by Marisha Pink
TWENTY
‘WHAT do you mean you’re not coming home for another two weeks?’
‘I’m just going to stay until Rath Yatra, and then I’ll come back. It’s really not that big of a –’
‘What the hell is Rath Yatra?’
‘Oh, sorry. It’s a Hindu festival that happens here in Puri, at the Jagannath Mandir.’
‘So now you’re a Hindu all of a sudden?’
‘No, of course not. It’s just meant to be really cool; one of the main things to see here. They have this big procession, and it’s the only time that non-Hindus can see Jagannath, Balabhadra and Subha –’
‘See who, who, and who? Aaron, you’re not even speaking English anymore!’
Arun held the receiver away from his face and stuck his tongue out childishly at the mouthpiece. He had already been on the phone for an hour, possibly the longest one-on-one conversation he’d ever had with Arthur, but the old man wasn’t making things easy for him.
‘To be perfectly frank, Aaron, I don’t understand why you didn’t just come home after you found out that this Kalpana woman had passed away. She’s told all these lies to her children about how, and where, and why you were adopted, and who’s to say that these Lanky and India characters are even your real brother and sister? They could be anyone.’
‘Arthur, I –’
‘I bet you they’re both having a field day. Some unsuspecting young boy turns up on their doorstep looking for his mother, they invite him in, feed him a few stories and next thing you know he’s moving in with them. Then they start borrowing things, asking for a little money and before you know it they’ve taken everything you’ve got!’
‘That’s really unfair, Arthur.’
‘It’s not unfair, Aaron, it’s the truth; I’ve seen it happen before. You’re just too young and naïve to realise what’s happening right before your own eyes.’
Arun sighed into the receiver; he was tired of Arthur’s conspiracy theories and tired of being treated like a child. He knew that Arthur would never believe what Hanara had told him about Catherine, but not wanting to propagate the lie any longer he had decided to tell him and now he was paying the price for his honesty. Though he had anticipated a strong reaction, Arthur’s continued denial grated on him, yet whatever ludicrous explanation his father might offer in defence of his mother, he knew what he believed and he was resolute in his decision to stay.
‘Arthur, I promise you it’s not like that. I will stay for two more weeks and then I’ll come home.’
Arthur was momentarily mute before eventually sighing huffily at the other end of the line.
‘Fine, but then extend your stay at the Mayfair Beach Resort and I will pay for it.’
‘Arthur, I can’t. I’ve already promised Lucky and Hanara that I will go and stay with them. It would be rude.’
‘I’m not happy about this,’ Arthur growled irritably.
Arun remained silent; there was nothing more that he could say and the more he thought about it, the more relieved he was that his stay would delay the inevitable onset of the awkward father–son interaction that awaited him when he returned home.
Eventually, after a long lecture from Arthur, during which he had to promise repeatedly that he would not stay longer than two weeks, Arun was able to hang up the phone. He lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling fan rotating above his head as he had done so many times before. The day had been a particularly long one, and he felt so overwhelmed by both Hanara’s revelation and Arthur’s sudden care and concern, that his body soon shut down in protest, causing him to drift off into a deep sleep.
The following morning Arun checked out and, armed with his backpack, waited for Lucky outside of the front of the hotel, much to the intrigue of the concierge.
‘Waiting for your brother again today, sir?’
‘Yes, I am. He is late, as usual.’
‘Going back to England today, sir?’
‘No, no, not yet.’
‘But you are having your bag, sir, and I think I saw you checking out? You are going to another hotel, sir?’
‘I’m going to stay with my brother for a few weeks.’
The concierge’s eyes grew wide with surprise.
‘Is it a big house that your brother is living in with his family, sir?’ he asked curiously.
‘No, not at all; just a small house that he shares with my sister.’
‘Oh, so you will be all three together, sir?’
‘Yes,’ smiled Arun, ‘we will be all three together.’
There was a slight pause while the concierge seemed to consider whether it was appropriate for him to ask his next question.
‘You came to India to find a wife, sir?’
Arun laughed out loud, not understanding how the two were at all related, but he reassured the concierge that this was not the purpose of his visit all the same. They continued to make light conversation until, nearly an hour after their agreed meeting time, Lucky’s little rickshaw finally pulled up alongside them.
