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Tibetan Sweet - Chapter #1
By Steven Cronin
Snow-capped mountains fringed the plain as Jack engaged himself with the panorama via the carriage window. Tibet had constantly held enchantment with Jack ever since childhood, growing up in England. Images on television seized his imagination at a youthful age, driving his passion for the land during adolescence. As he observed the landscape from his seat on the train, it became evident his childhood fantasies were justified. As the terrain revealed before him, youthful memories were realised as he scrutinised every detail of the vista. Suddenly his concentration broke.
"Do you have the time please?" said a gentle female voice in soft broken English. Jack was taken aback as the pretty young lady waited patiently, anticipating his reply. She wore a sweet scented perfume, complementing her seductive traditional dress. Her platted hair was adorned with elaborate beads and her lack of makeup served emphasis to her natural beauty.
"I think it’s about ten thirty," replied Jack, realising he had forgotten to strap on his watch. He observed her walk towards the departure door as she smiled in acknowledgement, her fragrance remaining long after she had gone. Jack’s terminal approached and he began gathering his effects.
Jack was on his way to a job interview. He needed casual employment to subsidize the residual summer weeks of his visit to Tibet. He had journeyed with friends, sharing rent on a town address until early autumn when they would depart home to England. Regrettably for Jack, copious expenditure had exhausted his resources and work was his only option.
The train slowed as it approached the railway station. Jack returned his gaze to the landscape once more but the girl began to occupy his mind. Who was she? What was her name? Where was she going? As the train settled to a standstill, curiosity got the better of him. He snatched his bag and surveyed the carriage for her presence. What would he say? He did not care. He hunted back and forth, but she was lost in the assembling crowd as folk flooded to disembark the train.
He hastily buttoned his jacket and joined the departure line. Despite the summer season, a cold chill wafted through the air, though locals seemed to take it for granted. Jack waited anxiously as passengers filed leisurely off the train. Once on the open platform maybe he might catch sight of her, but no one seemed in any hurry to disembark and Jack was getting impatient. He leaned faintly on the individual ahead in his endeavour to hasten the exit, but knew this was not going to yield any success.
Once outside the station he scanned up and down an active street for sign of the mysterious young woman. Alongside a moderately inclined road lay a plethora of shops, bars and restaurants. A gentle stroll turned into a gradual jog as he speculated and proceeded uphill. As the path became ever occupied he switched to the road, making swifter progress. Travelling promptly past a cluster of shops, doubts arose in his head. Had he chosen the wrong direction? Was she still in the station? He had to persist.
Preoccupied in his pursuit, he collided with an elderly gentleman who tumbled to the ground. Jack apologised profusely whilst assisting him back to his feet. Fortunately no injury was evident but Jack sensed enough was enough and perhaps the moment to acknowledge defeat. Maybe destiny was against him and it was time to organize for his interview.
As he set the old man precariously on his way, the silhouette of a young woman fixed his attention. She was seated alone at the window of a petite coffee shop and seemed to be reading. Jack approached inquisitively, anxiety swelled within. It was her. Maybe fate was on his side. What would he say? Tensely he drew a deep breath but struggled to relax. It was now or never and he hadn’t come this far to let pass his opportunity. Apprehensively, he entered the shop.
To be continued.
About the Author
Steven Cronin writes articles, poetry and short stories predominantly concerning travel as well as issues that influence the world in which we live. For further literature visit http://www.sargas.co.uk
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