Destined To Be Yours

1

'I know you despise me; allow me to say, it is because you do not understand me.'

-Elizabeth Gaskell
***

Lucknow, Oudh State,
India, 1854;

Geoffrey let out a spiteful curse as he kicked the dirt under his feet.

Rivulets of sweat traversed down his face and back. He made the futile effort of wiping his brow with a dirtied handkerchief, shielding himself from the wrath of the scorching sun with one hand.

Even if he managed to survive some disastrous ailment, or even war, Geoffrey was pretty convinced that this blasted Indian heat would manage to be the death of him; something that would certainly not help him fulfill his dream of leaving the world with a lasting legacy.

He turned back towards the ekka and handed the driver a coin from his trouser pocket.
The man- a scrawny fellow wearing a turban, gave him a grateful smile before touching the coin to his forehead.

Geoffrey knew better than to decipher the meaning behind his strange action. This entire place was a pothole of perplexing tendencies. And he had long stopped making sense of them.

He then proceeded to make his way inside the precinct, acknowledging the greetings of the guards- all Indians.

It really was as good as they said.
The entire entryway was lined with trees, providing some reprieve from the summer sun. The clanks of his boots, from where they hit the stones, proved somewhat soothing; especially after the dust and gravel he had to deal with in the last few months.

The various buildings weren't as majestic as those back home; but they certainly managed to surpass the other houses he had seen in the neighbourhood. The familiar feeling of longing clawed its way up his throat when he saw his countrymen and women strolling about the complex, passing gentle, welcoming smiles to him.

Finally, someplace that resembled home...It almost made him forget about the tiredness of weeks-long journey.

His vision of a young boy playing with a ball was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a man, no more than a few years older, standing in front of him.

"Good evening, Sergeant. I reckon you had a pleasant journey."

The satirical tone of his statement did not go unnoticed by Geoffrey.

The man was dressed in loose-fitting trousers and a thin white linen shirt, definitely a better choice of wardrobe for this weather than his own military uniform.

"Pardon me for my lack of proper manners. I am Sergeant Peter Smith."

Geoffrey relaxed his doubts and shook his extended hand.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance Sergeant. I am-"

Peter stopped him with a careless wave of his hand.

"I know who you are, Sergeant Berkley. Your father is still revered among our ranks in the third Bengal Native Infantry."

He swept up Geoffrey's small trunk in his own hands and advanced forward, leaving him no choice but to follow.
Geoffrey cast him a sideways glance,

"You said you were from the Bengal Infantry."

Peter nodded leisurely.

"Then, how come you are stationed here?"

His question caused the man to stop in his tracks. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he looked at him.

"Well, you can say I was a lucky cad. Not everyone gets this chance, Sergeant-"