(SS1) p3:- Wandering (3)

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

Aarav stopped walking.

The sound rolled through the night like distant thunder—deep diesel engines turning over, one after another.

He turned around slowly.

From the road, the fair looked different now.

Less magical.

More mechanical.

Behind the bright stalls and blinking lights, large transport trucks sat in the darkness like sleeping animals. A few workers moved between them carrying tools and crates.

So it was true.

The whole place would vanish by morning.

Aarav shoved his hands into his pockets and stood there for a moment, staring at the Ferris wheel.

It turned slowly.

As if it had all the time in the world.

“Thinking about riding it?”

The voice came from behind him.

Aarav turned.

Pintu, the Ferris wheel operator, walked toward him with a bottle of soda in his hand.

“You again,” Pintu said.

“You again,” Aarav replied.

Pintu leaned against a nearby metal pole and took a long drink.

“You look like someone deciding whether to do something stupid.”

“That obvious?”

“Extremely.”

Aarav glanced toward the highway again.

“When do the trucks leave?”

Pintu wiped his mouth.

“Soon.”

“How soon?”

“Some already left.”

Aarav frowned.

“Already?”

“Yeah.”

“But the fair is still open.”

Pintu shrugged.

“Smaller stuff goes first.”

Aarav looked back toward the glowing stalls.

“So everyone just packs up in the middle of the night?”

“Welcome to traveling life.”

Aarav rubbed his chin.

“Do you go to Kherwadi too?”

Pintu nodded.

“Of course. I run the wheel.”

“Do you know the girl with the yellow scarf?”

Pintu sighed.

“Oh boy.”

“What?”

“You’re still on that?”

“Yes.”

Pintu studied him for a moment.

“Alright,” he said.

“You want stories?”

Aarav nodded.

Pintu pointed toward a nearby crate.

“Sit.”

Aarav sat.

Pintu leaned against the pole again.

“Story number one,” he said.

Aarav folded his arms.

“Go on.”

Pintu held up one finger.

“Some people say she’s a runaway.”

“From where?”

“Who knows.”

“That’s a weak story.”

“I didn’t say it was good.”

Pintu held up a second finger.

“Story number two.”

“Yes?”

“She used to work here years ago.”

“And?”

“And she never left.”

“That’s vague.”

“Everything about her is vague.”

Pintu held up a third finger.

“Story number three.”

Aarav leaned forward slightly.

“She’s bad luck.”

Aarav blinked.

“What?”

“Some workers think if you get too close to her, things start going wrong.”

“That sounds like superstition.”

“Of course it is.”

“Do you believe it?”

Pintu shrugged.

“I believe fairs attract weird stories.”

A worker pushed a cart of metal rods past them.

The rods clanked loudly as they moved.

Aarav thought for a moment.

“Have you talked to her before?”

Pintu hesitated.

“Once.”

“What happened?”

“She asked me a question.”

“What question?”

“If I ever thought about leaving the fair.”

Aarav blinked.

“She asked me that too.”

Pintu smiled faintly.

“See?”

“What did you say?”

“I told her I like the wheel.”

“That’s not a deep answer.”

“Exactly.”

Aarav leaned back slightly.

“Did she say anything else?”

Pintu looked up at the Ferris wheel.

“She said people who stay in one place too long forget how big the world is.”

Aarav felt something twist slightly in his chest.

“That sounds like something she’d say.”

Pintu chuckled.

“You really liked her.”

“I just met her.”

“Sure.”

The Ferris wheel groaned again.

A metal seat reached the top and paused briefly before continuing down.

Aarav watched it carefully.

“Did she ride today?” he asked.

Pintu nodded.

“Yes.”

“Earlier?”

“Before sunset.”

“Alone?”

Pintu thought.

“Not exactly.”

Aarav straightened.

“What do you mean?”

“She got on alone.”

“And?”

“But she talked the whole time.”

“To who?”

Pintu looked at him.

“That’s the weird part.”

“There was no one else in the seat.”

Aarav stared.

“You’re joking.”

