Finding Arun (27 page)

The pair dined on cheap, but tasty, fresh fish thali
and, not having realised quite how hungry he was, Arun had devoured
the contents of his plate within minutes of being seated. When
Chandni had caught up, and only once their food had settled in
their stomachs, he led her from the shack and down the beach, until
they reached a painted green boat where a skinny, shirtless,
dark-skinned man sat puffing heavily on a small pipe. Upon
registering their presence, he immediately tossed the pipe aside
and stood to attention, bowing as he motioned for them to step onto
his boat. Arun helped lower Chandni down first and once she was
comfortably seated on the central bench, tightly gripping its sides
to steady herself as the boat rocked gently from side to side, he
climbed down to take his place beside her. As the midday sun beat
down ferociously on them, the boatman settled into the back of the
small vessel and eased them out into the open water to explore the
delights of Chilika Lake.

The lake was expansive and dotted with lush green
islands that provided homes for thousands of migratory birds; birds
which Chandni only began to enjoy once she’d adjusted to the
rhythmic swaying of the boat as it cut a neat path through the
water. She was reminiscent of a small child, excitedly pointing out
and commenting on everything that they passed, and Arun took great
pleasure in watching her, knowing that her smile was there because
of him. By the time they spotted their first dolphins, only a few
metres from the boat, Chandni was grinning like a Cheshire cat,
looking repeatedly from the dolphins to Arun and back again, and
squealing in delight. It was a beautiful, melodic sound and Arun
smiled to himself, relishing the feeling of bringing someone else
happiness, not because he had to, but because he had wanted to.

When they reached Rajahamsa Island, the last stop of
the day, he was glad of the opportunity to disembark from the boat,
feeling mildly nauseated from its ceaseless rocking. He and Chandni
walked a little way up the beach and kicked their sandals off,
settling onto the sand, where there was an uninterrupted view of
the lake before them.

‘Thank you for today, Arun. It has been such a
wonderful surprise.’

‘It was my pleasure, Miss Joshi. I’m glad that you
have enjoyed yourself.’

‘I have, so very much. I only wish I could do things
like this more often,’ Chandni continued, sighing.

‘You can … I’d like to take you out again … if
you’ll let me?’ he asked hopefully.

‘Oh, that’s not what I meant, but yes, of course,
that would be lovely.’

A wide smile spread across Arun’s face, his heart
all a flutter at the prospect of a second date with the beautiful
girl sat beside him. They watched the lake in silence for a while,
before it occurred to him to enquire as to what she had meant by
her words.

‘What did you mean, Chandni?’

‘Sorry?’

‘You said that you wished you could do things like
this more often. What did you mean by that?’

‘Oh … this,’ she answered, gesticulating to their
surroundings, ‘this is what I’d really like to do; learn about all
these wonderful places in the world, the people, the history, the
wildlife. And then I could go out and share my knowledge, so that
visitors can have a really good experience in India too.’

‘Kind of like a tour guide?’

‘Yes, exactly like a tour guide. I just think that
it would be so much fun, so great to be in the best places in the
world all day long.’

‘Why don’t you do it then?’

‘My Bapu-ji wouldn't allow it,’ she murmured
sadly.

‘Why not? I think that you’d make a great tour
guide,’ he offered reassuringly.

‘He’ll think it too dangerous; spending all day with
foreigners and their strange ways, and going out on boats … plus he
doesn’t want me to be too far away either.’

‘Well that’s just silly. Tourists are harmless;
they’ll be more fixated on enjoying the sights that they’ve come to
see than on anything else. And there are lots of sights close to
the village. What about Puri, and Konark? All the big mandirs?’

‘I know, I know, but it’s just the way that he is,
and I don’t like to upset him. Besides, to get a really good job
and to be allowed to guide at the big mandirs, first you have to
study a little at university, otherwise you don’t stand a
chance.’

‘Why don’t you take the course then?’ he quipped,
his feelings spurring him to push Chandni towards the attainment of
her dreams.

‘It’s too expensive,’ she mumbled uncomfortably.

‘There must be some sort of scholarship or funding
that you can apply for?’ he tried, not prepared to give up the
fight so easily.

‘Well, there is … never mind, it’s silly.’

‘I’m sure it’s not, go on.’

