Finding Arun (20 page)

‘I would like to buy twelve of your very most
juiciest mangoes, please,’ he announced in the most sincere voice
that he could muster.

‘Very funny, Lucky. You know perfectly well that we
don’t sell mangoes here,’ replied Arun, laughing at his brother’s
silliness.

‘How was the day?’

‘Not bad. Busy, but not bad.’

‘Excellent. Did Hanara give you much trouble?’ he
continued, a serious look fleeting across his face.

‘No, not at all. Actually, she even brought me
lunch.’

‘I am very happy to hear this,’ beamed Lucky, deeply
satisfied by the response. ‘Shall we go inside? It is time for
dinner only.’

Arun nodded and struggled to his feet, mindful not
to knock his head on the low ceiling.

Together, he and Lucky took down the stock that
dangled across the front of the shop and carefully arranged it
inside of the small space. They closed the hatch and then the door,
making sure that both were bolted securely shut, before starting
across the yard towards the house. At the front door, they were
greeted by the spicy scent of incense mixed with the aroma of
burning oil and, as if on cue, when they assumed their usual places
amongst the cushions Hanara appeared between them carrying dinner.
Lucky dived straight in, clearly hungry from his first proper day
of work in two weeks, but for the first time, Arun sat back and
observed what had by now become their nightly ritual.

He wasn’t sure how she did it, but Hanara always had
their food ready at the exact moment that it was required. Lucky
was always served first, followed by Arun, and Hanara only
commenced eating once she was sure that her brothers had everything
that they needed. An assortment of mixed vegetable dishes were
served first, usually accompanied by a spicy soup of some kind, and
they were always followed by the same rice, lentil purée and
flatbread combination that Arun had enjoyed at lunch. Sometimes
there were chutneys or pickles, but for the most part Arun avoided
these because he found them too spicy. If either he or Lucky wanted
anything further – more food, more water, or in Arun’s case, more
yoghurt to soothe the insides of his burning mouth – Hanara would
instantly jump to her feet, interrupting her own meal to cater to
their whims.

It was a strange arrangement, but one that appeared
to satisfy them all and to keep the peace, as Arun had quickly
learnt the day he had tried to get his own water from the kitchen
and wound up being scolded by Hanara. The kitchen, with its tiny
stove, hearth and collection of blackened pots and pans, was her
space, and though she seemed happy to relinquish management of the
shop to Arun, the kitchen was not to be disturbed.

‘How was the day today, Hanara?’ Lucky enquired,
between mouthfuls.

‘It wasn’t so bad.’

‘Better now that you have got Arun to work in the
shop, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, I suppose so. It seems that our little brother
is actually good for the business,’ she smirked.

‘Huh? What are you talking about now?’ groaned
Lucky, helping a sticky ball of rice past his hungry lips.

Arun regarded Hanara suspiciously, both intrigued
and scared by her comment.

‘There were a lot of people coming by today. First
they were coming to buy things, then they were coming to see Arun
only,’ she answered playfully.

Lucky chuckled and nodded his understanding, but
Arun was still confused.

‘What do you mean they were coming to see me?’

‘The village isn’t very big, Arun. Everybody knows
everybody, and everybody knows everybody’s business. When someone
new arrives, then everyone has to come and see it for themselves
only. We don’t normally sell so many things in one day,’ Hanara
explained, laughing at Arun’s naïvety.

Embarrassed, Arun felt the blood rush to his face;
he had thought that the shop was particularly busy given the size
of the village. The unintended effects of the villagers’ curiosity
seemed to please Hanara and though Arun was a fan of anything that
made her despise him less, her explanation left him even more
bewildered as to why they had told no-one of his existence.

‘If everybody knows everybody’s business, then how
come they didn’t know about me already?’ he asked, in the most
casual tone that he could muster.

‘When we first came here, Mata-ji told no-one about
the past or about Rachna Hari. I think she wanted a fresh start and
she didn’t want too many questions,’ replied Lucky, his mouth full
of food.

