THIRTY-THREE
THOUGH the afternoon had not been the happiest one that they had shared, knowing that Chandni loved him and working through the challenges that they faced together had provided Arun with the release that he so desperately needed. He was finally able to enjoy a restful night’s sleep and the following day he felt much more revived, his head less congested by the complex array of thoughts that he had been juggling all week. He wasn’t exactly overjoyed at the prospect of returning to England, but the decision to do so, and the plans and provisions that he had made with Chandni to sustain their relationship, had given him a sense of direction once more.
He knew that his decision would crush Hanara and Lucky, but he knew too that they would understand and appreciate that this was the only way to guarantee that he might one day return more permanently and under his own steam. He decided to break the news to them during dinner that night when they would all be together and, though it might dampen their spirits, at least their visit to the mandir would prevent them from dwelling on the matter all evening. Arun had a little over two weeks remaining in the village and he was determined to make the most of the time. He wanted to leave a lasting impression, not just on Lucky, Hanara and Chandni, but also on the other villagers that had so warmly welcomed him and left such a lasting impression on his soul. This time, he would not be forgotten by his home.
He passed the day in the shop talking amicably with his regular customers, going to great lengths to assist them with their purchases and making a concerted effort to be more positive about the journey that lay ahead. Mrs Satpathy came by, as did a number of Hanara and Lucky’s friends from the mandir, and Arun laughed and joked with each and every one, taking mental pictures by which to remember them. When the sun began to set, he secured the shop for the night and headed towards the house for dinner, feeling famished by the return of his appetite, but upon stepping inside he instantly knew that something was not right. The omnipresent smell of spices and the cloud of smoke that usually greeted him were nowhere to be found and Hanara was not in the kitchen where she usually stood.
‘Hanara?’ he called, wondering where she might be.
‘I’m here only,’ she answered, emerging from her bedroom with her hair swept to one side while she tried to fix an earring in place through the hole in her left ear.
She was already dressed in one of the saris that she usually reserved for visits to the mandir.
‘You look nice,’ he observed, feeling relieved that she was okay, ‘are we going somewhere for dinner?’
‘No, no, Rajubhai Joshi has called an urgent meeting at the mandir only. You need to get dressed, quickly. We’ll have to eat when we get back.’
‘Is everything okay?’ he asked, ignoring the grumbles of disapproval emanating from his stomach.
‘It doesn’t sound like it, no.’
As if on cue, Lucky walked through the door, looking tired and equally hungry from his long day of driving.
‘Good evening, everyone.’
‘Lucky get dressed, quickly. We are going to the mandir; Rajubhai Joshi has called a meeting,’ she insisted.
Lucky’s face dropped instantly, but comprehending the urgency inherent in his sister’s voice, he didn’t protest. Wordlessly, he grabbed Arun’s arm and dragged his brother into the bedroom that they shared, forcing him to change his clothes. Ten minutes later, the three of them were seated in Lucky’s rickshaw, riding in silence to the mandir and, though Arun remained puzzled by their strange behaviour, it was enough for him to know that something was very wrong.
When they arrived at the mandir, he was surprised to see so many people lining the steps. There were at least double the number of people that usually attended the nightly prayers and, though he could pick out the faces of a few infrequent visitors to the shop, there were a host of faces that he didn’t recognise at all. People crowded together in small huddles, talking in hushed tones, and there was a palpable tension present in the air that made Arun feel increasingly ill at ease. It was only when Rajubhai Joshi appeared at the main entrance and beckoned them all inside that the huddles began to disperse and the people of the village filed into the main hall of the mandir. Arun obediently followed Lucky to the men’s side of the room and sat cross-legged beside him, patiently awaiting the start of the evening prayers, but they never came.
Rajubhai Joshi stood before the large shrine and, in an unusual move, faced the audience, his hands clasped together in a tight ball, devoid of the aarti tray that he usually carried for worship. The crowd immediately fell quiet at the sight of him and while they waited with bated breath for him to speak an eerie silence prevailed in the large hall. Rajubhai Joshi looked tired and worn, and even before he moved his lips to speak, Arun knew that he was not going to like what the old man had to say. Alternating between English and Oriya, he sombrely addressed the gathered crowd.
‘My dear brothers and sisters,’ he began slowly, clearing his throat, ‘I thank you all for coming at such short notice. As you are aware, some years ago the government of Orissa approved a plan to build a new airport serving Puri. This plan was also supported at a national level, the idea that visitor numbers to Puri could be increased by improving direct access to the city. The search for an optimum site led officials here, to our small community.
‘During the initial discussions, we rejected their proposal to move us. After all, why should we simply leave behind our homes and lives, and the generations of history that we have with this, our village? Yet undeterred, these same officials then made offers of financial compensation in addition to the move, offers that we once again declined, our heartfelt concerns clearly falling upon deaf ears. With no resolution appropriate to their own needs, myself and the other mandir committee members were called upon to defend our right to stay in our homes in a court of law.
‘My brothers and sisters, we fought valiantly, but I am sad to say that the greed of the government and the corruption inherent in our judicial system colluded to prevent us from securing a victory. On the advice of our counsel and in upholding the vow that we made to serve you, we appealed that decision and requested that it be overturned. My dear friends, this morning I returned from the court in Bhubaneswar, and it is with a heavy heart that I inform you that our appeal has not been successful.’
