closer to him.

“Ackerby, is it? You should heed the lady’s wishes. She has no desire for your company.”

His face darkening, the nobleman swung his gaze to Rayne. “Just who the devil are you?”

“I am Haviland.”

“The Earl of Haviland?” the man asked in apparent recognition.

“Yes.”

Rayne’s illustrious title gave Ackerby pause. Evidently it was one thing to pursue a defenseless, unemployed woman. It was quite another to challenge a wealthy earl who could clearly take care of himself and her as well.

“You have no business interfering, sir,” Ackerby finally retorted.

“But he does,” Madeline countered smoothly. “It is you who have no claim to me, my lord.”

Ackerby’s tone turned conciliatory. “I traveled a great distance on your account, Madeline. I am concerned for your welfare.”

“Indeed?” Her tone had gone dry. “I hardly think my welfare was your chief motive in following me. But I have told you numerous times, I am not interested in your proposition. Now perhaps you understand why. I already have a protector.”

She was more than holding her own, Rayne observed, yet he thought it time to intervene. “I suggest you take your leave, Ackerby, before I am compelled to assist you.”

The nobleman was clearly disbelieving about being dismissed—and furious as well. His gaze skewered first Rayne, then the woman.

“You have not heard the last from me,” Ackerby warned her before spinning on his heel and stalking out.

She had been holding her breath, but after a long moment, she shuddered in relief.

“Thank you for not giving me away,” she murmured, turning her head to gaze up at Rayne. “Truly, I did not mean to trouble you.”

“It was no trouble,” he replied lightly. “I daresay it flattered my vanity to play your paramour.”

Her cheeks warmed to a becoming pink. “I do not usually kiss perfect strangers—or anyone else for that matter.” Her attention shifted to the weapon he still held at his side. “May I have my pistol back, please?”

“It depends on how you mean to use it. You’ll understand my discomfort at the threat you presented when you suddenly appeared.”

Her mouth quirked. “You were never in any real danger from me. I only armed myself in case he tried to accost me. Baron Ackerby has . . . less than honorable designs upon my person.”

“So I deduced,” Rayne said. “Would you have shot him?”

“I don’t imagine so, but I thought it better to be prepared.”

“I take it he offered you a position in his bed and you refused?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Certainly I refused. I won’t be any man’s mistress. Particularly one whose arrogant manner drives me half mad. His conceit will not per- mit him to accept my refusal. But obviously I under- estimated him. I did not expect him to follow me to London.” She glanced worriedly at the door again. “I believe I will wait here for a while longer, if you don’t mind the intrusion.”

“Not in the least, but I should think you would dislike being alone with a stranger.”

That brought her considering gaze back to Rayne. “I will take my chances with you. You appear to be a gentleman.”

Rayne returned her regard while drawing his own conclusions about her. She was well spoken, a lady by the sound of it. Her bearing, too, suggested gentility.

He understood why the baron would want her in his bed. She was not a beauty; in truth, she was rather plain, with square, somewhat masculine features and a sallow complexion. And her hair was a mousy, nondescript brown, which she wore scraped back from her face in a serviceable plait. But her body was another matter altogether. He’d felt her ripe curves hidden by the folds of her practical, unflattering nightdress.

She was a lush armful that he found extremely appealing—

“You may release me now,” she said rather breathlessly, interrupting Rayne’s lustful thoughts and reminding him that his arm was still draped around her waist. Strangely he didn’t want to let her go, although he did so. “At least tell me your full name.” When she hesitated, he added, “I should like to know whom I rescued.”

Her mouth curved. “You did not rescue me precisely. I believe I can claim the larger credit.”

“I see. You’re ungrateful now that the danger has passed.”

Amusement flashed in her expressive gray eyes, and Rayne found himself unaccountably intrigued. Since Napoleon’s final defeat at Waterloo two years ago, his days of excitement and danger were over, much to his regret. The need for spies to thwart a French tyrant bent on world domination was a relic of the past. And even though Rayne had stretched out his career as long as possible, through the Congress of Vienna when the triumphant powers had divided up Europe and redistributed Boney’s territorial claims, he’d been forced to return to England the previous year when he inherited the earldom at his father’s passing.

