Chapter Text
Chapter 1
The humid Chennai air clung to him. He had come not by choice, but by necessity; South Asia’s water resilience and tank restoration were the heart of his foundation’s work. The trustees of the Paneyapuram Trust insisted on a joint review. Shankar Raman's formal invitation, written with the smooth precision of a diplomat, could not be ignored. So William found himself here, in a city thrumming with life, jasmine sellers and horn-blaring buses.
Greenways Road came first: the urban base, discreetly opulent. High ceilings and a slightly wild garden. He stood in the back, hands clasped loosely behind him, positioning himself to observe quietly rather than perform for the room. But the introduction had already begun.
“Your Royal Highness, my daughter, Devika,” Raman said, his tone crisp, unchanged from when he had been explaining canal desilting just ten minutes earlier. “And my son, Mahadeva—Deva.”
They greeted him with a nod and a handshake, the same calm courtesy they offered everyone else. No excessive praise, no stiffness. The siblings seemed used to being watched, and just as used to ignoring it.
The concert began as part of the evening’s hospitality, a demonstration for visiting delegates, yes, but not a display meant to impress or flatter. The room's mood changed the moment Meera Shankar sat: her glance at her children settled the room. Devika took her position with her violin; Deva settled before the mridangam, more relaxed than formal.
That evening’s audience was the right kind: senior bureaucrats, temple trustees, scholars, two familiar musicians, and a few true patrons of culture. They understood the phrasing, the flourish, the risk-taking. They caught the siblings’ playful rivalry long before William did: her mock-warning tilt, his eyebrow arching before a rhythmic shift, her bright, sly response that drew quiet laughter from the senior musicians.
William watched not out of obligation but because the room's focus revealed this was more than mere hospitality. He observed discipline, decades of it, not just for special occasions. The way the room listened only confirmed it.
He noticed what he was expected to: the restored irrigation maps and trustees’ tank briefing. But he also saw the precision of her playing, and for a moment, watched her forget the audience, smiling involuntarily at her brother’s musical provocation.
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The next day, the Shankar family and trustees took him to Paneyapuram.
This visit was the point of the tour, officially speaking: a joint site audit. It was a review of a multi-year program on tank rehabilitation and temple-endowment land water governance. The partnership had been built between the Paneyapuram Trust, run by the Shankar family, and his foundation’s South Asia project office.
Paneyapuram was different. Older. Less curated. The verandas breathed. River air moved through carved screens. The courtyard seemed built for a world with fewer deadlines.
The audience that night was smaller but sharper: temple trustees, local scholars, district-level officers who actually ran the water program, Meera’s senior disciples, two visiting musicians from Thanjavur, and a handful of people who had known the family for decades.
Someone asked, gently, without ceremony, if the children would sing. Meera glanced at them with the faintest amusement, a cue that settled any doubt.
This time, the mood was playful from the start. Deva began with a jaunty opening, fully aware he had a receptive audience. Devika answered instantly, not bothering to hide her mildly challenging expression. Their mother pretended to be exasperated. The room was delighted. The senior musician in the corner nudged his neighbour and muttered something approving. William found himself smiling along with the room before he realised it.
When the piece ended, applause swelled, warm and sustained. Devika looked first to her mother, then her brother, and only then at the assembled guests.
Her eyes met his for half a second - not tentative, not seeking approval, simply there. The noise of the room receded briefly. He held her gaze for a beat longer than politeness required, then released her to her audience again.