(SS1) p2:- Wandering (2)...

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And somewhere in the distance, the Ferris wheel groaned again in the dark.

Aarav stared at the piece of paper in his hand.

Seven minutes late.

He read it again.

Then again.

The handwriting was neat, slightly slanted. Calm. The kind of writing someone does when they aren’t in a hurry.

It felt very… Meera.

He turned the paper over.

Nothing else.

No explanation.

No name.

Just those three words.

“Seven minutes late,” he muttered.

The lantern above him flickered softly.

Aarav checked his phone.

9:43 PM.

He tried to remember exactly when he had stepped away for tea.

The memory came back in pieces.

The tea stall shout.

The small crowd.

The man handing him the cup.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute.

Two minutes, maybe.

Certainly not seven.

He leaned back on the stool and stared at the entrance of the stall.

“Okay,” he said quietly.

“If this is a joke, it’s a weird one.”

A loud bang exploded somewhere outside.

A balloon popping.

Someone laughed.

The fair continued like nothing unusual had happened.

Aarav stood up abruptly.

“Fine.”

If she wanted to play mysterious, he could play detective.

He folded the note carefully and slipped it into his pocket.

Then he stepped out of the stall.

The night air felt cooler now.

The crowd had grown thicker.

A group of children ran past him waving sparklers.

A man pushed a cart full of pink cotton candy.

Aarav walked quickly toward the Ferris wheel again.

The operator was still there, leaning lazily in his chair and chewing gum.

“Hey,” Aarav said.

The operator glanced over.

“You again?”

“Yes. I have another question.”

The operator sighed dramatically.

“That’s unfortunate.”

Aarav pulled the note out and showed it to him.

“Did you see anyone leave this in that stall?”

The operator squinted at the paper.

“Nope.”

“Did you see the girl come back there?”

“Nope.”

“Did you see anyone go near that stall?”

The operator leaned back farther.

“Brother.”

“What?”

“I operate a Ferris wheel.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t run surveillance.”

Aarav clenched his jaw slightly.

The operator studied him for a moment.

Then he grinned.

“You really liked her, huh?”

“I just met her.”

“Even worse.”

Aarav ignored that.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

The operator blinked.

“Why?”

“So I can stop calling you ‘guy chewing gum.’”

The operator chuckled.

“Pintu.”

“Aarav.”

Pintu nodded.

“Nice to meet you, Aarav Who Lost His Mystery Girl.”

“I didn’t lose her.”

“Sure.”

Aarav leaned slightly closer.

“You said you might have seen her earlier.”

Pintu shrugged.

“Maybe.”

“What time?”

“Before sunset.”

“That’s not helpful.”

“She was riding the Ferris wheel.”

“You said that already.”

“Then why are you asking again?”

Aarav exhaled slowly.

“Did she come alone?”

Pintu popped his gum again.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Did she talk to anyone?”

Pintu scratched his chin thoughtfully.

“Actually…”

Aarav leaned forward.

“What?”

“She talked to Raghu.”

“Who’s Raghu?”

“The mechanic.”

“Where is he?”

Pintu pointed toward the darker edge of the fairgrounds.

Near the back of the rides stood a row of large metal containers and equipment trucks.

“Back there somewhere,” Pintu said.

“Probably fixing something.”

Aarav nodded.

“Thanks.”

Pintu called after him as he started walking away.

“Hey!”

Aarav turned.

“If she ran away from you,” Pintu said with a grin, “don’t take it personally.”

Aarav rolled his eyes and kept walking.

The back of the fair felt completely different from the front.

The bright lights faded.

The music became distant.

Here the ground was rougher, scattered with cables and metal parts.

Generators hummed steadily.

A tall ride towered above him, half-lit by a flickering work lamp.

A man crouched near a metal panel with a wrench in his hand.

He wore a dark shirt and greasy gloves.

Aarav approached carefully.

“Excuse me?”

The man didn’t look up.

The wrench clanked against metal.

“Ride’s closed,” the man muttered.

“I’m not here for the ride.”

The man kept working.

“What then?”

“I’m looking for someone.”

Now the man paused.

Slowly, he straightened up.

He was taller than Aarav expected.

Broad shoulders.

Tired eyes.

“You lost?”

“No.”

“You look lost.”

“I’m looking for a girl.”

The man sighed heavily.