He was utterly bored by the tameness of his current life and the necessity of hunting for a bride. He’d spent the past interminable week at a house party in Brighton as a favor to his grandmother, the dowager Countess Haviland. He’d accompanied Lady Haviland there and intended to escort her back to London at the conclusion, but it had been a relief to escape early because of a desperate summons by his distant cousin, Freddie Lunsford. Rayne was awaiting Freddie now, but this particular lady was also proving a welcome respite.

He had no excuse for not returning her pistol, though. When he handed the weapon to her, she stepped back from him with an expression of relief. “Thank you. I won’t inconvenience you further, Lord Haviland.”

“You needn’t go just yet,” Rayne said, laying a hand on her arm when she started to turn away. “A bounder like Ackerby may still be waiting to pounce on you.”

“He has left the inn by now . . . I hope.” She didn’t sound convinced, however. Putting her arms around her thinly-clad form, she shivered.

“You are chilled,” he noted. “Come stand by the fire.”

Apparently she recognized the wisdom of his suggestion, for after another moment’s hesitation, she nodded.

Taking her elbow, Rayne guided her into the parlor toward the hearth. On the way, he collected his caped greatcoat, which he’d laid over the end of the sofa, and draped it around her shoulders.

“Thank you,” Madeline murmured once more, snuggling into the depths of the fabric and then holding out her hands to the blaze.

When his greatcoat began to slip, Rayne caught it and moved to stand in front of her. Reaching up, he started to close the lapels across her bosom. But then she looked up at him and his altruistic gesture arrested.

The firelight lent a golden glow to her skin and brought out the shining, honey-bright highlights of her hair, Rayne saw. But it was her mouth that most attracted his attention. Red and ripe, it beckoned to him.

Rayne went utterly still, recognizing the primitive sensations streaking through him: Possessiveness, hunger, lust. Sexual awareness was suddenly rife between them.

She felt it also, he knew. The tension in her body had returned with a new, sharp-edged tautness he could actually sense.

Madeline shivered again, but not with cold, he suspected. When her lips parted in a wordless inhalation, Rayne couldn’t resist, despite his assertions of being a gentleman.

He lowered his head to claim another kiss from her.

She gave a faint gasp at the first potent contact of their mouths, while his own breath quickened at the enticing taste and feel of her. Her lips trembled under his . . . soft, resilient, lush, the texture of silk, although she seemed too stunned to participate in her seduction.

Therefore, he changed the slant of his mouth and took her mouth more thoroughly, insistently coaxing her surrender.

He felt a measure of triumph when her tongue met his almost willingly this time. Raising a hand to cradle her jaw, Rayne angled his head even further and deepened the pressure, the better to drink her in.

Her breath softened to a sigh as their tongues tangled, mated. The tantalizing promise of her response stirred heat and need in Rayne’s loins. It didn’t help either to know she was naked beneath her nightdress. He could feel his hunger rise the longer he went on kissing her. He felt primed and more than ready to strip off her nightdress and explore the ripe curves of her oh-so-feminine body.

Hearing a warning voice clamoring in his head, Rayne fought the urge to pull her closer. Even so, his hand shifted to her throat, caressing the fine skin above her nightshift’s high neckline. He found her pulse thrumming wildly, and when she moaned, the soft sound only sharpened his desire. His greatest longing just now was to cup her full breasts and kindle her pleasure even further, but he wouldn’t permit himself to go so far. Instead he allowed his imagination to flourish.

He could picture himself baring the luscious mounds of her breasts. Savoring her taste when he sucked her peaked nipples into his mouth. Stroking his hands down her back to her rounded buttocks. Raising the hem of her nightdress and sliding his fingers between her parted thighs.

