Finding Arun (16 page)

‘You will just have to wait until Rath Yatra like
all the other tourists.’

‘Rath what?’

‘How is it you are coming in Puri and you don’t know
of Rath Yatra?’ exclaimed Lucky incredulously. ‘Rath Yatra is only
the most important festival in Puri. We carry the three gods,
Jagannath, Balabhadra and Subhadra on huge chariots, from the
mandir, through the streets, until we are reaching Gundicha Mandir.
There are always millions of people helping to pull the chariots,
because they are heavy, Aaron, more heavy than even you can
imagine, and it is a great honour. There is so much colour and
sound; it is a magnificent spectacle, you will really love it.’

‘It sounds incredible. Is it soon?’

‘Yes, not long. In a few weeks’ time I think so …
21st June or thereabouts.’

‘Oh, I don’t know if I will still be here by then,’
mumbled Aaron a little sadly, though it was nothing compared to the
look now fixed on Lucky’s face.

His crooked smile had completely disappeared and his
wide puppy-dog eyes made him look as though he had been physically
wounded by Aaron’s words.

‘You’re not staying in Puri?’ he whimpered sadly,
half-hoping that he had misheard.

‘Well no, not forever,’ Aaron began cautiously,
mindful of upsetting Lucky any further. ‘I had only planned to stay
for about two-and-a-half weeks. I’m not sure I can afford to stay
for much longer; I used most of my savings to get back from Africa
and to get to India.’

Lucky unexpectedly brightened again.

‘If it is only money, then this is not a problem,
Aaron. You will stay with Hanara and I in our house and we will
look after you.’

Aaron found himself touched once again by his
brother’s kindness and simple optimism.

‘That’s very kind of you Lucky, but it’s a little
more complicated than that. Besides, I couldn’t inconvenience you
like that and I think we both know that Hanara doesn’t want me
there.’

‘Family is never an inconvenience, Aaron. And don’t
you worry about Hanara; she is pretending to be tough only. In
fact, just last night when I came back home, she was asking many
questions about you. All that is needed is a little time, you will
see.’

‘Oh, Lucky, I don’t know …’

‘Please come and stay with us, Aaron. It will be our
honour,’ interrupted Lucky, flashing his special smile as he tried
to sway his brother’s decision.

Aaron smiled back at him, powerless to resist the
disarming charm of Lucky’s crooked grin. It felt good to know that
someone cared so much about him and wanted to spend more time in
his company. He had booked the return flight to London partly out
of fear of the unknown, and partly under duress from Arthur, who
had been unusually insistent that he fixed a firm plan. Yet now
that he was in India, two-and-a-half weeks simply didn’t seem long
enough to complete a lifetime’s worth of catching up with his
family. He had taken a liking to Puri in the short time that he had
been there, and despite being too late to meet Kalpana, and in
spite of the omnipresent chaos and heat, he felt an unexpected
sense of belonging there with his brother by his side.

‘Okay, I will think about it,’ he conceded finally,
much to Lucky’s delight.

‘Good. Now, are you hungry?’

Lucky led Aaron back through the crowds to the
rickshaw and drove them the short distance to the beachfront, where
he parked alongside the other rickshaw drivers vying for business
from passing tourists. He lifted two round stainless steel
containers and a faded old sari from a bag that Aaron had not
noticed before, and charged off down the sand in search of the
perfect picnic spot. The wide, open beach was still at the mercy of
the sun’s blistering heat, despite the fact that it was
mid-afternoon, but a gentle breeze ruffled Aaron’s hair, keeping
him cool while he picked his way across the scorching sand.

He joined Lucky a few metres from the water’s edge,
where his brother had spread the sari over the sand to form a
blanket for them to sit on. The two metallic containers were now
open, revealing a series of small compartments containing different
items of food, and Lucky was greedily shovelling morsels into his
mouth with his fingers.

‘What is it?’ Aaron asked, intrigued as he dropped
down beside Lucky and pulled one of the containers towards him.

‘Try it.’

‘Do you have a fork, or a spoon, that I could
use?’

