Finding Arun (28 page)

The movie started up in a flurry of song and dance,
but Arun quickly realised to his horror that he had three
unintelligible hours ahead of him.

‘Chandni,’ he hissed, ‘it’s not in English!’

‘Of course not, it’s in Hindi,’ she whispered back,
smiling at him in the darkness.

‘How am I supposed to understand what’s happening?
There aren’t even any subtitles.’

‘You won’t need them, just watch. I promise you will
understand everything.’

Chandni was right. He wasn’t sure if it was because
she had already given him a brief synopsis the week before, or
simply because the acting was so exaggerated, but by the end of the
film Arun had his right arm curled around her shoulders and had
been able to follow the whole epic story.

They exited the picture house hand in hand and the
sun was beginning to set, leaving Arun feeling the same deep sense
of contentment that had pervaded his body the week before.

‘I love that movie so very much. Did you like it?’
Chandni gushed.

‘Surprisingly, it wasn’t half bad. Much better than
what I was expecting from your explanation last week.’

‘See, I told you so! And it didn’t even matter that
there weren’t any subtitles,’ she responded smugly.

‘You really do love it, don’t you?’

‘Oh yes. My favourite bit is when Rohit is showering
her with rose petals from the helicopter; it’s so romantic.’

Arun chuckled at her girly ideations and, squeezing
her hand tighter, he suddenly had an idea.

‘Shall we go to the beach and watch the sunset? We
have at least another hour before Lucky will be back to collect
us.’

‘How very romantic,’ she giggled softly, allowing
herself to be led in the direction of the beach.

When they arrived, Arun collapsed onto the sand
leaving Chandni to gently prop herself up against his side, her
long sepia tresses tumbling freely across her cheeks. They watched
the sky ignite itself in a magnificent blaze of reds and oranges
and, as the sun set on the horizon, he breathed in the scent of her
hair, losing himself in daydreams of staying in India with Chandni
forever.

‘Oh wait, I almost forgot,’ he said sitting up
abruptly and shrugging her off his shoulders.

Chandni frowned for the first time that day, not at
all pleased at being uprooted from her comfortable position, but
when Arun leant away from her to fish in the back pocket of his
trousers she was instantly intrigued.

‘This is for you,’ he pronounced ceremoniously,
returning to an upright position and presenting her with a wodge of
papers.

Hesitantly, she took them from him and carefully
peeled open the folds, unsure of what she was going to find.

‘The application form. You got it! How?’

‘It wasn’t hard, I found it on the internet,’ he
replied, grinning with satisfaction.

‘The internet? When? Where?’

‘I came into the city with Lucky during the week. It
took a little while to find, but when I found this I knew it was
the agency that you were talking about. It sounds like a great
programme.’

‘Thank you,’ she cried, flinging her arms around his
neck and burying her head in the nape of his neck.

Arun felt Chandni’s heart beat fast against his
chest and the warmth of her breath on the back of his neck stirred
something deep inside of him. She began to pull away slowly until
her face was inches from Arun’s, her hands still clasped firmly
around his neck. She looked so beautiful and happy, her green eyes
filled with gratitude, that he felt a strong urge to press his lips
to hers; but something told him that he shouldn’t. He held her
gaze, silently communicating his own gratitude that she had risked
her father’s wrath not once, but twice, to be with him, and then
the moment passed. Chandni released her grip around his neck and
nestled back against his shoulder, avidly reading through the
contents of the application form.

‘Arun,’ she began, when they were sitting in near
darkness, ‘what do you want to do?’

‘Well I think we have to go in a moment, Lucky will
be waiting for us back by the picture house.’

‘No, silly, I meant what do you want to do in life?
What do you want to be?’

There were a million answers that Arun could give,
but he elected to go with the one that would best address the
question that Chandni had actually intended to ask.

‘I’ve always wanted to be a doctor.’

‘Really? That’s incredible. That’s the very best
thing that you can become. Why do you want to be a doctor?’

