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    A S  H E R  B A C K  rested against the cold, thick trunk. She let her eyes wander to the structure that stood a few feet away from where she sat. It was not a new sight, yet it was the first time she actually noticed it.

    It was constructed like a house but seemed rather shabby to be one, she thought. The bricks had begun to fade, tiny sprouting of stems and leaves emerged from the carvings, with giant, wide, open jharokhas on each storey of the structure, which seemed oddly foregone.

    Her eyes scanned the haveli ploddingly. An ugly feeling erupted in her chest as she visioned how anyone could fall from the wide jharokhas so easily. Why would any artisan let alone the owner let that happen. Didn't they care about the people living there? The thought had her distracted for a moment. It did not look abandoned but was on the verge of it.

    She shook off the feeling and ended up being more agitated. Until another spectacle caught her eye, and she never realised when she rose from her spot under the tree and ran towards it.

    It was a well. A withered, ancient one. Every crevice of her mind sprang with nostalgic fumes, too blur to unfold. There were quite a few instances that she had not completely forgotten about. As she craned her neck to look inside, the floor of the well shone under the noon sun, small ripples forming as it gave Aaina an unknown feeling of joy.

    With a feverish heart, she pulled the rope on the pulley in a tough yank. The emotions started unchaining. Yet there was no picture. She tried to imagine. A clean platform that circled the well, splashes of water from when she and her sahelis capered around in her their little cholis as kids. But it was a forced picture she painted. Did that even happen? She wondered if it was even possible to have lived all that without remembering. How strange was this thing called memory.

    A soft laugh emanated from deep within her chest, and she lurched forward with the force of the thick rope, trying to keep her feet glued to the ground. But it had hardened over the years, the rope, too rusty to pull  smoothly.

    She felt herself recoiling against the rope, and before the pulley could tow her entire body inside the well, she made a conscious choice to take a step back and left the rope. It slithered back to its place in an uncomfortable clang. An accident was the last thing she needed in her life. She was just so young, there was a long way to go. It was better to stay put and admire from afar.

    "Looks like you're out of practice,"

    Aaina's neck turned in a startle towards the daunting voice that seemed to be the only human sound echoing on the entire hill. And the particular human had probably been right there while she enjoyed her shenanigans. For a split second, she thought she'd died but found herself breathing alive again.

    His long white khadi kurta donned striking brown brooches that paired well with dark mud trousers, almost the same hue as the haveli behind them. A finely trimmed tash above the mouth, kurta bunched up against sinewy forearms, and the subtle sound of metal clanking had Aaina frozen on her spot.

    She could sense it. The heady anxiety of having to talk to a stranger in the middle of an abandoned hill. Or worse. Being caught of tresspassing.

    "Are you thirsty? Have you traveled from far?" He asked in a similar curious tone, his eyes veering from the well and then back to Aaina.

    "No, uh. . ." She started, feeling the cold even more than before. What should I say?

    The stranger stood quietly, and all of a sudden, it was silent as a grave. An eerie swing of emotion crept around Aaina. After what seemed like a hundred bolting heartbeats, one of his brows raised, awaiting a reply.

    Knowing there was no way he could read her mind, and silence was only going to give her intention away, she coerced herself to reply.

    "I just wanted to . . . give it a try. The well still holds water after all these years. "

    Something deflated in his expression, and Aaina was able to catch the shift. Well, it was not half true. She was trespassing. Unknowingly, mind you. But most people stopped using wells a few years ago, including Aaina, who was raised with no deprivation of any kind. And in a small town like Chakradhan, people were well acquainted with everyone in their mohallas. It was not difficult to catch a new face. Well, there was definitely a need for explanation.

    "It does, yes."

    He still seemed to be engrossed in thought. She had never met someone who was so curious to have stood patiently. Or maybe he was just trying to look after his land where she barged into a rage fit.

    She tried to keep a straight face. "I assume you're thinking I am a trespasser, but it was only a mistake. I did not pay heed to where I was going, I just followed the path"

How many more lies to go? I hate this.

    A smile grin appeared on his face. "Are you sure you're a trespasser?"

    "Pardon?"

    "You seem to know quite about this well,"

    That was an unexpected question to which there was no reason to be dishonest.

    "Haa, it's a part of a childhood memory—I think. I couldn't stop myself from touching the rope. " As Aaina finished the sentence, the heaviness in her throat had started to settle.

He simply nodded. It gave her a brief moment to reconsider. How would she ever get inside the grounds if she kept bumping into the people living here?

    "Do you live here?" She asked for the sake of it, as she pointed at the haveli in the back, trying to ease the tension in the conversation.

    "Why were you roaming?" He ignored her question, arrowing her with another.

    "It was frivolous of me," she said with an exaggerated chuckle. "I was not feeling very well, and I came outside to get some air. My thoughts got the better of me, and the next thing I knew, I was here. "

    Except she'd always traced these paths, always knew where she'd go when her limit stretched. But her thoughts did get the better of her. Kaki's sour words still echoed in her ears.

    "And it led you to a childhood memory. I assume you're not a stranger to this hill. "

    Well, that was a mystery. She knew but she didn't. Only fragments left to pick up and to be read again and again. But he did not look like he was either. As cold as hills can be after sunsets, he had a comfortable, long coat on over his tall form.

    "Maybe," she whispered, peering at the tall, eerie conifers around her, attempting to draw a connection with them. Do you know me? Can you help me? She glanced up to see the starless, aegean sky with no horizon, too dark, too cold.

    "What was your crime?" The stranger asked, and it pulled Aaina out of her world.

    "Pardon?"

    He took a formidable step ahead, a sudden change in his countenance. The grime crushed under his juttis, his tone hoarsed up a notch in the dark.

    And she instantly knew. This was a mistake. Acting on her thoughtless plan did end up giving up her safety in the process. This stranger was no less than the other men in her village that Razia had warned her about. With deranged livelihoods, black magic, and adulterous substances that whirled ones sanity. A disguised dacoit or maybe a murderer.

    She took a step back, staring at the most mundane eyes she'd ever seen. Not plain, but as she gazed at them, the shivers on her skin danced the most realistic tune.

    And there can be nothing more horrifying than being exposed to your own skin to truly feel yourself. Not disgusted, just horrified. To have your insides being dragged down lower and lower. But what had she done after all? Why were they all erecting mirages just to make her fall?

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g l o s s a r y

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jharokha - window

kurta - a loose shirt (mostly long) worn by men in South of Asia

haveli - big, old mansion privately owned by big (joint) families

juttis - sandals