Finding Arun (13 page)

The trio remained sombre and silent in the rapidly
escalating heat of the day. Aaron was too shocked to speak and
Hanara’s cruel tongue had been silenced by admonishing looks from
Lucky, who himself could not find the words to console his brother
for losing something that he had never really had. They stayed that
way for some time, and only once Aaron’s breathing started to
regulate itself once more, did he have the wherewithal to process
the hailstorm of thoughts thundering through his mind. He had come
all that way and been fortunate enough to find his way to Kalpana’s
house, but for the second time in as many months he was too late,
and the irony of the situation was not lost on him.

He released himself from Lucky’s grip and sat down
in the middle of the path, burying his head in his hands in defeat.
He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the way that the universe
ruthlessly mocked his every effort to salvage what little he could
of a normal family life. Lucky stared down at him, apparently
unsure of what he could say or do to alleviate the situation, but
Hanara only picked at the dirt beneath her fingernails
absent-mindedly, seemingly disinterested in the whole sorry
episode.

‘When … when did she die?’ croaked Aaron at last,
blinking up at Lucky with sad eyes.

‘About six weeks ago.’

Aaron felt a sharp stab of pain across his
chest.

‘What happened? I mean, I know that she was sick,
but what exactly happened?’

‘Why don’t you come inside the house? Hanara will
make us all chai and we can talk about everything properly.’

‘Hanara will not make us all chai,’ cried his sister
incredulously from the doorway.

‘Hanara,’ Lucky warned firmly.

‘No, Lucky! He has no business being here.’

‘Hanara!’

‘I mean it,’ she shouted back, before turning to
Aaron to continue with her tirade. ‘You have come to find Kalpana,
isn’t it? Well, Kalpana isn’t here, so really there is no need for
you to be staying longer, is there?’

‘HANARA THAT’S ENOUGH,’ screeched Lucky, silencing
his sister in one forcefully delivered sentence that left her
sulking and pouting like a petulant child. ‘I’m so sorry, Aaron.
Please, don’t listen to a word she is saying. Mata-ji was always
wishing it that you would come back home; she would have been so
happy to see you. You are our family, isn’t it? Of course she would
want us to welcome you,’ he insisted, emphasising the last few
words for Hanara’s benefit.

Aaron was touched and surprised by Lucky’s heartfelt
words and they went some way to compensating for Hanara’s
hostility. He was family, even though he hadn’t thought of himself
that way until Lucky had verbalised it, and for the first time in
his life he shared the same flesh and blood with not one, but two
other people. He wasn’t sure that this automatically granted him
the right to enter their home, and he was certain that Arthur
wouldn’t have been quite so accommodating if a stranger had turned
up outside their house in London claiming to be related to his
mother, but it had to count for something.

He looked up at the house where Kalpana had lived,
still half-hoping that everything would be as he had imagined it
would be when they met for the first time. It was nothing more than
an impossible dream now, yet an insatiable desire to venture inside
began to burn in his chest and he knew that he would not be able to
ignore it. He wanted to explore the place where his birth mother,
his brother and his sister had lived without him for so long. He
wanted to know, in detail, what had happened to Kalpana in her
final days. And more than anything else, he wanted to understand
how and why he had been the one that she had let go. Despite
Hanara’s frosty reception, Lucky’s smiling enthusiasm was
infectious, and it filled Aaron with a sense of warmth, hope and
belonging that he had not felt since his adoptive mother had passed
away.

‘Okay, I’ll come inside, just for a little bit.’

Hanara huffed loudly, throwing her head back in
contempt, and in an overly dramatic whirl of raven tresses stalked
bitterly back into the house.

Ignoring his sister’s mock-distress, Lucky beamed
down at Aaron and outstretched his hand to help pull him to his
feet. When he was upright once more, Aaron dusted the dirt from his
shorts and the pair walked the short distance across the yard
towards the house. He didn’t know what awaited him inside, but when
they reached the veranda, Lucky snaked his arm around Aaron’s
shoulders protectively and the reassuring squeeze he received
filled him with confidence.

