Two weeks. Two glorious weeks. The rains have gone.
A bit of sunshine here and there, warming the cockles of my heart. I am going to meet her again today.
Talk about butterflies in the stomach, my legs feel like a jellyfish.
That rainy afternoon feels like a dream. I finally reached her home. She lived about 20 minutes away from my place. A place through the woods, a secluded path. Green trees lined up and a hint of pink spring lilies along the way. The brown muddy path would take the imprint of our footsteps, just for a while before being washed away by the drizzle.
Her name was Jessie, short for Jessica. She was here for her holidays, visiting her aunt from the city. Away from the hot dusty plains far away.
She had visited earlier, when she was a child.
I offered to show her around.
“But Sam, you must be busy with your studies. .and stuff.”
“Nah, it’s cool. I’m on a break myself.”
We had walked around the town. Two people oblivious to the world. She was interested in the history of the place. Old buildings, churches, graveyards and other relics of the past. Her curiosity was tinged with emotions.
“Oh, so sad, this is the grave of a child…”, she fell silent. I think she was silently praying.
But today I wanted her to leave the past behind, I wanted to take her on a short hike. Up the hill, past the old trading post, to the clear mountain stream.
So I had packed some sandwiches. My mom was extra sweet.
We met at the foot of the hill. My new found liberty meant that my folks were okay with me hanging out with a neighbour.
It was a gentle slope. The grass rustled against our feet as we slowly walked up. The breeze played on her hair, teasing it to no end. Whispering mischief.
“How far is the stream?”, she asked.
“Why don’t we rest ahead? There used be an old trading post here. When the Indo-Tibet trade route was operative, this is where the Tibetan traders used to rest with their mules”, I replied.
She sat down next to me. The town roofs looked like a miniature painting. Everyone is their own world. Just two of us here.
She was wearing a faded blue jeans and a white sweater. Small gold earrings. I was in my usual jeans and black jacket. Both of us became silent for a while. Munching on the sandwiches.
“Do you come here often?” she asked.
“I used to when I was in school. This was a weekend getaway for my gang or when we wanted to bunk classes. But now I don’t come often. I miss my friends.”
“What about your girlfriend?” she teased.
“Nah, a plain bloke like me. I was busier with books than girls. Of course, we had girls in our group but just friends.”
“What about you? Anyone back in the city?”
She turned her eyes away and was quiet. Suddenly she laughed. It was like a light peal of tiny bells. The breeze picked up again and she got up and ran.
Girls. Why just couldn’t they talk straight?
I got up and followed her.
****
The stream was icy. The winter melt. She scooped up the crystal clear water and drank. I drank too.
Her eyes. Impish. Small pools of black. A dimple on the right cheek.
City girl but tough.
I wasn’t much of a talker so mostly I listened. The city was always crowded. Always on the move. People had to go somewhere and go there as fast as possible. After a while she started collecting pink wild lilies. For her aunt.
Here, in the mountains, the air was cooler, the pace much slower. We watched the clouds float by, lost in the day, wandering in our thoughts. Not sure of anything but the feeling of completely being comfortable by ourselves.
I was a fool. Falling.
The sun was setting when I reached her home. Again. We parted with a promise to meet tomorrow.
“Call me.”
I went home with a smile in my heart.
-----To be continued-----
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