She would be hot and wet and ready for him, he knew. A fierce shaft of need arrowed through Rayne as he envisaged lifting her up and plunging into her welcoming heat, locking her legs around his hips as he took her.

He settled instead for embracing her while claiming her mouth, all of his senses focused on the vibrant woman in his arms. Like him, she had become lost in the powerful sensuality flowing between them.

Of her own accord, she moved closer, pressing her breasts flush against his chest, her belly tight against his erection. When she arched against Rayne, his hands went to her hips, holding her supple figure even tighter, molding her softness to his much harder frame. He wanted to seize her, to ravish her, to sink into her—

At last acknowledging the danger of losing his control, Rayne determinedly shackled his need and forced himself to stop. Breaking off his passionate embrace, he lifted his head. Her eyes were closed, he saw, and when he eased back, Madeline swayed weakly.

He caught her shoulders to support her, and her eyes fluttered open. She looked dazed, shaken even.

Staring up at him, she raised her fingers to her lips, as if feeling the burn there. “W-why did you kiss me again?” she whispered, her voice a mere hoarse thread.

He gazed down at her, admiring the alluring picture she made—her cheeks flushed, her lovely eyes wide with shocked arousal, her lips swollen and damp and parted to accommodate her uneven breaths.

The fierce ache in his loins actually increased.

Muttering a silent oath, Rayne shook himself. He couldn’t remember the last time a mere kiss had affected him so powerfully, or when his possessive male instincts had been so sharply aroused.

And her question was not one he could answer readily. Why had he kissed her? He sure as hell knew better than to take advantage of a defenseless woman’s plight, but his honor had escaped him for the moment.

“What if I said I got carried away, playing the role of your lover?” he asked, his voice thicker than he would have liked.

She blinked, as if struggling to come to her senses. Then her eyes narrowed. “But you are not my lover.”

She was recovering from her daze, he noted, discomfited when she squared her shoulders and tightened her grip on her pistol, although not aiming it directly at him.

Rayne’s mouth curved involuntarily. It would serve him right if she decided to pull the trigger, for his raging male impulses had been every bit as licentious as her baron’s.

“You needn’t fear,” he said, attempting to keep his voice light. “I won’t touch you again. If I do, you have my leave to shoot me.”

He meant what he said, Rayne reflected. Deciding it wiser to remove himself from temptation, though, he retreated to the sofa and settled there, crossing one leg over the other, the better to hide the swollen bulge in his pantaloons.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Rayne Kenyon, Earl of Haviland.”

She gave a start of recognition. “Kenyon?” she repeated as if surprised by his surname.

“Do you know me?”

“No . . . but I believe you knew my father. Captain David Ellis.”

It was Rayne’s turn to start. “You are his daughter Madeline?”

“Yes.”

Rayne stared. Her revelation gave matters an entirely different perspective, since Captain David Ellis was the friend and fellow spy who had once saved his life.

Now he damned well knew he should never have kissed her.

