by Marisha Pink
THIRTY-SIX
BEFORE Lucky could bring the rickshaw to a complete standstill, Arun had jumped out and made it halfway across the yard to the house. He tore through the front door and, ignoring Hanara’s greeting, charged straight through to the bedroom that he shared with Lucky. He could hear muffled voices rising in the living quarters when Lucky finally caught up and tried to explain Arun’s haste to a deeply offended Hanara, but placating his sister was not his primary concern at that moment. He searched frantically until he found his backpack, concealed beneath the mountainous piles of clothes that he had borrowed from Lucky to attend the mandir. He tipped it upside down and vigorously shook out the contents until they virtually covered the mattress that he and Lucky used for their bed. He sifted through his belongings, tossing clothes and toiletries to one side to whittle down the mass, and it wasn’t long before he found the very thing that he had been searching for. Punching the air triumphantly, he marched back into the living quarters, adrenaline now fuelling the urgency of his mission.
‘I found it; let’s go,’ he announced, nodding at Lucky.
A look of confusion remained on Hanara’s face, but Lucky instantly leapt to his feet and in a few short strides he had joined Arun by the front door. Together, they wrestled it open and within minutes they were back in the rickshaw heading out along the dirt road to Puri. The sun had set and the night air was sticky, but the speed with which they were hurtling towards the city created a welcome breeze that gently ruffled Arun’s hair, helping to keep him cool. He tightly gripped the side of the seat with one hand, to keep from being thrown from the rickshaw every time Lucky rounded a corner at speed, and with his clothes devoid of pockets, in his other hand he gripped the small white card in which he was placing all of his faith. His mind raced with possibilities, but he could do nothing except hope that he would not be too late to save the village from unnecessary upheaval.
Lucky expertly navigated them through the city traffic until they reached the internet café that Arun had not had the strength to return to since the day of his hellish confrontation with Arthur. He left Lucky to go in search of a parking spot and swept into the shop to procure one of the telephone booths at the rear. His hands shook with nerves as he carefully dialled the number on the front of the card and waited, willing his call to be answered.
‘Hello?’
‘Prakash, hi. It’s Arun Rutherford from the plane.’
‘Oh hello, Arun. How nice to hear from you again. Is everything okay?’
‘Yes, sort of. Prakash, I’d like to ask a favour, please.’
‘Of course; shoot.’
This was it, Arun’s last attempt to sell in his big idea and he hoped that Prakash would be more enthusiastic than Manoj and Rajubhai Joshi.
‘You know how you said that there weren’t any other suitable sites to build the airport?’
‘Yes …’ answered Prakash incredibly slowly.
‘Well, I think that I’ve found a place. It’s close to the city, there is virtually no-one living there and best of all there won’t be a need to relocate the village if you go for it.’
‘Arun, I assure you that we really did search high and low for a site. Whatever it is that you think you’ve found sounds too good to be true, which probably means that it is.’
‘It’s not, Prakash, I promise it’s not,’ Arun pleaded, feeling like the opportunity was slipping away. ‘I’ve been there myself; it is exactly the kind of place that you were looking for.’
‘Have you told Mr Joshi about this place?’
‘I tried, but he wasn’t interested in hearing about it and I know that we don’t have much time left. That’s why I need your help. I was hoping you might be able to talk to the other representatives? Maybe get them to take a look at the site? That’s the favour that I wanted to ask.’
‘Ah, Arun,’ began Prakash, sounding distressed, ‘that’s a big favour and I really don’t know if I should start meddling in all the –’
‘Please?’ Arun pleaded simply.
Prakash was his last hope and he desperately wanted everything to work out. He wanted to be able to leave India knowing that he had helped Lucky and Hanara to keep Mata-ji’s house, a house that was full of memories, both old and new.
‘Okay,’ answered Prakash wearily, finally giving in, ‘let me see what I can do, but I’m not promising anything.’
‘Thanks, Prakash,’ whispered Arun, trying to contain his excitement. ‘You have no idea how grateful I am.’
He read out the address of the old Rachna Hari refuge, along with Manoj’s contact details, and though Prakash explained that it might take some time to convince the others to view the site, he gave Arun his word that he would not authorise construction to commence until they had either approved or vetoed his proposal.
Arun replaced the receiver and, with a glow of positivity surrounding him, exited the booth to pay for the call. Lucky, who had been patiently waiting for Arun to conclude his discussion, immediately launched himself at his brother when he stepped out of the booth.
‘What did he say?’
‘He’s going to talk to the others for us,’ answered Arun with a smile.
‘That’s great news,’ screamed Lucky, flinging his arms around his brother’s shoulders with gratitude. ‘Arun, if this works, you will be the best little brother that anyone has ever had.’
‘You mean that I’m not already?’ he scoffed, feigning insult as they left the shop and started towards home.
