by Marisha Pink
THIRTY-FOUR
A FEW nights later Arun returned to the mandir to anxiously await the arrival of the unwelcome guests. The main hall was packed to capacity with an even greater number of villagers than had turned out to hear Rajubhai Joshi’s initial announcement. The noise that the crowd generated made it almost impossible for Arun to hear his own thoughts, let alone anyone's conversations, but when a long line of men dressed sharply in well-tailored suits followed Rajubhai Joshi to the front of the room, a hush fell over the audience at once.
There were five men in total, each as arrogant and pompous looking as the next, and their smug smiles were just visible beneath the thickly grown beards that covered the lower halves of their faces. They seated themselves ceremoniously on the rickety wooden chairs that the committee had laid out for them and Arun took an instant dislike to the way in which they looked down on the people of his village, in a manner that had nothing to do with the height that the chairs afforded them over their audience. Rajubhai Joshi remained standing and when he approached the front of the crowd, the last vestiges of conversation ceased until there was pin-drop silence inside the mandir.
Never one to forget his manners, in his skilled mix of English and Oriya, he thanked everyone for coming and proceeded to introduce the uptight band of men seated behind him. The first was a parliamentary representative, presumably present to counter claims that the government were putting rupees before the wellbeing of their own people, and the next three were representatives of Orissa's state government, but it was the final gentleman that captured Arun’s attention, his rotund form preventing his suit from fully buttoning.
‘And lastly, this is Mr Prakash Solanki of the firm Solanki & Partners. Mr Solanki’s construction firm will be managing both the demolition and construction phases of the project.’
‘I know him,’ hissed Arun, deftly nudging Lucky in the ribs with his elbow.
‘Ow,’ he whispered back through clenched teeth, ‘who do you know?’
‘Prakash, the construction guy. I met him on the plane on the way here.’
‘Is he a friend of yours?’
‘No, not exactly.’
‘Good, because he is the one who’s going to knock down our house,’ quipped Lucky irritably.
They listened intently whilst each of the men personally introduced themselves and explained their particular interest in the project, using a curious mix of Hindi and English, not too dissimilar from the way in which Rajubhai Joshi had addressed the crowd. The gentlemen spoke in order of ranking, the parliamentary representative beginning by praising the village for making a sacrifice for the greater good of the state, and ultimately the country. He had a fondness for figures, but his projections of future visitor numbers and the revenue associated with them impressed no-one.
The state government officials were a little more mindful of their audience’s concerns, outlining details of the new village and trying to upsell its features to the uninspired crowd. They also discussed the arrangements for financial compensation: all families would receive a lump sum, livestock and assistance with the construction of their new homes. In addition, the state had agreed to pay for the existing mandir to be partially disassembled and moved to its new location, and for a subsidy to be paid to businesses, including Hanara’s shop, to aid with reconstruction. On reflection Arun didn’t think that the packages sounded too bad, but one look at Lucky’s face told him that his brother did not feel the same way. A brief question and answer session followed the state representatives’ presentation; brief, because the villagers had already resigned themselves to their fate and having lost their appeal, there was a shared sentiment amongst the crowd that nothing they said or did would change whatever plans the state had already committed to.
Finally, Prakash stood to begin the most sensitive part of the panel’s presentation. Arun listened with interest whilst he explained how construction of the new settlement would be completed in phases, with the erection of their new homes constituting the first phase and beginning in approximately ten days. The new settlement was to be modelled on the existing one to ‘minimise disruption and unfamiliarity for residents’, and on completion they would be required to vacate their existing homes immediately. In the second phase, the mandir would be moved and only once this was successfully completed would the existing village be razed to the ground, enabling construction of the airport to begin.
The last statement caused a small furore amongst the audience as devoutly religious members of the community angrily voiced their grievances surrounding a disruption to their daily worship rituals. Sensing the rising tension, Rajubhai Joshi was quickly forced to step in and reassure them all that he had discussed the plans at length, concluding that the approach selected ensured that their primary need for housing was addressed first. The crowd seemed to calm down at his words and Prakash himself appeared visibly relieved, but ripples of discontent could still occasionally be heard sweeping through the hall whilst he concluded his presentation and resumed his seat.
When the final question and answer session was over, both the panel and the villagers adjourned to the two adjoining rooms, where some of the younger girls were serving hot chai. Securing a cup each, Arun and Lucky retired to the corner of the room, Lucky still seething over the content of the panel’s presentations.
‘It is ridiculous. How am I supposed to make any money travelling two hours to Puri each day and night?’ he exclaimed, sucking his tea through clenched teeth.
‘Why didn’t you say anything during the question and answer session then, Lucky?’
‘What’s the point only? They aren’t listening to us; coming here in their fancy suits with their fancy words. They don’t really care – it is acting only.’
‘But if you don’t speak up, how will they know what your concerns are? How the plans affect your livelihood is a big deal; they can’t ignore something like that.’
‘I have told them already, right at the beginning,’ said Lucky, growing increasingly exasperated by Arun’s naïvety. ‘They don’t care about my money, as long as they are getting theirs. If they cared, then they wouldn’t be moving us so far away from Puri.’
Arun hated seeing Lucky behave so negatively and it was clear that his brother was quite put out by the whole ordeal, but he couldn’t help feeling that his refusal to voice his concerns made the absence of an adequate resolution partly his own fault.
‘I’m just saying, I think you ought to have raised your points again today. All of the important decision makers were here; you never know what might have happened.’
