Finding Arun (12 page)

It pained him to accept that his mother might not be
the woman that they had all believed her to be, but it hurt even
more to think that he may not yet have uncovered all of her secrets
and lies. There was already a sharp, stinging pain behind his eyes,
a manifestation of the stress, fatigue and heat that he had been
subjected to all day, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could
take. He reached across the bed for the remote and turned on the
fan above his head in an attempt to unwind. He watched the blades
continually rotate, and feeling strangely soothed by their rhythmic
hum, it wasn’t long before his eyelids were kissing each other and
sleep had washed over him.

Disorientated on awakening the following morning,
Aaron tried to make sense of his surroundings. He was still fully
clothed from the day before and sprawled across the large expanse
of the bed, the side of his cheek stuck to the back of his palm by
a small dribble of saliva that had escaped from his mouth during
the night. He sat up slowly against the headboard, squinting at the
light that streamed through the open curtains and wiped the
moisture from around his mouth. There was an overwhelming feeling
of lethargy and though he had slept soundly through the night, he
felt as though he could sleep for a million more years. Suddenly
recalling the previous day’s events, he reached into the back
pocket of his shorts and pulled out the slip of paper onto which
Manoj had transcribed Kalpana’s forwarding address. He twirled it
absent-mindedly between his fingers so that the early morning light
bounced off the page, while he debated what to do.

If she still lived there, Kalpana’s home was not too
far from the centre of town; a small and predominantly
self-contained village that Manoj had assured him he would have
much less trouble securing a taxi or rickshaw to, than he had to
Rachna Hari. If she didn’t live there, it would be another dead end
and another wasted day. He looked at the piece of paper longingly,
wishing that he could glimpse the future to know whether this place
would at last hold the answers to his questions. He had been lucky
so far, but he wasn’t foolish enough to think that this good
fortune could last forever. Yet he had also endured a number of
shocks and surprises in recent months and a small part of him
maintained that the universe still owed him a favour or two before
they would be even.

After an unexpectedly tasty breakfast of large thin
pancakes that were lightly browned and filled with a delicious
mixture of spiced onions and potatoes, Aaron felt much more awake
and ready to face the day ahead. He made his way to the lobby where
the smiling concierge from the day before greeted him brightly.

‘Good morning, sir. Where we are going today?’

‘Good morning. I’d like to go here today please,’
Aaron replied, flashing him the slip of paper.

The concierge regarded Aaron curiously, again
surprised by his choice of destination.

‘Always going in strange places, sir. This is a
small village only; not very many things to see here. You are
meeting someone again?’

‘Yes, I’m meeting someone again.’

‘As you wish it, sir,’ pronounced the concierge,
beaming jovially before exiting the lobby and deftly hailing
another taxi.

Moments later, Aaron was speeding along the city
streets enjoying the coolness of the air-conditioned taxi from the
comfort and safety of a back seat with seat belts. An
unaccompanied, high-pitched female voice rang out loudly in song
from the taxi stereo and before long it was joined by a male voice,
a raft of honky tonk instruments that Aaron didn’t recognise and
heavy percussion. He had no idea what the pair were singing about,
but the melody was catchy and he soon found himself humming and
tapping along. The taxi driver grinned at him approvingly in the
rear-view mirror and cranked the volume higher as the city streets
turned from crowded, noisy thoroughfares to dusty terracotta paths
meandering through the Indian countryside.

The taxi delved deeper and deeper into rural India
and each time they drove through a village, butterflies filled
Aaron’s stomach, while he wondered anxiously whether they had
reached their final destination. The butterflies subsided when they
simply swept past the clusters of clay houses, but with every
passing village Aaron held his breath a little tighter and longer.
He counted six separate villages before the taxi finally slowed to
a steady crawl and the driver wound down his window to peer into
the open doorways of the houses, no longer able to see through the
thick layer of terracotta dust that blanketed the car.