‘
Okay … but now that I’m here, why haven’t
you
told them about me?’

‘
I
didn’t want too many questions,’ answered Hanara simply.
‘Everybody is so nosy. Lucky doesn’t have to deal with it all day,
but always people are coming to the shop gossiping about each
other. Sometimes it’s nice to have something private only, just for
a little while. After a time they find out anyway, even if I don’t
tell them.’

Hanara’s words made Arun feel special and he
proceeded to finish his meal without further questioning, reassured
that Hanara was only trying to preserve the privacy of this
significant event for their family.

After dinner, Lucky and Hanara disappeared into
their respective bedrooms, leaving Arun alone to relax and digest
his meal. When they reappeared, both were immaculately dressed in
the finest traditional Indian clothes that Arun had seen them wear
since his arrival. Hanara was radiant and feminine in a baby-pink
sari, her long tresses lifted back from her face and twisted
tightly into an elegant chignon, while Lucky stood by her side,
looking equally impressive in a long, powder-blue tunic with
matching trousers.

‘You guys look amazing,’ he exclaimed in
surprise.

Hanara smiled shyly despite herself, but Lucky was
much less modest, his face lighting up with his crooked smile while
he deliberately struck various poses to show off his attire to full
effect.

‘What’s the occasion?’

‘No occasion, we are going to the mandir only. It
has been a few weeks since we have been; usually we go almost every
day,’ Lucky explained.

‘Oh, I guess I have to stay home then; no non-Hindus
allowed, right?’ he sulked.

‘Oh no, that is in the Jagannath Mandir only. Anyone
is welcome in our mandir, even non-Hindus. Do you want to come?’
asked Lucky excitedly.

‘I would really like that, if it’s not too much
trouble,’ he answered, glancing cautiously at Hanara who was the
most likely to object.

The truth was that Arun wanted to go wherever Hanara
and Lucky went. For the first time since his mother had died, he
felt like part of something again and he didn’t want to be left
out, not even for one evening. It felt good to know that he had
done a decent day’s work like his brother and sister, and though it
was only small, the contribution had made him believe that he
genuinely deserved his place at dinner that evening. Now that they
were going to the mandir, he wanted to experience that too as a
family, and to learn as much about his siblings and their lives as
he could before he would be forced to leave.

A brief silence followed his admission, but
eventually Hanara blinked twice and wobbled her head from side to
side in the way that he had seen her do from time to time.

‘You’d better give him some clothes then, Lucky. He
can’t go to the mandir dressed like that.’

LOCATED on the opposite side of the village, the
mandir was a short, but significant, walk from the house, making a
ride in Lucky’s rickshaw more agreeable now that darkness had
settled in. The night was humid and still, and when they stepped
out of the house Arun struggled to breathe in the thick air,
feeling the clothes that Lucky had kindly lent to him moisten and
stick uncomfortably to his skin. In a move that appeared somewhat
territorial, Hanara climbed into the front seat alongside Lucky,
but Arun was simply glad to be accompanying his siblings for the
evening and after folding his long limbs into the back seat, the
trio were soon on their way.

They journeyed along in the dark, the only lighting
provided by the glare of the headlights and the soft glow that
emanated from the small houses that they occasionally passed.
Hanara was silent, picking at the beading on her sari, whilst Lucky
did his best to educate Arun on the principle ideologies of their
religion and the practice of their faith. Arun was already familiar
with much of it from their visits to the many temples in and around
Puri, but he let Lucky complete his explanations all the same, not
wanting to appear rude. He learned that every morning, Lucky and
Hanara made a small offering to the shrine in the house, asking for
good business in the shop, or for Lucky to be kept safe on the
crazy roads of Puri. He learned that in the evenings, once the shop
was closed and Lucky had returned safely, that they attended the
mandir to thank God for answering their prayers, to study more
about their faith, and to socialise with their friends. And he
learned that the community was Lucky and Hanara’s extended family;
an unofficial legion of brothers and sisters, uncles and aunts, all
bound together in a delicate ecosystem, the heart of which was the
mandir.

