Julie & Kishore (19 page)

I
glanced behind me at the entrance to the market, willing Kishore to walk out of
the gate but he wasn’t there.

 
Mrs Malik, spoke in Hindi to the taxi driver,
I heard the words, ‘New Zealand Embassy.’ I briefly wondered how I would pay
the driver and hoped when I arrived at the embassy they would assist me with
money.

 
I thanked Mrs Malik and left her standing on
the curb as I climbed into the car, it drove off and quickly merged with the
traffic. I thought of Kishore and felt a great emptiness fill my entire body.
There was no turning back - I was now completely alone.

 
I closed my eyes for a few seconds to gather
my thoughts and realised the radio was blaring, the noise filling the inside of
the car. Brought out of my brief solace, I reluctantly opened my eyes.
Considering my circumstances the high-pitched
penetrating shrill of a female
classical Indian singer was not exactly a comforting
sound. But louder than the song was the toot-toot of my driver announcing his
presence to the other cars. I peeped at him through his rear vision mirror. He
was young, only perhaps twenty-five, his greasy black hair
was
combed back in a slick style. As he opened his mouth
to mutter at the cars cutting him off,
I saw
his
teeth already showed the tell-tale orange staining from chewing the betel leaf.
He was as far away as a person could be from a Raja (King) so in my mind that
is what I cynically called him. Raja looked up at his mirror and caught my eye,
he smiled at me. I quickly diverted my gaze, his smile was devious and I felt
another emotion at the pit of my stomach, repulsion.

 
I swivel
l
ed
my head and looked behind me through the back window of the taxi, wishing I
would see Kishore, hoping he was somehow following me, that he had hailed a
taxi and was charging through the traffic coming to my rescue but no, I
realised sadly it was not to be.

The
car slowed to a halt as we approached traffic lights, from the corner of my eye
I saw a beggar approaching my window, ‘not now, I thought
,
‘just go away and leave me alone.’

I
remembered Kishore’s words, to ignore beggars and forced myself to look
straight ahead. The vagrant, a small child tapped on the glass. I couldn’t help
it, my head
, as if it wasn’t my own, spun
towards him. His
face was dirty and cheeks hollow but it was his
big, brown
doe-like eyes
that
stared hopefully into mine. I desperately wanted to
open the car door, pull him into my arms and
just
hold
him. Thankfully the
lights changed
to green
and as the taxi drove off, we
left the boy
standing on the road.

I
glanced,
with fearful eyes
into Raja’s mirror again, he was looking
at back me with a smirk on his face that made my stomach flip. I cried
desolately to myself, ‘Oh Kishore, where are you.’

I
glanced
back at the traffic behind us but no,
Kishore was not there.

 
I again realised the vulnerability of my
situation, if Raja tried anything now, what could I do? Could I fight him,
scream, would anybody help me? Would my
friends
words
now come true? Would I be sold to a white slave trader? Would I become a
statistic, just another white-skinned tourist lost in a foreign country?

 
I forced myself away from those dark thoughts
and focused on what I would do once I got to the embassy. Firstly, I would call
my Mum, I strained my memory to think if I had Kishore’s parents phone number
written down somewhere in my bedroom at home. No, I was sure I didn’t, I racked
my brain to try and remember his parents address.
For goodness sake,
Kishore had said it enough times, in fact every time
we went out he told the driver his parents address so we could get back home.
How did I get myself into this? Why on earth hadn’t we planned this better?
Feeling like a fool, I banged my forehead with the palm of my hand. Kishore! I
wanted to scream.

 
Maybe this was all going to be too much,
marrying him and always having a feeling of being on edge when facing all of
the trials and tribulations that come with cultural situations. Have I been
given a sign that I shouldn’t be with him and I should give in and do what
society wants and marry a European man? Could this
be
my
final chance to escape? The only reasonable solution I could think of right now
was to get to the embassy
,
ring Mum and
ask her to arrange a ticket so I could fly home.

 
The taxi slowed, I looked out of the window -
we were approaching a sign it said:

 
Sir Edmund Hillary: New Zealand High
Commission.

 
I was relieved and surprised, we had only been
in the taxi twenty minutes at the most but then of course I had no idea how far
away
the embassy was.

 
Sir Edmund Hillary and New Zealand, as I read
those comforting words the image of the iconic Fatherly figure, a symbol of all
things Kiwi appeared in my mind. A flood of relief washed over me and tears
pricked my eyes. Julie, I told myself, hold it together just a bit longer. The
taxi pulled up in front of the large iron gates. I noticed a group of homeless
people nearby, here, even here! I thought. Raja twisted his head around to face
me,
“Embassy Memsab
,
” he said.

