Finding Arun (31 page)

‘It’s okay, Arthur. Lucky and Hanara have already
said that I can stay with them whilst I complete my college
applications. Then, hopefully, if I get accepted next year I can
move up to Mumbai.’

‘NEXT YEAR?’

‘Yes, next year. It’s too late to make an
application for this year’s intake.’

‘
So let me get this straight,’ began Arthur, his
voice now ten decibels higher than it had been at the start of the
conversation, ‘you have already had a gap year and you have a place
to study medicine at Oxford University starting in two months’ time
that most people would kill for. Yet you want to throw it all away
and waste
another year
for
the chance to maybe,
maybe
,
study at some unrecognised, backwards institution that no-one’s
ever heard of? Can you not hear how ridiculous that
sounds?’

‘The colleges here are actually very well-respected,
Arthur,’ he answered coolly. ‘A lot of them are public, which means
that I can’t apply to them, but there are some great private ones
too.’

‘Oh we’re going to private college now, are we? And
how much is that going to set me back?’

‘It’s really not as expensive as it sounds; the fees
are about the same as they are back home, maybe even a little
cheaper. The course is shorter too, so overall it should cost you
less,’ Arun pleaded.

‘You’re wrong.’

‘I’m not wrong, Arthur, I’ve done my research and
–’

‘
It’s not going to cost me anything, Aaron. Now you
listen to me, and you listen to me good,’ growled Arthur, the tone
of his voice disturbingly menacing. ‘You went to India to find
Kalpana. You should have come home as soon as you found out that
she was dead, but you wanted to get to know your brother and
sister, and I was more than understanding of that fact,
especially
given all the rubbish that
they’ve filled your head with about your mother paying for you.
Next you say that you want to stay to see that rash festival, and
still I didn’t say anything. Then you want to play happy families
in some pokey little village all summer and I thought to myself,
okay, maybe you need to get it out of your system. But this is
where I draw the line.

‘
If you think that I’m going to just sit back and
watch you throw away your future, throw away everything that your
mother worked so hard to provide for you,
and
pay for the pleasure, then you’ve got another
thing coming. It’s Oxford in October, or nothing at all. And if you
are not on that plane in four weeks’ time, then don’t bother coming
home again. Ever.’

An uncomfortable silence prevailed, punctuated only
by the sound of Arthur’s ragged breath on the line. Arun was
dumbstruck and the unexpected finality of Arthur’s last words felt
like a punch to the gut.

‘Arthur … Arthur, I –’ he croaked, unable to get any
words out.

‘I have to get dressed for work now. I will see you
in four weeks.’

Before Arun could protest any further, Arthur was
gone. He tried to steel himself against the small desk inside the
cubicle, but it was futile. The emotions involuntarily bubbled up
inside of him and tears pricked the corners of his eyes. Soon they
were in free flow, cascading like waterfalls down his bronzed
cheeks until he could no longer hold it all in and, bending over
the desk, he sobbed uncontrollably into his arms. He had expected
an adverse reaction from Arthur, but he had never imagined that he
would be so unforgiving and so final. He wept and he wept, overcome
with exhaustion and emotion, the tension in his body slowly
releasing itself, until the shop assistant was soon knocking at the
cubicle door with concern.

Arun wiped the moisture from his face with the back
of his hands and emerged from the cubicle looking more strained
than he had when he had first entered. The shop assistant opened
his mouth to speak, but changed his mind before any words came out.
Numbly, Arun paid for his call, unable to see how many rupees he
had placed on the counter through his bleary eyes, and then stepped
out into the stormy afternoon showers. The rain was oppressive, the
fat drops of water beating down hard on his back like the lashings
from a whip, but the pain was strangely gratifying. It was several
hours before Lucky was due to return and collect him, but he
couldn’t face sitting in front of the computer, continuing with his
research as planned, so he walked. He walked through the rain in no
particular direction and to no particular destination; he just had
to keep moving.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Somehow,
in the course of one conversation, the solution that it had taken
him so many weeks to arrive at was now the problem. He hadn’t
expected everything to run smoothly, but the difficulty should have
been gaining acceptance to medical college. Now, whether he gained
acceptance or not, without Arthur’s financial support he couldn’t
afford to go, and worse, if he didn’t go home, Arthur would never
speak to him again. As a child he had often mused that his life
would be unaffected by Arthur’s absence, but as an adult he knew
that the reality was very different. Arthur may not have been the
greatest father, but he was still the only father that Arun had
ever known and once again he found himself in a place of impossible
reconciliation. He needed to speak with Chandni; she was the only
one who would understand and the only one whose doe-eyed optimism
could soothe and reassure him.

