The Reading List

by Sara Nisha Adams

  Naina’s face was shrunken, but her expression was the same as always – vibrant, animated. Indira could sense a heaviness in Naina’s eyelids, even from here, but her arms were gesticulating in time with the music and her mouth was open wide: she was putting all her energy into the song. Perhaps this song was giving her life right back. The women, seated in chairs or on the floor, were all clapping in time, their saris and Punjabi dresses a sea of colour.

  If it wasn’t for Naina’s shrunken stature, a stoop in her shoulders that Indira had never noticed before, her slender face, the scarf over her head, Indira would have never believed that Naina had cancer. But there were all those things, clear to see, and Indira wondered why God had chosen her. Why Naina? Naina had a family. Loved ones. Indira – Indira was as healthy as anything, and she barely had a soul left to love her.

  ‘I must go in,’ Indira said to Mukesh, who nodded, his mouth turned downward. He held the door open for her as she wheeled herself in.

  Naina beamed and beckoned her forward to a seat. She didn’t stop singing for a minute.

  In that room, Indira could sense the love and respect everyone had for this woman standing in front of them. If Indira was going through the same thing, would people be here for her, watching with the same look in their eyes? She doubted it – she knew why, she knew that she and Naina were different kinds of women. But Indira was always searching for connection; it was just that, quite often, no one was searching with her.

  After the satsaang ended, Indira huddled against the far wall, pretending to make sure she had all her things, feeling awkward and alone, not knowing who to talk to. Naina approached her. Everyone else was focused on chatting with their own friends, their sisters, their cousins, their neighbours.

  ‘Indiraben, so lovely of you to come. It has been a long time, ne?’

  ‘Ha, Nainaben. You did wonderfully today, your daughters, they are very proud,’ Indira gestured to the three women sitting right at the front, now engaged in conversation. ‘Clapping and cheering all the way through!’

  Naina looked towards her daughters, Deepali, Rohini and Vritti. ‘Ha, they are wonderful.’

  Indira nodded, held her hands to Naina’s face, felt her warm, soft skin. ‘Jai Swaminarayan,’ Indira whispered to her. Naina’s hands clasped hers, ‘Thank you, ben,’ she said, her smile gentle, a sparkle in her eyes.

  That day was the last day Indira saw Naina. The reading list remained screwed up and forgotten in the plastic bag for a long time, taken to and from the mandir every week. But, at just the right time, it would find its way out.

  Chapter 9

  MUKESH

  ‘HURRY UP, DADA! I want to get to the library.’

  Mukesh enjoyed the walk up to the high road, but the air hurt his lungs as he struggled to keep up with Priya, skipping along ahead of him. Just watching her somehow made him feel even older, frailer. Once upon a time, he’d held Priya as a newborn. All eyes and ears, and a tiny button nose. How small and breakable she had seemed then. And now look: their roles had already reversed. He was the breakable one now.

  The Harrow Road Library was an old building, completely different from the modern Civic Centre; it looked as if it had been someone’s house once, with big white walls and timber framing, black and bold. Behind it was the park, so it was quiet and peaceful despite being on the main road. There were lots of windows, some were definitely new and modern, along with those terrifying ‘automatic-open’ glass doors. He spotted a sign on the door that he hadn’t noticed before: Save Our Libraries it said. Spread the word.

  ‘Wow,’ Priya whispered as she approached. ‘Ba took me here once, when I was little. I don’t really remember it though.’

  Mukesh nodded; he was nervous, embarrassed after last time, but Priya’s excitement was spurring him on. Keeping hold of Priya’s shoulder, to prevent her from running off again, he took a moment, before approaching the door, to check who was there. He peered through to see dark hair, pulled back into a bun, surfacing above the desk. It was her, the rude girl. He sighed and squared his shoulders.

  The doors parted for them as if by some sort of miracle and, as soon as they were inside, Priya shot off in the direction of the children’s area. He knew she was a little too old now for those books, but she probably knew what she was looking for.

  He watched as Priya dipped in and out of the shelves, already browsing, completely unperturbed by this strange new world. How did she find it so easy? Looking around, everyone knew what they were doing. Everyone but him.