मैं हूं न ..............संतोष कुमार

मुकुंद बाबू की आज अन्तिम विदाई भी हो गई। सभी नाते-रिश्तेदार पूर्ण तृप्त हो करुणा जी की झोली में संवेदनाएं उडेल अपने-अपने नीडों की ओर उड गए। बेटी धरा भी अपने पति व बच्चों के साथ मां से मिलकर लौट गई। इस सबसे निबटते रात उतरने लगी। रह गया केवल हार्दिक और उसके बच्चे। अब चिंता हो आई- मम्मी अकेली कैसे रहेंगी? जब तक पापा रहे कोई चिन्ता नहीं थी। दोनों मिलकर आराम से रह रहे थे। अब क्या करे वह? मम्मी से क्या कहे वह? पता नहीं मम्मी इतनी जल्दी साथ भी चलेगी या नहीं? पूरी रात यही सोचते करवटों में कट गई। इससे पहले मां को लेकर कभी चिन्ता नहीं हुई थी। कुछ भी कहते संकोच नहीं हुआ था, पर पापा के जाने के बाद मम्मी को देखना रहता है, उसके मुंह से शब्द नहीं फूटते। मां के कंधे पर सिर रखने वाला बेटा अब मां का सिर अपने कंधे पर टिका लेता है। मैं हूं न मां, आप चिन्ता क्यों करती हैं? मैं चिंता क्या करूंगी? पर चालीस साल का साथ छूटा है- अच्छा-बुरा, हंसते-रोते, लडते-झगडते- कैसे भुला सकती हूं। मम्मी, मैंने भी पापा को खोया है। उनके रहते मैं कितना निश्चिन्त था। मेरी हर समस्या का समाधान उनके पास था। पापा हाथ छुडाकर चले गए हैं। कितना अकेला हो गया हूं मैं! और मां-बेटे दोनों अपने-अपने आंसू बहने देते। आकर उन्हें संभालती। बच्चे कहते- दादी मां, आप और पापा रोएंगे तो हम भी रोएंगे। हमें भी अपने दादा जी चाहिए। उनके जाने से हमारी खुशी छिन गई है। करुणा जी झट अपने आंसू पोंछ लेतीं और मुस्कराकर कहतीं- कहां रो रही हूं। बस तुम्हारे दादाजी याद आ गए। सबको उदास देखकर बच्चे भी उदास रहते। पहले की तरह मस्ती नहीं करते और न कोई चीज लेने की जिद्द। जैसे बच्चे भी समझदार हो गए। करुणा जी को नहीं छोडते क्योंकि वे सारा समय औरतों से घिरी मुख नीचा किए बैठी रहती हैं या रोती रहती हैं। अजीब सा माहौल है। बहुत हिम्मत कर हार्दिक ने कहा- मम्मी, आपसे कुछ कहना है। तेरी उलझन मैं समझ रही हूं हार्दिक। जो तू पूछना या कहना चाहता है मुझे मालूम है। जो तेरी उलझन है वह मेरी भी है। तू इसे आज महसूस कर रहा है, मैंने कई दिन पहले महसूस कर लिया था। तेरी छोटी मौसी वत्सला कुछ समय मेरे पास रहेगी। तू निश्चिन्त होकर जा। और आगे की बाद में सोचेंगे। वह कल शाम तक आ जाएगी। वह तो ठीक है मम्मी, लेकिन आपको इस अवस्था में अकेले कैसे छोड सकता हूं, और इतनी जल्दी चलने को भी कैसे कह सकता हूं। तू इतनी चिन्ता मत कर। कहा न कि वत्सला रहेगी मेरे पास। कुछ वक्त लगेगा, धीरे-धीरे जीवन पटरी पर आ जाएगा। एकदम घर में ताला लगाकर तेरे साथ चल भी नहीं सकती। इस घर का आदमी मेरा पति, तेरा पिता गया है। कोई बाहर का नहीं। अभी उनके प्रति मेरे कुछ कर्तव्य हैं। जिन्हें पूरा करना है। जब तेरी जरूरत होगी, फोन पर बता दूंगी। कल वत्सला के आने पर तू निकल जाना। तब तक हलवाई, टैन्ट वालों या अन्य किसी का हिसाब करना हो निबटा लेना। अपना सामान तैयार कर ले। खुशी को भी बता