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The exposed mountain road was filled with partially cut pine trees, and patches of colourful wildflowers. Across the horizon, the sun was shining like a golden-red ball. The raw beauty of the landscape was so intriguing. But I was too caught up with my fear to appreciate it. Now, anxiety also joined it on this swampy, non-existent, unsealed, and deserted terrain at an altitude of 7500 feet. As though it wasn't enough, my car hesitantly took an abrupt turn at the hairpin bend owing to the faulty GPS. Still, I was happy not to be alone. I had been driving for eight hours from Shimla to Larot, Himachal Pradesh. And I was with my partner on an adventure trip for our 2nd anniversary. The plan was to reach Larot, which is the last village between Chirgaon and Chansal, enjoy local hospitality, and leave for the Chansal Pass the next day. But, the unknown terrain and looming darkness forced me to question my decision. After another fifteen minute drive, I spotted three women walking by. They told us about a big house in the nearby apple village of Himachal. But the hope seemed too little at that moment. We reached the big house after a few enquiries. It was a two-storey, concrete house; overlooking a beautiful garden full of roses, golden shower, plum trees with moon-lit blue sky and snow-capped mountain in the backdrop. We left the front yard and walked towards the main door. A man in his early 40s appeared from behind. "Namaskar, Do I know you?" he asked and greeted with a smile. "Namaskar, I'm Supriya, and this is my husband, Sameer. We are travelling to Larot, but now it seems a far-fetched idea." I said. "Yes, you should have stayed in the last town tonight." He paused for a moment as if he was thinking. "If it is okay with you, you can stay at my place. Please come this way," he said. We followed him into the guestroom. He went inside for a while and came back with a plate of plum. After a few silent bites of the sour plum, he unfolded his tale of life; his profession as a teacher in Shimla, his occasional visit to the village, the responsibility of old parents, success stories of the apple orchards and the growing economic status of villagers. Simultaneously, I was taking a detailed mental note of it. Amid our village life conversation, he suddenly dropped the topic of the caste system. He elaborated the history, deep-rooted prejudices, customs associated with it and the purity and impurity notion among villagers. It took me a while to understand his underlying concern. I thought of revealing our caste, but I didn't. Sameer too stayed silent on this. Though we belong to the upper caste, we never dictate our actions based on it. So why to do it today? At the end of our conversation, I came up with an excuse to leave his place. He got delighted to hear this and gave his phone number for any future help. I drove past the village into the familiar muddy road silently. Sameer spoke first by asking me random questions. His desperate attempt to change the topic had only made his grief noticed. A few minutes later, a woman appeared at a distance from the car, waving her hands. As the car drove closer, her glowing face looked clear. She was wearing a pair of glasses, a blue chiffon headscarf, and a yellow salwar-suit. "Can you please give me a lift to my house?" she asked. "Where is your house?" I asked. "It's just a few minutes' drive from here", she said. We agreed to take her in. After a while, she broke the silence and said, "The world is full of all kinds of people, but good ones are a handful." I smiled and ate the sweet and juicy plum offered by her. "Where are you staying tonight?" she asked. "Don't know yet," I shrugged my shoulder. She smiled and insisted us to stay with her. Never before had I felt such a joyful presence of a stranger, and her words.