Yeong Ai

YUAN FEN

Pic credit - Anu Jacobs. Chinese characters downloaded from Google (keeping my fingers crossed that they mean Yuan -fen)

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"Sometimes, even the greatest love has to end, so that your destiny can begin."

~ from Quotediary.me ~

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Yuksom / Labing, Sikkim, three years ago

It was a very quiet June morning and as the tourist season was almost over, the young man had the entire trail to himself. He was dressed in the traditional garb, the fo-kho, which was a full sleeved dress tied at the waist with a sash. A full sleeved shirt, leather boots and a cap completed the attire though he wrapped a light woollen scarf around his neck to ward off the monsoon chill, which also served to mask some of his features. He walked at a brisk pace, with only pale swirling mists for company, glad to be alone with his thoughts.

Solitude was a rarity for him and he treasured the couple of hours he could get before the duties of his world summoned him. He gaily whistled his way, slowing his pace as he neared the babbling stream and pulled short when he caught sight of her, sitting on a low boulder, gazing at the skies.

He was surprised to see another soul for he had been convinced that he was the only one idiotic enough to walk in the misty morning. He stopped whistling and wondered what he should do next when she twirled around, appearing to be as startled as he was.

Unsure of what to do, he gave a small smile and was relieved to see her give a hesitant smile in return. He slowly walked towards her and when she made no movement, sat down at a little distance away from her. She was also dressed in the typical dress of the local tribes, though instead of the traditional fur cap, she had wrapped a heavy silk scarf that entirely covered her head. He really could not see much of her face on account of the scarf except for her eyes, large, brownish amber and so full of wonder that he could not stop wanting to see more of them. But then he immediately realised how futile that wish was, she could never be more than a mere glimpse, a wistful reminder of what life could be if he was not who he was. He was a mere visitor and would be gone in a matter of hours; there was no point in trying to be friends with any of the local people.

So while she gazed intently at the gradually brightening skies, he looked around him, at the verdant grassy knolls with splashes of colour of the small Himalayan plants, pale buttercups, Himalayan yellow poppies, the white and yellow avens and the tiny blue forgetme-nots. And despite the rhododendron flowering season being almost over, one could still see a few of the late blooming pink scaly rhododendrons, one of which was growing near the boulder he was sitting. He absently reached over and picked a few blossoms, unsure of what to make out of his unexpected company and wondering if she had even registered his presence.

She had.

And found it equally hard to ignore the stranger who had seated himself beside her. She had heard the whistling first and surprised to hear it, had spun around to see one of the most handsome men she had ever set her eyes on. She saw that he seemed as surprised to see her as she had been and had stopped, unsure of himself. She returned his smile with a shy one and slowly turned back to watch the sunrise and almost blushed when she realised that he had seated himself close by, on another small boulder. But rather than be awed by the sunrise he seemed to be admiring the grassland around them. She stole a glance, even in that pale morning light and despite the scarf that hid half his features, she could make out that he was a very good looking person. When he glanced at her, she saw that he had lovely brown eyes, the colour of warm honey and molten amber, eyes that she could never forget. She could not see much of his face but his eyes captivated her and in the ruddy gold of the morning sun, they glowed.