CHAPTER TWELVE
The Hindi word for trouble is musibata.
The last time we visited Kishore's family, I never really got to know his brother Sunil or Daddyji. So it came as a surprise to me when, that night after our evening meal, my Father-in-law joined me by sitting right next to me on the couch. I believed we must have spoken a total of ten times since I had met him. There was nothing wrong between us and of course we were civil to each other, but there was just an invisible line of distance between this daughter-in-law and Father-in-law.
Despite this, however, I had always thought of him as refined, he had a certain air of finesse about him. His hair was always neatly parted, with straight defined comb marks trailing across his scalp - never was a hair out of place. His thin moustache was also always smartly trimmed and he often wore a scarf tucked into his suit jacket instead of, or as well as, a tie. He reminded me of Clark Gable as Rhett Butler in Gone with the Wind, suave and sophisticated.
Today, as my Father-in-law sat next to me, he began to talk, and once he started, he did not stop. Words flowed easily from his mouth like the clear, pure, icy water that tumbles from high in the Himalayan Mountains and gushes down into the sacred river Ganga (The English adaptation of the pronunciation of the word Ganga is Ganges).
He continued to talk for at least an hour. I learnt all about his grandparents, parents, siblings, and his childhood in his family home in Punjab (the house where Kishore stayed for the first six years of his life). Like the good daughter-in-law I was, I sat and listened intently, as I believe he wanted me to understand their relatives and ancestry. What flattered me the most is that I also took this talk as a sign that I was now in his eyes - family.
* * * *
During our last visit to India I spent a lot of time with Ranjini, Saras, and Mummyji. This was pretty remarkable considering I had only just met them, but Kishore and I had stayed in their house for a month, and due to the way us girls nattered, it didn't take long for us to bond. The four females of the house slept in the same room this time and last time, so I guess being immersed in their lives was a sure fire way of us all getting to know each other pretty quickly. That, and the small fact that the four of us had my unexpected wedding to organise. The three of them had been my support crew before the big day and on the big day, they literally stood by my side when I needed my family the most. This time, it was different. Kishore and I were not in Delhi for long and both of my 'sisters' were busy studying for exams.
* * * *
Sunil was two years younger than Kishore, in fact the same age as me. He had a quiet personality and I always thought he was the type of person who would be respected by his friends. He emitted a silent, wise demeanor that some people had who didn’t like to waste their time talking rubbish. People knew that when Sunil spoke that what he said was worth listening to, otherwise he wouldn’t waste his breath.
It was late afternoon. Kishore and I were alone in the house as Mummyji had popped over to see a neighbour who wasn't feeling well. We were sitting on the couch in the lounge room, munching our way through a plate of mathri's, a biscuit shaped salty snack that was crisp, flaky, and buttery. The television was on and I was trying to decipher just what was happening in an overly dramatic Indian soap opera. Kishore had rung Mr Cromwell earlier in the day and they had agreed we would go back to their house the following afternoon to finish the paper work.
Leafing through the documents, Kishore was distracted, with only one quarter of his attention on the TV. He was half-heartedly explaining to me which wealthy boy was hopelessly in love with which poor girl from a village and which resentful person was plotting to sabotage the family business. But a soap-opera cannot be complete without the plot of an evil long-lost twin brother resurfacing after the death of his double. Wow, I thought, this show is just as over-the-top as Dynasty or possibly Days of our Lives.
We turned our heads to the sound of someone walking in the door. Expecting Mummyji, we were surprised to see it was Sunil, he was not the type to come home early. He looked troubled, his head was downcast hanging almost to his chest. Slumping down on the seat opposite us he sighed heavily as he mumbled, "Hi Julie Bhabhi, hi Kishore Bhaiya." Sunil then looked around the room and seeing that no one else was home he turned to us as he continued, "I was wanting to ask you both something."
Kishore looked surprised, he put down his papers as he said, "Yes of course Sunil, go ahead."
"Not here, could I meet you both, maybe at a cafe tomorrow afternoon?"
Kishore and I exchanged glances, what was so secretive that Sunil could not discuss with us here?
His face brightened a little as we agreed to meet him at a cafe in a shopping centre the next afternoon when he had finished university for the day. This suited us as we could join him after we left Mr and Mrs Cromwell's house. Sunil's business degree was almost complete and he was currently looking for employment in the banking industry to kick-start his career.