By the time Lucky picked him up, Arun was completely
soaked through. Lucky couldn’t understand why his brother had
persisted in walking about in the heavy monsoon rains, but Arun
couldn’t bring himself to share the details of Arthur’s horrible
ultimatum. When they reached home, he told both siblings that his
call to Arthur had gone unanswered and though he hated lying to
them, he hated the idea that he might have falsely raised their
hopes that he would stay even more. He was silent throughout dinner
and when they reached the mandir, he couldn’t focus on the
evening’s prayers, desperately scanning the room for Chandni’s
diminutive figure.

When he finally spied her, unusually seated several
rows behind Hanara, their eyes met briefly across the hall, but
behaving more cautiously and more introverted than usual, Chandni
was quick to avert her eyes from his gaze. By the time the prayers
were over, Arun physically ached from his desire to talk to her,
but with Naresh glued to her side it proved impossible to get her
alone. At the close of the evening, it appeared that she would be
staying on at the mandir until Rajubhai Joshi finished his duties
and Arun felt the frustration rise in his chest as the last
opportunity for them to talk privately slipped away.

He was as silent during the journey home as he had
been all evening, and Lucky and Hanara were beginning to grow
suspicious. While they prepared for bed they took it in turns to
question his wellbeing, concerned that he was not himself, yet Arun
could still not find the strength to relive his conversation with
Arthur, knowing the reaction that it would likely receive. Brushing
them off, he clambered into bed alongside Lucky and for the first
time he welcomed the blackness of the windowless room, its opacity
masking the silent tears that rolled down his face as he cried
himself to sleep.

When Arun awoke the following morning, he was
relieved to remember that it was Saturday, the day that he and
Chandni traditionally spent time alone together. Running out of
excuses for her to need to venture to Puri and not at all enthused
by the relentless monsoon rains, lately they had taken to sneaking
between each other’s houses once Rajubhai Joshi had departed for
the mandir. The arrangement suited Chandni better because it
involved less outright lying and it meant too that they were not
reliant on Lucky to ferry them to and from their rendezvous. Today
was Chandni’s turn to visit Arun, but with Naresh scheduled to
return to Mumbai that morning, she had been unsure about the exact
time that she would be able to slip away. Lucky had set off for
work early and with Hanara minding the shop, Arun was left to
silently pace the length of the house, impatiently awaiting her
arrival. He found himself obsessively checking his watch, stunned
to learn that only a few minutes had gone by each time, but by
eleven o’clock Chandni was still nowhere to be seen and he was
growing increasingly anxious.

At midday, he braved the rains and traipsed across
the yard to see if Chandni had perhaps visited the shop for
provisions, or left a message with Hanara, but his sister had
nothing to ease his apprehensions. Arun was baffled, racking his
brains, desperate to determine what could be keeping his beloved
Chandni away. He was sure that Naresh was scheduled to leave in the
morning, but perhaps he had made a mistake? Perhaps Rajubhai Joshi
had not gone to the mandir after seeing him off and now Chandni
couldn’t get away? There were a million possibilities and he didn’t
care which of them was correct, so long as he could see Chandni. He
needed to talk to her and to share with someone the details of his
conversation with Arthur, before it completely consumed him from
the inside out.

At three o’clock, when Arun lay helplessly on his
bed on the verge of giving up all hope, there was finally a knock
at the door. Instantly relieved, he jumped up and almost fell over
himself in his haste to reach the front door. Quickly smoothing out
the creases in his shirt and combing his fingers through the
tangled mop on his head, he excitedly pulled back the door, but he
was not at all prepared for the figure that stood before him.