Eventually they happened upon an elderly woman who
was almost bent double, advancing painfully slowly along the road
with the aid of a walking stick. A dull orange sari hung loosely
about her thin frame and her few remaining strands of greyed hair
were pulled back from her sagging face into a straggly ponytail.
Aaron felt his stomach lurch at the sight of her and his heart
began to thump furiously in his chest. The driver called out to her
and, acknowledging his summons, she slowly began to inch her way
towards the car. He spoke with her in the tongue-twisting dialect
that Aaron could not understand and she peered inquisitively past
his head into the back of the taxi to stare at Aaron with
coffee-coloured eyes and a toothless smile. Aaron smiled back,
unsure exactly what was happening and desperate to know whether
this was the woman that he had been so frantically searching
for.

The toothless woman continued to gaze down at him
silently, but after a few long minutes, she turned her attention
back to the driver, croaked something unintelligible at him and
pointed a long, bony finger towards the end of the dirt track. The
driver nodded his thanks and when the old woman had stepped far
enough away from the car, he put it into gear, allowing it to roll
leisurely down the gentle incline in the direction that she had
indicated. Aaron was a wreck in the back seat; they had obviously
reached the correct village and any moment now he would be reunited
with his biological mother. His hands and brow were clammy with
anticipation, and the thick heat that seeped through the open taxi
window was only making it worse. He breathed deeply, desperate to
calm his growing nerves, but the dry terracotta earth being kicked
up by the taxi’s wheels quickly filled his nose and mouth until the
taste and smell made him feel sick to his stomach. Groaning, he lay
back against the seat and closed his eyes, allowing the gentle
motion of the slow moving vehicle to soothe him until it finally
came to rest and he realised with fear and excitement that they had
arrived.

At the end of the path was a well-kept clay house
that was slightly larger than most of the others that they had
passed. A veranda was wrapped around the front of the house and a
small shop constructed from rusting pieces of corrugated iron was
attached to the side. An assortment of sweets and small household
items dangled from the shop’s roof, but the goods were partially
obscured by a young man, not much older than Aaron, who was busy
tending to the rear wheels of a battered old rickshaw. He wore
faded blue fisherman pants that he had rolled up to his knees, but
his chest was bare and his bronzed skin glistened with sweat in the
sunlight.

The young man looked up when he heard the taxi
approaching and tossed his head back to lift the crop of floppy
coffee-coloured hair that crowned it from his face. He wiped the
sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm, leaving a greasy
black streak across his forehead, and dusted his hands off on the
sides of his pants. Intrigued by the presence of an official Puri
taxi in his village, he drew himself up fully into a standing
position and picked his way across the yard to where the taxi had
stopped. Aaron didn’t notice the young man peering through his
window at first; he was distractedly fishing in his pockets for
enough rupees to pay the driver. But when he turned to open the
door, he locked eyes with the young man and it was like staring
into a mirror.

The young man stepped back from the window to allow
Aaron to exit the car, never breaking his gaze, and the pair stood
by the roadside, surveying each other in awe. Aaron blinked
repeatedly in disbelief at the likeness that they shared, but the
image before him remained the same. He guessed that they were about
the same age and evenly matched in height, boasting the same lanky,
adolescent-like frame. They shared the same delicate features: the
warm hazel eyes, strong nose and crop of coffee-coloured hair, but
the young man’s mouth was less full than Aaron’s, his lips just two
thin lines marred by a faint fleshy scar that contrasted against
his bronzed skin. They continued to stare at each other in
amazement, both fascinated by having clapped eyes on their
doppelganger. Finally breaking his gaze and remembering his
manners, Aaron was the first to speak.

‘Hi.’

‘Hello,’ the young man nodded, his gaze
unbroken.

‘Do you … do you speak English?’ he asked nervously,
though he had no idea why because the young man had quite obviously
understood his greeting.

‘Yes.’

‘I’m … I’m looking for Kalpana. Kalpana Dash?’

