Moonlight

As the Himachal Roadways bus ascended, a series of massive mountains with lush green trees came into view. The cold wind was refreshing, with a power strong enough to cleanse the dust clinging to one's inner soul. Karan Rao's eyes were fixed on the hills, his head turned toward the opposite bus window as he sat on the outermost seat of a three-seater row. His eyes widened at the sight of colorful rooftops in a valley, beneath which a stream rushed by. 

He thought with his eyes fixed on a sunlit valley, 'But why isn't Baba happy? I got placed in such a big multinational company, but he still thinks it's a waste. Anyway, how could he understand? After all, he's just an English professor, unlike all my aunts and uncles who work in big banks.'

Suddenly, a plastic bottle with a railway sticker fell from the overhead luggage carrier, breaking his train of thought. As Karan bent down and reached out to pick up the bottle, someone already picked it up. He turned around and saw it was the same girl with golden brown skin and large almond-shaped black eyes he had noticed at the bus station. 

She was sitting three rows behind him, diagonally opposite. She placed the bottle on her lap, and as the sunlight lit her face, her cheeks glowed, with her high jawline accentuating them. Her eyes stared at the road ahead as if lost in deep thought. 

Karan turned his face away from her, looking towards the pine trees lining the road and thought, 'My cousins only made fun of the stories I wrote, which Baba made me read out. Now, I don't share them with anyone, not even with Baba. After all, even he doesn't understand. '

As he gazed at the tall mountains, he glanced sideways at her, who was now looking outside with her large eyes roaming around the mountains as if searching for a lost memory. Karan's eyes moved from her to the tall mountains with rugged bare patches, and he thought of how the girl seemed to wear the colours of the mountains, as if she draped them over herself, carrying their stillness in her deep, large eyes.

The bus stopped near a small dhaba. While returning from the restroom, Karan saw her coming from the opposite direction. She wore light blue denim and a black sweatshirt, walking with the poise of the mountains. As he looked into her eyes, they looked back with the same stillness, leaving him with an empty void that pierced his heart.

As the bus journey continued, the snow-capped peaks emerged, and Karan couldn't take his eyes off them. The white snow sparkled under the sunlight, appearing like the crown jewel of the Pir Panjal range, which the hills wore with pride. While looking outside, he occasionally caught a glimpse of her glowing skin, illuminated by the sunlight. Her large black eyes were fixed on the mountains as she brushed scattered hair from her face, which was tied in a loose plait. He wondered what lay behind those eyes that made him feel both restless and as light as a balloon. He turned towards his friends, who were sitting beside him and were now awake.

Karan and his two friends had travelled from Mumbai via Delhi to Pathankot from where they boarded the bus to Dalhousie. They were taking this trip to celebrate their placements in big multinationals after completing their degrees in Information technology.  As they chatted, their destination arrived after an hour. They got off the Himachal Roadways bus and began searching for their hotel. During the process, Karan lost sight of the girl and momentarily forgot about her, but not for long.

They reached their hotel by climbing some steps to go up towards the mall road. Their room had a large glass window with a view of the snow-capped Himalayas.

Each time Karan looked at the mountains through the hotel room's glass window, the ruggedness and bare patches seemed to bear the golden-brown face of the girl. Her face appeared as if it was held by the mountains, as though they were the same.

The next day, they crossed the busy market area and headed towards the Kalatop forest sanctuary, where they planned to trek in the jungle. Along the way, they laughed and shared funny college memories. The tall pine trees swayed in the wind, shaking their branches as if enjoying their banter.

As they continued further up the road, the loud cries of some women on the roadside stopped them. Karan went ahead to inquire, but what he saw made him run faster and faster away from the spot, up the hills. His friends returned, unable to catch up, and later in the evening when Karan joined them, they told him about the girl who had killed herself by jumping off a cliff.

 Her name was Rakhi, and she had lived here with her mother, who had died six months ago from a serious illness. She was pursuing a course in advanced mountaineering at the Indian Mountaineering Foundation in Delhi.

Karan left the room and sat on the terrace in front of the mountains the whole night. The mountains were lit up in the dark, but for Karan, the mountains were bathed in blood just like he saw blood over Rakhi’s golden brown face with her deep black almond-shaped eyes shut forever.

