Finding Arun (19 page)

‘That’s really unfair, Arthur.’

‘It’s not unfair, Aaron, it’s the truth; I’ve seen
it happen before. You’re just too young and naïve to realise what’s
happening right before your own eyes.’

Arun sighed into the receiver; he was tired of
Arthur’s conspiracy theories and tired of being treated like a
child. He knew that Arthur would never believe what Hanara had told
him about Catherine, but not wanting to propagate the lie any
longer he had decided to tell him and now he was paying the price
for his honesty. Though he had anticipated a strong reaction,
Arthur’s continued denial grated on him, yet whatever ludicrous
explanation his father might offer in defence of his mother, he
knew what he believed and he was resolute in his decision to
stay.

‘Arthur, I promise you it’s not like that. I will
stay for two more weeks and then I’ll come home.’

Arthur was momentarily mute before eventually
sighing huffily at the other end of the line.

‘Fine, but then extend your stay at the Mayfair
Beach Resort and I will pay for it.’

‘Arthur, I can’t. I’ve already promised Lucky and
Hanara that I will go and stay with them. It would be rude.’

‘I’m not happy about this,’ Arthur growled
irritably.

Arun remained silent; there was nothing more that he
could say and the more he thought about it, the more relieved he
was that his stay would delay the inevitable onset of the awkward
father–son interaction that awaited him when he returned home.

Eventually, after a long lecture from Arthur, during
which he had to promise repeatedly that he would not stay longer
than two weeks, Arun was able to hang up the phone. He lay back on
the bed and stared at the ceiling fan rotating above his head as he
had done so many times before. The day had been a particularly long
one, and he felt so overwhelmed by both Hanara’s revelation and
Arthur’s sudden care and concern, that his body soon shut down in
protest, causing him to drift off into a deep sleep.

The following morning Arun checked out and, armed
with his backpack, waited for Lucky outside of the front of the
hotel, much to the intrigue of the concierge.

‘Waiting for your brother again today, sir?’

‘Yes, I am. He is late, as usual.’

‘Going back to England today, sir?’

‘No, no, not yet.’

‘But you are having your bag, sir, and I think I saw
you checking out? You are going to another hotel, sir?’

‘I’m going to stay with my brother for a few
weeks.’

The concierge’s eyes grew wide with surprise.

‘Is it a big house that your brother is living in
with his family, sir?’ he asked curiously.

‘No, not at all; just a small house that he shares
with my sister.’

‘Oh, so you will be all three together, sir?’

‘Yes,’ smiled Arun, ‘we will be all three
together.’

There was a slight pause while the concierge seemed
to consider whether it was appropriate for him to ask his next
question.

‘You came to India to find a wife, sir?’

Arun laughed out loud, not understanding how the two
were at all related, but he reassured the concierge that this was
not the purpose of his visit all the same. They continued to make
light conversation until, nearly an hour after their agreed meeting
time, Lucky’s little rickshaw finally pulled up alongside them.

‘What time do you call this?’ Arun chided playfully,
no longer sure why they bothered to agree on meeting times when
Lucky was always tardy.

‘Lucky time,’ he grinned, thoroughly amused by
Arun’s ongoing expectations about punctuality in India.

Arun shook his head and laughed; it was exactly the
kind of nonsensical response that he had come to expect from his
brother. He climbed into the rickshaw beside Lucky and, after
wedging the backpack firmly between his legs, waved goodbye to the
concierge, as Lucky swung the vehicle out onto the road towards
home.

Now familiar with the route, the journey passed by
quickly. Lucky chatted away, excited to formally welcome his
long-lost brother home, and Arun found himself looking forward to
his stay, especially since Hanara had finally started to thaw. When
they reached the house, Lucky stopped just long enough to allow
Arun to hop out, before shouting some instructions and speeding
back towards the city, returning to work as promised.

