by Marisha Pink
EPILOGUE
ARUN and Chandni were married at the mandir a few months later. The ceremony was simple, yet long, and was performed proudly by Rajubhai Joshi to a large audience on account of his standing within the community. No details were spared for his only daughter and as she moved gracefully through the rituals of the Hindu marriage ceremony in a heavily embroidered red sari, Chandni glowed with a radiance that Arun had never witnessed before. They were both full of smiles, overjoyed at finally being able to demonstrate their love for one another openly and Arun drew immense satisfaction from knowing that they would be making each other smile for the rest of their lives.
The day marked the start of a new chapter in Arun’s life, a chapter in which he would always strive to do what would make both he and Chandni happy. He was a man now, a man with a wife and a family, towards whom he felt not only an innate sense of responsibility, but also a huge amount of love, trust and respect. Ever since his mother had died, he had craved the warmth and security that she used to provide, but it was only now, with it firmly in his grasp once more, that he truly understood and appreciated it. It was this warmth and security that he could not live without, this warmth and security that gave him the strength and belief to pursue his heart’s desires, and this warmth and security that he knew he would have been giving up if he had returned to England. Hanara, Lucky, Chandni and even Rajubhai Joshi were his support system, and a life without them was not a life that he wanted.
With the assistance of Rajubhai Joshi’s dowry payment, Arun and Chandni were able to remain in the village, whilst Arun figured out a way to secure the funds necessary to move them both to Mumbai for study. He was still committed to becoming a doctor and though he accepted that it might be some time before he could begin his training, he reminded himself that he was young and that time was something that he had plenty of. India was where he wanted to be, it was where he belonged, and he would not allow anyone to tear him away from his home again.
Despite Arthur’s continued silence, in an act of maturity, Arun had extended several invitations to both he and Aunt Ruby to attend the wedding. Unsurprisingly, Arthur hadn’t deigned to respond and, though she had wished him the very best of luck, Aunt Ruby had politely declined at her brother’s insistence, not wanting to raise tensions further. Lucky and Hanara were the only family members to represent Arun’s side, but their exuberant joy at the permanent reunification of their family, and indeed its growth with the official addition of Chandni, ensured that their whoops and cheers for the happy couple more than made up for the absence of the others.
The wedding reception was an equally simple affair held at Chandni’s house and attended by most of the guests that had witnessed the wedding ceremony. It was nice to have everyone together celebrating and Arun found that he was able to relax and enjoy the party much more than he had his leaving party a few months prior. He stood proudly next to his new wife, leading her around the room to receive words of congratulation from their friends and family and, when he felt a light tap on his left shoulder, he was overjoyed by who he saw when he turned around.
‘Manoj! You made it,’ he exclaimed, smiling broadly at the refuge director.
‘Of course, how could I miss your big day?’ he replied, shaking Arun’s hand and casting an approving look over his nuptial attire. ‘It is always a little difficult to get away first thing in the morning; I’m sorry that I had to miss the ceremony itself.’
‘It’s no problem at all, Manoj; I’m just glad that you were able to come.’
‘Congratulations Mrs Arun Rutherford,’ he said, turning to Chandni with a deep bow.
‘Oh, that sounds so strange,’ she giggled shyly.
‘You look stunning; the most beautiful bride that I have ever seen. Arun is a very lucky man.’
‘Thank you Manoj, that’s very kind of you.’
‘This is for the two of you,’ he continued, pulling a small envelope from his trouser pocket and offering it to Arun. ‘May I suggest that you open it now? I think that you might like what you find and, truth be told, I’m a little nervous about this particular gift getting lost amongst the millions of others that I’m sure you have received.’
Arun regarded the refuge director suspiciously, but accepted the envelope and quickly tore open its contents.
‘Hey Bhagwan!’ he gasped, so loudly that a few people standing close by turned to see what all the commotion was about.
He had pulled from the envelope a greeting card signed by Manoj and some of the staff at Rachna Hari, but it was the cheque for an outrageous sum of money that had caused his outburst.
‘I thought that this might help to get you both to Mumbai and to put you through medical college, maybe even with a little change to spare,’ grinned Manoj.
‘Manoj, we can’t accept this. It’s … it’s too much,’ stuttered Arun, still shocked by the row of figures present on the cheque. ‘How … how do you even have this much money to give?’
‘Ah, well I’m glad that you asked actually. Thanks to your intervention, we did very well out of the sale of the old refuge. We never expected to get anything for it; to be honest I had written it off.’
‘Manoj, that money should be invested back into Rachna Hari, we can’t take it.’
‘Actually you have to take it, because I’m afraid that we’ve inadvertently taken something of yours. Something that I believe is probably of even greater value.’
‘What? What are you talking about? What could you have possibly taken?’
‘Arun, as you know, the new refuge building was gifted to us anonymously. It was a legacy donation and according to the woman’s last will and testament, the building and an accompanying note were to be passed to a son of hers. In the event that this could not happen for any reason, the building was to be transferred to us instead.’
‘I still don’t understand what all this has to do with me,’ Arun said, somewhat perplexed.
‘The legal team couldn't verify the identity of the son that was mentioned. They didn't find any legal record of his existence, no match on the name, no birth certificate, nothing. That's why the building passed into our hands.’
‘Okay …’
‘The will stated that the note would be left somewhere inside the house, but it was never found before we took possession of the building. As you know, moving has been a slow process for us; we’ve been trying to get all of our files in order and we’re still discovering little nooks and crannies because the place is so huge. A few days ago one of the team finally found the note in one of the top floor rooms; it had become trapped between the floorboards. When we opened it up, well, I think you’d better take a look for yourself …’ Manoj trailed off, holding out a small white envelope that had already been opened.
Arun accepted the envelope and, extracting a slip of crisp white paper, carefully unfolded it to reveal a short, handwritten note in a familiar script that would leave him stunned for the rest of the day.
My darling Arun,
I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Welcome home.
All my love,
Mum
THE END
