Sitara and The Dayan

Chapter One

The emerald green forest blurred past as the car wound its way through the narrow mountain road. Sitara leaned her head out of the window and inhaled the crisp, pine scented air. She stared up, looking at the branches intertwining with each other.

Summer had started, and it was so hot in her house. And it was almost impossible for her to be creative and try out new recipes. But her grandma's mansion would be colder and she could work a lot after she got time from taking care of her grandma.

Earlier this week grandma called Sitara and asked her to stay with her this summer. Grandma was sick and lonely. She was getting old and wanted to spend time with Sitara, and she happily agreed. She, too, loved to spend time with her grandmother, her big mansion, her garden of strange plants. In fact, one day she would open her bakery shop in that town.

When the cab reached her grandma's mansion, the sun was setting, enveloping the town with a gentle, golden glow.

The driver unloaded her bags and drove away.

Grabbing her bags, Sitara walked to the giant iron gate which had two large carvings of spiders on each door. Sitara always found it weird. But again, grandma had a thing for spooky things.

She held the big knocker and knocked twice.

A lanky boy around her age opened the gate. He wore black jeans and a grey shirt, with a lost expression on his face. Without any words, he picked Sitara's bags and started walking toward the mansion.

Sitara had never seen the boy before. She knew everyone who worked in the mansion.

"Hi," Sitara said, matching his pace. "Are you new here?"

The boy nodded.

"What's your name?" She asked.

"Jay," the boy answered.

"What's your job?" she asked.

He only nodded.

"I asked what work you do here?" She asked again.

"Works," he replied.

He was weird, or maybe awkward. Some people weren't comfortable around new people. Well, she used to be like that when she was young.

Sitara didn't ask any more questions and moved her attention to her surroundings. Nothing seemed to change in these three years. The three-story house remained the same, almost hidden by towering trees. Grandma didn't change the maroon and green paint of the house, even though she had told Sitara she wanted to paint the house with a lighter shade of the colors. The only change was the trees. Sitara and grandma had planted them around the property when Sitara had visited the last time. Now the trees were fully grown up.

Rose bushes surrounded the porch and the fountain. Sitara smiled at the fountain. When they were little, her little brother, Aayush, would always trick her inside and they would play, splashing water around the porch and wouldn't stop until grandma yelled at them.

They reached the house, and Jay knocked on the door.

The housekeeper, Tripti, opened the door and smiled. "Sitara."

"Hello Tripti Didi," Sitara smiled back. "You didn't age a day."

Tripti blushed. "Oh, really?"

Sitara nodded. "Of course."

Tripti was a young lady in her late thirties. She was tall, with sharp features. Gilad had a sad history. Her husband died only after two years of marriage. But Tripti never remarried. She has been working for grandma since Sitara was a kid. Tripti wasn't only a worker, she was family. She took care of the house, cooked, and looked after her grandmother.