Sunset at Scandal Point

Chapter 1

Shimla Serendipity

Lies, betrayals and skeletons in the cupboard are the lifeblood of a love story. But love, the most beguiling of all emotions, has also the power to transform even the most ordinary existence into a breathtaking tale of passion and redemption. Love is the alchemy that can turn a whisper into a symphony, a glance into an eternity, and two hearts into one. In a world where hearts may wander and souls may falter, it is the promise of love's transformative touch that can turn the most ordinary of moments into lifetime memories. This is the story of two souls, destined to cross paths in their life, where love's magic weaves the tapestry of  the narrative that unfolds now for the readers

Deepak checked Cindy's FB post again on his mobile on the bus to Shimla he had now boarded. It read 'At Scandal Point, Shimla' captioning a picture of hers with a bucket bag hanging from her right shoulder. A white young girl, she was wearing a pair of jeans and a high neck pullover. It was a wild goose chase for Deepak after locating Cindy on FB and sending her a friend request. Three weeks ago, they had met at a party at a friend's place. When Deepak ran into Cynthia or Cindy, the British girl who had come with her friends to the party, he felt a connection though they hadn't met before. Cynthia had worked as a trainer in the same company for a short period but she never got to meet Deepak there.  

Let's now hear it from Deepak himself how he met her and why he decided to catch a bus to go to Shimla just to meet her.

Those eyes of hers were bewitching. As if she could read my thought process. Slightly drunk, I was kissing her in my fantasy in that party. If wishes were kisses, I would have been a prince charming in a fairy tale a long time ago. Ever since I had met her at the party, I wasn't able to forget those eyes of hers. As if they had colonized my thoughts.

We had got into a conversation at the party. She said she was in India to find out about the places where her family members had once lived during the British Raj. She was also keen to learn about religious and cultural practices of India. Then she came near and nearly whispered into my ears, "I also plan to learn Tantra sex before I leave." I blushed as she nearly breathed on face. "Do you plan to practice it as well here," I asked with a naughty smile. "Yes, but certainly not with you, dear," was her quick reply, followed by a giggle. 

Ever since she had finished college and started earning, she had been dying to visit India, and when an opportunity with my company came up, she just grabbed it and flew to India.

Now you must be curious why I was trailing her, and I must tell you that interesting part to hold your interest. Once she told me about her connection with Shimla, I got snooping around my old house, for I had heard stories of my great grandfather's stay there. My grandfather had served in the British Army and used to frequent Shimla whenever his battalion went there. My grandmother had shown me his sepia-tinted picture in which he stood with a spear in his hand in front of his Sahib's bungalow. She had told me that the bungalow was located somewhere near Lakkar bazar from where he had bought a wooden Ganesha that was still there in our house. Ganesha is supposed to confer good luck on people, and the family had kept him ever since. My granny when she was alive had told me about a Liz memsahib in Shimla.

Having worked may tail off for months on end, I needed a break from Delhi. And this pursuit of Cindy provided me with a thrill of making discoveries that could connect me with my own family's past. Yes, a sense of serendipity had set me on my way to Shimla in search of Cindy, with a hope flickering in my heart that perhaps like us our ancestors also might have crossed each other's path. However, there was a caveat that Indians and dogs were not allowed on the Mall Road in those days of the British Raj.

I again checked the status of my friend request on the mobile. FB was the only way of connecting with her for me. My friend request was not yet accepted. Perhaps, she was not online or hadn't seen my friend request. Now my hope of finding her in Shimla was growing thin. Meanwhile, the bus crossed Solan and we were in the midst of the bewitching beauty of the pine covered hills. The road was slithering up between the pine trees like a snake towards our destination—Shimla.

I have booked at Feel@home hotel online after reading the reviews. Suddenly I saw that she had accepted my friend request. She soon started messaging me.

"Hello! Do I know you from somewhere?"

"Hi! I am Deepak. We met at the party last week in Sec 39, Gurgaon. I am also coming to Shimla as I have taken time off from my office. How long you will be in Shimla?"

She sent a smiley and said: "I am going to Shoghi tomorrow evening; so, I can meet you at the Mall Road tomorrow, say around 8 AM. Just message me in the morning when you come."

"Why are you going to Shoghi?"

"Ah, Shoghi, I am going there for my business work, which is to source pickles from here to sell in England. My mother's family runs a department store there."

"Oh! That's interesting."

"How about you? You look like someone from the hills. Do you stay in Shimla?"

"Yes, I am from the hills, but I do not stay in Shimla. I grew up in Delhi where I live now. So not a typical hill person that way, though my roots are here."

Cindy was a tall, thin girl with fair complexion and sharp facial features and a whining, nasal voice. Her fair complexion, her large eyes, a thick mop of curly hair hanging down to her shoulders and her charming way of conversing could easily sweep any 20-something guy off his feet. Now the fact that I will be able to meet her and perhaps help her on her business mission was like a wish fulfilled.

When we met at the Mall road at the appointed hour next day, Cindy further asked me the purpose of my visit to Shimla. I explained to her that my project was on the beach and I just needed a break for a few days. Cindy was very friendly and quite unlike those arrogant girls--both Indian and foreigner-- I had unfortunately met earlier in life who make you go through the hoops before you can ask them out.

We had our lunch quickly at a restaurant where I found that she was quite comfortable eating Punjabi food like Tandoori Roti and Dal Tadka. Soon, we caught the bus to Shoghi that started trudging downhill on the road that winds down through the mountain toward the plains.

We both got off at Shoghi. She was looking for Indian pickle sellers who would be interested in exporting them to the UK. When talking to a few pickle sellers she had already earlier contacted from the UK, she seemed a person too caught up in her own affairs to remember someone she had just met. By the time we reached the bus stop to return to Shimla, it was already dark. Meanwhile, I had felt royally ignored and was not speaking to her. I helped her with the conversation when she needed to speak to someone who could not understand English.

Suddenly on that lonely bus stop she wrapped her left hand around me and said, "I am sorry. I had to wind up the whole business in one trip. So, I could not talk to you that much. But I must say you have been a great help by acting as my guide and interpreter. I hope I can strike a deal with one or two of them, though this was just a business intelligence gathering trip."

"It's alright. I understand," though I was a little hurt by what looked like a very selfish attitude on her part.

"Let's talk now about Shimla," she said.

"Indians and dogs were once not allowed on the mall road where we met today. Did you know that?" I said with a chuckle to make things easier between us.

"Oh yes. I heard all these from old family members. I even know the story or the myth of the Scandal Point where a Maharaja met a white young girl and eloped," she said with a smile.

"Yes, the Maharaja was prohibited from entering Shimla," I said.

"Maybe you were the Maharaja then, and I was the white young girl," she added.

We both laughed as the bus was now nearing the bus depot in Shimla.

Many had wondered in Shimla when India got independence: What will become of a Hill Station deprived of its founders—the British, our colonial masters. But Shimla carried on even after its British founders had left India's shores, nearly unperturbed even by the cataclysmic changes the subcontinent went through in 1947. The legacy of the British Raj lives on through old buildings, the mall road and people's nostalgia of the bygone era.