Six months ago...

It is said that the dark is the cradle of the light-angels, the promise of regeneration. And that lightless night wasn't any different.
It was a new moon night, a night for the moon to rest, leaving the earth in it's dark veil of longing... longing for dawn, for light, for life!
The night sky too, was devoid of any stars, only the polestar playing hide and seek with the black clouds. And, the whistling breeze of the Ganga river added to the extracelestial ambience of the night, it had tuned perfectly with the slow soft melody of a distant flute whose notes, very familiar, had travelled to the marbled banks of the river, ruffling the long open traces of the hourglass silhouette standing there in silence.
It was an old Scottish ballad... the tune, and the woman had closed her eyes as her lips automatically hummed the words.

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And days of auld lang syne!"

The flute has abruptly stopped for a moment, but it was only for a moment before it started to play the next set of notes, matching the melodious voice of the woman's faint song.

A soft smile made her lips curled, she too played alone, sang the next words, perfectly, and a little louder.

"For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne
We'll take a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne!"

Her words were in sync with the flute, her pronunciation was immaculate, and her eyes were closed, lost in the beauty of the moment.

"You have an amazing voice."

The words, coming from the river, had startled the woman, standing at the bank, she felt a soft chill run down her body making her shiver a bit.

"Thank you." She replied back to the wind.

The breeze was strong, making her struggle to manage her hair. She pulled the shawl covering her shoulders closer to her breasts and contemplated leaving the place.

"Aren't you scared?" The deep husky voice spoke again, coming from the side of the river, a little closer this time.

"No." The woman promptly replied.
"Should I be?"

A soft chuckle echoed through the wind, as the woman heard the same deep masculine voice once again.

"Fear is only a state of mind."

The woman smiled and gulped at the same time.
"What are you? A jinn? A ghost?"

Her words were accompanied by a roll of laughter coming from the river, a lighthearted, lively roll of laughter.

"Any other guesses?" The voice asked.

"Umm... An English Ghost? Your accent is very... Very Scottish." The woman had pressed her lips in a playful smile, her ears had heard a few splashes of water as her eyes traced the outline of a small boat approaching near her in the river.

"A Scottish Ghost in a Boat!" She giggled.

"You song is very Scottish as well." The man had replied back.
"Where did you learn it?"

"From my mother... She... She was half Scott." The woman breathed the words.

The man had probably noticed the use of tense in her words and the sudden change of her tone. He quickly tried to change the topic and spoke up, tearing the veil of the night.
"I aren't any ghost... definitely aren't Scott... I'm very, very Indian."

The woman forced a smile.
"An Indian, on a boat, with an accent... How intriguing!"

"Are you intrigued? Miss... Or, is it Mrs.? The voice was coming closer now, as the woman noticed a silhouette of a tall man approaching her, getting down from the boat. His voice was enchantingly captivating, and so was the night... And, although, the woman knew it would have been wise for her to turn back and leave at once... Something kept her rooted.

"Miss." She murmured softly.

"Miss... What?" The man was now standing infront of her, only at a distance of five or six feet, and his deep husky enticing voice was audible with prominence.

"I'm not comfortable giving my name to a stranger." She smiled at the dark outline of the figure.
"How do I know you are not a river pirate?"

The man laughed at the words again.
"Is that the best you could come up with?"

The woman didn't reply. His laughter was contiguous, painting an unseen hue of blush on her cheeks.

"What are you doing here? At this hour?" She asked him instead.

"What if I ask you the same? I don't think it's advisable for a young lady to stand here... alone... at this hour."
His words made her smile again, as she pulled her shawl closer to wrap herself cosily.

"This is my place." Her words were confident.

"Your place as in?"

"As in... This part of the river bank falls within my estate. I come here whenever I visit Calcutta." The woman replied.

"Your estate? Isn't this place disputed?" The man had narrowed his eyes in the dark, trying to trace an outline of the female figure standing infront.

"You ask too many questions. Now tell me what are you doing here? In my place?"

"That's my boat." The man replied.
"I come here... Whenever I need to clear my head... Whenever I'm in Calcutta."

"Clear your head? Oh... The flute!" She smiled.
"You are very talented... I could hear you all night long."

No woman had ever spoken to him like this... So freely, so without any inhibitions.
A warmth had touched his lonely heart.

"Thank you... Would you like to hear more?" He had suddenly realised the blunder of indecency as unknowingly his teeth had bit the tongue. The only solace was the impenetrable darkness.

"I'd love to... But..." The woman paused.

"But?"

"Can I come to your boat? I've always wanted to seat in a small Dingi Nauka like this one."

The warm innocence in her voice had touched his heart. She was really different...

"It's very dark here... You'll have to... Have to hold my hand and, I'll guide you."

The man had approached a little closer, he could almost smell the tantalising floral fragrance of her hair, flying in the breeze. It too, had a rhythm in it... he felt.
Her face wasn't visible, only the tiny glowing dot on her face, from where her warm sweet breath blew.
The man was filled with a sudden urge of touching that tiny rock radiating light...
He gulped.

"Here... Take my hand." He spoke instead.

"I can't see... Anything... It's too dark." She turned around and stooped a little to pick up the torch light kept on the ground, as a strong hand held her wrist firmly, seizing her advances.

"I'll guide you... Trust me."

There was something in his voice, an unknown attraction, a sense of comfort... and she knew in a heartbeat that she could trust him.
May be it was foolishness... May be it was against all the rationality that she was brought up with... But who cares?
She had never felt so thrilled before...
Such nights had only existed in her books, untill then!

She held the stranger's strong arms and took a step infront, one step down, leading to the river.

"Hold me tightly." The man whispered, as she felt his hands on her neck, and he immediately moved it down to her shoulder, arms before he slid it down her waist. She was standing still, her heart fluttered in a forbidden excitement.

