As I settled into a comfortable chair in the open restaurant by the window, the sun’s rays began to filter through the dense canopy of trees, casting strange, captivating patterns on the stone patio. The air was crisp, filled with the misty fragrance that only a mountain morning can offer. My thoughts drifted back to the circumstances prompting me to take this break. My mind was still cluttered with the addictive Mumbai’s relentless pace, but here at this heritage resort at Mukhteshwar, time seemed to slow down, allowing me to savour every little detail.
I was halfway through my breakfast of freshly baked bread, the local white butter, fresh mixed jam, and an omelette that was more red than yellow when I saw her. She was a vision in red, her dress standing against the verdant backdrop of the white Almirah. Her backpack suggested a well-travelled journey, perhaps even adventurous.
The clock struck ten, and I guessed she had taken the early Shatabdi train from Delhi to Haldwani. As I did not hear or see a taxi coming up, I further deduced that she had opted for a bus ride up the winding roads to Mukhteshwar rather than the comfort of a cab. This choice spoke of her simplicity and a desire to immerse herself in the local experience. That was my quick Sherlock thinking.
She approached the reception, her presence commanding yet understated. There was an air of effortless grace about her, a superior and unassuming beauty. I couldn’t help but check her out and admire her from my vantage point, which allowed me an uninterrupted line of vision. The mystery she carried and my early assumptions piqued my curiosity. I challenged myself to find out later how right I had been.
The day unfolded lazily, with the sun playing hide-and-seek behind the clouds. Intermittent showers ensured that I did not go further than the tea shop at the next bend, where I picked up my quota of Classic Milds.
By evening, rain picked up, its rhythmic pattern creating a symphony pleasing to the ears. I was drawn to the resort’s common area, where a cosy lounge offered a respite from the rain. The walls were adorned with local artwork, their primary alpana colours adding warmth to the dark, wooden interior.
I saw her again, sitting alone by the window, her eyes lost in the distant horizon. I was expecting to catch up with her.
Now, I am no ladies’ man. It takes me a lot of self-motivation and confidence to approach a lady in such an environment. Finally, gathering all my courage, I approached her, my heart racing with anticipation. “May I join you?” I asked, my voice barely masking my nervousness.
She looked up, her eyes meeting mine with a gentle curiosity. The 1996 Ericson Mobile advertisement ‘One Black Coffee’ is playing in my mind. “Sure,” she replied, her smile as welcoming as the warm glow of the fireplace nearby.
As we settled into a comfortable conversation, the rain outside intensified, creating a veil of rain curtain and a cocoon of intimacy within the lounge. I discovered her name was Smitakshi, a name as unique and intriguing as the person herself. It was the first time I heard a name like this. Later, I checked, and it meant Pleasant Eyed, which was apt for her.
We spoke of our travels, the places we had seen, and the ones we dreamed of visiting. Her stories were filled with an infectious enthusiasm that made the world seem boundless and proved that my inference of her being half adventure junkie was correct.
When the waiter came to take our order, I asked Sumi (Smitakshi) what she would like to drink. She glanced at me – maybe to read my intentions or to check what made me so confident that she was drinking or would share a drink. The fleeting moment of her checking me out lasted a nanosecond, or maybe all my insecurities.
She diligently went through the menu and chose a red, fiery wine, her eyes sparkling with mischief- where there were none. “Champagne would have been nice, but this will do,” she said with a wink. I decided to stick to my trusted Old Monk, the familiar taste a comforting anchor in this new and exhilarating encounter.
As the night wore on, we shared laughter and stories. With me playing the role of the perfect listener, the barriers between us dissolved like the mist outside. The simplicity of the moment. The beauty of our surroundings, and the company of a fascinating stranger made it a night to remember.
Suni’s presence was like a fresh breeze, invigorating and full of promise. The fragrance of the rain-soaked earth mingled with the delicate aroma of mountain flowers. Through the window, the dark silhouette of the mountains, with few lights twinkling from the villages at a distance, stood tall, a reminder of the vast, untamed beauty of the world beyond.
At that moment, amidst the soft glow of the lounge and the rhythmic symphony of the rain, I felt an inexplicable connection to Sumi. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring us together, two souls adrift in the ocean of life, finding solace and companionship in each other.
The night deepened, and as the waiter signalled the time to close the restaurant, we bid each other goodnight. I couldn’t help but feel that this was just the beginning of a beautiful chapter in my journey. The mountains of Mukhteshwar had woven their magic, and in their embrace. I had found a kind spirit crossing my path. As if on cue, the thunderous sound of lightning striking nearby broke the music of the rain- and the light went off. She shirked and wrapped her arms around me.
Chapter 1—Rainy Evening in a Resort at Mukhteshwar—of the story with an undisclosed destination, and Chapter II— Beaches and Whispering Mukhteshwar
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This post is part of the #BlogChatterBlogHop #BlogChatter . It gives a word cloud to write weekly. I am trying to see if I can use the weekly word cloud to write a story in continuity. The word cloud was Simplicity, Champagne, Walls, Beauty, Red, Dark, Dress, Fragrance, Window, Flowers, Ocean, Superior, and Almirah. 11/13 this time.
