14th of August - 6 A.M.

Waking up to the sound of the train stopping isn't the best alarm in the world.

But it was an indicator that I have reached my destination. My eyes flutter open. I sit back up on the red leather seat that I have given the identity of a bed. Pushing the blanket aside, I got up on my feet and began folding the thin white cotton sheet to pack it up into another luggage of mine.

Combing my hair and waiting for the train to stop at the hill station was like watching paint dry. But it did arrive, after all. 

Given the time to prepare whilst being on the train, God requests me to start where I left it all. Soothing and dusting out my clothes, I picked up my luggage and headed outside. Jumping onto the platform, getting pushed here and there, I was met with a crowd, again. Though not as much as in Kolkata. Nor was the weather as hot but still very warm. Eyes darting across the hill station, observing and finally seeing this place for the first time, I felt chills on my spine. Oh, for how long did I avoided this sight? 

As I exited the shelter, I found myself astonished at the view above.

A fresh breath of air, a blue sky, brave mountains decorated with some snow on the peaks and a hint of familiarity. 

This is Shimla: Queen of the Hills.

Quite a popular place in India. People from the south plan to spend their vacations, honeymoons here to tie memories with breathtaking views. Or maybe because they like the snow. The city itself symbolizes - 'Starting Fresh.' During the colonial period, Shimla was the one of the favorite cities of the Britishers. They wanted it to be decorated like a house on Diwali. That's why you see so many churches and catholic schools here. 

A place where fantasy meets nature, the home and pride of Himachal: We call her, Shimla.

The air filling up my lungs felt like oxygen. A cold breeze on my forearm reminded me to put on my black leather jacket. Looking around, I searched for a taxi. Her home is atleast an hour away from here and I'm not a fan of cardio. Just as I thought I had seen a bright white taxi in a distance, a voice landed on my ears.

"Sarthak babu!" Someone called out from behind and I turned my head. A bearded man, somewhere around 47, in plain white clothes and black shoes was waving to me. He started taking steps towards my direction and I noticed a white car just behind him.

If I remember correctly, that's Bhanu Kaka. She told me about him. 

"Oh, you arrived!" He said. "My name is Bhanu Pratab. Madam ji sent me to pick you up. I am glad I wasn't too late. Here, give me your bags." With that, he took the luggage from my hands. 

"I wasn't notified of you coming to pick me up." I spoke in a low tone but enough for him to hear me as we walked towards the car. His eyes looked back at my face. His slightly red eyes. Though being grief stricken, he made an effort to disguise it in his smile. "It was a last minute change, Beta. We figured you wouldn't know the ways and roads of Shimla."

A last minute change? Was I a last minute invitee too?

I sat down on the backseat of the car as Kaka loaded the luggage in the trunk. Once all set to go, he settled himself on the driver's seat and the car ride began. "Has everyone arrived?" I asked, not having the guts to look at those eyes again. "Not yet." He exclaimed. "Most relatives are here but, others claim to not be able to make it. Madam ji is stressed."

I gave him a small nod before saying, "I am sorry for your loss, Kaka."

He stiffened up. After the death of her parents, Bhanu Kaka had raised her like his own child. She loved him, too. Her stomach was empty, okay. But if Bhanu Kaka hadn't had a meal, she would scold him. I heard her disciplining him on the phone most of the time.

"It's okay, Babu. Those who are born, must die one day." He didn't look back at me through the visor. His voice sounded cracked. I didn't want to enquire any further so, my eyes just looked out the window towards the beautiful mountains that left me in wonders. After a pause, he asked me,

"But are you okay? You were quite close with choti madam ji."

How do I even answer this? Saying that I am okay would look like I am a heartless fool that is so detached from the topic of being emotional, he can't even show sympathy for this drastic event. Agreeing to not being okay would make me look like a desperate man that still hasn't moved on from the death of someone whom he hadn't been in contact with for over 3 years. 

I gave him somewhat of a vague answer. Something in the middle like a "okay-ish" or "kind of." He nodded his head slightly, getting the hint that I did not want to talk about this. Or maybe I did, just not to him.

Fidgeting with the zipper of my jacket, I felt a bit warm. Sweat beads forming on my forehead, threatening to run down my unwashed face. I pressed the button and opened the window, reuniting with the cold breeze once more.

A cold breeze, a rusty bike. I remember.

"Move, already!" She yelled out in anger. I turned my head around to see who was this frustrated to yell at a metal piece of chunk of a bike that can't even hear what she says. Yes, her. Wearing a yellow suit and salwaar with a carry bag on her shoulders. And who else would it just be? 

The college had ended a bit early that day Apparently, some professors had gone to perform a suprise check on other colleges. Ironic. Though, I didn't mind. As long as i get to go home and have time to do my assigments before dinner, anything was valid. 

I was about to leave on foot when I heard her demanding voice. Seeing her enthusiasm in kicking the bike, I thought of providing some harmless help.