The next day, he left early to visit the village where Rakhi had lived with her mother. He visited their neighbours who told him that Rakhi and her mother were renowned mountaineers in the village.

As a child, Rakhi would wander on her own in the ravines, slide down the valley with bruises on her knees, and was as thin as a stick, recalled one of their neighbours. Unlike other children, she didn't ask for anything or need anyone. She would wander alone in the dusty mountains under the hot sun, get stung by bees, play with parakeets, and tease langurs. 

Rakhi's mother, a trek leader, would often take her for long challenging treks even when she was barely 10 years old.

He started visiting the village every day as he heard more stories about Rakhi and her mother’s adventures in the mountains. While his friends left to continue their journey, he stayed back and moved to a small room in a guest house near the village.

Karan worked as a waiter in the mornings, and in the evenings, he often sat with a night lamp on the floor, writing in a thick notebook about the adventures of a mother-daughter duo who scaled many mountains together as told by the local woman of the village.

After extending his stay to 6 months, Karan returned to Mumbai and began his new job which also got delayed. However, the image of the mountains holding Rakhi's face never left him. He gradually stopped meeting his friends, until one day, one of them visited him and discovered a stack of sheets lying around. That's when his friend urged Karan to publish his writings as a book.

The book became a worldwide bestseller, but that didn't quench Karan's thirst for the mountains. He returned to Dalhousie and continued living in Rakhi’s village with a family who offered him their spare room. 

But a house at the top of the hill always whispered in his ears, inviting him to its world. He finally bought the house with the money he earned from his book.

The house was filled with paintings, sculptures, and a stack of diaries that allowed him to enter Rakhi's world. He would read her diaries and write in the house that faced the mighty snow-capped Himalayas of the Pir Panjal range.

Another year passed, and he gave birth to Rakhi’s dreams by opening Moonlight, an adventure company that trained local women from nearby villages as trek organisers and trek leaders.

Karan would occasionally visit his parents in Mumbai, who often spoke proudly about how their son fulfilled all their dreams.

While he did find his passion as a writer, he also became a lover of the blood-bathed mountains, continuing to live in Rakhi's house in Dalhousie with her dreams and memories.

As the Himachal Roadways bus ascended, a series of massive mountains with lush green trees came into view. The cold wind was refreshing, with a power strong enough to cleanse the dust clinging to one's inner soul. Karan Rao's eyes were fixed on the hills, his head turned toward the opposite bus window as he sat on the outermost seat of a three-seater row. His eyes widened at the sight of colorful rooftops in a valley, beneath which a stream rushed by. 

He thought with his eyes fixed on a sunlit valley, 'But why isn't Baba happy? I got placed in such a big multinational company, but he still thinks it's a waste. Anyway, how could he understand? After all, he's just an English professor, unlike all my aunts and uncles who work in big banks.'

Suddenly, a plastic bottle with a railway sticker fell from the overhead luggage carrier, breaking his train of thought. As Karan bent down and reached out to pick up the bottle, someone already picked it up. He turned around and saw it was the same girl with golden brown skin and large almond-shaped black eyes he had noticed at the bus station. 

She was sitting three rows behind him, diagonally opposite. She placed the bottle on her lap, and as the sunlight lit her face, her cheeks glowed, with her high jawline accentuating them. Her eyes stared at the road ahead as if lost in deep thought. 

Karan turned his face away from her, looking towards the pine trees lining the road and thought, 'My cousins only made fun of the stories I wrote, which Baba made me read out. Now, I don't share them with anyone, not even with Baba. After all, even he doesn't understand. '

As he gazed at the tall mountains, he glanced sideways at her, who was now looking outside with her large eyes roaming around the mountains as if searching for a lost memory. Karan's eyes moved from her to the tall mountains with rugged bare patches, and he thought of how the girl seemed to wear the colours of the mountains, as if she draped them over herself, carrying their stillness in her deep, large eyes.

The bus stopped near a small dhaba. While returning from the restroom, Karan saw her coming from the opposite direction. She wore light blue denim and a black sweatshirt, walking with the poise of the mountains. As he looked into her eyes, they looked back with the same stillness, leaving him with an empty void that pierced his heart.