“Brother.”

“What?”

“Half the boys here are.”

“She was talking to you earlier.”

That made the man’s expression change.

Only slightly.

But Aarav noticed it.

The man wiped his hands on a cloth.

“Who said that?”

“Pintu.”

The mechanic muttered something under his breath.

“Of course he did.”

“So you remember her?”

The man looked at Aarav carefully now.

“What did she look like?”

“Yellow scarf. Braid. Silver ring on her thumb.”

The mechanic went very still.

A generator hummed loudly beside them.

A metal cable creaked overhead.

Finally the man spoke.

“Kid.”

“I’m nineteen.”

“Kid,” the man repeated calmly, “listen to me.”

Aarav waited.

The mechanic tossed the cloth onto a nearby crate.

Then he said quietly:

“If you met that girl…”

He paused.

“…you should probably stop looking for her.”

Aarav frowned.

“Why?”

The mechanic looked back at the ride he’d been fixing.

He picked up the wrench again.

Metal clanged softly.

After a moment he said,

“Because boys who chase her…”

Another pause.

“…usually don’t find what they expect.”

Aarav crossed his arms.

“That’s not an answer.”

The mechanic glanced at him one last time.

“Good.”

“Why is that good?”

“Because answers here are rarely helpful.”

Then he crouched down again and returned to fixing the ride.

Conversation over.

Aarav stood there for several seconds.

The generators hummed.

The Ferris wheel groaned faintly in the distance.

Finally Aarav reached into his pocket again and unfolded the note.

Seven minutes late.

He stared at it thoughtfully.

Then he looked back toward the glowing lights of the fair.

“Fine,” he said quietly.

“If this is a game…”

He folded the note again.

“…I’m still playing.”

...End of Part 4 — The First Search......

...----------------...

“…I’m still playing.”

Aarav folded the note again and slid it back into his pocket.

Behind him, the mechanic—Raghu, apparently—continued working without looking up. The clanging of metal against metal echoed in the dim back corner of the fairground.

Aarav waited a few seconds.

Nothing.

No more cryptic warnings.

No dramatic explanation.

Just the steady hum of generators and Raghu tightening bolts like the conversation had never happened.

“Alright,” Aarav muttered under his breath.

He turned and started walking back toward the lights.

The difference between the back area and the main fair was immediate.

Darkness gave way to color.

Generators faded into music.

The smell of machine oil turned back into fried snacks and sugar.

For a moment Aarav wondered if he had imagined Raghu’s reaction.

But the note in his pocket reminded him he hadn’t.

Seven minutes late.

He walked slowly this time, scanning every face in the crowd.

A girl with a scarf walked past.

Wrong color.

Another with a braid.

Too short.

Someone laughed loudly near the shooting gallery.

Someone else argued about change.

Meera was nowhere.

Aarav returned to the red stall again.

Still empty.

The lantern burned quietly, its light swaying in the night breeze.

He stepped inside.

The stool creaked when he sat.

The wooden box sat exactly where it had before.

For a moment he just stared at it.

“Okay,” he said.

“If you’re hiding nearby and laughing at me…”

Nothing.

“…this isn’t very funny.”

Still nothing.

Aarav leaned forward.

His fingers hovered over the wooden box.

Earlier it had felt personal to open it.

Now it felt necessary.

“Sorry,” he murmured to no one.

Then he lifted the lid.

The box creaked softly.

Inside was…

Empty.

No cards.

No notes.

No hidden compartments.

Just bare wood.

Aarav frowned.

“That’s disappointing.”

He closed the lid again.

The lantern crackled softly overhead.

A shadow moved outside the stall.

Someone stepped in.

“Looking for something?”

Aarav looked up.

An older man stood in the entrance holding a kettle and a stack of clay cups.

Gray beard.

Kind but sharp eyes.

He smelled faintly of cardamom tea.

“The tea stall guy,” Aarav said.

The man smiled slightly.

“Chacha Imtiyaz.” (*Chacha refers uncle here.)

“You remember me?”

“I remember everyone who stares at my chai like it insulted their ancestors.”

Aarav rubbed the back of his neck.

“Fair.”

Imtiyaz stepped into the stall and set the kettle down on the table.

“You look confused.”

“I met someone here earlier.”

“The girl.”

Aarav blinked.

“You know her?”