The young man’s face instantly fell and he looked
visibly saddened when he broke off his gaze. He stared intensely at
the floor, twisting his fingers sombrely around the folds of the
pants that hung at his knees. At once Aaron felt uneasy and the
sick feeling began to creep back into his stomach. He didn’t know
what to say or where to look, and though it was obvious that the
young man knew of Kalpana, the abrupt shift from wide-eyed
wonderment to deep-seated melancholy unsettled him.

‘Who are you?’ the young man asked after a while,
looking up at Aaron mournfully through his floppy hair.

‘My name is Aaron, Aaron Rutherford. I …’

But Aaron didn’t get the opportunity to finish. The
young man’s mood shifted rapidly once more and his face
unexpectedly lit up with recognition. His eyes were wild with
excitement and an enormous, toothy grin spread across his dimpled
cheeks, stretching his lips into even tauter lines. Overcome with
elation, he turned to shout into the house behind him.

‘HANARA! HANARA COME QUICKLY OUTSIDE!’

CONFUSED by the sudden uplift in the excitable young
man’s mood, Aaron stared past him to where a petite young woman in
a navy sari flecked with tiny gold squares had appeared in the
doorway to the house. She looked hot and bothered, seemingly
agitated at being called away from whatever it was that she had
been doing inside. Like the young man, she too bore a striking
facial resemblance to Aaron, but the black stud in her nose and the
thick mass of long raven hair that fell dramatically about her face
gave her a much sterner and more serious appearance. She remained
in the doorway, hand on hip and head cocked to one side, glaring at
the young man expectantly.

Unfazed by her hostility, the smiling young man
gestured towards Aaron animatedly.

‘Hanara, look,’ he cried, ‘it is Aaron. He has come
to us finally.’

Hanara turned her attention to Aaron and on catching
sight of him fully, her face immediately softened and her jaw
dropped open in disbelief. She stood gaping, open-mouthed, for
several minutes, her lips unable to form words and denying her the
power of speech.

‘Can you believe it, Hanara? I told you he would
come. I told you so!’ the young man boasted, looking to Aaron again
with shiny eyes of admiration.

Aaron looked from Hanara to the young man and back
again, uncertain how to behave. He recognised the girl’s name from
the letters that he had found; Hanara was his sister and since the
smiling young man so closely resembled them both, there was no
doubt in his mind that this was his brother.

‘Are you … are you Lakshin?’ he asked
tentatively.

‘Yes, I –’

‘What do you want?’ snapped Hanara sharply, suddenly
finding her voice.

She was small, but both hands were now menacingly on
her hips while she scowled at Aaron unpleasantly from the
doorway.

‘Hanara!’ shouted the young man reproachfully,
before turning to face Aaron once more. ‘I am Lakshin, yes, but
everybody is calling me Lucky … and this is Hanara. We are
Kalpana’s children, your brother and sister. Oh Aaron it is so
wonderful to be meeting you finally; we are waiting such a very
long time indeed,’ he beamed, extending his hand warmly in
welcome.

Aaron shook Lucky’s hand weakly, allowing the words
to sink in. Things were slowly starting to make sense, but one big
question remained unanswered.

‘It’s nice to meet you both. I really had no idea
that I had a brother or a sister until very recently. I … I know
that you have both been taking care of Kalpana; that’s right, isn’t
it?’

A dark look crossed Lucky’s face once more and he
looked to his sister for assistance while he searched for the right
words.

‘We were taking care of her, yes. But the thing is
–’

‘She’s dead,’ interrupted Hanara abruptly.

‘HANARA,’ cried Lucky, but it was too late.

The shock of the unexpected news sent Aaron
staggering back several paces and he clutched at his neck,
desperately gasping for air as his throat closed in on itself. The
blood drained away from his face and, wounded by the acidity of
Hanara’s harsh tongue, a searing pain tore across his
abdomen;
he
was too late
. Lucky
immediately raced to his brother's side. He wrapped his hands
reassuringly around Aaron’s forearm and peered into his face
sympathetically. Aaron stared numbly into the soft hazel eyes that
were so like his own, wishing and willing Hanara’s statement not to
be true, but Lucky closed his eyes and nodded silently, confirming
Aaron’s worst fears.