The sun was low to the right of Vaibhav. His third day in Naxalbari was the most strange. Though he felt that strange would've a new defination to him in a few days. Vaibhav felt like a gentleman standing on the courtyard of the Sikdar Estate, with a porcelain mug in his hand. He wore a white punjabi, the wind made his pajama flaps flutter. Vaibhav wrapped his shawl tighter. He had this mental picture of his hair flying back with the wind and his face hazy with the vapour that diffused from his mug.

Footsteps approached Vaibhav from the back, breaking his self-admiration. He did not turn around. He kept looking at the tea valley opening down below. The main dormitories surrounded the other three sides of the courtyard. The footsteps got closer when a voice spoke,

"You ever trekked down?" asked Aishik, genuinely inquisitive.

Vaibhav took a sip of his tea before turning towards him. Aishik wore a formal dress wrapped in a jacket, short for his size, also a canvas cap on his head. Vaibhav took a moment to savour the musky spiciness and then answered, "No! Is there something down there?"

"It's just that everyone who comes to this estate, tries their hand at plucking the tea leaves," Aishik's voice got deeper throughout the speech, "I'm sorry how I acted in the morning yesterday."

"You ever wonder how it was before all this?" Vaibhav suddenly said looking at the darkening sky, initiating a conversation.

"Well, as far as I see there is no 'this' to define!" Aishik said exhaling with force, "All the noise back in Kolkata, it's just people living their life here. Asking some help to catch up with the rest of the world...."

"And there are those famous poetries!" Vaibhav smiled as he said trying to take another sip of his tea. When he found that the mug was empty, he kept it by his side and continued, "All coded with ideals and various struggles. I meet these people, but they don't know about any of it. No Sankha Ghosh, no Saroj Dutta, they just...," Vaibhav lost his flow, "makes you wonder if it was always like this, how did they manage to come together at all!?"

Both Aishik and Vaibhav kept conversing normally. Vaibhav almost forgot their squabble during breakfast yesterday morning.

"Considering what they say about the goddess of storms, right?" Aishik laughed at his own words, trying to continue the conversation.

Vaibhav blinked twice in response and then turned to the horizon, pursing his lips.

"You don't know....?" Aishik murmured, clearly not noticing the humility in Vaibhav's eyes.

"No!" Vaibhav arched his eyebrows. He was feeling too much left out, "I kind of just remember the Sattu's story about the origins of Naxalbari."

"You saw all the dancer's paintings in Mayatalav?" asked Aishik inquisitively.

"Sattu or Biraj couldn't tell me anything about them either, I remember the murals though! Had this description built on colours in mind!""

"Well Sattu I don't know but that constable, I understand...."

"What do you mean?", Vaibhav leaned closer.

"He is a Bongal kheda! His grandfather was ousted out of the state of Assam. They feared that Bengalis were breeding out the 'original assamese' blood," Aishik blew a smoky breath into the cold night.

"2nd generation?" Vaibhav had vivid imagery of native people chasing out immigrants just to muff job competition in their state.

"His father lived in hiding, after migrating from Bangladesh. When the Assamese came for them, he brought his son here," Aishik swallowed his saliva to quench his dry throat.

"So what is it about the dancers?" Vaibhav was interested in the next piece of information.

"You realise, your inferences are more elemental than knowing that story. A lot of lost whispers find their way to people, it's all" Aishik said dreamily as if refusing to face a terrible truth, "just lives spent in dealing with consequences of the choices by the people who left us behind...."

"Nope, stories are good!"

"Well the dancers were considered protectors of the Mayatalav Temple. They say the temple complex itself was a gift from a local king to a dancer who resided in these parts."

"In a jungle?"

"Well it is the Mayatalav!"

"Huh?"

"Well, I don't know if Sattu has told you about the great demon King Mahishasur living in these parts..."

"He did."

"So legend goes on, that this dancer who was gifted the temple, set up her home beside a pool that existed on that cliff. She called in the 'pool of illusions', Mayatalav. Apparently the Goddess Durga bled on the pool after her battle with Mahishasur. A hundred and eight drops of blood."

"Didn't the epic also say that those drops of blood bloomed into blue lotuses, that was later offered by Lord Ram in a Puja to the Goddess herself!"

"Look at us, scientists talking about spiritual texts." Aishik joked.

They both smiled and turned to the valley again.

"So from there the lineage continued. Some dancer would always find there way here. Serve under the temple priest, even in the British age, when officers used to arrest temple dancers on crimes of prostitution."

"And the people?"

"Mixed opinions, as always. Some zamindars preached that these dancers defiled holy ground, some wanted to own them, many considered them the protectors of Naxalbari. Even went on saying that they were responsible to harbinger the arrival of rain!"

"I think I love Naxalbari!" observed Vaibhav.