‘If you are so convinced that they are listening, then why don’t you go and talk to them?’
‘Lucky –’
‘Go on! Go and talk to your friend. Ask him if he knows or even cares that he’s knocking down your family house,’ challenged Lucky angrily.
‘Who’s your friend?’ queried Hanara, joining them from across the room.
‘He’s not my friend,’ corrected Arun.
‘The fat one who was talking at the end,’ retorted Lucky childishly.
‘You know him?’
‘I wouldn’t say that I know him; I met him on the plane on the way here.’
‘Arun is going to talk to him about how this is affecting my job and to see if they will move us closer to the city instead of farther away from it, isn’t it Arun?’
Feeling somewhat put on the spot by Lucky’s adolescent behaviour and on account of the expectant enthusiasm that was written all over Hanara’s face, Arun nodded reluctantly and, placing his empty cup on a ledge, set off in search of Prakash.
He found him in the next room standing amongst a group of gentlemen that he didn’t recognise, the village’s elder women incessantly fussing over them, insisting that they drink more chai. He wasn’t sure what to say and he wasn’t even sure that Prakash would remember him, but he knew that he would not be able to face Lucky and Hanara again until he had at least attempted to fight their cause.
‘Excuse
me, Mr Solanki?’ he said, approaching the group and hovering nervously by Prakash’s side.
‘Yes?’
‘I don’t know if you remember me? We met on the plane a few months back?’
Prakash turned his back on the group of gentlemen and, when he studied Arun’s face, a slow look of recognition started to spread across his own.
‘Yes, yes, A –?’
‘Arun, sir,’ he finished, extending his hand by way of a more formal greeting.
‘Arun. That’s it! I almost didn’t recognise you – all that hair,’ he said jovially, accepting Arun’s palm with one hand and pointing to the unruly mop perched atop his head with the other.
Arun ran his free hand through his uncombed hair self-consciously, trying to shape it into something a little less unprofessional in appearance.
‘What are you doing all the way down here?’
‘This is where my family live,’ he answered, catching sight of Hanara and Lucky entering the room out of the corner of his eye.
‘Oh yes, very good. A bit of a long trip though isn’t it? Have you been here the whole time? That flight was quite some time ago if my memory serves me correctly.’
‘Yes, I have. We, um … had a lot of catching up to do.’
‘I take it that your family lives in the village? How are they feeling about the move?’
‘They, um, they’re okay,’ he answered, trying to choose his words carefully, ‘but my brother is a little upset about a few things.’
‘Is it the mandir? I thought that I was going to be lynched the way that they all reacted when I said it would be moved during phase two!’
‘No, actually it’s a little bit more personal than that.’
‘Oh?’
‘He’s a rickshaw driver in the city. The move will mean that he has twice as far to travel each day. He’s concerned about the time it will take and also that the extra fuel costs will reduce his earnings.’
Prakash seemed to consider this for a moment and appeared to be struggling with how to respond.
‘Between you and I, Arun,’ he began, lowering his voice conspiratorially, ‘that’s why they’re locating the new airport in the village.’
‘I don’t understand; what do you mean?’
Prakash glanced around anxiously and lowered his voice even further before continuing.
‘Think about it, Arun. If there is already an empty plot of land, why not just build the airport there instead of going through all this fuss and uprooting villages and whatnot? The plot is pretty perfect from a construction perspective, but the government decided that two hours was not an acceptable time for the commute between the airport and the city. It already takes that long to travel in from Bhubaneswar on the train so there would be no advantage to building the airport.’
Arun felt an anger bubbling up inside his chest at the realisation that Lucky was right; the government’s priorities had nothing to do with its people and everything to do with money.
‘Why not just look for another plot of land then? There must be somewhere else that’s suitable and not too far from Puri? Somewhere that doesn’t involve having to relocate an entire village?’
‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you, but unfortunately the searches didn’t turn up any other viable sites,’ answered Prakash regretfully.
‘Couldn’t you try searching one last time? Just in case there is somewhere that you didn’t spot the first time round?’ pleaded Arun, desperately.
He could feel the weight of Lucky’s gaze upon him and he didn’t want to return without having anything positive to say.
‘There isn’t anywhere else Arun, trust me. These searches are very comprehensive.’
‘But what if there is somewhere and you’ve missed it?’ he whined, feeling his opportunity rapidly slip away.
‘Arun, believe me, if there was any other option, I’d be the first one pushing for it. I don’t like seeing these villagers kicked out of their homes any more than you do and frankly, constructing another settlement before we can even get started on the airport is a headache that I don’t really need. But it is, what it is.’
Arun sighed dejectedly and nodded his head in defeat. He thanked Prakash for his time and skulked back to where Lucky and Hanara stood, eagerly awaiting the outcome of his conversation.
‘Well?’ they asked in unison.
‘You were right,’ mumbled Arun bitterly, ‘it seems the government really do just care about themselves.’
‘And your friend?’ asked Hanara, her eyes still wide with hope.
‘He sympathised with you, but there isn’t anything that he can do.’
‘Figures,’ muttered Lucky under his breath.
Hanara’s face fell and Arun sensed that he had fallen slightly from the pedestal upon which she had placed him.
‘Can we go home now please? I’m exhausted, the day has been really long,’ yawned Hanara.
‘Why not?’ quipped Lucky, swiftly moving towards the exit. ‘It’s not like standing around here talking about it is going to change anything anyhow.’