  Some shelves were brimming with books, whereas others were sparse, with barely four or five volumes spread along the whole row. There were tables and modern-looking computers lined up against one wall, and chairs dotted around, some scruffy, some that looked brand new. There was even an upstairs area, but there was a chain hanging from the banister with a sign clearly stating it was for ‘Staff Only’. This library was on the small side, but he felt sure he might be able to find something here – and his mind returned to why he was back again so soon; this mystery book reservation could be his first step to becoming a ‘library person’, just like everyone else here.

  He took a deep breath and walked towards the girl at the desk. He was surprised to see that she was smiling at him.

  ‘Hello,’ he said warily as he approached, one eye catching sight of Priya, assuming her usual pose on a beanbag: book held open between her hands.

  ‘Hello, can I help you?’ the girl asked. He looked around for her phone, for her headphones, for a sign that she wasn’t really paying attention, but there was nothing. How odd.

  ‘I’m here to pick up a book I have reserved. Except I have a question.’

  ‘Oh, okay?’

  ‘You see, I didn’t reserve a book. I only joined the library just over a week ago. Is this a welcome book or something?’

  ‘Mr Mukesh Patel?’

  ‘Yes? That … that’s me.’ Either she knew too much, or this was excellent library service.

  She typed something into the computer. Her nails made that clack-clack-clacking sound. It forced Mukesh’s teeth to grit together.

  ‘Yes, To Kill a Mockingbird. That’s right.’ Her eyes were still on the screen. Mukesh didn’t know what was meant to happen next.

  Then she pulled something out from under her desk. A book. She handed it to him. He didn’t like the feel of its laminated cover very much, but he could get used to it.

  ‘I, erm, I reserved this for you. You asked the other day for a recommendation; I thought this one might work.’ She hesitated. ‘Erm … it’s good.’

  Mukesh held the book in his hands as though he’d never held a book before. He wanted to ask the young lady what it was about, but he didn’t know if that was a stupid question. Maybe he was meant to know already.

  ‘Dada, can I get this one please?’ Priya had appeared by his side, holding up The Wizard of Earthsea. Mukesh shrugged, looking to the girl behind the desk for some kind of guidance. She nodded.

  ‘Of course, you can take up to …’ she paused for a moment, ‘six books out at a time on each card.’ She pushed a library card with his name on it towards him.

  Priya looked at her dada, nodding vigorously. He’d never seen her so animated. She swung from side to side, the book clutched to her chest.

  ‘You know, that book you’ve got, To Kill a Mockingbird, your granddaughter could read that too.’ The girl looked at him knowingly. Mukesh pondered this for a moment – remembering Rohini’s words that it was too grown-up for her.

  ‘So, this isn’t an introductory welcome book?’ he said, grabbing his library card.

  ‘Yeah, maybe, something like that. If you don’t wanna read it, that’s fine. But I thought it was good.’ She seemed suddenly unsure of herself, cautious.

  ‘I’ve heard of that book, Dada, it’s a film and everything,’ Priya jumped in.

  ‘Ha, beta? What is it about?’

  Priya shrugged, a frown clouding her face. ‘I don’t know, I don�
�t know everything.’

  Mukesh chuckled. The girl behind the desk breathed in, as though she was about to embark on a long speech, but all she said was, ‘It’s a good introductory novel, you know? A classic.’

  ‘Do you think I’ll like it, this book?’ Mukesh didn’t know who to look at – the girl, or Priya. He had liked The Time Traveler’s Wife but mainly because it had fallen into his lap at the right time and brought him closer to Naina.

  The girl nodded.

  Mukesh looked at the book cover. The title was scrawled like handwriting; he had to squint to make out the words. To. Kill. A. Mockingbird. ‘Why does it have that title?’ he asked.

  ‘There’s a line in it …’ the girl’s voice jumped. ‘Sorry, I won’t spoil it. You’ll have to read to find out. If you want to. No pressure at all.’

  ‘Yeah, Dada!’ Priya said, smiling at the girl, as though they were in on this together. Mukesh could see admiration in Priya’s eyes – the kind of look his daughters used to get when they met their older cousins, who they always looked up to as ‘cool young women’.