Lucky paused, his hand hovering at the entrance to
his mouth poised to deliver another tasty morsel, and began to
laugh hysterically. Aaron looked at him, somewhat baffled by the
outburst and unsure why Lucky found his request so comical. It was
a few moments before Lucky had recovered his breath enough to
explain why he was laughing.

‘We are not using forks and spoons. You just eat
with your hands only, like this,’ he said, demonstrating how to
ball up the food into small spheres with his fingers.

Aaron instantly felt embarrassed by his question. He
had seen some of the hotel guests consuming their breakfast in this
way and stupidly judged them for being ill-mannered and ignorant;
it turned out that he was the uncultured one. He rolled his shirt
sleeves up to the elbow and after being chided by Lucky for using
his left hand, instead of his right, started to lift compact balls
of rice, dahl and potato curry past his hungry lips. The food was
delicious, if a little spicy, but not having eaten since the
morning, Aaron wasted no time in filling his belly.

When they had finished eating, Lucky neatly stacked
the stainless steel tins, and the brothers lay back against the
warm sand. They watched the waves crashing onto the beach before
them and listened to the soporific hum of the city as it buzzed
past along the highway behind them. It was a paradisiacal setting
and Aaron felt so relaxed and content that it wasn’t long before he
had dozed off, the combination of the afternoon heat and his body’s
battle with digestion proving too much to handle. When Lucky
finally shook him awake again, the sky was awash with the red, pink
and orange hues of the setting sun, its reflection dancing
mischievously across the calm waters. It was a magical sight to
behold and, in his semi-conscious state, Aaron was quite taken with
the tranquil beauty of it all.

He watched dreamily whilst the fishermen heaved
their boats onto the shore, the seagulls circling in anticipation
overhead, but Lucky was soon tugging impatiently at his sleeve,
desperate for him to see something. It took a few minutes for Lucky
to rouse Aaron completely from his daze and, finally pulling him to
his feet, he dragged his brother a couple of metres down the beach
towards the water.

‘Look,’ he said, pointing at the sand excitedly and
beaming whilst he waited for his efforts to be recognised.

Aaron rubbed his eyes sleepily and followed Lucky’s
finger to the inscription in the sand.

ARUN AND LUCKY

AGAIN BROTHERS TOGETHER

He smiled back at Lucky, warmed by his brother’s
boyish enthusiasm and affection, and equally amused by his mastery
of the English language.

‘It’s great, Lucky. There’s just one thing …’

‘What is it?’ he asked, immediately looking
anxious.

‘You keep spelling my name wrong.’

‘I have not.’

‘Yes you have.’

‘That is the spelling given by Mata-ji only, on the
day that you were born,’ he answered defiantly.

‘Kalpana named me?’

‘Yes, of course she did. Who is it that you think
has named you?’

‘I had always assumed it was my adoptive mother,’
explained Aaron quietly.

‘No, no, no. If Dr Cathy had named you, then surely
you would have been called something very terrible. Something very
English … like Rupert,’ Lucky mouthed disdainfully.

Aaron couldn’t contain his laughter at both Lucky’s
choice of nomenclature and his obvious disgust.

‘
Aaron, spelt A-A-R-O-N
is
English, Lucky,’ he insisted.

‘
Arun, spelt A-R-U-N is
Indian
. It means “sun”,’ countered Lucky
matter-of-factly, ‘and Mata-ji gave you this name because your
birth was the start of our new life, all of us, the same as the sun
is the start of a new day.’

Aaron was quietly contemplative, silenced by the
heretofore unknown poetry of his naming. He twisted the letters of
the correct spelling around in his mouth, trying them on for size;
he had never given much thought to what his name might mean before,
and though it sounded the same out loud, that it was spelt
differently and that it had a meaning unexpectedly changed
something within him.