* * * *
The next afternoon I realised I was nervous as we again approached the security guard at the gate of Mr and Mrs Cromwell's apartment block. I took a quick glance at Priyanka’s apartment building and wondered if she was at home. I realised that I was not actually nervous - I was ashamed. I hung my head. She had, after all, done nothing wrong. The whole episode was due to a touch of jealousy and my silly imagination running wild.
Hearing the now familiar yap of Benny, we saw Mr Cromwell approach. Once we were inside, the two men shut themselves in the other room and succeeded in completing all of the paperwork while Mrs Cromwell and I drank tea and chatted. Thankfully, much to my relief, Priyanka was nowhere to be seen. If I had met her, I wondered if I could have trusted myself to not go flying off the handle like I did last time. I don't know, but I secretly hoped that I would never see her again. We had brought our camera to take some snaps for Mr McAllister. We all posed and after lots of shaking of hands, hugs, and kisses we bid farewell to the lovely Cromwell's, and of course Benny.
* * * *
We arrived at Connaught Place, Delhi's answer to Queen Street, but much bigger and much, much busier. I would suggest it is five times the size of Auckland's most famous street - maybe more. It was too big for me to compare. We found the cafe we had agreed upon, a popular place called Nirula's, which has over fifty outlets all over India. As we entered the place, the atmosphere of café style tables, chairs, and booth seats immediately made me think of Wendy's, but when I saw people sipping hot drinks I also thought of Starbucks. Nirula's has a reputation for tasty traditional Indian meals, cheesy pizza's, burgers (chicken only), delicious cakes, sweet flaky pastries, layered creamy gateaux, tasty ice-creams, strong coffees, teas, and hot chocolates.
We searched for Sunil and found him already seated at a table, his hands wrapped around a steaming mug. His head hung down, and even from where we stood he looked like a man who had the burden of the world on his shoulders. We plonked ourselves down on the cushioned chairs opposite him, and Sunil raised his head and weakly smiled. A waiter came to take our orders, Kishore and I both ordered white coffee. Sunil kept his mouth firmly shut until the waiter left. He then began to tentatively talk.
"Hello you two, thanks for coming," he began. After a pause, he dove straight into his problem. "Well… you see, the reason I wanted to see you both is this… there is a girl at university, her name is Aarti."
Ha! I should have guessed. He was in love!
"Kishore, Julie," he said as he looked at us in turn, "She is so beautiful, we met up a few times, at cafes and parks, we talked a lot, we were so happy, I thought she was the one, we had even discussed marriage."
Maybe he was in love, but with Sunil using the past tense words of were and was, things were obviously not so rosy with Aarti.
"But,” he said with a huge sigh, “last week, she told me her Father has secured a position in Canada. The whole family have decided and already arranged to move over there and she is going with them. She has even applied and been accepted into a prestigious Canadian university so she can finish her degree."
The waiter approached with our orders. Sunil stopped talking momentarily, and once our mugs had been placed on the table and the waiter left, my brother-in-law continued. Kishore and I listened as we stirred sugar from sachets into our drinks and sipped our rich, malty coffees.
"I am in love with her, I told her we could get married and I would come with her to Canada, but she has decided she doesn't want to get married yet, she wants to have a fresh start, she wants to finish her degree and start a career before marriage."
Since I had met Sunil this was the most I had ever heard him say at one time. Not wanting to interrupt, we sat silent and let him keep talking.
"Kishore, Julie, I have decided I would like to try to come to New Zealand, what should I do?"
Now that he had made his decision Kishore and I assured him that we would help him to begin the process of coming to New Zealand. We told him we would do all that we could to assist him to get the ball rolling.
His mouth finally broke into a lopsided smile as he asked, "Ummm… by the way, do you two know of any girls that might be suitable for me in New Zealand?"
Kishore and I grinned, Sunil was down but he was certainly not that heart broken. My husband’s face was blank, but my mind instantly thought of one girl, the girl I had met at the wedding party. The girl I had felt an instant kindred spirit with - Nina. Straight away I knew they would be wonderful together, Nina's bubbly nature would complement Sunil's calm personality perfectly. I told him all about her, and assured him that I would contact Nina when we returned home. At once, Sunil straightened in his seat, his shoulders broadened and his face brightened, Aarti was gone, gone but not forgotten - yet! Nina was next in line!