Jasmine Skies (32 page)

‘The kingfisher on the river,’ I whisper.

‘It can fly home with you,’ Janu says.

I lean forward and kiss him. I don’t know how I’m ever going to say goodbye.

Going Home

I stare out of the window at the endless passing clouds. I can’t get the picture out of my head of my suitcase unopened on my bed. Everything neatly packed exactly as it
was. Just as if I had never left and nothing’s changed.

‘In the air again,’ Nayan says, looking down at the earth slipping further and further away as we climb ever higher.

I understand now what Grandad meant about being ‘suspended between homelands’, because right now I feel as if my heart’s being torn in two.

‘Looking forward to getting home, I should think, after all your adventures. At least you’re in one piece, almost!’ Nayan chatters on.

I leaf through Grandad’s old medical book. There are hundreds and hundreds of pages, but it’s something to keep my mind off leaving Janu, and Jidé coming to meet me at the
airport.

‘Found the missing page yet?’ asks Nayan, a mischievous glint in his eye. ‘Keep turning!’

Eventually I find a page that has an oval shape cut out of its middle.

‘OK! It’s time to show you!’ says Nayan excitedly as he rummages in his hand luggage beneath his feet and pulls out something I recognize straight away . . . It’s a
street wish, but I haven’t seen this one before. It’s an old paperback book with a new cover on it showing a diagram of an eye. It’s obvious that it’s been cut out of the
book I’m holding. The names ‘Dr Bimal Chatterjee’ and ‘Sunil Das’ are written at the bottom of the cover where the authors’ names usually go.

‘What was the wish?’ I ask, still hardly believing my eyes.

‘It’s in the title.’ Nayan points at the words.

‘“My Wish Is to Study Medicine”,’ I read.

‘We were so touched when we found this in the shop, and then Anjali took us to see the work Sunil was doing with Lal. Anyway, we’ve decided we’re going to find a way to help
fund his medical training when he’s old enough,’ explains Nayan.

As I go to close the book, Nayan takes a last look at Grandad’s signature.

‘You know, Mira, I think maybe fate has intervened. I was already thinking this, when Sunil came to find me,’ Nayan says, shaking his head, ‘but when I saw that Kadamba growing
outside your aunty’s flat, that clinched it for me . . . it’s a holy tree, you know? And I felt then – Bimal must be trying to reach me. Calling in a favour! Is that not so,
Iris?’ Iris nods.

‘You can take the blindfold off now. We’re in the air! My wife doesn’t like flying,’ he explains.

‘Nonsense! It’s only the take-off and the landing I hate,’ Iris says, pushing back her mask.

I peer out of the tiny portal window. The sky’s on fire with a sunset of yellow and burnt orange
.

Maybe some things
are
meant to be. But what if I’d never taken the letters? What if I’d never met Nayan and Iris at the airport? What if I’d never kissed Janu? What if
I’d never set eyes on the house in Doctor’s Lane? What if . . . ? Then what? Would everything have stayed the same?

‘By the way, Mira, do you know the meaning of my name?’ asks Nayan.

I shake my head.

‘Oh, Nayan! Do you have to?’ groans Iris.

‘The meaning of Nayan is eye! And this is my Iris!’ He grins, wrapping his arm lovingly around his wife’s shoulders.

‘Now he’s going to tell you that we complete each other!’ Iris laughs, flicking her long grey plait over her shoulder.

‘That is
my
line!’ jokes Nayan, patting his wife’s knee affectionately.

‘Well, excuse me for butting in, but I may just have heard that a few too many times!’ Iris winks at me. ‘Now don’t you go boring the poor girl to death. She’s been
through enough and she doesn’t want to hear all your theories! Take my advice, Mira, put your blindfold on, plug yourself into some music and get some rest!’

I drift in and out of sleep, but I’m haunted by the thought of Jidé meeting me at the airport and how to find the right words to tell him that everything’s
changed between us, if he doesn’t know already, that is. My suitcase might be packed up all neat and tidy but everything else about my world’s been turned upside down.

I must have finally dozed off because I wake to the strong smell of coffee and the sound of clanking trolleys. I take off my blindfold to find that I’m lying across
Iris’s lap, my head resting on a pillow smelling faintly of lily of the valley perfume. The two of them must have swapped places.

‘Sorry!’ I say, sitting up.

‘No problem!’ Iris smiles, handing me some juice and a croissant. ‘We saved breakfast for you.’

The bright red light of the ‘fasten your seat belt’ sign has just clicked on above our heads. I adjust the seat into an upright position and as the plane begins to drop through the
sky I feel Iris’s tension prickling towards me. She closes her eyes and pushes her plump body right into the back of her seat. My stomach knots and I reach for my charm and find nothing but
my bare wrist.

Iris takes my hand and whispers in my ear . . .

‘I think, if truth be told, Mira, we’re all a bit afraid of landing.’