Chandni seemed to regard Arun hesitantly, then
deciding that she could trust him with her innermost thoughts, she
continued.

‘
There is a very famous old movie called
Chandni
, which
my Mata-ji named me after. It was her favourite, and mine too. We
used to watch it together all the time when she was
alive.’

‘I don’t think that I’ve heard of it,’ said Arun,
wondering where the story was heading.

‘
Oh I adored
Chandni
when I was younger. I wanted to be just like her when I
grew up … sometimes I even thought that I would be because we
shared the same name.’

Arun smiled at Chandni’s girly enthusiasm and felt
himself fall in love with her a little more.

‘In the movie she falls in love with a wonderful man
and they become engaged, but then he has this terrible accident
that paralyses him and his whole family blames her for it. So then
she leaves her village and goes to work in Mumbai for a travel
agency.’

‘Right,’ acknowledged Arun, still utterly mystified,
but enjoying the story nonetheless.

‘Anyway, there is a very famous travel company in
India: Gopals. They have offices nearly everywhere, but they run a
programme in Mumbai every year. You work in the office and they pay
for your courses, and if you pass them then they will consider you
for a tour guide job. I know it sounds silly, but if I did it then
I could be just like Chandni, working in a travel agency in
Mumbai.’

‘It’s not silly at all,’ smiled Arun warmly,
admiring Chandni’s ambition. ‘Why don’t you go for it?’

‘Because it’s very competitive. I probably wouldn’t
even get on and besides, my Bapu-ji would never let me go to Mumbai
alone.’

‘How will you know if you don’t at least try? Maybe
if you got accepted, then Rajubhai Joshi would see how serious you
are about it?’

‘Oh, I doubt it. He’s very traditional, that’s why
he wants me to stay at home. It’s strange when you consider how
educated and worldly he is; he has done so much studying and
travelling as a pujari, you would think that he would want me to do
the same thing. But my Mata-ji had to push him, just to let me
continue schooling and learning English for so long; he didn’t see
how it would be useful for me. He doesn’t think women need to work;
that’s why they have husbands. My Mata-ji was never allowed to
work.’

‘Well if he keeps scaring off potential suitors,
then you will have a need,’ replied Arun, laughing loudly.

Chandni giggled sweetly and playfully shoved him so
that he lost his balance and toppled over into the sand. They
laughed hard while Arun dusted the sand from his clothes, feigning
offence at her aggression.

‘In all seriousness,’ he continued, once they had
both recovered their breaths, ‘I think that you should at least
apply and see where it goes. What have you got to lose?’

‘Oh, Arun, I wouldn’t even know how to go about it.
I bet there are forms and things to fill in. It’s probably a very
complicated process.’

‘If I get the forms for you, do you promise to
apply?’

Chandni blinked up at him, her green eyes filled
with admiration and love.

‘Okay … I promise.’

‘
Good,’ answered Arun, feeling triumphant, ‘now,
are you going to tell me how this
Chandni
movie ends?’

‘Oh, well she meets another man in Mumbai and he
falls in love with her too. They plan to marry, but then the Mumbai
man has to go to Switzerland, where he ends up meeting her first
love. The men become friends and so the first love is invited to
the wedding, but when he arrives a few days before, he finds out
that Chandni is the bride. They have to pretend not to know each
other, so that the Mumbai man won’t get suspicious and then they
finally meet alone and Chandni tells him that she will still marry
the Mumbai man.’

‘So they marry and that’s the end of the movie?’

‘Oh, no. At the wedding, her first love falls down
the stairs and Chandni is so worried about him that the Mumbai man
realises that she is supposed to be with her first love, so he lets
her go.’

‘Sounds … interesting, if not a little …
unrealistic,’ Arun mused delicately, not wanting to completely
berate her favourite movie.

‘It’s not unrealistic, all movies are like that;
that’s what makes them so wonderful. Chandni is one of the best!
It’s like a grand fairy tale, a beautiful love story with a little
bit of everything, even though you know that they will be together
by the end,’ Chandni romanticised. ‘Haven’t you ever seen a
Bollywood movie before?’

‘You mean Hollywood, Chandni,’ corrected Arun,
laughing gently at her error.