Arun gazed up at the place that would be his home
for the next two weeks, while the dust kicked up by the rickshaw’s
departure settled around him. Though he had spent a considerable
amount of time there and felt comfortable in the company of his
family, living with them would be a completely different
experience. He had fought for the right to stay there out of
principle, and more to demonstrate his maturity and independence to
Arthur, than because of any real desire to avoid being impolite.
The house would be a significant downgrade from the Mayfair Beach
Resort Hotel and though a part of him was scared to give up the
comfort and luxury to which he had become accustomed, somehow
getting back to a simple and basic way of living felt like wiping
the slate clean and reconnecting with his family.

He lifted the backpack onto his shoulders and
wandered into the house in search of Hanara, but a casual glance
around the small abode revealed that she was not at home. He
proceeded to Lucky’s bedroom as his brother had instructed and
placed the backpack upright in the far corner of the room. It was a
small and windowless space, largely filled by a thin, brown
mattress, barely big enough for two people to sleep on. In one
corner, a shrine similar to, but smaller than, the one in the main
room of the house spewed out thick curls of grey smoke from an
incense burner, and in another, mounds of clothes tumbled forth
from a poorly constructed wooden rack. It was not quite what Arun
had envisaged when Lucky had invited him to share the room, but it
was clean and homely, and the main thing, he reminded himself by
recalling the concierge’s words, was that they would all three be
together.

Leaving his bags in Lucky’s room, Arun ventured back
outside to the front of the house and walked towards the adjoining
shop, where he was sure he would find his sister. More akin to a
shack, the rusted, corrugated walls fitted together to form a
rectangular space not much larger than Lucky’s bedroom, with a
small door present on one side. There was a large hatch at the
front through which customers could be served, but it was partially
obscured by the wide variety of goods that dangled from long wires
traversing the breadth of the opening. At first glance, the shop
appeared to sell everything and nothing, and Arun found himself
struggling to determine how they selected, and indeed sold, any
stock at all.

Drawing closer, he softly called out Hanara’s name,
still unable to see her diminutive figure between the sachets of
shampoo and boxes of cigarettes, but at the sound of his voice her
worried face instantly appeared in the hatch, scanning the horizon
for danger. She visibly relaxed when she caught sight of Arun,
relieved to find that it was not a customer summoning her, and
promptly disappeared again. When Arun reached the hatch itself, he
could see that Hanara was seated on a small wooden stool, busily
arranging a collection of savoury snacks into tall plastic jars. A
burnt orange sari featuring an embroidered flower motif was draped
elegantly across her shoulders and now that her facial expressions
towards Arun had softened, when she stood to greet him he noticed
for the first time just how striking she was. Her petite frame made
her appear young, but there was a maturity evident in her demeanour
and the lightness of her large, almond-shaped eyes was emphasised
by the raven hair that lay dramatically about her face in thick,
loose waves.

‘Hi, Hanara.’

‘Hello, Arun.’

‘How are you today?’

‘Very much the same as yesterday,’ she quipped
sarcastically, though with less malice than usual.

Arun remained unfazed by her response, knowing now
that the latent hostility would eventually pass.

‘I’ve left my stuff in Lucky’s room, but I can
unpack it later. I’m ready to help out now if you need it?’

Hanara stood, hands on her hips, pouting at him
while she sized up his aptitude for assisting her.

‘Okay. You come in here and help if someone comes to
buy something. I am going to sort a few things in the house only,’
she pronounced decisively.

She bent to gather a few of the plastic jars from
the floor and swiftly exited the shop through the small door,
gesturing for Arun to take her place on the stool. Obligingly, Arun
stooped to avoid hitting his head and entered the tiny, cramped
space. It might have been perfectly adequate for Hanara, but it was
far too compact for his long limbs, and he struggled for a few
minutes, trying to arrange both himself and the stool comfortably
so that he could see out through the hatch without knocking
anything over. Hanara looked on impatiently, tapping her foot on
the floor and exaggeratedly sighing to express her irritation.

