The water of Ganges was flowing, serenely.
He placed his bag on the stairs of the Ghat and sat down, by Ghat Indians meant mostly concreted stairs with wide platforms leading to the river, for bathing and as jetties…
A soft rustle of dress made him turn, he knew who it was, she came to the Ghat almost exactly at same time, a ten or so minutes before sun showed up, she was beautiful.
Not in the sense of the girls he has knew, has grown up with, fair, lovely maidens with lighter shades of hair and eyes.
This girl was fair, but different type of fair, there was a gold mixed with her brownish fair colour. Her eyes and hair too were deep brown. Her eyes were very calm, full of light. She looked at him shyly and sat down on the opposite end of the stairs.
They passed an hour every morning, watching the sun slowly rise in the eastern sky.
The sound of prayers coming from temples, carried by the river breeze, company of a stranger… he waited all night for these dawns. He wondered if she did the same.
(Now dont smirk… i know, like most of bookworms about Quiet flows the Don, even though I have not read the story.. the pun is totally intended. So if you are smirking I got you!!!)