I
heard a tapping on the car window on the other side from where I was sitting.
This time I was definitely not looking at the beggars, ‘go away’ I wanted to
scream, ‘I am going through a crisis here, just leave me alone.’

The
tapping continued, “Julie…Julie! It’s me, Kishore.”

The
words sounded strange in my ears, Kishore? How could Kishore be here? I was
afraid to turn my head in case I was imagining his voice.

I
turned, I stared
,
my eyes
opened
wide
,
it was him, really him.

 
I opened the door on my side and scrambled out
of the cab. As I stood and turned, Kishore had already run around the side of
the car and was standing in front of me.

 
His face said it all, he was as frantic as I
was. I practically fell into his arms. We hugged tightly. Finally enclosed in
the security of his embrace I wept onto his shoulder deeply breathing in his
familiar comforting and reassuring smell, Cossack and just well, him.

He
pulled apart from me, held my hands and
did an inspection
,
visually checking me from head to toe
.

“Darling,
are you a
l
l
right?”

I
was a
l
l
right now I was
with him, I meekly nodded, “Yes I’m okay,” I croaked.

“Oh
Julie, Julie, I am so sorry I lost you. I searched everywhere for you, I am so,
so sorry.”

Oblivious
of anything around us, he gently kissed each of my tear stained eyelids, his
lips being moist from his own salty tears. He pulled me close and hugged me to
him again. There was no doubt his anguish was as great as mine. As we soothed
each other, I finally managed to ask, "But how, how did you know where I
was?” Kishore pointed and I saw another taxi, the one he rode in, “I took a
taxi here, Julie, come on let’s go home, we’ll get into your taxi and I’ll
explain on the way."

Pulling
himself away from me, he walked over to his taxi and paid his driver. We then
both climbed into the back seat of my cab. I listened very carefully as Kishore
gave the address of his family home to a now bewildered Raja, if I had only
listened that carefully before.

Once
we were back on the road, Kishore explained his side of the story. When he
realised I was gone he had of course been beside himself with worry. He stopped
many people in the market and asked over and over again if they had seen me, he
had searched everywhere. Then, as luck would have it, he finally caught a
glimpse of my red hair as I walked towards the exit. He tried to push his way
through the crowd but by the time he got out of the gate, I was already in the
taxi driving away – he was too late.

I
was momentarily amazed, my red hair
that
I had hated all
my life was like a beacon of light in the bush to a group of lost t
r
ampers - it had saved me. I understood Kishore’s
distress
by the tears welling in his eyes. He put
his arm through mine, I guess he needed t
o
touch me, reassuring himself I was really there, “The old lady
,
” he said, “She told me where you were going, where
she had told the taxi driver to go.”

“But
I kept looking behind me, you weren’t there.”

He
gently smiled, “I told my taxi driver to take a different route, hoping to get
to the embassy faster but it seems we got there about the same time.”

Back
in Sundar Garden with a warm, sweet cup of tea inside us, we relived the whole
terrible ordeal again as we told his family the entire story. Kishore then did
two things - firstly he didn’t stop apologising
,
telling me over and over
that
he would never
let me out of his sight again. He loved me so much and proclaimed if he had not
found me he would have never given up searching, even if it took the rest of
his life. He had travelled all the way to New Zealand to finally find his love
so how could he spend his life without me? He had made a promise to my Mother
to look after me. How would he have told my family he had lost me?

Kishore’s
second task was to write down in Hindi and English his parents name, address
and phone number, telling me to keep it in my purse or somewhere on me at all
times. He also gave me some rupees, enough to catch a taxi from anywhere in
Delhi to his parents address, “Julie, keep this money to use only in an
emergency,” and “don’t get into an auto, you must get a taxi.” When I asked him
why he replied, “Autos are too open, Julie, when they stop at traffic lights
anyone could reach in and grab you.”

For the remainder
of that day and the next I often felt
his concerned eyes upon me, I’d turn to him and meekly smile, “Are you
okay," he asked again and again, I simply nodded. It took me two days to
begin to feel myself again. I didn’t blame Kishore at all, it wasn’t his fault,
it
was just a lack of planning from both of us.

In
the taxi on the way to the embassy with Raja
,
I had seriously thought about my future. Now, I had come to realise that
incident had been yet another test, a test to see if we could survive. We were
like two swimmers who were tentatively putting our toes in the water feeling
the temperature. Could we jump in together and take the plunge? If we did,
would we be swimming in the warm, calm tropical ocean or the icy, cold
Antarctic sea?

