Sweat tumbled down his entire body as he muttered mantras, standing by the deity. He kept passing the vessels of milk and then water to the middle-aged man who was pouring them over the deity. Minutes passed by and he closed the doors that gave a view of the god. He began adorning the god with beautiful flower garlands and the other man drew its face with sandal. 

As they ended the procedure, he took a gape at the beautiful Lord Ganesh who had a jovial smile around his lips. Breathing heavily, he opened the doors with a loud utterance of mantras and shook a bell vigorously in his hand, letting the god know of their cry. 

Meanwhile, the other held a small plate that held the arti and worshipped the god with it. When all this happened, the people, the worshippers everyone kept praying audibly while imploring inside their hearts. As the chaotic scenario ended, he took the plate of fire from the hands of the man and took it to the devotees outside by adding a little of the sandal paste alongside the plate.

He exhaled tiredly at his duties at the temple. The devotees lounged at him, trying to get the blessings of god through the fire. They let their hands almost touch the fire, trying to absorb the energy. He slowly moved from one person to the other and as he moved his eyes around the place for anyone left out, he saw a wilted figure at the end of the group of people, under a tree. 

As people began to move out of the temple premises, it was easier for him to get to the person. It felt like darkness hooded the person as he couldn't make out anything of the figure, but he saw sure it was a stranger. He closed in and their features began to grow clear.

It was a girl. Her face was masked by her hair that hid it partially. As the warmth of the fire embraced her, she softly looked up, hesitantly. His heart skipped a beat seeing her eyes red and damp. 

She was crying. 

They stood, staring at each other into the depths of their eyes unknown to their world outside. Her eyes stood a dark brown that was almost mistook as black. Her entire form was sodden with sweat as if she was running. A deep scar went through her face, from the eyebrows to her lips, and a fresh wound on her forehead. Her lips quivered with the sobbing that she had abruptly stopped. His heart kept on beating quick and rapid, as if it was trying to break his ribs.

Their stares broke off as a strong wind blew, almost making the arti die. Her eyes went to the warm light and her hands followed her gaze. Softly letting her hands touch the aura of the fire, she placed her hand on her face. 

She didn't let her hands touch the sandal, or maybe she hadn't noticed. He gestured to the sandal paste and she simply stared at it. Long seconds passed and suddenly someone called from inside. 

He looked behind and then at her. 

She was immobile. 

He took a tiny amount of it in between his fingers and drew it on her forehead. She suddenly looked up, eyes moist. He looked at her with growing confusion while his heart banged on his ribs. The middle-aged man called him again and he moved back suddenly, hesitantly walking quickly to the shrine, where the man stood, with his hands on his hips.

"Ayush, could you please handle everything here tonight? You know, my daughter is ill, she has been calling me since forever," he said with sorrow hovering in his words. Gautam didn't want to leave him to do all the work on his own, but he had to. Understanding that, Ayush nodded.

"I'll take care of everything, Gautam chacha. I hope she gets well quickly," Ayush said by hiding his tiredness. 

Gautam looked at him as if he did him the best help ever. He beamed widely and thanked him. Ayush, taking a heavy breath as he moved away from the shrine, looked back to where the girl stood. She still stood there, under that tree, her sullen eyes fixed on the deity. He didn't know if he wanted to move toward her or stay away from her. His heart longed to stay with her, but something in him held him back.

There was no one except him and her. All the devotees left after taking the offerings and such from Gautam and now he was also gone. Taking a deep breath again, he occupied himself with washing every vessel in the temple. After that, he went on with his other works until he closed the doors of the shrine. 

As he turned, his heart banged again, seeing her still standing there. He moved to the lamps and began drawing the wicks back into the oil and extinguishing them. Moving to the third lamp, a strong wind gusted inside, making his eyes close. He rubbed his eyes trying to get the dust to dissolve in his eyes. 

As he opened his eyes, it was totally dark, just the moonlit sky giving him a map of his surroundings. The wind was growing vulnerable. His eyes moved to where the girl stood. The darkness that embraced her now embraced the entire place his eyes moved to. 

Slowly, he moved to a lamp and lighted it, feeling a slight fright lurking around. As it lit, he moved to the girl's position, and in case, he kept the matchsticks with him. When he moved to her, her silhouette became clearer when another wind blew in. He tried to save the lamp from getting off by keeping his palm around it. The wind was a calm one. 

As his eyes moved up from the lamp, she was standing closer to him, her face almost caressing the fire. Her eyes large and soft, looked at him as if asking him something. He felt the alcoholic stench of her breath sear through his nostrils. They didn't speak, but something spoke inside them. He moved away from her and he felt her eyes asking for him to stay. He looked out, into a darkness that travelled till the street lamp up a few yards. He wanted to ask when she was leaving, but something inside him asked when she wasn't leaving. He somehow wanted to stay there with her and hear her tale, comfort her, and embrace her, but-

"A bus would come here and go to the city in 15 minutes. That street lamp- that's the bus stop," he mumbled and began leaving her to stay under the tree. There was a nod from her wobbly little head and he felt regretful leaving her alone.

"I'll walk with you," he added softly, turning his head to her with a grin. 

Her face lit up like of a child given a chocolate. She began walking, more like, crawling her legs on the floor. Her red t-shirt and ragged skirt came into view as she walked to his light. As they crept out of the temple premises, he turned to lock the gate. As he locked, he heard a rustle and as he turned, the girl was on the floor, her face kissing the dirt. 

