The wind was chilling his bones, yet the sun was unbearable. He had covered his skin by jeans and jacket. Only his face was not covered. He had forgotten to get a cap. Otherwise he would be wearing a cap too. Totally covered. Totally safe. Safe from wind and safe from sun. The girl companion standing before him was a smart tyke. She was not talking much. Not revealing much about herself. Not timid. But provocative. Not following. Must have mountaineered much. She was a daring girl. What's at stake dear? : He asked in his mind. There must be something very important or very precious. He glanced at her legs. Forelegs.
Strong. Muscular. Fine legs. She must be a sports girl. Or a martial arts practitioner. Who knows?
All of a sudden he could hear distant bangs of drums and exotic pipe instrument's blowing.
He told her, "It is the winter festival of the Malkhans. It is starting today and will continue for weeks. It is a festival of mating. Boys and girls will meet and choose their mates. Then they will marry each other later if everything goes well. It will be in a huge group marriage. The brides will choose their grooms here."
She asked, "Does it mean we can not talk and take interview?"
"On the contrary, we surely can. Winter festival is meant for youths to dance and date or choose partners. Old people and children must be free."
Listening this she walked faster. He followed her. He asked after few seconds, "Are you familiar with the philosophy of deconstruction?"
She was silently walking forward.
Ignoring her silence he said, "I presume your silence to be yes. Good. You know so many things."
She flicked her eyebrows as if to say, "Do not flatter me boy. It will not pay off."
He continued none the less, "In deconstruction a boss becomes a slave. A dominant male becomes inferior to a female. Ours is a good living example of deconstruction. I am the guide, but I am now being guided by you, isn't it?"
She said, "Nothing is strange."
"Thank goodness, at last you opened your mouth. Yes, why not this strange, you were telling. .."
"Nothing strange, because to me, you are just a loafer and do not seem fit for the job. You walk very slowly on this rocky path. I also doubt your translating ability."
"Hey, calm down. I may be bad as a guide, I have some sprains on my heels, that is why I am slow, but I am a born translator. My grandpa was an army officer. He had learnt seventeen Angleslandian tribal languages and seven state languages excluding Spanish and English. He had passed all his wisdom to me."
He paused to see Veronica's facial expressions, which remained unchanged, almost like an angry mask.
"Well, I do not need to prove my skills before you. You are going to pay me anyway for my skills those will help you for whatever purpose you are here." Matthew said.
"My purpose is very clear. I intend to research on tribal cultures of Anglesland," Veronica said.
Interrupting her he said, "Then I am the very man you need around. I have learnt seventeen tribal languages like Malkhan, Shanty, Ho, Kukumail..."
"Yeah, yeah, but I do not have that much of money to hire you and tour with you all around Anglesland. My budget is low. I can afford you only here. For other places, I guess I have to rely on tourist guides or something like that."
"You do not need to spend a penny for me. Helping beautiful girls – even – sorry, helping people in need is my hobby. I can help you for free."
She halted. Checking his contour she smiled. Nodding her head she said to him, "Look, I have met several men around here, but have never seen such a sticky person like you. You are an out and out loafer. Control your loafings. When I will be angry, then I may burst upon you. You may lose some of your ribs. If that is ok, then try me."
Nearing her in a slow and seductive way he said, "But now you are smiling. How can I believe that you may be angry upon me?"
"Leave flirting. I have not paid you for that. Just do what you are paid for. Do not give extra labour. No one here does that. Be no exception," Veronica told him in an elder sisterly manner.
Now silently he followed her. The bang of drums uphill was heard more distinctly with their each step upward. His sudden mumbling astonished her. She looked at his charming visage from the corner of her eyes and said, "You look good when you are quiet."
He just smiled and said nothing. In no time they found themselves in a clearing where several youths of both genders had gathered under a big banyan tree.
"Modernization has touched these people. Otherwise they wore scantily," he said.
Really, young boys were wearing dresses and girls, short skirts and varieties of chains of beads. At their center was standing a middle aged Malkhan with a pot in his hand. The girls had braided their hairs strangely and wore buns. Even beautiful beads adorned their ears. Each girl had worn almost a dozen of nose rings. They were all chatting lively with each other and very innocently giggling. This was their matting dance season.
"This is winter festival," he said. "The festival of bride choosing. A game of seduction. Oh now I understand why I was loafing around you. It is the influence of the season. Not my fault."
Veronica raised her eyebrows.
Some of the youths rushed to Matthew and Veronica. And even dragged them to join their dance. Matthew said in Malkhan language that they were here for some serious business. Today they could not participate with them. Some other day. They let go off the duo.
"I suppose they were asking us to join their dance!" Veronica said. "But what did you say?"
"Yes, we are youth ourselves, but I said no to them because we have some business uphill with older people, so they let us go…"
"Well, now now, my prejudgment about your translation ability seems mistaken, seems faulty. I think now you are a good translator. Therefore finding you is a good job I accomplished."
While walking uphill Matthew bowed forward saying, "Your grace, I am grateful that you recognized my talent."
Veronica turned away as if she did not see it.
They had not gone a furlong they saw huts with thatch roofs.
"See we come to the village at last," Matthew said. "Had you allowed a taxi, we would have come here waylong before."
The music from Malkhan drums was heard continuously, but now it became louder. Matthew informed her, "The Malkhan youths must be dancing demonically to the tune of frightening as well as beautiful and rhythmical tune of drums and gongs, inviting the winter season. And I suppose you could have danced to the tune, erm, with your nice sporty strong legs."
Veronica circled her eyebrows again.
"Come on, you have a pair of strong legs, I must tell you," he said.
"Have not you been taught not to look at a woman's body parts?" Veronica said blankly, not mockingly, not angrily.
"Sorry, I was just praising you. And was intending to ask you whether you practice any form of martial arts? That's it. For, at the beginning, when we met, I was utterly afraid that you would turn around and throw a painful kick or a punch at my face, by damaging my charming features while breaking some of my pearl white teeth…"
She asked, "So you consider yourself charming?"
He smarted his cloth and puffed up his chest and said, "Why consider? I know I am charming and I also know that you have started to think about me."
Veronica smirked. Well the good thing was that Matthew was not feeling ashamed of her smirks.
"I must tell you," she said after an age still grinning from ear to ear. "You have a very strong sense of humour. You are a real charmer and can make anyone's day."
"I know," said Matthew patting his own back and innocently smiling back at her.
Though there were very few huts, but there were many wine palm trees. A wine palm tree is a beautiful palm tree. It needs a plenty of space. The tree must be cut down in order to harvest the sap to make wine. Many old and middle aged men sat alone as if in trance after drinking wine. There were even groups of males sitting around some wine palm trees.
"Are they all drunk?" Veronica said, petrified by the scene of entranced people around her.
"No, do not be afraid. This is their normal state. Here in Malkhan community a man generally does not do anything at all except for getting drunk. It is the women, they do everything – the house chores, land mowing, seeding, planting, reaping, harvesting, taking care of children, domestic animals even their husbands. On the other hand a husband has no responsibility at all."
"Wow a heaven for men, isn't it?" she said while crossing the wine palm natural garden.
"Yes indeed."
"Where is the village?"
Few huts were seen from where they stood. He said, "The village is a mile more upward. These are just some out-houses. The real village is up there."
"Oh, one more mile?" she sounded tired.
"You sound tired?"
She stared at him. Her expression was a mixture of tiredness, mock anger and joy of finding a companion. She said at last, "Of course, there was an old talkative driver and here is a talkative guide. What else do you expect me to become other than being tired?"