As the bus journey continued, the snow-capped peaks emerged, and Karan couldn't take his eyes off them. The white snow sparkled under the sunlight, appearing like the crown jewel of the Pir Panjal range, which the hills wore with pride. While looking outside, he occasionally caught a glimpse of her glowing skin, illuminated by the sunlight. Her large black eyes were fixed on the mountains as she brushed scattered hair from her face, which was tied in a loose plait. He wondered what lay behind those eyes that made him feel both restless and as light as a balloon. He turned towards his friends, who were sitting beside him and were now awake.

Karan and his two friends had travelled from Mumbai via Delhi to Pathankot from where they boarded the bus to Dalhousie. They were taking this trip to celebrate their placements in big multinationals after completing their degrees in Information technology.  As they chatted, their destination arrived after an hour. They got off the Himachal Roadways bus and began searching for their hotel. During the process, Karan lost sight of the girl and momentarily forgot about her, but not for long.

They reached their hotel by climbing some steps to go up towards the mall road. Their room had a large glass window with a view of the snow-capped Himalayas.

Each time Karan looked at the mountains through the hotel room's glass window, the ruggedness and bare patches seemed to bear the golden-brown face of the girl. Her face appeared as if it was held by the mountains, as though they were the same.

The next day, they crossed the busy market area and headed towards the Kalatop forest sanctuary, where they planned to trek in the jungle. Along the way, they laughed and shared funny college memories. The tall pine trees swayed in the wind, shaking their branches as if enjoying their banter.

As they continued further up the road, the loud cries of some women on the roadside stopped them. Karan went ahead to inquire, but what he saw made him run faster and faster away from the spot, up the hills. His friends returned, unable to catch up, and later in the evening when Karan joined them, they told him about the girl who had killed herself by jumping off a cliff.

 Her name was Rakhi, and she had lived here with her mother, who had died six months ago from a serious illness. She was pursuing a course in advanced mountaineering at the Indian Mountaineering Foundation in Delhi.

Karan left the room and sat on the terrace in front of the mountains the whole night. The mountains were lit up in the dark, but for Karan, the mountains were bathed in blood just like he saw blood over Rakhi’s golden brown face with her deep black almond-shaped eyes shut forever.

The next day, he left early to visit the village where Rakhi had lived with her mother. He visited their neighbours who told him that Rakhi and her mother were renowned mountaineers in the village.

As a child, Rakhi would wander on her own in the ravines, slide down the valley with bruises on her knees, and was as thin as a stick, recalled one of their neighbours. Unlike other children, she didn't ask for anything or need anyone. She would wander alone in the dusty mountains under the hot sun, get stung by bees, play with parakeets, and tease langurs. 

Rakhi's mother, a trek leader, would often take her for long challenging treks even when she was barely 10 years old.

He started visiting the village every day as he heard more stories about Rakhi and her mother’s adventures in the mountains. While his friends left to continue their journey, he stayed back and moved to a small room in a guest house near the village.

Karan worked as a waiter in the mornings, and in the evenings, he often sat with a night lamp on the floor, writing in a thick notebook about the adventures of a mother-daughter duo who scaled many mountains together as told by the local woman of the village.

After extending his stay to 6 months, Karan returned to Mumbai and began his new job which also got delayed. However, the image of the mountains holding Rakhi's face never left him. He gradually stopped meeting his friends, until one day, one of them visited him and discovered a stack of sheets lying around. That's when his friend urged Karan to publish his writings as a book.

The book became a worldwide bestseller, but that didn't quench Karan's thirst for the mountains. He returned to Dalhousie and continued living in Rakhi’s village with a family who offered him their spare room. 

But a house at the top of the hill always whispered in his ears, inviting him to its world. He finally bought the house with the money he earned from his book.

The house was filled with paintings, sculptures, and a stack of diaries that allowed him to enter Rakhi's world. He would read her diaries and write in the house that faced the mighty snow-capped Himalayas of the Pir Panjal range.

Another year passed, and he gave birth to Rakhi’s dreams by opening Moonlight, an adventure company that trained local women from nearby villages as trek organisers and trek leaders.

Karan would occasionally visit his parents in Mumbai, who often spoke proudly about how their son fulfilled all their dreams.

While he did find his passion as a writer, he also became a lover of the blood-bathed mountains, continuing to live in Rakhi's house in Dalhousie with her dreams and memories.