"Bike acting up?" I asked, approaching her with my hands in the pocket. She looked back at me, her oxidized jhumkas did too as they dangled when she nodded her head a few seconds later. "Can you help?" 

"I can try." Crouching down, I analyzed the bicycle. Rusty, very. Seems like it has been there since the Spanish flu. Setting aside my judgement, I began looking around on the pedals, tires and even the seat. All seemed fit to be there for a short ride. I thought the bike was stuck in place due to its lifespan but then my eyes fell on the chain. 

Something like a screw seemed to be stuck. I pulled it out with my right hand and showed it up to her. 

"Found the fault. Try to move it now." She nodded and pushed the bike. It made an attempt to stay put but with just a bit more force, her mode of transport was back on track. She smiled and looked back at me with those hazel eyes. "Thanks! I thought I just ruined a good bike. How can I repay you?"

"You don't have to." I said, but she insisted. 

"I can drop you home! My bike can take the weight of 5 people at max." She claimed. Though I doubted that bike could even carry a 3 year old. Persisting and grabbing my wrist with her soft hands, I sighed and gave in to the offer. Never seen her so delighted.

The bike ride, was surprisingly comfortable. Or maybe it just seemed like it because I was with her. Her apartment was much far away from mine but she still made the effort to drop me by the gate of my building. A gentleman. Can I call her that? 

"Thank you."

"No problem! We're friends, after all." Her jhumkas dangled again.

She began to put back on her helmet. I figured since it would take her atleast half an hour to bike back to her apartment, I should definitely have her stay a bit for maybe tea and snacks. She did do me a favor (that I didn't ask for.) 

"Stay a bit. I want to thank you with tea." 

She blinked, I panicked a bit internally. I realised It was suspicious and inappropriate for a guy to have a girl over whom he doesn't know so properly. Maybe it gave her the wrong idea. 

"That is, if you want to, I mean- I just want you to have some snacks before you go and I make good tea so-" 

"Hey hey- it's okay. I was just a bit surprised." She said in her usual, playful tone and agreed. I awkwardly smiled and invited her in. 

That evening, we talked about many things and I got to know her purpose of being in New Delhi. Apparently, she had a relative here that is often sick and needs someone to visit by atleast once a week. So, her elder sister sent her here. Studying in a college here seemed more efficient that way. She told me that she sometimes miss Himachal. The apples, the fresh air, the various festivals and the songs, everything.

I guess God eavesdropped on us that day and now he made her immortal.

Immortal in the land of Himachal., forever.

Do we really- really need to die? Immortality as a human seems like a questionable, debatable topic but, it seems so logical to me. Not having to hurt anyone, not needing to worry about having less time. Why is it that we die, anyway?

Does God hate us?

Taking a deep breath in, I shifted in my seat. Almost there, as Bhanu Kaka addressed the distance. I don't know anymore if I want to be there when they burn her. I don't think I can be there. Or even if I should be. 

My mind is thinking a thousand thoughts.

My heart is racing.

Fuck, stop the car. I can't breathe.

Stop the car. Stop the car. Stop the car. Stop. Stop. Stop.

The car, came to a halt. I exhaled so loud I think Kaka heard me because he looked back. "Everything okay, Beta?" He asked, I nodded just a bit. 

I was shaking, not much but still noticeable. My hand planted itself on my chest where underneath my heart resided. I breathed in slow and steadily as finally, i looked outside.

A very pretty, big wooden cottage that looked warm enough looked blankly at me. As if it's asking my purpose. 

We have arrived. 

I opened the car door and stepped a foot outside. My racing heart slowly calming down to the scolding of my brain. No one was outside, yet. Bhanu Kaka unloaded my luggage from the trunk and headed inside. I followed him and in just a moment, I was met with a woman. 5'7ft, I think. Amber eyes and dark brown hair. She didn't notice me at first as she was talking to someone else, another servant I assumed. But she looked at me soon enough and when she did, 

I realised that this was the person that sent the letter.

"Sarthak." She said, or more like repeated to herself. Sending the servant off, she walked towards me. I stiffened up a bit, my hands hiding behind my back to hide the sweat. Her eyes darted through my whole face before she said, not to me, but to Bhanu Kaka.

"Take him to his room. Funeral starts tomorrow."

And with that, she turned around and left. Mind you but I expected a bit more of a conversation about what happened, how it happened and why it happened. But it was all like a black passing cloud.

"Don't mind Madam ji. She's just a bit in.. shock." He said and asked me to follow him to the room. I did so. 

We entered a warm room with traditional Himachali floor mats and a comfy bed with thick blankets. I sat down on the sofa adjacent to the bed and Bhanu Kaka put down my stuff in the side of the room. He explained some basics like, where the bathroom is, the kitchen, where I should put my clothes and all. I nodded, not really hearing what he was saying but just pretending to. Kaka left after his session of 'How to' and I was left all alone.

My breath escaped my lips and I closed my eyes. Hands begging to pull out my hair. I felt bad about being ignored like this. But can I blame her? I don't know. 

I don't want to be here. But I want to be with her. So I'll be here.