Myra finished reading the diary. The moon was shining brightly on the terrace of her mother’s home. She looked at the stars and wondered, which one of these is my mom? As a child, her grandmother told her that when our loved ones die, they become stars and watch us. She smiled at the thought, and at the prospect of visiting the places in India that she has just read about .

Heathrow airport was buzzing with activity. It is one of the busiest airports in the world, she had heard. She was enjoying her book while sipping her coffee in the airport lounge. Her flight to India was uneventful. But once she stepped out of the Airport at Chennai, she was shaken with the noise around.  A man in his mid-forties was standing with a card bearing her name “Miss. Myra Smith”.  She waived at him and got into the car.

“How long will the journey be?’ she enquired.  “I am not sure ma’am; the roads are blocked due to landslides. It has been raining continuously for four days.”  The car was about a foot in the water.  “Also it will be dark soon and these ghats have hairpin bends, I will need to go carefully”,  Soham the cab driver said. “First time ma’am?”  She smiled to herself and nodded.

The toll of the cyclone was clearly visible with trees fallen, roads washed out in some places and strong winds blowing all around.  “Welcome to Aviemore ma’am, sorry we have no lights, be careful on the steps they are slippery”, the restaurant manager led Myra towards her room. The smell of eucalyptus from the trees helped to sooth her tired nerves. The room looked nice. She could not see much in the candlelight but seemed to like it. “This is Eastylin Castle, the best room in the resort.  It has windows on three sides, with one view towards the hills and two views towards the valley. Please do not open the windows in the night time as the place is full of wild animals”.

Myra jumped on to the bed and stared at the ceiling. It had a beautiful chandelier glistening with the moonlight coming from the window.  This was the first time Myra had taken an adventure like this, all alone.  Her thoughts went back to the diary and the words of her mother “I wish I could garner the courage to tell Myra about her father. He was a good man.” A tear tricked down her left eye.  Slowly she fell into a deep slumber.

Grace was standing on the porch. Her white laced hat and peach coloured gown made her look divine.  Gautam was glancing at her from the corner of his eye. His hands were tied with chains and he looked frail and tired. The horse-cart was ready and the luggage waggon was being filled. Grace was trying her best not to look at Gautam.  Her eyes were moist. Gautam’s words were ringing in her ears, “Grace please don’t believe them, I am innocent, I have not murdered anyone, I swear on our love”.

The bell rang, “Good morning Miss. Here’s some special local Yercaud Tea.” Myra opened the window facing the valley, and lo and behold, a thick mist entered her room and she ran her hand through the mist. It felt divine.

The restaurant was a cosy place with ancient wooden furniture and a lot of artefacts from the British era.  Old English songs played on a gramophone.  “Hope you enjoyed the breakfast Ma’am”, the restaurant manager enquired. “Yes, it’s sumptuous”, she smiled.   The restaurant manager told her that this estate was built with a lot of love and care and not a single tree was cut while making it.

“Hello ma’am, may I help you?”, Myra looked towards the voice. “No, I’m just exploring the place,” but their eyes met for a moment. He shook her hand and said, “I’m Dhruv Singh, the resort Manager, and handed over his business card. Please call me if you need anything”. “Thank you!” said Myra. Dhruv was in his early thirties, and was tall and he had sharp features. Something about him was very magnetic.

He walked alongside Myra. “This place is beautiful. How long have you been here?” she asked. “A couple of years, I worked in Hilton Delhi for a few years. This opportunity came through a mutual friend and once I visited this place, I fell in love with it”.  They stood at the edge of the railing looking down at the deep valley with thick flora. The rain had stopped but it was still very cold. “This is the end of the estate and beginning of the plantations”.  I hope you are aware of this place? It used to be the house of Sir Burton Smith during the British times. He had explored this place and made it into a hill resort. Just before independence he and his family sold the property to a local merchant and went back to London.  The merchant sold it to a realtor and finally, this was converted into the resort with minimum changes. Most of the old furniture and construction remains untouched till date.  That big well you see in the corner, is almost 100 feet deep and has many stories about it”. Myra remembered that the plantation and well were mentioned in her mother’s diary.

Myra took the road outside the resort and walked along the pavement. The place was full of tourists around the lake waiting for a boat ride. She had the address in her hand. She asked a lady selling corn if she knew the address. She pointed in the opposite direction towards a gate. Myra thanked her and walked towards the gate. She unlocked the gate, it creaked. The path towards the door was wet. She knocked.  An old man with a lantern opened the door. She showed him the note.  He strained his eyes and then allowed her inside. “I don’t know where he went away one day, I hope he is fine.”

The chill was setting in as was the darkness. Myra was walking towards her room. A bit dejected at her search having met a dead end. “Good evening ma’am, how was your day? Good?”  Dhruv’s voice broke her chain of thoughts.  “Yes please,” she said giving him her enchanting smile.  “May I walk you to your room? It is very dark and slippery here.” Without waiting for an answer he led her.  “Where do you live Dhruv?” she enquired,  “The small house at the end of the estate is my place. It was a place where the housekeepers of the British lived. Now of course it is done up well.  Would you like to have some coffee and see my quaint little dwelling?” Myra said, “Sorry, I’m too tired today. May be some other day.”

With the lights on, her room looked really beautiful. She explored everything around and read the captions and stories mentioned alongside.  She ordered dinner in her room. With the dinner came a bouquet of  flowers and a small box of chocolate with a note, “This is for our special guest” from Resort Manager, Aviemore Resort. It was signed Dhruv with a smiley”.

The priest at the church nodded his head and said, “Sorry Miss Smith but here we keep records only of Christians”. The name you mentioned looks like a local Hindu name”. “But father, where could I find any information about him?”. The priest handed a piece of paper with a name and address. “This lady is eighty years old and has lived her entire life here. She should be of help” he said.

