Finding Arun

by Marisha Pink

TWENTY-SEVEN

  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.

  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.