His Indian name, with its careful selection for
significance, eternally bound him into the lives of his birth
family; a family that he hadn’t even known that he had until a few
short months ago. Moreover, and perhaps more importantly, the name
forged an intimate connection between he and Kalpana, in a way that
he hadn’t thought would be possible after arriving at the house to
find her gone. His name was a piece of her, a gift, and a lifelong
legacy of their brief time together. It was a testament to her
belief that she was providing a better life for them all by giving
him away, and strangely the thought filled his soul with a deep
sense of satisfaction. Overcome with emotion, tears welled up in
his eyes and, smiling, he looked from Lucky to the horizon and back
again.

‘I guess I’d better start spelling it right
then.’

OVER the next fortnight, Arun and Lucky settled into
the ebb and flow of a familiar and comfortable routine. Every
morning, at the same time, Lucky would arrive in his rickshaw to
collect Arun from the front of the hotel, and the pair would set
off like two intrepid adventurers, eager to explore the delights of
the city and its surrounds. Some days they covered vast distances,
sputtering across the terracotta terrain as Lucky pushed his ageing
rickshaw to its limits in a bid to show Arun what he called ‘the
real India’. There were simple rural villages set amidst gleaming
rice paddies, silent hilltop temples and bustling local markets,
peaceful island lakes, and a multitude of secret swimming spots
along deserted stretches of Puri’s beach. There could be no
argument that the views were anything less than spectacular, but
the best part of every day for Arun quickly became the simple
pleasure of being in his brother’s company.

A strong bond had slowly formed between them and
each morning he looked forward to Lucky’s arrival, cherishing the
time that they spent together answering each other’s questions and
curiosities, and sharing in the magic of India’s beauty. It had
taken his best persuasive skills, but Lucky had finally agreed to
let Arun ride up front alongside him in the rickshaw and the simple
shift had made Arun feel like they were on a more equal footing.
After much bickering about the matter, he had also allowed him to
pay for the gallons of fuel that the vehicle guzzled through each
day, though much to Arun’s frustration, his brother was still
resistant to his occasional attempts to otherwise remunerate him
for his time.

By contrast, the evenings were an entirely different
affair. When the sun began to set, Lucky and Arun would embark upon
the long, dusty journey back to Kalpana’s house. Though they would
arrive laughing and smiling, thoroughly contented by their
experiences and learnings from the day, the sight of Hanara’s stony
face and her palpable hostility would quickly level their spirits.
She was unyielding in her loathsome sentiment towards Arun,
seemingly going to great pains to ensure that he never forgot how
much she resented his continued presence in her mother’s home.
Reluctantly, she would prepare dinner for the three of them,
deliberately crashing around the small kitchen so that her brothers
could not enjoy a conversation, but this left Arun even more
confused, because she generously and voluntarily sent lunch for him
with Lucky each day.

He struggled in the face of such animosity and
though outwardly he feigned disaffection to Hanara’s daily torrent
of verbal abuse, its jarring nature made it impossible for him to
feel truly comfortable in her presence. He yearned for her
acceptance and it saddened him that building a relationship with
his sister was so difficult, especially when he observed the love
and care she so freely lavished upon Lucky. He had long since come
around to Lucky’s way of thinking and no longer blamed himself for
Kalpana’s death, but reasonable doubt remained as to whether Hanara
herself would ever round that corner.

Every evening he tried with renewed enthusiasm to
win her over, steering the mealtime conversation away from Lucky’s
incessant questioning about his life back home, to focus on
learning more about Hanara and her life. Naïvely, he hoped that
demonstrating his appetite for learning about his family and
birthplace would shift her perceptions of him from a spoilt, rich
kid visiting his peasant relatives to what he really was; a young
man denied the truth, seeking to connect with the family that he’d
always wished he could have. It was difficult to judge whether his
efforts were having any effect on Hanara, because she continued to
remain tight-lipped during his visits, save for the occasional
vilifying comment. But the frequency and severity of her insults
appeared to be slowly diminishing and Arun had to concede that
perhaps Lucky had been right about her simply needing time to
adjust to the situation.

One evening, when Arun and Lucky arrived home from
another great day of explorations, they were surprised to find
Hanara standing in the small yard talking to the elderly woman that
had pointed the way to Kalpana’s house nearly two weeks before.