‘Welcome home, brother.’

INSIDE, Kalpana’s house was dark and cramped. The
front door opened directly onto the living quarters, where a
compact arrangement of tattered rugs and cushions delineated a
small seating area. A few low shelves, stacked with blackened pots
and pans, and an ash-filled hearth clustered together in one corner
to form a basic kitchen, whilst the far corner boasted an elaborate
shrine that seemed out of place in such a simple home. A sizeable
marble statue sat proudly beneath a gold-roofed, four-pillared
canopy that was itself adorned with flowers, fruits, tea lights and
slow burning incense. A concrete floor extended throughout the
house, though, in places, portions had cracked off to reveal the
powdery earth below, and to Aaron’s left, a badly constructed clay
wall was punctuated by two doorways, each leading to smaller
rooms.

In the corner, despite her protestations, Hanara was
busily preparing chai in a small pan over the hearth, the
unmistakable aromas of cinnamon and clove overpowering the scent of
burning incense that already filled the room. Taking his cue from
Lucky, Aaron kicked off his flip-flops at the door and sat down
cross-legged amongst the cushions and rugs to drink in the
simplistic, yet homely, environs. He had had no idea what to expect
of India, let alone of Kalpana’s home, and it felt odd to think
that he was finally sat in her house, even though she was no longer
there. Yet somehow, despite the unbearable heat, the chaos of the
airports and cities, and the mandatory insanity that seemed to
govern all forms of transportation, he was glad that he had come,
and he felt strangely at home sitting beside Lucky while they
waited for Hanara to finish.

A few moments later, she guided a small tray onto
the floor between them, carefully balancing the copper teapot and
trio of cups so as not to spill any of the steaming mixture.
Pretending to be concentrating hard, she expertly poured three
level cups, all the while avoiding Aaron’s watchful gaze. She
placed one cup at Lucky’s feet and then another at Aaron’s, before
claiming the final cup for herself and sitting back against a pile
of cushions to stare into its milky depths.

‘Thank you, Hanara,’ Aaron offered tentatively.

Hanara grunted at him in response and he wasn’t sure
why, but he felt slightly afraid of the diminutive woman. Her sharp
tongue and venomous words had left him in no doubt about her
feelings towards him, yet he didn’t know what he had, or indeed
hadn’t, done to yield such an emotional response.

‘So, Aaron, I have many, many questions. But it is
the same for you, I’m sure,’ began Lucky, ignoring Hanara’s
continued insolence. He appeared eager to exchange life stories
with his new brother and, leaving his chai untouched, his eyes were
fixed expectantly on Aaron.

‘Yes, yes I do,’ replied Aaron taking a sip of his
chai. ‘I … well I guess that first I want to know what happened to
Kalpana? I know that she was sick, but –’

‘How did you know that she was sick?’

‘Oh, because she said so in a letter that I found;
one of many that she had written to my adoptive mother. Sorry, I
should have explained. I –’

‘You got the letter?’ cried Lucky, surprise
registering on his slim face.

‘Yes, I … well no, not exactly. My mother got it,
but I didn’t know about it until recently. I have it here,’
stammered Aaron, fishing in his pocket for the small collection of
letters.

‘We were so sure that they are not yet reaching you.
Your mother used to write very often to tell us how … wait,’
shrieked Lucky, suddenly jumping up and disappearing into one of
the other rooms.

Hanara rolled her eyes at Aaron while he laid the
letters on the floor in front of him, but obviously realising that
she had let slip that she was listening to their conversation, she
quickly resumed feigning interest in her cup of chai.

Lucky could be heard rummaging around for a few
minutes, before re-emerging carrying a large, battered wooden box.
He placed it into the circle between them and gently slid back the
warped lid to reveal a handful of crumpled white papers and an
assortment of sun-worn photographs. Aaron gasped, instantly
recognising his childhood self staring up at him from within the
box. He was five years old and dressed in the signature navy-blue
uniform of the first preparatory school that he had attended. He
reached forward and lifted the faded photograph from the box for a
closer inspection. The boy in the picture seemed so innocent, so
naïve and unaware that life could have turned out quite
differently.