“Seramma I am Myra, daughter of Grace Smith”. My mother lived here many years ago. Do you know her?” The old lady’s face lit up. “Of course I do, My God, what a pleasant surprise, you look just like your mother.” The coffee was delicious. Seramma’s family worked in the Estate as housekeepers. She narrated many anecdotes and Myra realised that most of what was written in her mother’s diary matched with what Seramma told her. “Where will I find my father now?” Myra’s voice choked as she asked this question. “I don’t know my child. The last I heard he was trying to start a school for children outside the town”.  Myra hugged Seramma and left.

Grace Smith, Myra’s mother, was the only child of William Smith.  William  was posted by the British in Southern India. He was a civil engineer and an explorer. He had found this quaint little place named Yercaud in the hills of Shevaroy in the Eastern Ghats. The locals were poor.  He built the Aviemore Estate and the plantations.  Grace had lost her mother at a very early age and she lived alone with her father in the huge estate. As life would have it, this lonely girl found friendship which then turned into love in the form of Gautam, a plantation worker’s son. They spent long hours in the thick plantations. When the rumours of their relationship reached her father, he cautioned her to stay away. But love has its own rules, and Grace did not listen to his advice. One day, a body of a local girl was removed from the well in the plantation and the blame of her murder was placed on Gautam. India’s independence was coming close and Mr. Smith decided to move back to England with his daughter.  Grace pleaded with her father that she wanted to stay but he paid no heed. She, with a small Myra in her womb, had no choice but to return to England.  Myra was narrating this based on her mother’s diary to Dhruv. He gently touched her shoulder and said, I will help you in your search of finding your father. And yes, this means that you are original the owner of this estate. He took her hand and gently kissed it.

Christmas was around the corner and the resort was being decorated with Christmas trees, bells, Santa, and holly leaves and presents. A grand event was planned for the guests at the Princess Diana Hall.  Myra had not met Dhruv for a few days now.  She felt she was missing him. Her search for her father had also not made any progress. She would walk around the resort and look at the plantations and her mother’s story would play in her mind.  Her mother had not married and the sadness of losing Gautam had manifested into lifelong ill-health.

“Penny for your thoughts!” a voice startled her. “Hey, where have you been?” she asked him, her face revealing that she had missed him. He smiled and said with a twinkle in his eye, “I was preparing hard to have a great Christmas event for my special guest! “

It was Christmas eve.  Myra was dressing up for the evening. She wore her favourite  red evening gown with silver jewellery. She looked at herself in the mirror and smiled.  The Princess Diana hall was slowly getting filled up. The place had been decorated in the traditional way. Myra felt as if she was in England. A live band was playing Christmas Carols and Santa Claus was moving around with his sack giving presents to the guests.  Myra’s eyes were searching for Dhruv. Slowly the couples started to take to the dance floor. The traditional waltz music was playing.   Myra was sipping her drink and looking out for Dhruv. “Oh my, you look stunning!” a voice from behind startled her.  “This is a small Christmas gift for you”, said Dhruv. She thanked him, her heart was beating fast and she was blushing. Dhruv looked very handsome in his tuxedo and bow tie. Dhruv and Myra could not take their eyes off each other.  They slowly walked out of the hall to the adjacent balcony. Myra finally broke the long silence between them.  “I’m planning to go back before the new year, it has been a wild goose chase for me. But of course I met you and the time I spent with you will always be treasured”.  Dhruv looked at her and said, “Dance?”  They danced for what seemed like a long time.  Both lost in each other’s arms and thoughts. “I love you, he whispered in her ear”, she smiled back.

After the event as she was going to her room Dhruv said, “Care for a coffee in my room?” Myra smiled.  She liked his room a lot. She could see he was fond of music and books. Dhruv brewed some wonderful coffee and they chatted into the night. “I think I should go now before it becomes a scandal” she smiled and Dhruv without answering kissed her lovingly.  “Merry Christmas” he said.

“Good morning, come I have the day off, I can show you around this small town of ours so that you feel like coming back again,” he said with slight sadness in his voice. They went to the Killyur waterfalls, to the Grange one of the oldest buildings in Yercaud, Bear Cave considered one of the six abodes of Lord Subramanya. They ate in a roadside shack, went for boating in the lake. After a very long time Myra felt free and happy.  While having lunch at the shack she saw a news item in a local newspaper. “Grace Memorial School celebrates 10 gloriuos years”.  She showed it to Dhruv.  “Oh this is the school for less privileged children, it is just outside the town”. Myra pointed at the name, “That is my mother’s name. Remember Seramma said he wanted to start a school? Can we go to the school?” she asked. “Yes of course” said Dhruv.

Myra was crying profusely as she knelt at her father’s grave.  “He was a God for these children” the Principal told her.  Gautam was found innocent after Grace left Yercaud.  Myra realised her grandfather had played a dirty trick to separate them. After many years of sadness, one day Gautam found his calling when he saw that girls were not allowed to study in his town.  He started the school for orphan and under privileged girls.  About a year ago, he had passed away after a brief illness, strangely a day after her mother had died.

Myra’s face was still red with the crying. She had become very silent. Dhruv wanted to tell her to stay, but could not get the courage to do it. 

Myra was packing her belongings. There was a knock at the door. It was Dhruv.  His eyes were red, as if he had cried a lot.  “What happened?” asked Myra.  “Please don’t go, I won’t be able to live without you. He hugged her and cried like a child.

The school was celebrating its 15^th Anniversary.  Myra spent her time at the school started by her father and Dhruv was now running Aveimore Estate for its new owner Myra.