  ‘Can you recommend me any other books too? If I can take out six?’ Mukesh asked. ‘Including this one,’ he pointed to Priya’s book.

  The girl stopped for a second, her eyes wide. ‘No, no, I think start with this. Trust me. It could, erm, give me an idea of what you should read next. If you like it.’

  ‘I’ll try it,’ he said, smiling at her. She smiled back. He looked down at Priya and smiled at her too. ‘I’m getting a book!’

  ‘I know, Dada, that’s cool,’ Priya said, handing over her Wizard book to the girl behind the desk. Mukesh followed suit.

  ‘Dada,’ Priya whispered. ‘And your library card.’ She nudged him gently in the ribs, and Mukesh did as he was told.

  He watched as the girl scanned the card’s barcode. Beep. As she scanned each book in. Beep. Beep.

  ‘When should we give them back?’ he asked.

  ‘In three weeks. You can renew it on the phone or online if you need to.’

  ‘No, I will finish and I know she will finish too.’

  ‘Would you like a stamp reminder in the front of the book, just in case?’

  Mukesh turned to the front page of To Kill a Mockingbird and noticed the Brent Council Libraries sheet, full of black, splotchy dates. So many! It was strange, the idea that this book wasn’t just for him, it was for everyone. All these people who had taken it out before him, people who would take it out after him. They might have read it on a beach, on the train, on the bus, in the park, in their living room. On the toilet? He hoped not! Every reader, unknowingly connected in some small way. He was about to be a part of this too. ‘Yes, please.’ He handed both books back to the girl, stamp at the ready, and as he watched, he wondered, had Naina ever held either of these books? She’d been here all the time, she’d read hundreds of books. Had To Kill a Mockingbird been one of them?

  Mukesh put the book in his canvas shopping bag.

  ‘Sir, if you would both like to sit and read here, we even have a coffee machine and some juices. And what’s your name?’ she asked Priya.

  ‘Hello, I am Priya. What’s your name?’ Priya responded boldly, unexpectedly confident.

  ‘Aleisha, nice to meet you. Would you and your grandad like to sit here and read?’

  Priya looked up at Mukesh, hopeful, but he shook his head – it was nearly five o’clock – time for Priya’s haircut! He felt both sets of eyes boring into him. Could they tell he was relieved? He didn’t want to sit here and read … he’d feel too self-conscious. He was glad for the excuse – and besides, there was no time to waste, or he’d never hear the end of it from Rohini.

  ‘Can I help you with anything else today?’ the girl asked them.

  ‘No, thank you. You have been very helpful. I have to drop my granddaughter off somewhere.’

  She beamed, running her hand over her hair, smoothing one flyaway down.

  ‘I will go now and enjoy reading To Kill a Hummingbird. I will make sure to read some this evening,’ he said.

  ‘Mockingbird,’ the girl said pointedly, and he just smiled, unsure as to why she’d repeated him.

  Priya waved goodbye to the girl who waved back, kindly, as Mukesh wandered out. Today he was taller. He could see further afield now, to the end of the car park, beyond the trees, beyond the buildings; he could see past Wembley Stadium. He could see the whole of London from here, standing just that little bit taller. It’s amazing what posture can do for you, he thought.

  Well done, Mukesh, you faced a fear. It was Naina, speaking in his ear. He could hear her. Louder than ever before – like she was standing right beside him.

  ‘Thank you,’ Mukesh whispered back.

  ‘What, Dada?’ Priya said.

  ‘Sorry, nothing, beti. Let’s get you to your hairdresser’s!’

  ‘Dada, no! I don’t want to. Mum always wants to cut my hair, but I want it long.’

  ‘Sometimes you just have to listen to your mum. It makes her feel good! But you can sit and read there. How does that sound?’

  ‘That’s true,’ Priya shrugged, and followed her dada, letting him, slowly, lead the way.