‘What time do you call this?’ Arun chided playfully, no longer sure why they bothered to agree on meeting times when Lucky was always tardy.
‘Lucky time,’ he grinned, thoroughly amused by Arun’s ongoing expectations about punctuality in India.
Arun shook his head and laughed; it was exactly the kind of nonsensical response that he had come to expect from his brother. He climbed into the rickshaw beside Lucky and, after wedging the backpack firmly between his legs, waved goodbye to the concierge, as Lucky swung the vehicle out onto the road towards home.
Now familiar with the route, the journey passed by quickly. Lucky chatted away, excited to formally welcome his long-lost brother home, and Arun found himself looking forward to his stay, especially since Hanara had finally started to thaw. When they reached the house, Lucky stopped just long enough to allow Arun to hop out, before shouting some instructions and speeding back towards the city, returning to work as promised.
Arun gazed up at the place that would be his home for the next two weeks, while the dust kicked up by the rickshaw’s departure settled around him. Though he had spent a considerable amount of time there and felt comfortable in the company of his family, living with them would be a completely different experience. He had fought for the right to stay there out of principle, and more to demonstrate his maturity and independence to Arthur, than because of any real desire to avoid being impolite. The house would be a significant downgrade from the Mayfair Beach Resort Hotel and though a part of him was scared to give up the comfort and luxury to which he had become accustomed, somehow getting back to a simple and basic way of living felt like wiping the slate clean and reconnecting with his family.
He lifted the backpack onto his shoulders and wandered into the house in search of Hanara, but a casual glance around the small abode revealed that she was not at home. He proceeded to Lucky’s bedroom as his brother had instructed and placed the backpack upright in the far corner of the room. It was a small and windowless space, largely filled by a thin, brown mattress, barely big enough for two people to sleep on. In one corner, a shrine similar to, but smaller than, the one in the main room of the house spewed out thick curls of grey smoke from an incense burner, and in another, mounds of clothes tumbled forth from a poorly constructed wooden rack. It was not quite what Arun had envisaged when Lucky had invited him to share the room, but it was clean and homely, and the main thing, he reminded himself by recalling the concierge’s words, was that they would all three be together.
Leaving his bags in Lucky’s room, Arun ventured back outside to the front of the house and walked towards the adjoining shop, where he was sure he would find his sister. More akin to a shack, the rusted, corrugated walls fitted together to form a rectangular space not much larger than Lucky’s bedroom, with a small door present on one side. There was a large hatch at the front through which customers could be served, but it was partially obscured by the wide variety of goods that dangled from long wires travers
ing the breadth of the opening. At first glance, the shop appeared to sell everything and nothing, and Arun found himself struggling to determine how they selected, and indeed sold, any stock at all.
Drawing closer, he softly called out Hanara’s name, still unable to see her diminutive figure between the sachets of shampoo and boxes of cigarettes, but at the sound of his voice her worried face instantly appeared in the hatch, scanning the horizon for danger. She visibly relaxed when she caught sight of Arun, relieved to find that it was not a customer summoning her, and promptly disappeared again. When Arun reached the hatch itself, he could see that Hanara was seated on a small wooden stool, busily arranging a collection of savoury snacks into tall plastic jars. A burnt orange sari featuring an embroidered flower motif was draped elegantly across her shoulders and now that her facial expressions towards Arun had softened, when she stood to greet him he noticed for the first time just how striking she was. Her petite frame made her appear young, but there was a maturity evident in her demeanour and the lightness of her large, almond-shaped eyes was emphasised by the raven hair that lay dramatically about her face in thick, loose waves.
‘Hi, Hanara.’
‘Hello, Arun.’
‘How are you today?’
‘Very much the same as yesterday,’ she quipped sarcastically, though with less malice than usual.
Arun remained unfazed by her response, knowing now that the latent hostility would eventually pass.
‘I’ve left my stuff in Lucky’s room, but I can unpack it later. I’m ready to help out now if you need it?’
Hanara stood, hands on her hips, pouting at him while she sized up his aptitude for assisting her.
‘Okay. You come in here and help if someone comes to buy something. I am going to sort a few things in the house only,’ she pronounced decisively.