"Sorry... I'm absolutely not able to see..." The man chuckled softly in embarrassment, probably for touching her without her permission, as in the next moment she felt his strong arms grip her body.
And, before she could move away or react, she was in his arms, cradled safely against his strong chest. His heartbeat was fast, and she smiled as her face moved closer to his skin in the dark.

"The mud... Um... The clay here is ankle deep... So I..." He carried her to the deck of the small wooden boat and made her sit on the edge.
With one swift movement, she felt him jump onto the boat as he stood on the deck behind her.

"Sorry... I thought this would be easier." He apologized, making her crimson in the dark.

"It's fine. I too wouldn't have preferred the muddy clay."

A sigh breath of relief escaped his mouth.
As he sat down beside her and pulled out the flute tucked at his waist.

"Would you sing?" He asked her.

The woman closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And days of auld lang syne

For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne
We'll take a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne"

The flute played alone... It's melody penetrating the night sky, reaching the core of the heaven as the sweet pristine voice of the woman ignited the silent core of the earth.

"And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp!
And surely I'll be mine!
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne."

Her voice had quivered a bit, choking at the last words, as a sudden surreal romanticism engulfed her entire being.

"We'll never meet again... Would we?"

The man had stopped playing too, his hands had clenched the flute concentrating all the wild, unrealistic thoughts racing in his mind.
This was not him... This was not the moment he was meant to live for... But then, why did it feel so real?
Why did he feel that probably this was the only moment he was alive in his entire life!
He pressed his eyes shut.

'This night isn't real.
This innocent enchantress... She isn't real either...'

"Would we?"
Her choked words made him open his eyes. His heart too, wanted what her heart had wished for... at that moment...

But, without letting any further thought of future cloud his judgement, he wanted his heart to seize all hope, all hope for happiness.
He turned his face towards her, in the dark, to tell her what his mind relayed, but before his actions could take shape, he felt a touch of her soft nose brushing against his lips, as his nose had probably touched her fluttering eyelashes.

"Ouch... My eyes!" She winced in discomfiture as he murmured an apology to her.

"I'm... I'm so sorry..." He bit his lips.
"It's so dark... " He fumbled in the dark and touched her face, his fingers tracing her cheek moving up to her closed eyes.

The pitch black darkness of the night was settling in his eyes slowly as he leaned forward a little on her face.

"Try to open your eyes... Slowly."

The woman gasped, and gulped at his whispered words... A sensuous shiver of passionate thoughts trailed down her spine. She slowly opened her eyes and saw the outline of his face hovering over her, in the dark. She couldn't figure out any of his features, only the white of his eyes, his sharp nose and a few strands of his short hair fallen freely on his forehead.
His lips were quivering, as they inched slowly towards her eyes... blowing warm air into her eyelashes.

The woman shivered, her lips parted a little murmuring the words in a daze.

"There is a love I reminisce,
Like a seed
I've never sown.

Or lips that I'm yet to kiss,
and eyes
not met my own."

She grasped sharply as his free hand touched her waist, sliding to the small of her back, pulling her a little closer.
She swallowed and continued,

"Hands that wrap around my waist...
and arms
that feel like home.

I wonder how it is I miss,
these things
I've never known."

She could feel his heartbeat, thudding inside his ribs, his hand on her face had already cupped her cheek, his fingers combing through her hair, touching the back of her head.
She gasped again.
"Who are you?"

"A shadow..." His breath was rapid, caressing her face with his tepid warmth.
"But right now, I can be anyone you want me to be."

"Then be my Prince." She closed her eyes.
"My knight... My rescuer... My Lochinvar!"

His lips had moved dangerously close to hers.
"Your Lochinvar it is... Only for tonight."

She felt the soft touch of his lips on hers, a feather touch at first and then demanding an entrance in her mouth.

"Lochinvar!!" She parted her lips, letting him capture her mouth slowly, owning her with the sweetness of his tongue.

"Princess!!"
His grip had tightened on her body, her bones were on fire, and the heat was bruising him with slow burns.

The night too, burnt slowly. Their kiss had intensified... Same as the rhythm of the song they had sang together just a while ago... Same as the soft gushing of the river water where the boat was rested.

The woman had lost herself completely, surrendering her soul to the stranger in the darkness, her Lochinvar, as her heart craved for more from him. Her hands had automatically moved up, feeling the tight muscles on his back before they moved infront feeling his chiseled torso.

"We should stop." The man broke the kiss abruptly, panting in need and desire.

"Why?" The woman questioned.

"Aren't you scared?"

"I am." Her words were a whisper, her lips trying to reach up to his collarbone, relying on her toes.
"What am I...
If not fearless for you?"
She traced a kiss on his chest, pulling him closer to her.
"But, are you the same?
Fearless? For me?"

The man felt his entire body on fire... fire coursing through his veins, his mind, his soul...
His hands had gripped her neck firmly as he pulled her face closer to his lips.
"You are playing with fire...
And, we both would lose." His eyes intensified on the dark orbs staring back at him, fearlessly.
There wasn't any distinct face, only an outline of a pair of dark passionate eyes trying to redeem his soul, probably for one last time... making him live his life!

"I'm not scared to lose!"
Her shawl had fallen down, and her words echoed in the wind, as his strong arms squeezed her soft body inside his chest, before they sank down on the wooden planks on the undulating boat, in complete darkness, under the open starless sky.

"Let's lose together then!" He hushed into her neck, before diving his tongue inside her mouth once again.

...............................................................

Guys!
Guess who these two are.
And how many of you felt butterflies?? 🤪

If you are wondering who Lochinvar is,
am attaching a poem, please read.
Am attaching the Scottish Ballad which the woman sang as well... Please listen.