In the morning...
The boy arrived at the stables, his heart racing with anticipation. Raghu, busy preparing a hearty meal for the camels, looked up as the boy approached hesitantly, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings.
"Umm... Excuse me," the boy stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've been assigned to work here. Could you tell me what I need to do?"
Raghu's expression remained blank, his weathered face a testament to years of hard labor. Unfamiliar with the boy's English, he shook his head, thinking to himself, "Master has assigned a trouble for me... This city-bred lad won't last a day."
He pointed to a corner, where various tools and equipment lay scattered, and left, leaving the boy perplexed. The boy's gaze fell upon a dolchi, an Indian bamboo basket, its woven design intricate and fascinating.
Unaware of its purpose, he picked it up, examining it carefully. After a moment's deliberation, he placed it on his head, thinking it might be a hat, similar to the ones worn by stable hands.
Two hours passed, and Raghu returned to find the boy wearing the dolchi, his face set in a determined expression. The absurdity of the scene sparked uncontrollable laughter in Raghu.
"Did I do something wrong?" the boy asked, confusion etched on his face.
Raghu composed himself, still chuckling, and approached the boy. Using gestures, he explained that the dolchi was for collecting camel waste. The boy's eyes widened in horror.
Mortified and disgusted, the boy removed the dolchi, vigorously rubbing his hair. His face flushed red, and he looked around, hoping no one had witnessed his mistake.
Raghu, still chuckling, invited the boy to lunch, pointing toward the prepared meal. "Time to eat, lad," he said, his voice gentle.
The boy hesitated, unsure if he belonged, but Raghu's kind eyes reassured him.
Here's a refined version of the passage:
After washing his hair, the boy joined Raghu under the shade of a majestic banyan tree, its sprawling branches a haven from the sun. As Raghu prepared lunch, the boy's gaze wandered, taking in the vibrant surroundings. The gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of mustard flowers, swaying in the nearby fields. He breathed deeply, feeling the tranquility of the moment.
Raghu tapped the boy's shoulder, inviting him to eat. They sat down to a simple yet delicious meal of roti, potato sabzi, and a fresh salad of cucumber, onion, and tomato.
As the boy's eyes landed on an unfamiliar condiment, he hesitated. "Acchar... aachar" Raghu said with a reassuring smile and a nod, indicating it was okay to try.
The boy picked up the aachar (Indian pickle) and, unaware of its intense flavor, popped the whole thing into his mouth. The sour taste assaulted his senses, contorting his face.
Raghu erupted into laughter, "HA HA... HA HA HA!" "Thoda-thoda khaao" (eat a little), he advised, still chuckling.
Despite the embarrassing moments, the boy enjoyed his time with Raghu. Even though they couldn't under stand each other, they still shared a delightful day, connected by laughter and kindness.
As the boy returned to his chambers, he was suddenly surrounded by a group of 10 to 12 girls, their faces hidden behind colorful veils, their vibrant lehangas and gold ornaments shimmering in the light. They resembled delicate butterflies, flitting about with curiosity.
The boy's unease grew as they gathered around, their amazed gazes fixed on him. He felt trapped, unsure how to react.
Just as the situation became overwhelming, a commanding voice pierced the air. "Har koi apna kaam karein!" (Everyone, attend to your duties!) Mala, a stately woman in her 60s with snow-white hair and piercing eyes, stood tall, her black attire a stark contrast to the girls' colorful attire.
The girls scattered swiftly, leaving the boy standing alone, still uncertain. Mala's gaze locked onto his, her expression firm. "What is your name, boy?"
The boy stuttered, "Umm... I...I don't know."
Mala's eyebrows arched. "You don't know your name?"
"I lost my memories," the boy explained, his voice laced with frustration. "I only remember coming from France."
Mala's eyes narrowed. "You're from France, yet your English is impeccable. How is that possible, boy?"
The boy's face fell, his voice barely above a whisper. "I...I really don't know."
Mala studied his face for a moment before turning to leave without another word.
The boy hastily retreated to his room, collapsing onto his bed with a sigh. "It's been a long day..."
He then rested in his chamber for quite some time till the sun come down.
To be continued...