Arun opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again
without uttering a word. His reasons for wanting to become a doctor
were rooted in his past and despite all that he had learned in
recent weeks, those reasons had not changed. Having already shared
with Chandni the sordid details surrounding his birth and adoption,
he felt guilty admitting out loud what his true motivations
were.

‘What is it?’ she pressed, peering worriedly into
his bronzed face.

‘It’s because my mother was a doctor,’ he sighed.
‘She was always helping people, kids mainly. Growing up I guess I
just saw how happy it made her to help people and I’ve always
wanted to do the same. But that was before … you know.’

‘I know,’ said Chandni, patting his arm
reassuringly.

‘And knowing now that it was also one of the hopes
that Mata-ji had for me when she gave me away … I guess I just
believe that’s what I’m destined to become.’

‘Have you tried to get onto a course? I’ve heard
it’s very tough.’

‘Actually I have been accepted onto a course
already. It starts in October,’ answered Arun without thinking.

Chandni was suddenly silent, finding herself with
nothing to say and unable to disguise the sadness she felt at the
thought of Arun leaving. The stark reality settled in beside them
uncomfortably, like an unwelcome dinner guest, and as Arun wrestled
with his own thoughts he was forced to look away from the
unbearable melancholy in Chandni’s eyes. It was impossible to
imagine his life without her in it, even after such a short passage
of time, but for so many reasons it was equally impossible for him
to stay. Arthur was already cross that he’d extended his visit and
it wouldn’t be long before he ran out of money completely, but most
of all, talking about his dream of becoming a doctor had reminded
him just how badly he wanted it for himself.

Whilst it was true that he owed it to the memory of
both of his mothers, becoming a doctor symbolised so much more for
Arun. A doctor was someone that people respected, someone who
people admired and above all someone who was needed, which was all
that Arun had ever aspired to be. To become an important member of
society in his own right, to become more than just the Rutherford’s
alien son and to be able to stand on his own two feet, were dreams
that had pushed his desire to become a doctor for most of his
life.

India had unexpectedly made so many of those things
possible in a way that he could never have imagined growing up, but
on its own it simply wasn’t enough. Taking his place at Oxford and
becoming a doctor was the final step in fulfilling a lifelong
ambition and though Arun felt more at home in India than he had
ever done anywhere else, he could not think of a way to reconcile
the two. His heart sank at the realisation that he would have to
return home eventually, but sitting in the silent darkness of the
beach with Chandni beside him and the waves crashing onto the
shore, he realised something else: he didn’t really want to go.

DAYS turned into weeks and weeks turned into months,
until Arun could no longer discern what day it was at all. The
routines that had come to be so ingrained in his life had become
something that he welcomed each morning like an old friend, and he
cherished the time that he was able to spend with his family, and
even the wider community. His relationship with Chandni had
blossomed and, though the time that they shared alone was often
brief, it was firmly his favourite part of the week. Lucky was back
in Hanara’s favour, having procured a significant sum for driving a
visiting couple around Puri for two weeks, and Hanara herself was
relaxed and content, the balance between work, play and worship
finally restored. The only person unhappy with the arrangement was
Arthur and though he never neglected to remind Arun of this fact
during their fortnightly telephone calls, Arun had learnt to rise
above the bitter comments. For the first time in his life
everything seemed to be in its rightful place and he was loathe to
disturb it any sooner than he had to, yet in the depths of Arun’s
mind remained the inescapable reality that he would soon be forced
to leave India.

Every night whilst Lucky lay snoring beside him, he
endured a complex debate between logic, his conscience and his
heart. Far from extricating himself, he could reasonably be accused
of rooting himself deeper and deeper into their lives, taking on
additional responsibilities at home and investing more and more
time with Chandni until he had bound himself to them so tightly
that his departure would be tantamount to a death. Was it wrong to
allow them to get used to having him around if it made them all
happy? If being there made him happy, then why was he forcing
himself to leave? And if becoming a doctor was all that he’d ever
dreamed of, then why was he contemplating following any path that
might prevent him from achieving it? Each battle was part of a war
that no side could win and the ceasefire that held during the day
was always the same; he would have to find a way to reconcile
pursuing his medical career with keeping Hanara, Lucky and Chandni
in his daily life and until he found that way, he would remain in
purgatory.