Lucky watched Aaron intently, seeming to seek
confirmation that he had done the correct thing by bringing the box
out, but Aaron remained poker-faced. He lifted image after image
from the box, piecing together a photographic timeline of his life,
until a picture of a young woman with two small children and a baby
stopped him in his tracks.

‘Is this … is this … her?’ Aaron croaked.

Lucky peered over his brother's shoulder and
nodded.

‘Yes, this is Mata-ji and all of us, just after you
were born. It’s the only picture that we have.’

Aaron stared at the faded photograph for the longest
time, drinking in the image of his birth mother. She was young, in
her early twenties perhaps, and her almond-shaped, hazel eyes were
full of an innocent optimism that shone back at him from the
picture. She wasn’t that tall and her hair was scraped back into a
tight bun, accentuating the delicate features of her face. Lucky
and Hanara were stood on either side of her, clinging fearfully to
the folds of her sari, and in her arms she held a baby, swaddled so
tightly that it was difficult to make out the face.

‘She’s beautiful,’ whispered Aaron, so moved by the
experience of seeing his birth mother for the first time that tears
pooled in his eyes.

‘She really was,’ concurred Lucky softly.

When he had finished with the photographs, Aaron
turned his attention to the crumpled white papers. Unfolding the
first one revealed a neatly typed letter from his mother to Kalpana
and it was hard not to feel resentful when he imagined her sitting
in her study, secretly typing letters to Kalpana whilst he had
played naïvely on the floor. He smoothed out the creases in the
paper and began to read, but after only a few lines the tears that
had already welled up in his eyes began to overflow onto his
cheeks, forcing him to stop. Catherine had written exactly as she
had talked and he could hear her voice, clearly reciting the lines
word for word in his head, singing his praises when she proudly
described his progress and achievements.

It was more than Aaron could bear, and not wanting
to embarrass himself in front of his newly found siblings, he
folded the letter neatly, tucked it back inside the box and slid
the lid into position.

‘Are you okay?’ asked Lucky, now appearing concerned
that it had been an error to retrieve the box.

‘I’m fine … sorry,’ he replied, wiping the tears
away with the backs of his hands, ‘it was just … strange to read,
that's all.’

Lucky fished a hanky from his pocket and offered it
to his brother compassionately.

‘You still haven’t told me what happened to
Kalpana,’ sniffed Aaron, gently dabbing at his cheeks and swiftly
changing the subject.

‘Are you sure that you want to talk about this now?’
asked Lucky, still appearing to feel responsible for upsetting his
brother.

‘Yes, I’m sure … I need to know.’

‘Okay, well, let me see … already you know it that
Mata-ji was sick, isn’t it?’ began Lucky in a low, melancholy tone.
‘The sickness started only after she went visiting in one of the
holy sites in the north at the beginning of the year. When she came
back, she had a very bad, very awful cough in her chest; even you
could hear it from outside the house. Then she is having also a
fever and in the night she was sweating so much that she was not
sleeping well. Soon we noticed a little blood when she was coughing
and she was not really eating, maybe half only of whatever Hanara
was preparing for her each day.

‘We took her to see the doctor, especially because
she was losing a lot of weight, but he also wasn’t sure what was
wrong exactly. He gave her a few medicines to try, but these didn’t
help and every day she was getting weaker and weaker, until one day
she asked Hanara to close our shop for her so that she could take a
rest. This was the last day only that she worked in the shop; after
this she was always too tired. She was having a difficulty
breathing and a difficulty walking around, and after a few weeks
she was staying all the days in her bed.

‘We did our very best to look after her, really I
promise you Aaron that we did. Every day we were praying and we
called the doctor to the house even, but he said that we must take
her to the hospital in the city only. I wanted to take her in my
rickshaw, but she kept telling us that she didn’t need to go; I
think so she was worried about the cost. Hanara was trying to talk
to her, but she was very stubborn sometimes and she didn’t want to
listen. So we just kept praying; praying for God to make her better
only. And then one day … one day –’