The sun was bright in my eyes and the hot wind scorched across the barren landscape like an athlete in his final marathon. I stared out of my carriage window again, feeling the fatigue of the hot day falling on my sweaty shoulders.

The trip to the 'Heart of India' had gone as planned. We, me and Ravij, had taken a slow passenger train from the low plains of West Bengal to these Plateaus of Madhya Pradesh. I had met an old friend on the Borders of the state and had a relaxing 2 days stay at his estate before making it further into these tablelands to meet the Zamindar of Bijapur. I had expected a distant, green, peaceful and isolated village but contrary to my belief, I was greeted by a mini-desert and the tropical heat.

"Ravij", I said, my voice hoarse," How long before we make it to Bijapur?"

"Almost half day, my Lordship", Ravij sounded weary himself, maybe he wasn't used to this heat either but then suddenly his eyes lit up."Look there your Lordship!" He said pointing somewhere to the east .

And there I saw many huge , muti-coloured tents rising from the ground with a throng of camels tied to one side. Distant shouts and laughter echoed in my ears and the atmosphere was charged with a buzz of excitement and happiness. Many people seemed to have crowded over there.

"What's that ?" I asked curiously.

"That's a local fair,sir"

"Interesting. Perhaps we should go and see it ourselves. Mr. Rahim please turn the carriage towards the fair."

"Yes, saahib", the coachman shouted back before steering sharply to the right.

"You are planning to go to the fair,sir?" Ravij enquired.

"Isn't that what I just said."

"But sir", Ravij protested, " You couldn't possibly be planning to go in a fair of peasants and commoners. They are not used to seeing Europeans and then there's another issue about your security. We don't have enough men...."

"What hogwash! A little fun is never harmful and there will be enough food and water for the men before we continue the journey."

Our caravan of 6 coaches came to a stop in front of a large entrance way and I stepped out and directed my men to be back in their coaches in 2 hours.

" Enjoy the fair until then", I smiled and murmured, "especially You" to my butler who was standing by my side stiff as a stick as though expecting assassins to jump out from behind the tents.

I quickly shrugged out of my dark jacket and rolled my sleeves up-to the elbows, an action I'm sure my mother would strictly disapprove of and set out to excavate my 1st Indian Common Man experience.

I soon found out that 'common Indian man' doesn't always stand for everything common. There were young girls dressed in black lehangas studded with mirrors and beads walking on just a rope, women were dancing with a long queu of pots stacked on their heads and men were playing with fire.

"They are Nath,sir", my butler said, " you might call them gypsies.Pulling such stunts is the sole source of their income."

There were stalls of virtually everything and it won't be an understatement if I said that I didn't even recognize a single thing. Thankfully Ravij was always with me like my personal Encyclopedia, who was hurriedly pointing at the exhibits and telling me-"there you see that purple amethyst necklace, its a very common mineral here","that painting is a folk art done by the tribal- its very rare", "no sir they are not clothes for men! Ladies wear them- its a silk Sari","that's a Zari shoe- its bead work, again its very rare".

We even tried a local delicacy- I think they call it a GOLGAPA- a rounded ball-like wafer filled with spicy-water,boiled peas and onion, sounds harmless doesn't it? The moment I put it in my mouth it felt like my taste-buds were on fire, but the fire stimulated a salivation which was in someways addictive, or perhaps its not the right word,(I don't know how to describe this, you have to eat a golgapa to know the feeling) but I found myself eating it again. As a compensation, Ravij bought me Gulab Jamun, ball-like sweet filled with syrup and its flavor practically made my taste buds moan I had never eaten something so delicious, no cake I have ever savored could rival it.

So, when I was returning to my carriage a happy man with fatigue of the journey forgotten , I was so busy observing my surroundings that I ran into someone - or rather, someone ran into me.

The impact of the collision threw back my body but thankfully, my backside didn't make acquaintance with the firm ground , instead I found myself supporting a petite body against my chest.

I looked down to see a woman holding my arms to break her fall.

"Are you alright, Ma..." but I was stumped into silence the moment she looked up at me with those same wild, soul-stirring, troubled, dark eyes which seemed to have haunted me since past many days.

As if to highlight the significance of this moment, the wind started blowing faster than ever and the red chunni which was covering her face blew away, unleashing her long cascades of raven hair and making her olive-skin shimmer as the sunlight gently kissed skin.Her face was that of an angel, warm and loving but her kohl-lined eyes were wide and wild like that of a goddess before she beheads a demons.And I found myself totally, utterly and strangely dazzled by her mere aura.

She caught her chunni with a reflex which might shock many and looked at me again,with somethings lingering in those irises, perhaps recognition?

Her petal-pink lips moved as she said, " I'm sorry, sir" and I again found myself sinking into the honey that was her voice but she was leaving and I had to act.

"Hello, excuse me", I found myself saying.

She turned around, her eyes filled with curiosity,"Yes?"

"I'm afraid we have met before", I found my voice shaking.

"You must be mistaken,Sir. I don't remember seeing your face ever."

"But I think we have met in West Bengal at ....." but I was cut off by a feminine voice.

"Hurry up, Durga! we are late. Your father won't be happy if he finds out you have gone to a peasant's fair."

"Yes, I'm coming", she responded, " I have to go, I'm sorry for the delay" she told me, before she turned around with her blood-red lehanga making a whirl like a wave striking the coast and then she was gone, only the faint chimes of her anklet remained.

I stood there I don't know for how long before Ravij came and informed me that our carriages were ready to set off again. On the way to the carriages I asked Ravij,"What's Durga?"

"Durga, she is a Goddess in Hindu mythology who is a very warm and loving woman but when she becomes angry she is like a volcano this is how she beheaded a daemon named Maheshaswara. She is a symbol of a woman's strength and that is why girls are often named after her."

"I see."

"Why do you ask , Sir?"

" I just heard someone say that name in the fair."

"Totally understandable , sir" , he said but why were his eyes staring at me curiously ?

I kept wondering to myself if she was the same girl I had met in West Bengal or if all the Indian girls had similar eyes but I had never observed this. Pushing all these thoughts to the back of my head , I set out to meet the Zamindar of Bijapur again, thinking that it was perhaps the last time I'll meet this girl. If I only knew how wrong I was.

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Zamindar-land lord

sari- A long fabric tied around in a apparel by Indian women

chunni- a rectangular fabric which just covers the upper body

lehanga- its an Indian version of Long skirt

Saahib-master

Author's note:- sorry that this chapter was just plainly uneventful but the next chapter will be full of colours , Literally! because we are celebrating Holi, the festival of Colours, in India on 6th March and I'd love my British officer to get soaked with colours too.

And the trip to the Zamindar's home is meant to be uneventful , right? Wrong. To see Lord Fall get a near heart attack wait for the next chapter. And guys please review, tell me on what front I can improvise things... enjoy! ;)