Approximately ten minutes later, Lucky eased the
rickshaw off the dirt road and onto a concrete parking area that
was already filled with a jumble of cars, mopeds and people. Arun
stepped out, discreetly massaging his bottom, which was now sore
from the bumpy ride, and glanced up at the village mandir. It was
no Jagannath Mandir, but there was something distinctly more
appealing and inherently inviting about the building as it rose up
mightily from the darkness, flickering lights dancing across its
façade to reveal flashes of its colourful design. It was easily the
largest building in the village and its well-maintained brick and
stone construction was an obvious testament to its standing in the
community.

A short flight of polished concrete steps, virtually
obscured by the many groups of worshippers huddled together
conspiratorially along its length, led up to a square platform upon
which the mandir itself had been built. Four pairs of columns
capped by intricately carved archways delineated an open porch
area, beyond which a yellow wall was punctuated by three brightly
painted lavender doors, the centremost of which was open, marking
the entrance. A large, mint-green dome topped by a colourful figure
rose over the central hall and to each side, set back slightly from
the main façade, two further striped dome structures supported by
pillars could be seen.

Arun had barely finished taking in the mandir, when
he felt all eyes in the parking area turn to him and his siblings.
In a matter of seconds, they were surrounded by a swarm of people,
all clearly thrilled that Lucky and Hanara had returned after such
a prolonged absence, and equally intrigued by the presence of a new
arrival. Whilst his brother and sister chatted amicably with the
excitable crowd, answering their relentless barrage of questions,
Arun was being pushed and shoved from every direction, as man after
man jostled his neighbour, desperate to be the first to welcome
him. Social convention usually dictated that Arun would be ignored
by the people around him and, not accustomed to being the focus of
such attention, he quickly found the situation overwhelming. Soon
the noisy chatter from the crowd felt like it was closing in on him
and, intuitively sensing his brother’s anxiety, Lucky immediately
took charge of the situation. He placed his arm protectively around
Arun’s shoulders and proudly set about making formal
introductions.

Within the space of five minutes, Arun had shaken
more hands, learnt, and forgotten, more names than he had in almost
twenty years, but the buzz that surrounded his arrival, and the
warmth and enthusiasm with which he was welcomed, made him feel
somewhat like a celebrity returning to his home town. It was
strange to think that he could so easily and readily be accepted
into a place where he had spent such little time, when he had
struggled to find similar acceptance at home for much of his life,
but it all added to India’s charm and allure. A few moments later
he saw Hanara being whisked away by a group of giggling girls who
were doing little to disguise the fact that they were talking about
him and, before he could object, Lucky was steering him through the
crowd towards the open door to the mandir.

Taking his lead from Lucky, under the arches of the
porch, Arun kicked off his flip-flops in a mark of respect, and
gently rang the large bell floating above his head to announce his
arrival. When they entered the mandir, the crowd fell silent at
once and in the stillness of such a holy place, the familiar aroma
of burning incense filling his nostrils, Arun felt a deep sense of
spirituality and calm unexpectedly wash over him. He had never been
religious and though the Rutherfords had pledged a faint allegiance
to the Church of England that saw them attending services at both
Easter and Christmas, his mother had always maintained that this
was more for the sake of keeping up appearances, than on account of
any true faith.

Despite the tightly packed crowds, the mandir was
cooler inside than Arun had anticipated it would be. The polished
concrete floor was cold and inviting against his bare feet, and the
large fans placed strategically around the main hall gently fanned
his face and clothes, keeping his body at a comfortable
temperature. There was a sense of peace and serenity that prevailed
and it was difficult to imagine that this was the same crowd that
had been causing such an excitable drone only a few minutes before.
They moved as one, their momentum carrying Arun effortlessly
through the dimly lit hall, leaving him free to absorb the full
beauty of his surroundings.