The next few days were slow and torturous whilst they waited to hear whether the airport would still be built over their village. Prakash had reassured Arun that he would find a way to communicate any developments to him, but with no telephones or computers present in the village Arun had no idea how he proposed to manage this. It was hard to resist the temptation to travel into Puri each day and bombard Prakash with calls and e-mails, especially with Lucky and Hanara constantly haranguing him for an update, but Arun forced himself to remember that Prakash was doing him a favour and he couldn’t risk aggravating the only person that might still be able to help their cause. The three of them decided to remain tight-lipped about their intervention, not wanting to risk falsely raising the hopes of the community, and on Arun’s part, not wishing to antagonise Rajubhai Joshi any further. Only a few days remained before he was due to leave India for good and after all of the drama that had taken place in recent weeks, he was happy to simply spend the time with his family and let it slip by uneventfully, with one small exception.
With Hanara acting as a go-between Arun had managed to arrange a final meeting alone with Chandni one evening. Her time of the month was conveniently approaching and though she had been reluctant to risk meeting at first, eventually she had submitted to a final visit from Arun at home, whilst Rajubhai Joshi attended the mandir. Lucky and Hanara dropped their brother outside of Chandni’s house on their way to prayers and promised to pick him up again on the way home, saving him the wearisome walk in the dark. Once the rickshaw had disappeared into the night, Arun rapped softly on Chandni’s door until he heard light footsteps approaching. As had become habit, she opened the door a tiny fraction and waited for Arun to slip inside of his own accord.
Alone again at last, their arms and lips quickly reunited and they devoured each other hungrily, releasing the weeks of tension that had built up from being unable touch or speak to one another. It was a bittersweet moment, but they tried their best not to let Arun’s impending departure spoil their fun.
‘How are you?’ enquired Chandni sweetly, as she sat wrapped in Arun’s arms, smiling to herself contentedly.
‘I’m fine, how are you?’ he answered, lightly kissing the top of her head.
‘Better now that you are here.’
‘Good; I’m glad.’
‘How are you feeling about going home?’
Arun winced at the prospect of leaving, having tried so hard not to think about it, but Chandni couldn’t see his face and remained silent while she awaited his res
ponse.
‘Okay, I guess. Don’t get me wrong, I’d still much rather stay here, but I’m looking forward to starting my course in October. It will be good to have something to focus on, something to work towards, instead of thinking about how much I am missing you all the time. It’s hard seeing you every day, knowing that we can’t be together.’
‘I know. I am trying and my Bapu-ji is not nearly as cross as he was at first, but it takes time.’
‘I know. What’s the latest on Mumbai?’
‘Well, they’ve agreed to defer my entry into the programme until next year; I figure that gives me enough time to work on my Bapu-ji. I think he’s coming around to the idea that I want to do more with my life, which is something at least, but Mumbai is still very much out of the question. If I’m lucky, he might allow me to go to Puri.’
‘That is something,’ he answered, hugging her tightly against his chest.
They sat lounging together in the comfortable silence of the night, no words necessary for each to understand how the other felt, until Chandni released herself from Arun’s arms and sat back against her heels.
‘Thank you, Arun.’
‘For what?’
‘For everything. For taking the time to get to know me, when nobody else would. For loving me enough to stand up to my Bapu-ji and for pushing me towards my dreams. I would never have applied to the programme if it wasn’t for you,’ she explained humbly.
‘Yes you would have. Maybe not this year, maybe not even next year, but eventually you would have. You’ve always had it in you, Chandni, you’re not like the other girls in the village; you want more for yourself than just a husband, and a home, and the same life that your mother lived. You just needed to conquer your fears, that was all.’
Chandni smiled down at him warmly, her face rosy with embarrassment from the compliments he had showered upon her, but Arun wasn’t finished.
‘I think the real thanks goes to you.’
‘For?’
‘For risking Rajubhai Joshi's anger to see me. For supporting my dreams, even when they mean that we have to be apart. For being the most beautiful, kind, loving and understanding girl that I have ever met. And most of all, for believing in me and believing in us enough to try.’
The smile unexpectedly left Chandni’s face and her bottom lip began to tremble.
‘I’m really going to miss you, Arun,’ she whispered, the tears that she had fought so desperately to hold back now welling up in her eyes.
‘Hey, shh,’ he said, pulling her towards him once more. ‘I’m going to miss you too, but it’s not always going to be like this. I will be back and don’t forget we can send each other letters through Hanara and Lucky.’
‘I know,’ she said sniffling and wiping her cheeks with the backs of her hands, ‘but it still hurts.’
They sat together in silence once more, absorbing each other and trying to commit to memory the sight, smell and feel of the other’s being. It would be a long time before they would be together again, especially alone, and Arun wanted to memorise every last inch of Chandni so that he would always be able to picture her in his mind. Shortly after ten o’clock, they heard the familiar rattle of Lucky’s rickshaw engine outside, followed by the faint blast of his horn, and they knew that their time was up. Disentangling themselves from one another, they walked slowly towards the door, neither of them wanting the night to end because of the finality that it would bring. When they reached the door, Arun took Chandni into his arms one last time and kissed her long and deep, knowing that he would fall apart the moment that he had to let her go.
‘I love you, Arun,’ she breathed between his kisses.
‘I love you too, Chandni,’ he whispered and, eyes still closed, unable to bear the sadness that he was sure filled her eyes, he slipped out into the cool night air.