‘Arun, I think you and I need to have a little
talk.’

ARUN stepped back and held the door open, gesturing
for Rajubhai Joshi to enter the house. The look on the usually
mild-mannered man’s face was serious and foreboding and Arun
couldn’t quash the rising panic he felt in his chest. If Rajubhai
Joshi was there instead of Chandni, then it could only mean one
thing. The old man moved slowly, but with purpose and, seating
himself amongst the cushions, he looked up at Arun expectantly.

‘Can … can I get you anything, sir?’ Arun squeaked,
clearing his throat.

He had meant to sound confident and manly, but his
voice emerged shrill and pitchy, betraying his underlying
concern.

‘Just a small cup of water, please,’ Rajubhai Joshi
responded coolly, giving nothing away.

Arun made his way to the kitchen, all the while
feeling the heat of Rajubhai Joshi’s eyes on his back, and shakily
poured the drink. He returned and set the cup down on the floor
beside the old man, before stepping back, afraid to get too
close.

‘Please, sit,’ said Rajubhai Joshi, gesturing to the
cushions scattered opposite him.

Fearfully Arun did as he was instructed and lowered
himself down cross-legged onto the cushions, balling his fists in
his lap anxiously. Rajubhai Joshi reached forward and took a long,
slow sip of water, never averting his gaze from Arun’s face. He
didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get to the purpose of his visit and
the manner in which he was studying Arun, slowly drinking him in
from the top of his coffee-coloured head to the soles of his dirty
feet, made Arun increasingly uncomfortable.

‘I know,’ he said at last, placing the cup of water
back on the floor.

‘Know what, sir?’

‘Of your plan to run off to Mumbai with my
daughter.’

‘I’m not planning to run off to Mumbai with your
daughter, sir,’ answered Arun, swallowing guiltily.

‘Do not lie to me, Arun. The gods do not look
favourably upon those who distort the truth.’

‘It’s not a lie, sir, I promise.’

‘Really? Tell me then, is it not true that it was
under your encouragement that she applied to this travel programme
in Mumbai?’

‘Okay, yes, that is true, but –’

‘And is it, or is it not, true that you yourself are
planning to attend medical college in Mumbai?’

‘Yes, sir, it’s true,’ mumbled Arun, realising that
it was futile to argue back.

‘And tell me, have you, or have you not, been luring
her off to the city behind my back each week, in order to take
advantage of her innocence?’

‘Oh God no,’ breathed Arun, mortified that he was
having to suffer this conversation with Rajubhai Joshi, when he’d
never even discussed the matter with Chandni. ‘It wasn’t like that
at all. I never touched her, I swear.’

‘Never?’

‘Not once.’

‘So you weren’t touching her and kissing her outside
of my mandir only a few nights ago? Is that what you’re saying to
me, Arun?’

Arun hung his head in defeat, knowing that whatever
he said would only make things worse. He had no idea how Rajubhai
Joshi had found out about all of these things, but he had pieced
them all together incorrectly to paint a picture much seedier than
the reality.

‘Do you have any idea of the damage you could have
caused?’ he continued rhetorically. ‘This is not England, Arun.
I’ve seen your movies, I know how your young men and women behave:
drinking too much, never getting married and having a good time
with a different person each week. Things do not work like that
here.’

‘I know that, sir, I –’

‘
What if someone had seen you? People would have
been talking about her,
my Chandni
, and talking about me, thinking that I cannot control even
my own daughter. I’m already having a difficult enough time trying
to marry her, without you tainting her also.’

‘Oh, Rajubhai Joshi, sir, it isn’t like that. I
really care for your daughter,’ he protested meekly.

‘Arun, if you cared for her, you would have thought
about how your actions would affect her. Filling her head with
these silly little ideas, promising her that she can go to Mumbai,
making her think that she has what it takes to become a travel
guide. Can you not see that you are simply setting her up for
disappointment?’