Imtiyaz shrugged.

“I know many people.”

“She works here.”

The old man chuckled quietly.

“No one works here.”

Aarav pointed around the stall.

“Then whose stall is this?”

“Depends on the year.”

“That’s not helpful.”

Imtiyaz poured tea into a clay cup and slid it across the table.

“Drink.”

Aarav stared at it.

“I didn’t order tea.”

“Tonight you need it.”

After a moment, Aarav took the cup.

The tea was hot.

Strong.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

Imtiyaz leaned against the stall pole.

“You spoke to her how long?”

“Maybe ten minutes.”

The old man shook his head slowly.

“That’s more than most.”

“What does that mean?”

Imtiyaz didn’t answer immediately.

Instead he watched the crowd outside the stall.

The music changed again.

Some kind of fast dance song now.

“Tell me something,” the old man said finally.

“What?”

“Did she ask you strange questions?”

“Yes.”

“About leaving town?”

Aarav froze slightly.

“…Yes.”

Imtiyaz nodded like that confirmed something.

“Did she walk with you through the fair?”

“Yes.”

“Did she disappear when you turned away?”

Aarav lowered the tea cup slowly.

“How do you know that?”

The old man shrugged.

“It happens.”

“To who?”

“Boys like you.”

Aarav frowned.

“What does that mean?”

Imtiyaz took the kettle again and poured himself tea.

“Curious boys,” he said.

“Restless boys.”

“Boys who don’t belong in small towns.”

“That’s a weirdly specific category.”

The old man smiled faintly.

“You’d be surprised.”

Aarav leaned forward.

“Where did she go?”

Imtiyaz blew on his tea before answering.

“Probably nowhere.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Exactly.”

A group of kids ran past the stall shouting.

A sparkler hissed in the darkness.

Aarav felt his patience thinning.

“Look,” he said. “The mechanic told me to stop looking for her.”

Imtiyaz raised an eyebrow.

“Raghu said that?”

“Yes.”

“Then you should listen.”

“I’m not going to.”

The old man chuckled softly.

“Of course not.”

“Why does everyone talk like she’s some kind of ghost?”

Imtiyaz took a slow sip of tea.

Then he pointed toward the Ferris wheel.

“See that?”

Aarav looked.

The wheel turned slowly against the night sky.

Lights blinking.

Metal groaning.

“Yes.”

“That ride leaves tomorrow morning.”

“Okay.”

“Every ride leaves.”

“So?”

“So does the fair.”

Aarav blinked.

“What?”

Imtiyaz looked back at him calmly.

“This fair stays only three days in each town.”

Aarav’s stomach tightened slightly.

“And then?”

“Then the trucks load everything.”

“The rides.”

“The stalls.”

“The lights.”

“And they go somewhere else.”

The old man took another sip of tea.

“Next town.”

“Next field.”

“Next group of curious boys.”

Aarav stared at him.

“You’re saying she’s leaving tomorrow?”

Imtiyaz shrugged.

“If she was here at all.”

The music swelled louder outside.

The Ferris wheel creaked again in the distance.

Aarav stood up slowly.

“Where does the fair go next?”

Imtiyaz smiled faintly.

“Now that…”

He pointed toward the highway beyond the lights.

“…is the first useful question you’ve asked tonight.”

...End of Part 5 — The Traveling Fair......

...----------------...

“…is the first useful question you’ve asked tonight.”

Aarav followed the direction of Chacha Imtiyaz’s finger.

Beyond the edge of the fairgrounds, past the flickering lights and food stalls, the dark highway stretched into the distance. Trucks rumbled past occasionally, their headlights cutting bright tunnels through the night.

“Where does it go?” Aarav asked again.

Imtiyaz didn’t answer immediately. He finished his tea slowly, like a man who had nowhere urgent to be.

Finally he set the empty clay cup down.

“Next town is Kherwadi,” he said.

Aarav frowned.

“That’s like forty kilometers away.”

“Forty-two,” Imtiyaz corrected.

“That’s not exactly walking distance.”

The old man chuckled.

“Most people don’t follow fairs.”

“I’m not most people.”

“Yes,” Imtiyaz said calmly. “That’s becoming clear.”

A truck horn blared somewhere down the highway.

The Ferris wheel groaned again behind them.

Aarav folded his arms.

“When do they leave?”