Our
bond
was certainly stronger as we had now together
endured an extremely emotional event.

If
there was any uncertainty about Kishore’s love for me that incident had
certainly dispelled it.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE

The
Hindi word for prince is rajakumar.

Our
stay in India was for one month. Twelve days had passed already in a flurry of
visiting family, friends, markets and temples. Kishore’s family, including
myself had quickly slipped into a familiar morning routine.

His
Father and siblings were not on holiday so life continued as normal for them.
Ranjini and Saras attended high school, while Sunil, who was twenty-one, was at
university studying to gain a business degree. Kishore’s Father followed in his
bookkeeper Father’s footsteps and worked in a bank.

I
was surprised to find that their morning routine was similar to any family
home. Everybody rushing to get ready, wanting to use the bathroom first. Mother
urging ‘eat your breakfast quickly’ and to the girls, ‘don’t spill anything on
your clean school uniform' and 'have you got your books?’ As each person
dashed
out of the door she exclaimed, ‘don’t forget your
lunch.’

A
lunchbox in India is called a ‘tiffian carrier,’ a metal cylinder with three
compartments, each section stacked on top of the other with a handle over the top.
One compartment might contain dahl or a meat dish, the next a cooked vegetable
or salad and the last, rotis and a spoonful of chutney.

As
Kishore’s family flat was on the top floor, they had access to the roof which
doubled as a private balcony. They enjoyed this area as a place to sit, chat
and watch the goings-on in the street below and be happy for once that they’re
not a part of it.

As
we were on holiday there was no rush for Kishore and myself to get ready so we
kept out of everyone’s way, most mornings we went up onto the balcony. I liked
to go to the edge, lean over the railing and look down at the
mayhem that was the
traffic, people going about their
morning business and the sheer mass of diverse humanity.

On
this morning as I stared at the view from my vantage point, I noticed a lazy
mist covering the city. It was as if the clouds had drifted down to join us in
welcoming the morning. Across the street in the opposite garden a gentle breeze
tantalised the leaves encouraging them to join their dance.

Kishore
and I as a young couple savoured this time. After all, we were still in the
full flux of new love so anytime spent alone together was special.
I joined him as he sat
cross-legged
on the concrete floor
, we faced each other, taking
advantage of the early morning sun. We positioned our backs to soak up its
warmth, just like cats, we basked in its rays. I
gazed
into Kishore's eyes and him into mine, perhaps we would even sneak a tender
kiss - knowing our love for each other was apparent, words were not always
necessary.

Once
everybody had left the house,
before
Kishore’s Mother
began her daily chores, she
joined us on the
balcony. As she reached the top of the stairs, she
conveniently
cough
ed
to announce her arrival. Usually, we discussed our
plans for the day while we sat drinking tea and eating breakfast, which we
carefully carried up the stairs.

As
I was now immersed in the language, I understood a lot more Hindi. Aided with
Kishore’s Mothers broken English, we managed to communicate quite easily.

Little
did I know as she joined us on the balcony on this day she had something
special to talk about.

As
she lowered herself to sit, crossing her legs with ease, I was perturbed, as
she strangely did not look at me. Although the three of us faced each other in
a small semi-circle almost like a little
pow
wow
(although this was the wrong type of Indians to have a pow wow with!) Mummyji
did not even try to speak in English. She communicated only in Hindi and
directed her conversation solely at Kishore. I sensed it would be rude for me
to interrupt so I tried to pick up any distinguishing words but she was
speaking too fast. I strained my ears until one word jumped out at me, a word I
did understand, a word that hit me like a bolt from the blue and that
wa
s the word for marriage, ‘shaadi.'

With
the continuous toot-toot of the morning traffic echoing from below, his Mother
mentioned this word a few times, what was she saying? I was desperate to know.
Had I done something wrong? Did she disapprove of us getting married? Did
Kishore actually have a secret girl he had been betrothed to marry? Was the
truth finally out?

As
I watched Mummyji, although she wouldn’t look at me, I noticed a slight smile
at the corner of mouth. With my ears on high alert I heard the word ‘shaadi’
again. I stared at Kishore, piercing my eyes into his downcast head, willing
him to make eye contact with me but he was too intent on listening to his
Mother, keeping his head down, deep in concentration. When Mummyji finally
stopped talking, I nudged Kishore unable to contain my anticipation any longer.
Was he going to tell me Mummji and Daddyji didn’t like me and did not approve
of us getting married?
 

Kishore
didn’t react. I nudged him again, harder this time, urging him to explain,
“Come on Kishore,” I finally pleaded, “What is Mummyji saying?"