She bent to gather a few of the plastic jars from the floor and swiftly exited the shop through the small door, gesturing for Arun to take her place on the stool. Obligingly, Arun stooped to avoid hitting his head and entered the tiny, cramped space. It might have been perfectly adequate for Hanara, but it was far too compact for his long limbs, and he struggled for a few minutes, trying to arrange both himself and the stool comfortably so that he could see out through the hatch without knocking anything over. Hanara looked on impatiently, tapping her foot on the floor and exaggeratedly sighing to express her irritation.
Once Arun appeared to be settled, she turned and started towards the house, but when he poked around and realised that none of the items in the shop bore price tags, he felt the panic begin to rise up in his chest.
‘Hanara, wait,’ he cried out when she had almost reached the door to the house.
‘What is it?’
‘How will I know what to charge people? There aren’t any prices on anything.’
Hanara smiled at him, almost seeming to delight in his obvious distress.
‘They will know, don’t worry. They are almost always buying the same things.’
Her answer did little to reassure Arun, but the fact that his sister had smiled at him, for the second time in as many days, warmed him in a way that he could not put into words. She started towards the house once more, but then another thought occurred to Arun; a thought that could not be explained away so easily.
‘Hanara, wait!’
‘Hey Bhagwan, what is it now?’ she answered irritably.
‘What if I can’t understand them? If they don’t speak English, I mean?’
Hanara looked at him with a blank expression and shrugged her shoulders, leaving Arun unsure whether it was a suggestion that he simply muddle through, or an indication that she didn’t care. Either way, she quickly disappeared into the house and Arun found himself alone in the shop, awaiting his first customer.
Fortunately, the morning passed by with ease, though Arun found himself surprised by the number of visitors to the shop. He hadn’t realised that the village boasted so many inhabitants, but he was quickly learning that the deceptively small houses were often home to families of six or more people. Much to his relief, Hanara had been right about the majority of visitors knowing exactly what they wanted and how much to pay, but this seemed to become secondary to their concerns when they caught sight of him sitting cramped up inside the shop in her place. Confused gawping was quickly replaced by a string of questions, when each customer tried first to ascertain where Hanara was, then where Lucky was, and finally who he was. Introducing himself as their brother only incited further curiosity and it was rapidly becoming clear to Arun that no-one was aware of his existence. It was not a fact that he had previously considered and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it, but he wondered why neither Hanara nor Lucky had mentioned him when he had been back in their lives for over two weeks.
At lunchtime, Hanara briefly reappeared to check on Arun and to deliver him a small plate of food. She had prepared a delicious puréed lentil dish, served with white rice and the perfectly circular, buttery flatbreads that Arun had come to love. After the busy morning he was famished and he devoured the tasty fare in a matter of minutes, in between answering Hanara’s incessant questions about how business was going. Wiping his lips after the final mouthful, he was about to enquire about her morning and broach the subject of why nobody in the village seemed to know about his existence, when she deftly whisked the plate away and disappeared back into the house. The action left Arun feeling stunned and confused; it was as though Hanara was deliberately preventing herself from being too nice to him and it was clear that they still had some way to go before she would let her guard down completely.
The afternoon continued in much the same way that the morning had, but increasingly visitors seemed to be less and less surprised to find Arun sitting in Hanara’s place, and perhaps even expectant of the fact. Most of the customers were women, though occasionally a young boy would stop by to help carry home one of the heavy gas canisters that powered the village’s kitchens. The younger women spoke English and were eager to engage Arun in conversation, giggling shyly at his responses when they asked personal questions not dissimilar to those that he’d encountered on the train to Puri a few weeks before. The older women persisted with addressing him in what he now recognised to be Oriya, despite having their questions met with blank stares, and when all forms of verbal communication failed, goods were procured by pointing. It was a long day and manning the shop was harder work than Arun had anticipated, but the experience afforded him a much better understanding of Hanara’s daily frustrations and by the end of it he was full of admiration for his sister. How she had single-handedly managed to run both the shop and the house simultaneously was nothing short of a miracle.
When the day began to fade away, Arun heard the familiar sound of a chugging motor approach. It stopped short of the shop, but a few moments later the sound of footsteps gave way to Lucky’s bright face beaming down at him through the hatch.
‘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.’