“Early morning.”

“How early?”

“Before sunrise.”

“That’s suspicious.”

“That’s logistics.”

Aarav rubbed his forehead.

He imagined the entire fair disappearing by morning.

The stalls.

The lights.

The Ferris wheel.

And Meera.

Gone.

“Do you know her?” Aarav asked.

Imtiyaz studied him for a moment.

“I know stories.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“It rarely is.”

Aarav leaned forward again.

“How long has she worked here?”

The old man shook his head slowly.

“That’s the interesting part.”

“What?”

“No one seems to remember hiring her.”

Aarav stared at him.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Yes.”

“But she’s there.”

“Sometimes.”

Aarav felt a faint chill run down his back.

The lantern swayed above them again.

“You’re messing with me,” he said.

“I sell tea,” Imtiyaz replied.

“I don’t have the energy for elaborate jokes.”

Aarav reached into his pocket and pulled out the note again.

Seven minutes late.

He placed it on the table.

“Does this look like her writing?”

Imtiyaz leaned closer and examined it.

“Maybe.”

“That’s not helpful.”

The old man shrugged.

“I’ve seen worse clues.”

Aarav sighed.

“So what do I do?”

Imtiyaz smiled faintly.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether you’re serious.”

“I came back to this stall three times.”

“True.”

“You think I’m doing that for fun?”

“Possibly.”

Aarav exhaled slowly.

“I want to talk to her again.”

“Why?”

“Because she disappeared.”

“That happens.”

“Because she left this note.”

“Also happens.”

“Because everyone keeps talking about her like she’s a myth.”

Imtiyaz nodded thoughtfully.

“Now that’s a better reason.”

A loud burst of laughter erupted near the shooting gallery.

Somewhere a child began crying.

The fair felt chaotic again.

Normal.

But Aarav felt like he was standing just outside of it.

Watching something strange unfold.

“So,” Imtiyaz said.

“You’re going to Kherwadi?”

Aarav hesitated.

Then he said, “Yes.”

The word surprised even him.

Imtiyaz studied his face carefully.

“You have work tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Family?”

“Yes.”

“Responsibilities?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re still going?”

Aarav shrugged.

“Probably.”

The old man chuckled.

“You remind me of someone.”

“Who?”

“A boy from years ago.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“He also followed a fair.”

“And?”

Imtiyaz smiled faintly.

“Good tea story.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It rarely is.”

Aarav rubbed his face again.

“Is there a bus to Kherwadi?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Six in the morning.”

“That’s after the fair leaves.”

“Correct.”

“So I’d miss them.”

“Unless,” Imtiyaz said slowly, “you leave earlier.”

“How?”

The old man nodded toward the highway.

“Trucks.”

“You want me to hitchhike?”

“Truck drivers like company.”

Aarav stared at him.

“You’re surprisingly supportive of terrible ideas.”

“I’m supportive of interesting nights.”

A generator coughed loudly somewhere behind the stalls.

The Ferris wheel lights flickered.

Aarav stood up.

“Alright.”

Imtiyaz raised an eyebrow.

“That was quick.”

“I need to get home first.”

“Pack a bag?”

“Something like that.”

The old man picked up his kettle again.

“Before you go.”

Aarav paused.

“What?”

Imtiyaz looked toward the crowd.

Then back at Aarav.

“If you see her again…”

“Yes?”

“Ask her about the ring.”

Aarav frowned.

“The silver one?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Imtiyaz smiled faintly.

“Because that answer is never the same twice.”

“That’s… weird.”

“Fairs are weird.”

A group of fireworks suddenly burst near the entrance, showering sparks into the air.

People cheered.

The music got louder.

Aarav stepped out of the stall.

He turned back once.

Imtiyaz was already pouring tea for another customer.

Like their conversation had ended hours ago.

Aarav walked slowly toward the fair exit.

The Ferris wheel loomed above everything.

Still turning.

Still groaning.

He stopped for a moment and looked up at it.

Seats rising.

Seats falling.

For a strange second he wondered if Meera was up there somewhere.

Watching the fair from above.

Watching him leave.

Aarav shook the thought away and stepped onto the dark road leading home.

Behind him the fair lights flickered against the night sky.

And somewhere in the distance, engines of heavy trucks had already begun starting.

...End of Part 6 — Following the light......

...----------------...

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