दे। संकोच करने से काम नहीं चलने वाला। कुछ देर बैठकर हार्दिक उठ गया। फिर लौटकर करुणाजी को एक लिफाफा देकर बोला- मम्मी, इसे मेरे जाने के बाद खोलना। करुणा जी ने लिफाफा अलमारी में रख लिया। वत्सला के आने पर हार्दिक चला गया। करुणा जी ने लिफाफा खोलकर देखा, हजार-हजार के दस नोटों के साथ एक छोटी सी चिट भी थी- जल्दी ही आऊंगा। करुणाजी ने लिफाफा आंखों से लगाया और जहां से निकाला था वहीं रख दिया। आंखें नम हो आई। कभी धरा आ जाती, कभी वत्सला और कभी हार्दिक। हार्दिक जब भी आता करुणा जी को एक लिफाफा थमा जाता और वे संभालकर रख लेंती। इसी प्रकार एक साल निकल गया। मुकुन्द जी की बरसी पर हार्दिक के आने से पहले ही वत्सला, धरा और करुणा जी ने सारी व्यवस्था कर ली। हार्दिक बरसी की पूर्व संध्या पर पहुंच गया। उसे आश्चर्य हुआ- मैं आ तो रहा था मम्मी। आपने सारा आयोजन कैसे किया? इतने सारे रुपए की व्यवस्था कहां से की? मैंने कुछ नहीं किया। सब तेरी बहिन और मौसी ने किया है। पैसे सारे तूने ही खर्च किए हैं? मैंने..? आश्चर्य से पूछा हार्दिक ने। हां, जब भी तू आता, मुझे रुपए थमा जाता। बस उन्हीं रुपयों से सब व्यवस्था हो गई। और मम्मी, आपका खर्चा..? सब चल गया। कुछ तेरे पापा छोड गए थे, कुछ पेंशन मिल जाती है। शायद तूने इधर नहीं सोचा। अब सारी चिन्ता छोड। सब आराम से चल रहा है। करुणाजी को लोगों ने समझाया कि बहू-बेटे के पास जाकर रहने से स्वयं को अपमानित कराना है। दो-चार दिन के लिए जाओ तो बहू से सम्मान मिलता है और जब हमेशा के लिए जाकर रहने लगो तो वही सम्मान अपमान में बदल जाता है। यह बात कहीं न कहीं करुणा जी के मन में भी थी। वे बहाने बनाकर हार्दिक के साथ जाना टालती रहीं। एक दिन थक कर हार्दिक ने कहा- मम्मी, आप क्या समझती हैं मैं आपका ध्यान नहीं रख सकता। यदि आप कभी अपमानित महसूस करें तो मुझे बता देना। मैं आपको यहीं छोड जाऊंगा। आपके रहते यह घर नहीं बेचूंगा। एक बार आप अपने बच्चों पर विश्वास करके देखिए। खुशी आपका इंतजार कर रही है। अब स्वयं को नहीं रोक सकी करुणा जी। अपना जरूरी सामान पैक किया। घर का ताला लगा दिया और स्वयं हार्दिक के साथ आ गई। करुणा जी के कमरे में ए.सी. लगा था, कलर टी.वी. था, अटैच बाथरूम यानि सुविधा का सभी सामान था। बच्चों ने करुणा जी को हांथों-हाथ लिया। उन्हें कोई किसी काम में हाथ न लगाने देता। पूरे समय काम करने के लिए नौकर जो था। बच्चे स्कूल से लौटकर दादी मां-दादी मां कहकर उन्हें घेर लेते। बच्चे दादी मां के साथ खूब खुश रहते। हार्दिक और खुशी भी करुणा जी के आने से काफी निश्चिन्त हो गए थे। वीक एंड पर सब घूमने जाते। करुणा जी बच्चों को होमवर्क करा देतीं। उनके साथ लूडो, कैरम, अन्ताक्षरी खेलतीं, कहानियां सुनातीं। करुणा जी उन्हें रस्सी घुमाना सिखातीं। धीरे-धीरे दस-बारह बच्चों का ग्रुप बन गया। करुणा जी उन्हें रोज नए-नए खेल खिलातीं। कभी कहानियां सुनातीं। बच्चे अपने प्रश्नों के उत्तर करुणाजी से पाकर सन्तुष्ट