“Nope.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Welcome to fairs.”

A truck engine roared to life nearby.

Headlights flashed briefly through the darkness.

Workers shouted instructions.

Pintu glanced toward the sound.

“Looks like loading started.”

Aarav stood up.

“I need to go home.”

“Packing a bag?”

“Probably.”

Pintu nodded.

Then he added casually,

“You won’t find her, you know.”

Aarav paused.

“Why?”

Pintu pointed at the trucks.

“Because she doesn’t stay in one place.”

“That’s the whole point of a traveling fair.”

“No,” Pintu said.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Aarav frowned.

“What did you mean?”

But Pintu had already started walking back toward the Ferris wheel controls.

“Hey,” Aarav called.

Pintu turned briefly.

“If you do find her,” he said with a grin,

“ask her why she always rides the Ferris wheel at sunset.”

“Why?”

Pintu shrugged.

“Because she never answers that question.”

Then he climbed back into the control booth.

The Ferris wheel creaked again as it turned.

Aarav stood there for a few seconds longer.

Then he looked one last time at the glowing fair.

At the stalls.

At the rides.

At the red-cloth stall near the entrance.

Still empty.

He reached into his pocket again.

The note felt warm in his hand.

Seven minutes late.

Aarav folded it again and turned toward the road leading home.

Behind him, another truck engine roared to life.

And slowly, piece by piece—

The fair began to disappear.

...End of Part 7 — Stories About the Girl......

And slowly, piece by piece—

the fair began to disappear.

Aarav walked the narrow road back toward town, the distant engines fading behind him. The music from the fair became softer with every step until it blended into the night insects and the occasional passing motorcycle.

The sky was unusually clear.

Stars scattered across it like someone had thrown a handful of salt into black water.

Aarav shoved his hands into his pockets.

The folded note pressed against his fingers again.

Seven minutes late.

He took it out once more while walking.

The words felt strangely heavier now.

Not like a joke.

More like a clue.

Or maybe a complaint.

“Seven minutes,” he muttered.

He tried to replay the moment again.

Meera waiting near the toy stall.

Her yellow scarf catching the lantern light.

Her voice saying: If you meet someone interesting at a fair… you shouldn’t assume you’ll see them again.

He had turned away.

Bought tea.

And when he came back—

Gone.

“Maybe she actually waited,” he said quietly.

The idea bothered him more than the disappearance.

He had made it sound like nothing when he told Pintu.

But what if she had actually stood there waiting?

Watching the crowd.

Counting the seconds.

Waiting for him to come back.

And he hadn’t.

The thought made him walk faster.

The road curved toward town.

A few small shops were still open.

A mechanic’s garage.

A paan stall.

A dimly lit photo studio with old sample pictures hanging in the window.

Aarav slowed down.

Something about the window caught his eye.

Inside the glass display were dozens of photographs.

Wedding portraits.

Family pictures.

School groups.

But in the corner of the window—

There was a photograph of a fair.

Not this one.

An older one.

The colors had faded slightly.

The Ferris wheel in the picture looked smaller.

Older.

But unmistakably the same design.

Aarav stepped closer.

The shop door creaked open behind him.

“Closing time,” a voice called.

A thin old man stepped out, wiping his hands with a cloth.

Then he noticed Aarav staring at the window.

“Ah,” the man said.

“You like old photos?”

Aarav pointed.

“That fair picture.”

The old man squinted.

“Which one?”

“That one. With the Ferris wheel.”

“Oh.”

The man nodded.

“That’s from many years ago.”

“How many?”

“Maybe twenty.”

Aarav blinked.

“Twenty?”

“Something like that.”

The man stepped beside him and looked at the photo.

“That fair used to visit this town often back then.”

Aarav leaned closer to the glass.

In the photograph people stood in front of the Ferris wheel smiling at the camera.

Children.

Couples.

Workers.

The lights were different.

But the structure was clearly the same ride.

His eyes moved slowly across the image.

Faces blurred slightly with age.

Clothing from another time.