Acknowledgements

To Freda Brahmachari, my mum, and my late dad, Dr Amal Krishna Brahmachari. To my brother Dev and sisters Shanti and Joya for sharing the journey through childhood and the many
happy memories we hold.

My heartfelt thanks go to my husband, Leo, for his love and support. The individual artistic spirits of each of our three children, Maya, Keshin and Esha-Lily, are a constant inspiration to me
in my writing. (A big thank-you to Esha-Lily for her illustration debut with the monkey drawings in Anjali’s letter.)

To all my uncles and aunties whose creativity as writers, dancers, singers and fine artists sparked my childhood imagination.

A special thanks goes to my cousin Jhuma and her late ma, Mira (my character Mira’s namesake), whose beautiful dancing is one of my treasured childhood memories. Thank you Jhuma for all
your encouragement, help with details about Kolkata and Bengali references and . . . for your treasured letters.

To my agent, Sophie Gorrell Barnes, for her excellent advice and enthusiasm for the sensory world of
Jasmine Skies
and her jasmine-scented cards!

To Samantha Swinnerton for being such a brilliant, insightful and enthusiastic editor, for her confidence in my writing and the gentle way she coaxes the story to surface.

To Nihal Arthanayake – DJ for BBC Radio 1 and BBC Asian Network – for helping me to research the character of Priya and her musical influences.

To playwright Tanika Gupta for her Bengali references.

To Trilby and Shelley for their love of Kolkata.

To Maria Levenson for lending me her surname again and helping me to decide on the title of this book,
Jasmine Skies
.

Dear Reader,

Here is a bit about me and
Jasmine Skies
. I live in London with my husband and three children (sadly our cat with attitude, Smokey-blue, passed away last year).
Jasmine Skies
is my second novel.

This is a book I feel I have been writing since I went to India with my family as a child. Some of the images and vignettes in this book are drawn from the extraordinary impact Kolkata had on me
as a young girl born and brought up in Britain, with an Indian father and an English mother. There are a lot of ‘eyes’ in
Jasmine Skies
, and I feel as if my young eyes were
opened on to a much wider world; travelling to India was a rites of passage journey for me, just as it is for Mira.

My imagination was captured by this faraway place that was also part of me and my family. I also remember uncles and aunties visiting on holidays, dancing and singing at family weddings or
reading from their own poetry books. I felt proud and privileged to be part of such a cultured and artistic family. As a child I made a special connection with my cousin Jhuma, who sometimes toured
to Britain with her dance troupe. We wrote letters to each other, occasionally we still do even though we also Facebook! I still love the ‘object’ of the letter, the fact that you can
hold it in your hands, trace your fingers over the words and know that the person who wrote it laid down their thoughts with real care and attention.

These letters gave me the idea for the letter album in
Jasmine Skies
, although there were no mysterious secrets in the pages of our letters! My father was our direct connection with our
Indian heritage and when he passed away I felt truly sorry that I hadn’t asked him more about growing up in Kolkata. In a recent visit to India to a family wedding with my mum, sister and
aunt, the story of
Jasmine Skies
began to form in my mind. I wanted to write a story that spoke of the warmth and strength of family bonds as well as the complex emotions that go into being
a faraway family. I hope this story speaks to you too.

Love,

Sita x

Artichoke Hearts
was the winner of the Waterstone’s Children’s Book Prize and it has been shortlisted for the Berkshire
Children’s Book Award, the Peter’s Book of the Year and the Fabulous Awards for Books (FAB).
Artichoke Hearts
has been longlisted for the Carnegie Medal and the Redbridge
Children’s Book Award.

Praise for
Artichoke Hearts
:

‘A beautiful book! It all had such a true ring to it . . . involving and moving’ Jamila Gavin

‘A welter of emotions engulf Mira in this touching pre-teen story about secrets and how to keep them and share them. Mira tells her story with appealing directness’
Julia Eccleshare, lovereading.com

‘These particular artichoke hearts have been marinated in some powerful ingredients’ Mary Hoffman

‘Young readers who have experienced bereavement will find this novel touches them on many levels, while for others it may help them reflect on a subject many find it hard
to think about, let alone discuss, and feel less afraid’ booksforkeeps.co.uk

‘
Artichoke Hearts
is a novel about many things: love, loss, acceptance, family, friendship . . . [it] draws on real life in a way that makes you think it could be
talking about your friends or relatives. It really is a special book, and it’s one that will stay with me for a very long time’ Jenny Davies, wondrousreads.com

Books by Sita Brahmachari

Jasmine Skies

www.sitabrahmachari.com

First published 2012 by Macmillan Children’s Books

This electronic edition published 2012 by Macmillan Children’s Books
a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
Basingstoke and Oxford
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com/childrenshome

ISBN 978-1-4472-0589-0 EPUB

Text copyright © Sita Brahmachari 2012
Illustrations copyright © Kate Forrester 2012

The right of Sita Brahmachari and Kate Forrester to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright,
Designs and Patents Act 1988.