‘
No, not Hollywood, I know what Hollywood
is.
Bollywood
,
Indian cinema.’

‘Oh,’ sank Arun, feeling at once embarrassed, ‘then
no, I can’t say that I have.’

Chandni’s mouth flew open in astonishment.

‘Then you have to watch one. Arun, there are so many
good ones; you can’t come to India without seeing a Bollywood
movie!’

‘Okay, then maybe you can accompany me to see one
next week?’ he asked, grinning.

Chandni blushed.

‘I would really like that, Arun.’

‘Excellent. Now, since you’re the expert, what movie
should we see?’

Chandni smiled up at him mischievously, her green
eyes wide with delight.

‘
Chandni
, of course.’

AFTER conducting a brief search in the city on
Arun’s behalf, Lucky discovered that the movie was showing at the
old Puri picture house the following weekend, and Chandni seemed
confident that she could slip away on the Sunday without arousing
any suspicion. They had both enjoyed their time together at Chilika
Lake and Chandni had been suitably impressed by the extent of
Arun’s efforts to ensure that they had a memorable day out. His
enthusiasm and words of support for her career aspirations had
brought them closer together and there was an undeniable chemistry
that now existed between them. Best of all, Chandni had returned
home from the day bearing a selection of sari blouses that had met
with Rajubhai Joshi’s approval and, to everyone’s great relief, he
had not suspected their deception.

Desperate to keep it that way, Chandni purposely
distanced herself from Arun when in public, becoming so quiet in
his presence that her silence was easily mistaken for indifference
towards her new beau. The coldness wounded him and, though he knew
that it was an act, he couldn’t help but feel that her behaviour
betrayed the time that they had spent together and the relationship
that was building between them. Seeing her at the mandir each
evening became a torturous affair and with the week passing by even
more slowly than the one before it had, Arun found himself clinging
to the memory of their first date to get himself through it.

When Sunday eventually came, Arun breathed a sigh of
relief, grateful that they would finally be able to enjoy a
conversation that lasted longer than the journey from the mandir to
Chandni’s house. Disliking the guilt that arose from their more
elaborate deception the previous week, Chandni had decided to tell
her father a truth of sorts. She informed him that her favourite
movie was showing in Puri and insisted that she be permitted to
travel into the city by bus to see it. When Rajubhai Joshi asked
who would be accompanying her, she explained that she wanted to go
alone, because it was a tradition that she had shared with her late
mother. Rajubhai Joshi refused on the grounds that it was not safe
for a young woman to travel on the bus alone, making him much more
at ease with Chandni’s suggestion that she catch a ride with Lucky
instead.

Still trying to compensate financially for the days
that he had spent showing his brother around the city, Lucky was
keen to set off at his usual early hour, leaving Arun and Chandni
no choice but to journey to Puri in the back of the rickshaw whilst
still half-asleep. He dropped them off close to the picture house
and they leisurely wandered the city streets, enjoying the
scintillating conversation that Arun had been craving all week. He
felt relaxed and content in Chandni’s company and there was a
sincerity about her that gave him the confidence to share his
innermost thoughts and fears. They talked about their lives and
about losing their mothers, about clashing with their fathers and
the importance of families, and with so much in common Arun felt as
though he had known her for much longer than he really had.

Shortly before two o’clock, they made their way back
through the crowded streets towards the picture house and purchased
two seats a few rows from the back of the theatre, which Chandni
insisted were the best in the house. They settled into their seats
and when Arun glanced around the darkened theatre, he noticed with
a certain detachment that it was full of elderly people. Nobody
seemed to be paying the young couple any mind, but it did raise
questions in his mind about what sort of film he had let himself in
for. Catching sight of a sweet-looking elderly couple seated three
rows from the front, Arun found himself involuntarily picturing he
and Chandni in the distant future, but it wasn’t long before a
faintly spicy, musty smell invaded his nostrils and distracted him
away. It was coming from the elderly gentleman seated to his left
and though the smell was only mildly offensive, it made him recall
Jez’s rant about ‘proper Indians from India’ with amusement. He
would have to remember to tell his friend just how untrue his
assertions had been; here he was, on a Sunday afternoon, in a
picture house in Puri with the most beautiful and graceful Indian
that he’d ever met, and it felt like the most natural thing in the
world.