She opened her eyes as the sun infiltrated the wooden slates of the broken shutters, then closed them quickly. Her eyelids portrayed a quizzical look, then they again opened and she sighed. Relief. She remembered where she was. She ran to the shutters and allowed in the glorious sunlight and subtle awakening noises of Darjeeling. The air was clean, and slightly chilled. She smiled thinking of the heat, smog, noise and more than occasional unpleasant odor that she had left behind in Calcutta.

The journey hadn’t been without its incidents. Having to sit behind the pilot was both a surprise and a pleasure. The views as the foothills of the Himalayas came into sight were spectacular. Then whilst navigating her way through the airport she was stopped by security. For some reason a folded up ‘body’ in her extra suitcase had caused a stir. A demonstration of basic life support drew a crowd that Wembley may have been proud of. But it worked and she arrived at her hotel in time for a late dinner, a glass of cold red wine and an early night.

Tomorrow she was required to go to a local cottage hospital and teach, but today was all for her and she relished in the thought. After a quick shower and a delightful plate of eggs and fresh bread washed down by a big pot of Darjeeling tea she stepped out into the street. Backpackers and other tourists called to each other and stopped what seemed like every yard to take photos. Understandably given the backdrop to the town. Smoke poured from most buildings and aromas of freshly baked bread, frying onions and varying spicy dishes assaulted the senses. She hadn’t seen so many ‘foreigners’ for ages. She smiled to herself at the thought of not including herself as a foreigner.

After some negotiations she sat in the back of a dusty car behind her newly acquired guide and set off to the temple. The crowds slowly dispersed and soon the town had vanished. The car polluted the air with its noisy exhaust as it struggled up the hill towards the temple. The driver slowed to a stand still just off the road, and pointed.

Kanchenjunga appeared higher than Everest. That surprised her. The view however took her breath away. Her camera shook as she attempted to take photos. It was just too beautiful, just too much. Then a voice which was rich, deep and with an accent she could not place called to her. The voice offered to take a photo of her with the view as a backdrop. She turned and looked up at the stranger. She had to look up which was unusual as she was quite tall. His smile was nearly as large as his deep dark eyes which portrayed a kindness and slight amusement at her reaction to his offer. She stumbled over her words, spluttering, then laughed and handed him the camera. She looked directly into those huge pools of mystery as he took a few shots. After he handed back the camera he asked the usual questions. Was she on holiday? Why on earth would she be working in Calcutta and then why was she at the foothills. She answered elaborating on how she loved Calcutta but not why she was there. He smiled. Her eyes betrayed nothing, he was stunning. Pleasantries completed he wished her a good visit, held back a chuckle she thought, and then vanished. One minute he was there, she turned to speak to her driver, and when she turned back he was gone.

She sat back in the dusty car, feeling slightly nauseated with the smell of fumes of the the small dark cigarette that was constantly smoldering in the corner of the drivers thin lips. Thankfully within a few minutes he was parking at the entrance to the temples grounds. A long steep path with steeper steps lay ahead. After a deep drink of water she began the climb.

The views from the temple were equally amazing. The Buddhist monks moved around quietly yet vibrantly with their deep orange robes adding to the depth of splendor. The prayer flags fluttered in the gentle breeze. She sat quietly on a bench close to the edge of the cliff, hands on her lap and thought.

She had been pretty lucky in securing a job in India, it was timely. Although initially she had been homesick for London once the first patient had been admitted she hardly had time to breath let alone think about life back in the UK. Now over a year later she was so in love with Calcutta, the people, the food, the noise and even the occasional pungent smells. She smiled at the thought of those first few days when they had their initial patients. The inaugural patient’s meal served had left her shocked and stunned, but the patient had gratefully opened the newspaper parcels and eaten those warm samosas freshly served from the stall outside the hospital. Actually when she had eventually got over the shock she had often had the same meal, and they were absolutely delicious.

Suddenly she became aware of another person sitting close to her. She turned and her eyebrows raised as she saw that same smile and deep dark eyes. He asked her another question as if their conversation was just continuing without any hiatus. She answered as truthfully as one does when they don’t want to answer about what was a very painful time, though the question quite innocent. So she told him that she had needed to make a change in her career pathway but wasn’t sure in which direction to go. Then this opportunity came and she had grabbed it both hands. It was only for about nine months and that would give some breathing space and an amazing experience. However she had fallen in love with India and had extended her contract. He appeared to like this answer. Before he could ask anymore she asked him what he did. He smiled that smile and told her that he just worked locally. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, taking in the clean cool air along with the vista that had appeared on so many calendars and paintings. He then suggested a bite to eat at the temples cafe, he was hungry. She agreed and they set off walking slowly through the grounds of the temple, taking in the glorious colours of the prayer wheels and flags. They chatted over delicious warm chapatis and fresh fragrant dhal. After the chai tea had been drank they agreed they must move on as he needed to get back to work and she to the hotel as she wanted to explore the town. They walked back to the car park. She offered him a lift but he explained that he had his car. Slightly disappointed she smiled and they said their goodbyes. As they started to walk away she heard him call and say that his name was Debal. She said that she hoped to see him again, he smiled and said that they would. Then once again he vanished. She turned to speak to her driver who was sitting under the shade of a tree, when she turned back he had gone.

After a rest, change and long walk around the town with its steep roads, touristy shops, smokey alleyways and intoxicating smells of food she returned to her hotel. She showered again and then had a lovely meal of fragrant lamb and rice for dinner, washed down with wine. Tired and happy she decided to take her diary and book to bed and have an early night.

The morning bought a pale blue sky, the now familiar smell of wood burning and a delicious breakfast of toast with jam and eggs. As soon as she had finished breakfast she took her large suitcase and notes and walked out into the weak sunshine. As promised there was a car and driver waiting for her. The driver was polite and spoke perfect English. They chatted as the car took them out of town and up towards the tea gardens which were a lush green and spread out as far as the eye could see. The contrast against the now deepening blue of the sky and the stark white of the mountains was quite stunning. The driver pointed out the tea garden managers house and within a few minutes they arrived at a building which looked like it belonged in the classic film Gone With The Wind. Faded blue and cream paint adorned the two story building, the shutters opened on the outside and there was a porch which appeared to surround the building.

The driver took the large suitcase and they walked towards the house. Just as they reached the door it sprang open and two young nurses ran out, their teeth as white as their eyes and their uniforms, and their smiles huge. Greeting her with the customary ‘madam’ they took her by both hands and went inside. It took a few moments to adjust to the light as the entrance was dark. Then she looked at the group of nurses in brilliant white uniforms all with wide eyes, looking hopefully at her. Nearby another door opened and a stern looking very petite woman appeared. She said one word and the room was empty. The woman smiled at her and indicated to sit at a nearby table. Tea on an elaborate tray appeared, the linen cloth starched so white she was worried it may stain.

They chatted about the day. She would begin with a lesson on patient assessment, care plans and process. Then they would have a practical lesson and assessment using the manikin. After lunch she would speak to the doctors, give them an assessment on advanced life support and answer any questions. Later the tables would turn and the staff would tell her about some of the unusual illness that they dealt with. She couldn’t wait to get started.

Later when they took a break for lunch she noticed a huge painting on one of the walls. Those eyes stared at her. Yes they were owned by a much older body and a tall man with white hair, but they were those eyes. Suddenly she became aware of a cough behind her. An aroma of lime, and perhaps cinnamon …. A light yet deep smell that enticed her senses. She turned, the edges of her lips lifted. She smiled knowing. It was him. She was me.