It was June 1992, one afternoon, I was sitting in front of a computer in one quiet dark room of the Manor of the King, I was struggling to write about the 19th. Century technology of construction of History of India ( not history of construction technology in India) . There was no window to the room, only a timber framed, plate glass door offered a view to the small courtyard. Across the pebble paved space one could see the medieval grey stone walls with patches of red brickwork, punctured by three-lights in wrought iron glazing and Georgian sash in white frames, dark green moss and leafy creepers partially covered the facades. The smoky wet outside would liven up with a dim glow of sunlight at times only to fall back soon in its grey gloom. The prevailing silence of incessant drizzle was occasionally interrupted by feeble sounds of brisk footsteps traversing flat stone paths laid through the pebbles.

Tired of imagining and referring and conjecturing I would dose off and sit up and dose off again. The Monitor screen was dark too as there was no Windows yet, WordPerfect ran on DoS. On strokes of key white letters erupted on the black screen. the letters popped up, and started moving and became dancing stars. In the dark of the sky was a large glowing moon. And suddenly a silhouette appeared in that hallow. The King ! With a firm hand he pushed the transparent veil in front to enter, with the other hand he took his hat off. 
 

"Aaar" you Indiann ? " -- Yes I am. "Okay" said the King, a lean yet strong body, wearing casual yet very fine clothes, royal shoulders drooping slightly in brunt of age. Inquisitive eyes with a piercing sight he stood for a while near me looking at the computer screen.
"I have come back here after some years, and the manor guards told me about you."
In a jolt I stood up.
-Please take your seat my lord.
He sat down and put his right hand on the desk. He was wearing a bracelet !
"Dooo you know mee?" 
The king looked familiar, I must have seen this in photographs, I faintly recalled while fully coming out of the dream. And, lo and behold, I recognised, he was really a king ! I said yes, I have never met you but I know you are King ! The Man Lion King !
"Hmmm " 
He was impressed. 
"So, whaat are you doing here?" 
- I am writing a paper. 
"Reeeally ?" 
He was not really impressed !!!
"But they told me you are an Aaarchitect !" 
-That's right Sir, 
"But, Aarchitects draaw !" 
- I am doing Research, Sir. 
"Hmmm..." 
He dropped his head down and moved it from left to right and back in despair.
- Sir it is about Architecture only, about old architecture. See these books here they have pictures and drawings of Buildings.
"Those are not buildings ?" 
- Sir ?? 
"They are Monuments !"
There was a glimmer in King's half protruding eyes. He seemed to smile, he was testing me. Thereafter he asked many questions and I told him about my quests. He listened with sympathy and concern, I had put my work aside for the day and after locking the dark room we walked out of the Manor. Wandering down the historic street we reached Taylor's and sat for a second round of conversation with Darjeeling, Earl Gray and some other fragrant ones.
It was evening. Street lights came on, shops of the old shambles market lit up their lamps. King had to leave but before he walked away into the incessant drizzle he expressed his wish to help me in future.  

~*~

Year later, back on our distant shore from the Great Island, I called him on phone to pay my respects.
- "I'm alright, So whaat are you doing ?"
Nothing as such yet, Sir. 
"whaat do you plan to do?"
I have no plans at the moment. I am thinking.
"Can you come and meet me ? 
- I can do that.
" Tomorrow Aaarly morning ?" .......

to be contd.