by Marisha Pink
TWENTY-SIX
THE week following Rath Yatra passed by in much the same way that the weeks before had. Fresh from the excitement of staying at the Mayfair Beach Resort Hotel, Hanara and Lucky had resumed their daily rituals with new rigour and Arun had continued to earn his keep by looking after the shop. The people of the village were now well acquainted with him and normal levels of business had resumed, yet without the constant stream of curious customers, the days seemed to slip by painfully slowly while he counted down to his first proper meeting with Chandni. The quiet days afforded him hours to plot and scheme and daydream about how their date might unfold, and when he had exhausted all possibilities, his mind turned to thoughts of what their future might hold too.
Lucky had practically fallen over himself to help drive them into Puri and each evening he was full of ever more imaginative suggestions as to where Arun could take his date. After a few days, Arun decided not to go to Puri at all, settling instead on a visit to Chilika Lake, a stunning lagoon a few hours past Puri where a rare breed of dolphin could be spotted. Lucky insisted that it would impress Chandni and, wanting to surprise her, Arun decided to keep their true destination a secret. Hanara had played her part too, agreeing to provide their cover by closing the shop for the day and accompanying them as far as Puri, allowing Chandni to tell Rajubhai Joshi that the two of them planned to shop for new sari blouses. It was the perfect plan; they would be far enough away from the village to remain unseen and with Hanara gone too, nobody would suspect a thing.
By the time Saturday finally arrived, Arun could hardly contain himself, and as if on cue his eyes blinked awake shortly after five o’clock when the sun was beginning to rise. He nudged his brother gently to rouse him from sleep and though Lucky merely groaned loudly and rolled away from him, it was enough to know that he was awake too. They quickly dressed themselves and made their way to the main room of the house, where Hanara was already laying out breakfast on the floor. Arun had no idea how she managed it, but his sister was always one step ahead of them and he loved her all the more for it. They completed the morning prayers together and, after rushing through a light breakfast of masala dosa and chai, Hanara closed up the house and they made their way to Chandni’s place.
Arun felt his nerves grow exponentially when they approached Chandni’s house and he could no longer tell whether his palms were sweaty from the escalating morning heat or out of pure fear that Rajubhai Joshi would somehow rumble his carefully orchestrated plans. He waited quietly in the rickshaw with Lucky, whilst Hanara went to the door to call for Chandni in case her father had not yet left for the mandir, but a few moments later she appeared alone in the doorway, dressed in a beautiful canary-yellow Punjabi suit that instantly made Arun forget his worries.
‘Good morning, Arun,’ Chandni smiled sweetly, clambering into the rickshaw beside him.
‘Hi, Chandni. You look … beautiful this morning.’
Chandni blushed, seemingly overwhelmed by the kind compliment and all too aware of Hanara and Lucky’s presence.
‘Thank you, Arun; that’s very sweet of you to say. How are you?’
‘I’m great thanks; really looking forward to today. How are you?’
‘Oh, I’m okay; also looking forward to the day. I haven’t been to Puri in a long time, it will be nice to see the city again.’
Lucky turned in his seat to exchange a conspiratorial look with Arun, but seeing the alarmed look on his brother’s face, he quickly changed tact.
‘Good morning to you, Miss Chandni.’
‘Good morning, Lucky,’ she smiled, reaching forward to gently pat his arm. ‘Thank you so much for driving us today, it’s very kind of you.’
‘It is really no trouble at all; anything to help my dear brother,’ he answered brightly, turning to start up the engine once more.
‘Did your father suspect anything?’ Arun asked anxiously, once he was sure that Lucky and Hanara were too engrossed in their own conversation to eavesdrop on his own.
‘No, not at all. I just saw him only as he was leaving for the mandir. He even gave me some money for the sari blouses … to tell you the truth it made me feel quite guilty,’ she answered, settling back against the seat and staring at the floor of the rickshaw regretfully.
Arun couldn’t stand the thought of her feeling bad and, taking her hands in his own, he did his best to reassure her.
‘Don’t feel guilty, Chandni. We’re not doing anything wrong, not really. We’re just enjoying a day out together and what Rajubhai Joshi doesn’t know won’t hurt him. I promise that I’ll get you home safely.’
‘I know that you will,’ she said, half-smiling and half-sighing, ‘perhaps I’ll buy him a gift whilst we’re there, just something small. We’ll have time to go to the market won’t we?’
‘Actually, Chandni, we’re not going to Puri.’
‘We’re not? Why?’
‘Well, we are, briefly, but I’ve thought of somewhere else that we can go. Somewhere that’s a little bit more exciting,’ he added with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Chandni looked at him quizzically, her eyebrows knotted together entirely perplexed by Arun’s admission, and for a moment he thought that she might be angry with him for keeping their destination from her.
‘Please don’t be mad at me, Chandni. It was supposed to be a surprise.’
‘I’m not mad, Arun, I’m … well, surprised. Nobody has ever given so much thought to anything for me like this before. It’s … well, it’s really very sweet.’
Relieved, they both shared a smile and though he could only see the backs of their heads, he was sure that Lucky and Hanara had overheard their exchange and were smiling too.
When they reached Puri, Hanara abandoned them, preferring to spend her day pottering about the city and trying on saris that she couldn’t afford, in lieu of spying on Arun and Chandni with Lucky. They tried to persuade her to change her mind – Lucky because he desperately desired someone to gossip with and Arun because he was concerned what mischief Lucky might get into if left to his own devices for the day – but as she correctly pointed out, someone had to purchase the sari blouses for Chandni to show Rajubhai Joshi when she returned home. They arranged a spot at which to meet later in the day, and only after Chandni had described in great detail the exact sari blouse colour that she wanted, were they able to wave Hanara off into the depths of Puri’s crowds.
Whilst Lucky concentrated on navigating his way to Chilika Lake, Arun and Chandni engaged in a playful and light-hearted conversation, Chandni gently mocking the ongoing touristic wonderment with which Arun was recounting his experience of Rath Yatra. Despite the jibes, it was a simple pleasure to behold Chandni laughing and smiling, and as the passing wind whipped her long hair out like a stream of coffee being poured from on high, Arun was taken by her beauty all over again. The Indian countryside rolled by in a blur of greens and browns, and they were so lost in their conversation that the two-hour journey seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye. Before they knew it, Lucky had pulled his rickshaw to a standstill and just beyond the small jetty they were all treated to the awe-inspiring blue beauty of Chilika Lake.
‘Oh my,’ exclaimed Chandni, suddenly breaking off the conversation that she and Arun had been enjoying.
‘Welcome to Chilika Lake, Chandni,’ he whispered, feeling suitably smug at her reaction.
‘Arun, it’s beautiful.’
He helped her down from the rickshaw and they stood in silence, Chandni still clutching Arun’s forearm while she stared out across the still water in awe. They stayed that way for some time, Chandni watching the water and Arun watching Chandni, until the serenity of the moment was broken by the faint sound of a low grumble originating from Chandni’s stomach.
‘Oh, excuse me,’ she gasped, clasping her hands over her mouth with an embarrassed giggle.
‘Hungry?’ asked Arun, grinning boyishly.
Chandni nodded her head and needing no further encouragement, Arun took her by the elb
ow and guided her a few paces past the jetty to a small ramshackle restaurant for an early lunch. Not wishing to obstruct the course of true love, Lucky hung back and, propping his feet up inside the rickshaw, promptly dozed off, tired from the early start and concentration during the long drive.
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.’