  Today he had borrowed a book from the library, legitimately, and the girl behind the desk had even been helpful. He felt a little bad for complaining about her but, then again, if he hadn’t, she might not have been so polite today. When he worked at the Wembley Central ticket office, everyone loved giving customer feedback – good, honest customer feedback was the only sure-fire way to improve a service – and now, years later, he enjoyed it as well.

  Today, too, he had taken his granddaughter to the library. For the first time in ages, Priya had looked excited or at least content in her grandfather’s company. Perhaps today marked a new chapter.

  THE READING LIST

  LEONORA

  2017

  LEONORA NAMASTE’D HER INSTRUCTOR and went to pick up her shoes from the hallway. Everyone was in a rush to get away, pulling their shoes on without undoing laces, and running out through the door, immediately forgetting the peace of the yoga class. But Leonora always took her time over this bit. She didn’t mind if she got in people’s way. She savoured the dreamlike calm of this moment, as she gradually adjusted to reality.

  When people asked her why she’d moved back to Wembley, she always said it was to be closer to her parents – she never mentioned her divorce, she never mentioned her sister, Helena, who was slowly fading away; Helena was the real reason she had left Manchester for London. As soon as her divorce was announced, Leonora’s parents had jumped on her, begging her to move in with her sister, to help her out, to put their minds at ease. She’d reluctantly agreed, but Helena didn’t really want help, so now they lived side-by-side in awkward silence – Leonora an unwanted stranger in her own sister’s home. And she had no one to talk to about it. No friends in this familiar but unwelcoming place. She was struggling.

  Being back was a weird experience. Her parents and Helena had seen Wembley evolve, they’d been a part of that change, so the contrast wasn’t so apparent to them. But Leonora had barely seen beyond the North Circular on her trips back home, for Easter and Christmas, bank holidays too, so to her, everything, the place she’d grown up, felt different. There were new high rises everywhere, the residential streets had turned greyer with dust and age, whereas the shopping malls, the station, the stadium had all been polished to shiny perfection for the benefit of tourists alone.

  Flailing in this lonely, changed city, Leonora had hoped this yoga class would help her meet new people. But beyond the occasional ‘hi’, no one seemed that interested in chatting. People filtered out, while Leonora lingered, not wanting to go home.

  There was one lady who always gave her a warm smile, but she felt too awkward to make conversation. She knew she should just suck it up and introduce herself, but everyone here was so self-contained. It felt strange, alien, to even try to say hello.

  Today, she pulled on her sho
es, slowly tying the laces. As she did every week, she read the notice board right in front of her, loitering long enough in the hope that someone else might say hi to her first … She wanted that meet-cute moment, like in the Hollywood films. Well, if she was really honest, she just wanted a friend.

  Yoga retreats at £500 per week – no thank you. Cat-sitting opportunities – with her allergies? No thanks to that either. A book club at the local library on Harrow Road … She hadn’t been there since she was a kid. Beside the poster was a handwritten list; she presumed these were the book club titles.

  To Kill a Mockingbird

  Rebecca

  The Kite Runner

  Life of Pi

  Pride and Prejudice

  Little Women

  Beloved

  A Suitable Boy

  Maybe this would be a chance to meet people. If it was a book club, they had to speak. And she remembered the place fondly. Harrow Road had been her library of choice as a teenager. She remembered the librarians – they’d probably be long gone now – and the young manager, Dev, who always had a good book recommendation up his sleeve, tailored to the tastes and interests of each and every cherished library-goer.

  She looked down the list, taking in one title at a time. She had read some of these already, including To Kill a Mockingbird, when she was a teenager. She didn’t remember the story, she was terrible with detail, but she remembered the way it made her feel. It had this kind of warm, magical quality about it. The title brought memories of eating breakfast outside on a wooden bench – and it was so long ago she couldn’t recall whether the memory was her own or a scene from the book itself.

  When she reached the seventh title on the list, she pulled out the book from her yoga bag, a copy of Beloved. She held it up. Well, it looked as if she already had a head start.

  She turned the book over in her hands. She’d only just started reading it, after years and years of her friends recommending it. In the afternoons, when Helena took her long nap, Leonora had started to read, sitting just beside her sister, listening to her breathing, and allowing her mind to escape elsewhere. Her heart was in it already.