होते। करुणाजी कभी-कभी अपने साथ टॉफी, चाकलेट्स या बिस्कुट के पैकेट ले आतीं और बच्चों में बांट देती। बच्चों की मम्मियों से भी उनकी दोस्ती हो गई। बच्चे अपने जन्मदिन पर करुणाजी को अपने घर निमंत्रित करते अथवा उनके घर कोई उत्सव होता तो करुणा जी को न्यौता अवश्य मिलता। वे इला और कार्तिक के साथ चली जातीं। धीरे-धीरे सभी बच्चे अपना होमवर्क भी करुणा जी के पास बैठकर पूरा करने लगे। उन्हें पढाते हुए समय का पता ही न चलता। कब पंख लगाकर गुजर जाता। कभी दो-चार दिन के लिए घर लौटतीं तो बच्चे रोज फोन करते- अम्मा जी, कब लौट रही हैं? हमारा मन नहीं लग रहा। आप जल्दी आइए। करुणाजी की आंखें भर आतीं। ये कैसा बंधन? एक टूटा दूसरा जुड गया। आगे वक्त कैसे कटेगा वे इस चिन्ता से मुक्त हो गई। करुणा जी के लौटने पर बच्चे खूब खुश होते। धीरे-धीरे पुराने रूटीन पर लौट आते। एक दिन बच्चों की मम्मियां उनके पास आई और उनके पैरों में एक-एक लिफाफा रख दिया। उन्हें बडा आश्चर्य हुआ। उत्सुकता भी हुई कि देखें लिफाफे में क्या है? उन्होंने एक लिफाफा खोला सौ-सौ के तीन नोट रखे थे। सभी लिफाफों में रुपए थे। उन्होंने पूछा- आप सब ये रुपए मुझे क्यों दे रही हैं? मांजी, बच्चे जब से आपके सम्पर्क में आए हैं, ट्यूशन पढना छोड दिया है। आप जो भी पढाती हैं, बहुत ध्यान से सुनते हैं और याद रखते हैं। नम्बर भी अच्छे ला रहे हैं। आप इतनी मेहनत करती हैं तो हमारा भी कुछ फर्ज बनता है। ये क्या कह रही हो तुम सब? मेरे पास पैसे की कोई कमी नहीं है। बेटा-बहू मेरा खूब ध्यान रखते हैं। मैं इन रुपयों का क्या करूंगी? ज्ञान बांटने से बढता है कम नहीं होता। मेरे पास जो थोडा सा ज्ञान है इनमें बांट देती हूं। करुणा जी ने लाख मना किया पर वे सब नहीं मानीं। करुणा जी को वे रुपए लेने पडे। उनके पास तीन हजार रुपए थे। यानि साल में छत्तीस हजार। वे इतने रुपयों का क्या करेंगी? सोच रही थीं- तभी उन्हें ख्याल आया। अगले सप्ताह दिवाली है। करुणाजी ने सारी बात हार्दिक और खुशी को बताई। खुशी और हार्दिक ने हंसते हुए कहा-मम्मी, आपकी पहली कमाई है। अपने पास रखिए। नहीं हार्दिक, बच्चों की कमाई बच्चों में बांट देना चाहती हूं। हम दीपावली पर अनाथाश्रम चलेंगे। बच्चों को मिठाई और पटाखे बाटेंगे। हर साल जितना पैसा इकट्ठा होगा जरूरतमंद संस्था को दे देंगे। करुणा जी के फैसले पर दोनों ने मुहर लगा दी। इस प्रकार दो साल और निकल गए। एक दिन करुणा जी हार्दिक और खुशी से बोलीं- तुम से कुछ कहना चाहती हूं बच्चों। मैं वहां रहती थी तो घर की साज-संवार कर लेती थी। बिन देख रेख के घर बेकार हो रहा है। मैं चाहती हूं तुम उसे बेच दो। जो पैसा मिले उसका एक तिहाई धरा को भी दे देना। शेष तुम रख लेना। मम्मी! आपके इस फैसले से मैं सहमत नहीं हूं। अभी हम घर किराए पर उठा देते हैं। एक कमरा अपने पास रख लेंगे। आप चिन्ता मत करो। मैं हूं न। हां तुम दोनों मेरी पूंजी हो। तभी तो निश्चिंत हूं। कहकर करुणा जी ने दोनों को गले लगा लिया