Then—

His stomach tightened.

Near the left side of the photograph stood a girl.

Half turned toward the camera.

Yellow scarf.

Braided hair.

Aarav leaned closer.

His nose nearly touched the glass.

“No way,” he whispered.

The old man chuckled.

“You recognize someone?”

Aarav pointed.

“That girl.”

The old man squinted harder.

“Hmm.”

“You see her?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know who she is?”

The man scratched his chin.

“Hard to say.”

“She works at the fair.”

“Maybe she did.”

Aarav shook his head slowly.

“No.”

“What?”

“She works there now.”

The old man looked at him.

Then back at the photograph.

Then back at Aarav.

“That’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“Because this photo is at least twenty years old.”

Aarav felt the strange chill again.

“She looks the same.”

“That’s just your imagination.”

Aarav studied the photo again.

The girl stood slightly apart from the others.

Not smiling.

Just watching the camera.

The same calm expression.

The same scarf.

“Can I see it closer?” Aarav asked.

The old man hesitated.

Then unlocked the display case.

He carefully removed the photo frame and handed it over.

Aarav held it with both hands.

The paper felt thick and slightly rough.

Definitely old.

But the girl—

The girl looked exactly like Meera.

Same eyes.

Same posture.

Same braid.

Even the silver ring on her thumb was faintly visible.

“That’s her,” Aarav said quietly.

The old man frowned.

“You’re certain?”

“Yes.”

“That would mean…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Aarav looked up.

“Do you know her name?”

The old man thought for a moment.

“Actually…”

“What?”

“There was a story about that fair.”

Aarav waited.

The man rubbed the back of his neck.

“A girl used to travel with them.”

“Meera?”

“I don’t remember the name.”

“What happened to her?”

The old man looked uncomfortable.

“Well…”

“Yes?”

“They said she disappeared.”

Aarav’s grip tightened slightly on the frame.

“When?”

The man glanced at the photograph again.

“Right after this picture was taken.”

The street suddenly felt very quiet.

A scooter passed slowly.

A dog barked somewhere down the road.

Aarav looked back at the girl in the photograph.

The same calm expression.

Watching the camera.

Watching the future.

Watching him.

And for the first time that night—

Aarav wondered if the mystery of Meera wasn’t just strange.

But something much older than he thought.

...End of Part 8 — The Old Photograph......

But something much older than he thought.

Aarav stood frozen on the dimly lit street, still holding the photograph.

The girl in the picture stared back at him with the same calm expression he had seen only hours ago at the stall.

Yellow scarf.

Braided hair.

Silver ring.

Twenty years old… and yet not aged at all.

“That can’t be right,” Aarav said quietly.

The photo shop owner crossed his arms.

“Old photographs do strange things to memory.”

“This isn’t memory.”

“What else would it be?”

Aarav didn’t answer.

Because he didn’t know.

He handed the photograph back slowly.

“Where did you get this?”

The man slid the photo back into its frame.

“A photographer took it when the fair came one year.”

“What photographer?”

“My older brother.”

“Does he still have the negatives?”

The old man chuckled.

“That was the nineties.”

“So?”

“So the negatives are probably in a dusty box somewhere.”

“Could you check?”

The man studied Aarav for a moment.

“You’re serious about this girl.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know yet.”

The man shrugged.

“Come back tomorrow.”

“I might not be here tomorrow.”

“Oh?”

“The fair is leaving.”

“That happens.”

“I might follow it.”

The old man raised an eyebrow.

“That’s dedication for a girl you met tonight.”

Aarav gave a small, tired smile.

“Trust me, I know how crazy it sounds.”

The man locked the display case again.

“Well,” he said.

“If you do find her…”

“Yes?”

“Ask her where she’s been for twenty years.”

Aarav nodded slowly.

“I will.”

He turned and continued walking home.

Aarav barely slept.

The photograph kept replaying in his head.

Meera standing beside the Ferris wheel.

Twenty years ago.

Looking exactly the same.

Around four in the morning he finally gave up trying to sleep.