Once Arun appeared to be settled, she turned and
started towards the house, but when he poked around and realised
that none of the items in the shop bore price tags, he felt the
panic begin to rise up in his chest.

‘Hanara, wait,’ he cried out when she had almost
reached the door to the house.

‘What is it?’

‘How will I know what to charge people? There aren’t
any prices on anything.’

Hanara smiled at him, almost seeming to delight in
his obvious distress.

‘They will know, don’t worry. They are almost always
buying the same things.’

Her answer did little to reassure Arun, but the fact
that his sister had smiled at him, for the second time in as many
days, warmed him in a way that he could not put into words. She
started towards the house once more, but then another thought
occurred to Arun; a thought that could not be explained away so
easily.

‘Hanara, wait!’

‘Hey Bhagwan, what is it now?’ she answered
irritably.

‘What if I can’t understand them? If they don’t
speak English, I mean?’

Hanara looked at him with a blank expression and
shrugged her shoulders, leaving Arun unsure whether it was a
suggestion that he simply muddle through, or an indication that she
didn’t care. Either way, she quickly disappeared into the house and
Arun found himself alone in the shop, awaiting his first
customer.

Fortunately, the morning passed by with ease, though
Arun found himself surprised by the number of visitors to the shop.
He hadn’t realised that the village boasted so many inhabitants,
but he was quickly learning that the deceptively small houses were
often home to families of six or more people. Much to his relief,
Hanara had been right about the majority of visitors knowing
exactly what they wanted and how much to pay, but this seemed to
become secondary to their concerns when they caught sight of him
sitting cramped up inside the shop in her place. Confused gawping
was quickly replaced by a string of questions, when each customer
tried first to ascertain where Hanara was, then where Lucky was,
and finally who he was. Introducing himself as their brother only
incited further curiosity and it was rapidly becoming clear to Arun
that no-one was aware of his existence. It was not a fact that he
had previously considered and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it,
but he wondered why neither Hanara nor Lucky had mentioned him when
he had been back in their lives for over two weeks.

At lunchtime, Hanara briefly reappeared to check on
Arun and to deliver him a small plate of food. She had prepared a
delicious puréed lentil dish, served with white rice and the
perfectly circular, buttery flatbreads that Arun had come to love.
After the busy morning he was famished and he devoured the tasty
fare in a matter of minutes, in between answering Hanara’s
incessant questions about how business was going. Wiping his lips
after the final mouthful, he was about to enquire about her morning
and broach the subject of why nobody in the village seemed to know
about his existence, when she deftly whisked the plate away and
disappeared back into the house. The action left Arun feeling
stunned and confused; it was as though Hanara was deliberately
preventing herself from being too nice to him and it was clear that
they still had some way to go before she would let her guard down
completely.

The afternoon continued in much the same way that
the morning had, but increasingly visitors seemed to be less and
less surprised to find Arun sitting in Hanara’s place, and perhaps
even expectant of the fact. Most of the customers were women,
though occasionally a young boy would stop by to help carry home
one of the heavy gas canisters that powered the village’s kitchens.
The younger women spoke English and were eager to engage Arun in
conversation, giggling shyly at his responses when they asked
personal questions not dissimilar to those that he’d encountered on
the train to Puri a few weeks before. The older women persisted
with addressing him in what he now recognised to be Oriya, despite
having their questions met with blank stares, and when all forms of
verbal communication failed, goods were procured by pointing. It
was a long day and manning the shop was harder work than Arun had
anticipated, but the experience afforded him a much better
understanding of Hanara’s daily frustrations and by the end of it
he was full of admiration for his sister. How she had
single-handedly managed to run both the shop and the house
simultaneously was nothing short of a miracle.

When the day began to fade away, Arun heard the
familiar sound of a chugging motor approach. It stopped short of
the shop, but a few moments later the sound of footsteps gave way
to Lucky’s bright face beaming down at him through the hatch.