The Unidentified Aged Man

"Red is the mysterious color one possesses. On one end it is a sign of devotion and courage while on the other it is symbolic of infatuation, jealousy, and fire."

The air was caressing my face as I stroked my hair behind my ear to get a nicer view of the sky-touching mountains. As we entered a tunnel, I remembered a saying, 'Faith can move Mountains', but who knew that the rising tourism and the expanding business can be the cause for hollowing the high mountains so that additional people can reach Manali.

'The Apple Orchard' was our resort and the green apples have always had a special place in my heart for their sweet-sour taste can be approximated by none.

The rooms in which we were staying had walls of pure Hillwood bound by a bathroom no less than a chronological room. The back view from the balcony provided a naked picture of the heart-soothing Manali, but before it was a floriculture lawn and an old man was flipping the soil over and over to provide promising growth of flowers.

So basically, what would you do when you reached your destination after an exhausting car-journey?

Get fresh, loosen up some and hunt down your resort. 

But I, I did one incredible thing; I lunged from the two-foot-high railing onto the lawn where the old man was working.

I sauntered towards the old man very carefully so that I don't spoil his flowers. As soon as I reached him, he looked up and shot me a warning glare and, 

Oh My God! 

He had the red eyes of a cat. 

As much as his red eyes were admiring and unique he had wrinkles accompanied by grey hair and an odd frown on his forehead. He stood with an inclined back and started scampering away. 

I excused him and asked in Hindi that what do we call these red flowers. 

I honestly expected an answer in Hindi but he said,

"These are the red flowers which do not have any identity except being mine. "

I stood startled there. Firstly due to his mind-blowing English accent and secondly to the strangely elegant flowers.

.

The next day as we drove along the river where rafting takes place,

I saw him.

That old man was wearing those same old rugged clothes and was draped in a red shawl which though seemed cheap but one can feel the warmth it provided to the person wearing it. He sat across the river on its bank and was feeding something red to the fishes. We just evaded the sight when I saw a glittery redfish leap and grab its red food.

The three-day trip to Manali had been excellent and I thought the best part was the glacier that was 15km above a hill ascent. But no, the best thing or I should say the most mysteriously unreasonable thing was the old man who according to me was kind of preoccupied with red. 

Before our day of departure, I saw him selling red candy floss to kids and he was in his old red kinda clothes. 

We left at around five in the evening and as the sun dipped more in the horizon, bringing the twilight along with it and slowly covering the place by dusk, I saw the same old man looking at the rough, jagged, and uneven mountains as the if waiting for the world to turn red.

Was it my imagination?

Or I really saw someone like him on my trip?

I shut off the thought of 'The Mysterious Old Man' as the dawn kissed my Delhi.