There she was with her native village outfit, a piece of cloth tied round her head, and a red Indian necklace round her neck. Baira was a 20-year-old Indian woman, and anyone could tell that from the red spot left in the middle of her forehead right above her eyes. She was born and raised in Mr. Hoper’s house who was the owner of all lands in Baira’s village.
Baira just sat there enjoying the utmost serenity nature carried to her lonely heart. The enormous mountains far off behind, guarded her soul from the mystifying denial. The trees close to her, embraced Baira’s soul and mind as they danced along with the clasp of the soft warm wind.
She sat on a huge pile of hay that was kept in front of the house in order to feed the master’s horses and ponies. Baira seemed to enjoy the simplest things in the world. She simply held a stray of hay in her warm hands and escaped through her mind into the mysterious world she lived in.
That was not long before Mr. Hoper’s five-year-old daughter Emily ran out looking for Baira. She stood there at a distanced and gently called out, “Baira… Baira! You promised you would help me brush my pony today!” then she giggled and ran off to the stables. Baira looked at Emily run off and gave her a warm look filled with tenderness that embraced the entire world, and a smile filled with love and joy like a mother’s smile to her child, or a lover’s smile to his beloved one.
“Yes Miss Emily” replied Baira softly and walked off behind her to the stables. Perhaps all the beauty and tenderness she held in her eyes and smile was going to remain another wishing star in Baira’s peaceful endless sky, and another warm kiss from Mother Nature.
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