It was mid-August and the monsoon rains had arrived,
the long days marked by heavy downpours and occasional bouts of
thunder and lightning. Arun had never experienced anything like it
before and though the wet weather had forced them all to spend more
time indoors than he would have liked, he remained grateful for the
drop in temperature that the rains had brought. After a
particularly long day of working in the shop, during which Arun had
spent almost an hour and a half trying to decipher what Mrs
Satpathy wanted to purchase, he closed up for the evening and
trudged back through the terracotta sludge of the yard to the
house. The strong aromas of chilli and cardamom greeted him when he
entered and the living quarters were filled with a thick smoke that
curled out from one of the pots bubbling away above the hearth.

‘Hanara?’ he cried out, unable to see anything
through the haze.

‘I’m here only, just sit; dinner is almost
ready.’

‘Aren’t we waiting for Lucky?’

‘I’m here already, isn’t it?’ came Lucky’s voice as
he emerged from the bedroom, his wet hair showering small droplets
of water over his face and shoulders.

‘Oh, hi. I didn’t see your rickshaw outside.’

‘It is there only, Arun. Too busy dreaming about
Chandni to notice, isn’t it?’

Arun chuckled and shoved his brother playfully as
they took up their usual places amongst the cushions.

‘Here,’ instructed Lucky quietly, passing him a
weighty plastic bag emblazoned with the name of a shop that he
remembered Chandni dragging him into on their last visit to
Puri.

‘What’s this?’ he asked curiously, opening the
bag.

‘Shh,’ warned Lucky, pressing one hand to Arun’s
lips and using the other to reseal the bag. ‘It’s not for you, it’s
for Raksha Bandar. Just keep it under your cushion for now … you’ll
see.’

Before Arun had time to protest, Hanara was placing
dinner before them on the floor and, at the insistence of Lucky’s
urgent stare, he quickly shoved the bag behind the cushion against
which he was leaning. Together they enjoyed a deliciously thick and
spicy curry that to Arun’s delight contained small pieces of
chicken; a fact that surprised him since, without exception, all of
the meals that Hanara cooked were vegetarian.

‘Is there ... is there chicken in this?’ he asked
between mouthfuls.

‘Well spotted, detective,’ she answered with a
smile.

‘But we never have chicken?’

‘Today is a special day only. I know that you miss
it.’

Arun was both touched and confused, and when Hanara
and Lucky exchanged knowing glances he grew increasingly suspicious
that they were up to something. Unexpectedly, Arthur’s warning that
they would try to extort money from him flashed across his mind and
he immediately hated himself for it.

When they had finished eating, Hanara cleared away
their empty plates and returned carrying the aarti tray that was
usually reserved for her morning prayers, leaving Arun bewildered
and intrigued in equal measure. She settled down on her knees in
front of Lucky and began to conduct the aarti on him as though he
were the Elephant God, placing pinches of coloured powder in the
centre of his forehead and sprinkling rice over his head. Arun
watched with fascination while she rotated the tray around Lucky’s
face, before reaching into her pocket and removing a thin braid of
red and gold threads that she proceeded to tie around Lucky’s right
wrist.

‘I love you Lucky. Thank you for being such a good
brother. I don’t know what I would do without you,’ she whispered
sincerely.

‘I love you too, Hanara. And you don’t have to know,
because I will always be here to protect you,’ he smiled.

Hanara sat back on her heels expectantly and a
beaming Lucky reached beneath his cushion to retrieve a bag
identical to the one that he had given Arun. Hanara clapped her
hands together gleefully and, accepting the bag from Lucky,
wrestled it open to reveal a stunning midnight-blue sari with an
intricately stitched gold border.