He ran to her and helped her stand up. While she struggled, he held her one arm and let her walk through until she began walking on her own. A 2-minute walk was as almost as 8 minutes. As they stood under the street lamp, she let her butt hit the floor. She sat, embracing herself to the coldness. She looked so small and vulnerable to him, like a little flower.

"Do you have the money?" he asked suddenly, getting his hands to his pockets. She let her head nod with a no. 

He felt so. 

Rummaging through his pocket, he took out a few coins and stared at them. He kept them back and took one single note of 100 and held it out to her. It was his monthly allowance but he could get more and he didn't want to show any greediness while helping someone. Then suddenly, he took the coins out and squatted down near her, and held all the money to her.

Her eyes dilated and were brimming with tears, but she held them back. She took it from him and her lips curved into a hearty smile. She looked at the money and then at him. She didn't say anything, but clutched the money tightly and hugged it to her heart. She looked around the floor and then at a tree on the opposite side of the road. 

She tugged the tiny weed's flowers into her hand. Shaking, she stood up and lurched towards the tree. He went behind her, in case she fell again. It was a banyan tree that had the roots yearning to kiss the ground. She plucked a leaf and held it to her chest. She bent down and almost fell again, but gained balance as her hand touched a tiny piece of rock. She began scribbling on the leaf softly and he could see her eyes play like a child beneath the light. As she finished, she made it a tiny bowl and put the ugly flowers in, and held it out for him, trembling.

He took it from her hands and gaped at the beautiful engraving she made on it.

It said 'Kriti'. 

He looked at her and assumed what that meant. Her name? Maybe. He smiled at her gratefully.

"Th-thank y-y-you, Ayush," she whispered. Her words were a grumble of gibber. 

He wasn't expecting such a coarse voice from that tiny and crumpled body. But he never enjoyed being called by anyone as much as her. 

His ears twitched at the sound of a rumbling vehicle. A red almost broken bus approached where they stood. Not many took this bus and it was mainly people coming from their workplaces back to the village. A few men walked out of the bus wearily and she climbed up the stairs slowly, trying to get her grip on the rails. She tumbled, but she got up when the conductor of the bus complained. 

He felt regret when seeing her go alone, in such a pathetic condition. It was as if sending a toddler go around freely. He took a sigh of relief as she sat on the first seat she found and their eyes met again.

He smiled at her, ignoring everyone that surrounded them; the people that trod out of the bus and who remained. His heart skipped a beat when she smiled back, tears running down her cheeks, again. 

He kept staring at the bus until it was out of sight and waited for a while, calming his heart down. It was banging on his ribs again, almost making it hurt. He didn't want to let her go. She felt too vulnerable and meek. 

He held his hands together and prayed in his mind that she got anywhere safe, safely.

Taking small steps, he reached his home with a heart to run behind the bus. He could hear a child reading loudly over the sound of a dramatic Indian serial playing on the television. Intoxicating aromas of delish food pierced into his nostrils and quickened his steps to the kitchen. His sister was washing the plates and she suddenly turned, sensing his footsteps. 

He hid the leaf and flowers in his pocket suddenly.

"Hey, what happened? You are a bit too late," she said by motioning toward the dishes that she was washing. Suddenly the girl's dark gloomy eyes flashed on his mind.

"Ah, that- uh... Gautam chacha wanted to leave early and I ended up doing all the work, so," he fumbled the words and let her finish the sentence.

"He doesn't leave early like that, did something happen?" she asked, her eyes large with scepticism and worry.

"His daughter is sick and well he was worried too, so I let him leave. Hope she gets well, she's been growing ill too frequently these days," he said with concern gulping the words. She added in with words asking god to bless them.

"Go get fresh. I'll keep the food out for you," she said and went back to washing the dishes. 

As he moved to his room upstairs, his grandmother had her bulging eyes on the blaring TV screen that showcased a dramatic Indian serial. Without disturbing her, he moved to his room and locked himself in. 

Carefully taking the leaf and flowers from his pocket, he put them on his bed. His heart felt warm seeing it. No girl, not even a human being had ever given him such a beautiful thing ever. Smiling, he caressed it, sensing her in those engravings. Seeing her leave made his heart drop like a rock in the water. He wanted to help her even more. She seemed like she'd burn if he touched her.

Thousands of questions thrashed about in his mind like an ocean in a thunderstorm. What if she never made it to somewhere safe? She looked too fragile and he seriously wanted to cup her in his arms and keep her safe in his heart. His heart fluttered at the memory of her eyes and smile. Every moment they spent together, it was... beautiful.

She was beautiful. Her long tangled hair that stuck to her face with the tears from her large sullen eyes and her dry chapped grey-pink lips that uttered his name so beautifully had his heart sink so deep, he felt it was the end but his hands touched her under the water, swimming like a magnificent mermaid that had conquered the ocean. He felt as if he had entered her world, a world that he had unveiled, a world that was just them both.

Sighing, he went under the bed and pulled out an extremely heavy large metal box. A suitcase, one could say, but to him, it was his treasure chest that he cherished his entire life. Opening it, old books, photographs, papers, clothes, and antiques pressed out from the box. Taking a book from a box of old cookies, he caressed it and opened it. 

It was his tiny journal that he had when he was a child. He wrote all the silly and serious things that happened in his life, even about the demise of his father. Brushing away the pages, he took out a blank page. 

Taking an ink pen, he wrote something in great calligraphic letters and placed the leaf and flowers in the book, and closed it. He hugged it and kept it back in his treasure chest. Keeping the chest back in its position, he stood up to take a bath. Going downstairs to eat dinner after getting himself clean, everything in his mind was her.

Kriti.