He
raised his head and gazed at me, his eyes dispelling any negative thoughts I
had.

He
had the same smile at the corner of his mouth as his Mother.

“Well…”
I
 
almost
demanded.

Kishore
just sat there with a silly expression on his face, his smile getting bigger
and cheekier.

“Kishore,
tell me,” I pleaded, I was getting frustrated.

“Julie…”
he cleared his throat and began again. “Julie my precious jewel, Julie my love,
Julie my…” he stopped mid-sentence. Seeing the anguished look on my face he
started once more, “Julie my precious jewel” he repeated.

“Yes”
I calmly said, although I wanted to shout, 'stop the soppy talk and just get on
with it!’

“Julie,
my Dad and Mum have had a long talk.”

“OK…,
go on.”

“Well,
Julie, they are suggesting that since, umm, since we have just under three
weeks left before we go back to New Zealand…”

“Go
on
…
,” it was like extracting teeth.

“My
Dad
and Mum
love you Julie, Mum says she feels like
you are already part of the family.”

I
appreciated the sentiment but really couldn’t stand much more of this, I just
wanted him to get to the point.

Finally
Kishore took a deep breath and said hurriedly, “Julie, Mum is suggesting that
we get married here, now, while we are in India.”

I
think my heart missed a beat, “What?
marriage…
us?...here?...now?”

“That’s
right,” he was happy now he had finally said it and it showed in his voice,
“Well, what do you think?”

I
had
heard clearly what Kishore had said but it took a
few moments to sink in, to comprehend
what
he had said. My head swam and I tried to swallow as all of a sudden my throat
felt extremely dry. I forced myself to look at him straight in his eyes, they
seemed to be dancing with excitement. I knew I loved him, I loved him so much.
I drew my eyes from him and over to his Mother. She had that same smile on her
face but now there was also a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

In
my heart I knew there would be no other answer. I again tuned my attention to
Kishore, I managed to swallow even though,
I
now felt
my heart was in my mouth. Finally,
I
was able to say
the only answer I always knew I would say. A word that is understandable in any
language…"Yes.”

The
three of us beamed. It was the biggest smile I have ever seen on Kishore. I
looked
again at his Mother, she had obviously
understood. Her smile was as big as a Cheshire cat’s.

If
I thought my life had changed since I met Kishore, after saying that simple
three letter word, my life was about to change a whole lot more.

CHAPTER THIRTY

The
Hindi word for treasure is khazana.

Kishore’s
Dad was the head of the family but there was no doubt his Mother ran the house.

That
morning on the balcony Kishore was surprised by his Mother’s serious tone, he
had the feeling she had something significant to talk about. She began by
saying how much the family liked Julie and believed she would make a good
daughter-in-law. He was pleased, as it was important to him that his family
liked Julie.

She
said she
had never met or spoken to an English person
before meeting Julie, her life and culture was so very different to her own.
Trying to imagine Kishore marrying someone who was not Indian took some getting
used to. She confided in him her thoughts on how an English girl would fit into
their household as their beliefs were poles apart. She admitted when she first
met Julie she didn’t know how to speak to her but over the days since their
arrival she’d got
ten
to know her and
believed she fitted well into their family home and had easily adjusted to their
life.

Kishore’s
Mum asked him when he thought he would make it back to India again. He told her
it would probably be a long time. Julie and he wanted to marry then save to buy
a house. Treading cautiously, so as not to muddy the waters, his Mother then
approached the subject of them getting married before going back to New
Zealand. Both his Mum and Dad had discussed the situation at length and his Dad
agreed it was the right thing to do. If they were going to marry anyway, why
wait? Why not marry now while they were in India?

Kishore
knew the recommendation from his Aunt and Uncle had obviously smoothed the way
for his relationship with Julie. His Mother and Father would not have taken
this step if they didn’t have some prior knowledge of Julie’s family and
background.

At
first he was taken aback but then he began to digest his Mum’s proposition.
Could an entire wedding possibly be arranged in
less than
three
weeks?
 
His ever resourceful Mother
assured him that despite the short time frame
,
she could organise everything. She was good at planning and would get all of
the neighbours to help with the arrangements. She would also rally them into
assisting with the cooking - besides Indian people just love parties. It would
be a challenge for everyone but to have a wedding on their own doorstep would
be exciting and
truly
romantic.

Kishore
agreed maybe it was a good idea. To be married in front of his family and
friends was something he was not expecting to happen. To have Julie as his wife
was what he wanted from the moment he saw her, if this could be achieved in
just under three weeks, then he was ready, bring it on!