He packed a small backpack.

A change of clothes.

Phone charger.

Wallet.

Then he quietly stepped out of the house.

The sky was still dark.

The air cool.

Streetlights hummed softly above empty roads.

By the time he reached the fairgrounds, the place looked completely different.

Most of the stalls were already gone.

Metal frames lay dismantled on trucks.

Workers shouted instructions as they tied ropes and loaded equipment.

The Ferris wheel still stood tall.

But several seats had already been removed.

Aarav walked toward it quickly.

Pintu sat in the operator booth drinking tea.

He blinked when he saw Aarav.

“Well,” Pintu said.

“I’ll be damned.”

Aarav stopped below the booth.

“You’re leaving soon?”

“Another hour maybe.”

“Can I ride it?”

Pintu laughed.

“At five in the morning?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Aarav hesitated.

“Because she rode it yesterday.”

Pintu leaned back.

“You’re chasing ghosts now.”

“Maybe.”

Pintu studied him carefully.

Then he sighed.

“Fine.”

He stood up and climbed down from the booth.

“One ride.”

“Thanks.”

They climbed into one of the remaining seats.

Pintu secured the bar and stepped back.

“Don’t jump off halfway,” he said.

“Tempting.”

Pintu chuckled and returned to the controls.

The Ferris wheel creaked as it began to move.

Slowly.

The fairgrounds spread out beneath Aarav.

Half dismantled.

Trucks lined up like a convoy.

Workers moving like ants.

The wheel climbed higher.

The sky had begun to turn faint shades of blue.

Morning approaching.

At the top, the seat paused.

Aarav looked out over the empty field.

The town beyond it.

The quiet highway.

Then a voice spoke beside him.

“You’re earlier this time.”

Aarav froze.

Slowly… he turned his head.

Meera sat in the seat next to him.

Yellow scarf wrapped around her neck.

Braided hair resting over her shoulder.

Silver ring catching the pale morning light.

Aarav stared.

“You—”

“You followed the fair,” she said calmly.

“You disappeared.”

“You were seven minutes late.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were.”

Aarav ran a hand through his hair.

“Okay, maybe two minutes.”

She smiled faintly.

“That’s still seven minutes in fair time.”

He shook his head.

“You left a note.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because you came back.”

“That doesn’t explain anything.”

The Ferris wheel creaked softly as it held them near the top.

The sun began to glow faintly at the edge of the horizon.

Aarav looked at her carefully.

“I saw a photograph.”

Her expression didn’t change.

“Did you?”

“Twenty years old.”

She nodded slightly.

“That sounds about right.”

“You were in it.”

“Yes.”

“You look exactly the same.”

“People say that.”

Aarav felt his pulse quicken.

“Who are you?”

Meera looked out at the sunrise.

For a long moment she didn’t answer.

Then she said quietly:

“Someone who missed a ride.”

Aarav frowned.

“What does that mean?”

The Ferris wheel began moving again.

Slowly descending.

Meera glanced back at him.

“You asked about my ring earlier.”

“Yes.”

She lifted her hand slightly.

The silver ring glinted softly.

“I found it at a fair.”

“You told me that.”

“I found it the night I disappeared.”

Aarav felt the strange chill again.

“Disappeared from what?”

Meera looked back at the horizon.

The sun was rising now.

Painting the sky orange.

“From time,” she said softly.

The Ferris wheel creaked as their seat moved lower.

Workers below continued loading trucks.

Unaware of the conversation above them.

Aarav stared at her.

“You’re saying you’ve been… what?”

“Traveling.”

“For twenty years?”

“Something like that.”

“That’s impossible.”

Meera smiled gently.

“So is meeting someone once and deciding to follow them to another town.”

Aarav opened his mouth—

But the Ferris wheel jerked slightly.

The seat reached the bottom.

Pintu walked toward them.

“Nice view?” he called.

Aarav looked back at Meera quickly.

But her seat was empty.

Only the faint smell of incense lingered in the morning air.

...End of Part 9 — The Sunset Ride......

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