Page 71 - Love Story of a Commando

Then a guy adorning a cream pathani suit and kufi skull cap
approached me and requested me to follow him, instantly taking the two
heavy suitcases that I had brought along with me. He ushered me towards
the quaint colonial cottages at the end of the enclosed premises.
We reached a cottage called Chenab and he dumped my suitcases
rather carelessly on the ground. Then he looked at me intently and it took me
a while to realise that he was anticipating a tip for his services. I checked my
pockets for some change and thankfully found a hundred-rupee note that I
immediately handed over to him. His face lit up and he left after thanking
me generously. Maybe it was the most generous tip that the fifteen-year-old
boy had ever received.
The evening sun was setting and I seriously hoped to rest in the
single bed in the room. The amenities were very basic: there was a table and
chair in one corner of the room. There was one more door exactly opposite
from the front door. I opened it and my eyes widened in awe. A balcony
opened out to a lawn strewn with cedar cones. The wind rustled through the
leaves and ruffled my hair. There was a boundary wall across the lawn
beyond which the gigantic, snowy peaks sparkled in the evening sun. The
trees laden with fruits and flowers swayed in the breeze. There were also two
plastic chairs and a table in one corner of the small balcony. My gaze strayed
to the serene mountains in the distance and I marvelled at their immutability.
I smiled; this was going to be my coffee space.
This is paradise; I can sit here forever, breathing this crisp mountain
air and listening to the trilling of these birds, I thought
Sudden thuds on the door broke my thoughts and I opened the door
quite annoyed. It was Mr Durrani.
‘Sorry to bother you, Riya, but I came here to bid you goodbye and
hand these documents over to you. Sign these and submit them to the main
office tomorrow,’ he said.
‘Goodbye? Are you not going to stay?’ I was perplexed.
Suddenly, I realized that I did not know anyone in these alien lands.
‘No! I work and stay in Srinagar. I just came here to settle you in. It
is a nice place and hopefully you should not have any problem. The people
here are a bit shy, and you might like to wear some decent clothes,’ he said.
‘What do you mean by decent clothes? Jeans and tees are among the
most decent clothes of the 21st century.’ I was offended.
If jeans are not decent then what would he think about my minis or
halters?
‘Please don’t mind. What I mean is I hope you have a salwar
kameez…if you don’t want to make people uncomfortable in your presence
or draw any kind of undue attention towards you. People in Kashmir are a
bit traditional and not used to seeing women in Western clothing. It is my