THE IMMIGRANT (43 page)

The empty prettiness of the landscape drew her attention. The last time she had gazed at moving scenery her mother’s ashes had lain on her lap. Now there was nothing tying her down anywhere. She was travelling away from Halifax, deliberately pulling at the bonds that held her.

She thought of those who had been nice to her, wayfarers on the path, nothing permanent, but interacting with them had made that stretch easier. Colleagues at HRL, the women’s group that encouraged her to be angry and assertive, Beth, Gayatri, Library School; the sense of community was there, warming but temporary—everything temporary.

Perhaps that was the ultimate immigrant experience. Not that any one thing was steady enough to attach yourself to for the rest of your life, but that you found different ways to belong, ways not necessarily lasting, but ones that made your journey less lonely for a while. When something failed it was a signal to move on. For an immigrant there was no going back.

The continent was full of people escaping unhappy pasts. She too was heading towards fresh territories, a different set of circumstances, a floating resident of the Western world.

When one was reinventing oneself, anywhere could be home. Pull up your shallow roots and move. Find a new place, new friends, a new family. It had been possible once, it would be possible again.

Acknowledgements

In Halifax for their information about libraries and Library Science, I thank Susan James, Vivian Howard, Judy Dunn and Professor Norman Horrocks.

Dr Paul Downing and Dr Rupa Raghavan gave me crucial information about dentistry in Canada and India. In New York Penelope Anderson was generous with her home and her knowledge of the city.

My husband Gun Nidhi Dalmia has been a source of encouragement, support and reassurance. His memory has been infallible, his patience inexhaustible.

I thank Katharine Bowlby for all the gaps she plugged in my knowledge of Halifax, for her photographs, observations and clarifying instincts, for her house and her unstinting hospitality. To her generous husband, Craig Laurence, to her daughters, Marion and Anna, thanks again.

Ira Singh has as usual read my work in progress more times than anybody has a right to expect. From beginning to end she has been with Nina and Ananda—at last she can say goodbye to them.

Anuradha Marwah criticised the manuscript as ruthlessly as only friends can.

I thank my editor, Julian Loose, at Faber, my publisher Chiki Sarkar and Rajni George, my editor, at Random House India, and Ayesha Karim, my agent, for their insightful comments and enthusiasm.

A writing fellowship from the Civitella Ranieri Foundation—a bequest made by the late Ursula Corning—in New York enabled me to spend six productive weeks in the Civitella Ranieri Castle in Umbertide, Umbria, Italy, where thoughts were stimulated by fine food, the fellowship of artists and the Umbrian countryside.

At the Delhi Gymkhana Club, the library staff, Hans Raj Parihar, Praveen Kukreja, Harish S Negi, Joginder Goswami, Ram Sewak, Mahadev and Santosh went out of their way to make sure I had a comfortable, undisturbed writing environment.

A note on the author

Manju Kapur is the author of three acclaimed novels,
Difficult Daughters, A Married Woman
and
Home. Difficult Daughters
won the Commonwealth Writer’s Prize (Eurasia) in 1998 and
Home
was shortlisted for the Hutch Crossword Book Award in 2006. Manju Kapur lives in New Delhi, where she teaches English Literature at Miranda House, Delhi University.

By Manju Kapur

Also published by Random House India