Gasps and cries instantly went up around the room and, with the shock of Rajubhai Joshi’s words causing widespread panic, the room was soon buzzing with the sound of a million worried voices. Arun turned to Lucky, but his brother’s face was frozen, his mouth wide open in disbelief, unable to compute the recent turn of events. Rajubhai Joshi raised his hands in the air and the crowd fell silent once more.
‘I am sorry that we were not able to do more. We did the very best that we could, but in the end, I am ashamed to say that our government favours the money of tourists over the wellbeing of its own people. As the matter has been so protracted the officials are keen to begin construction right away and, as such, the relocation process is likely to commence in the next few weeks.’
Another hysterical cry went up around the audience and one elderly lady whom Arun didn’t recognise could be heard wailing uncontrollably while her neighbour tried to comfort her. Rajubhai Joshi motioned for quiet once more.
‘I know that you will have questions, many of which I am ill-equipped to answer, therefore I have invited representatives from both the government and the construction company that proposes to conduct the work, to attend the mandir in two days’ time. They will be able to outline the relocation and compensation processes for you and answer the questions that you may have.
‘My brothers and sisters, though the loss of our beloved village is sad, I urge you all to remember that we are more than the mud and bricks that make up our homes. We are a community, a family bonded through love and faith, and it is this love and faith that will see us through. May God bless you all.’
Rajubhai Joshi turned to the shrine and briefly bowed his head in prayer, before stepping off to one of
the adjoining rooms, leaving the crowd to erupt in outrage.
People began getting to their feet, the distress in their faces mirrored by their neighbours as they discussed Rajubhai Joshi’s life-altering revelation. Arun and Lucky struggled to their feet too and immediately went in search of Hanara. A few moments later they found her outside on the steps of the mandir, surrounded by her friends and a few elder women who Arun didn’t recognise. Strangely, they were virtually silent, talking in hushed tones and, for the first time since his arrival, none of them paid Arun much attention when he approached. Hanara pushed her way out of the circle to join them, her mouth set in a thin line and her eyes dark and wild with fury.
‘Can you believe it?’ she said in a tone so menacing that it reminded Arun of the first day that they had met.
‘Can we go home please?’ responded Lucky in the most melancholy tone that Arun had ever heard him use. ‘I don’t feel like being around all of these people right now.’
‘Sure, let’s go.’
Hanara waved goodbye to her posse of friends and the trio made their way back to Mata-ji’s house, a house that in a few weeks would no longer exist.
Hanara set dinner down before them all and the mood was subdued, each of them mulling over the events of the evening. Still famished, Arun eagerly wolfed down the food on his plate, but, deeply saddened at the prospect of having to leave his home, Lucky appeared to have taken up the mantle of pushing food aimlessly around his plate.
‘You must eat, Lucky,’ Hanara chided.
Lucky smiled briefly at her concern, but made no move to lift food towards his mouth.
‘I can’t believe that you have to move,’ said Arun, to everyone and no-one at the same time. ‘How can they just force people from their homes?’
‘Because, what is one small village compared with the money that they can make?’ answered Hanara bitterly.
‘But what if you refused to leave? What if you just stayed in your houses and refused to come out?’
‘Even this is not working,’ moaned Lucky, staring blankly at the space ahead of him, ‘eventually they would send in the army to remove us; it’s happened before, in other states.’
‘What about the new place? Do you know where it is?’
‘Yes, it’s miles away, even further from Puri. When they talked to us the first time, it sounded okay; we would have a new house and a small plot of land, and we could build the shop again next door. But it is really too far away for Lucky to drive to Puri each day. He would hardly be making anything after the fuel costs.’
‘Well surely that’s something that they can’t ignore? That’s his livelihood,’ cried Arun indignantly.
‘They told me that once the new airport was built, there would be even more business for me, so it didn’t matter,’ answered Lucky, sounding utterly unconvinced.
The mood was sombre and though Arun was desperately racking his brains for a way to help his siblings, or at the very least provide some words of comfort and reassurance, his mind kept being drawn back to thoughts of his impending departure. The fact that he had not yet shared his decision to leave with them weighed heavily on his mind and as though she possessed a sixth sense, Hanara conveniently broached the subject for him.
‘Have you given any more thought to what you are going to do, Arun? Will you be moving to the new house with us?’ she asked hopefully.
Arun looked guiltily from Hanara to Lucky and back again. He dreaded the thought of telling them that he was leaving more than leaving itself and to do so, right when they had just been told that they would be losing their home, seemed almost cruel.
‘Let’s talk about it tomorrow. I think we’ve all had enough excitement for one night,’ he replied, brushing off the question.
‘But you have made a decision?’
‘Yes, I have.’
‘Then why not share it with us now only? It is not going to be any different tomorrow, is it?’ quipped Hanara matter-of-factly.
‘No, of course not. I just thought that –’
‘You’re leaving, isn’t it?’ interrupted Lucky. ‘It’s okay, you can say it.’
Arun nodded and watched painfully while Lucky and Hanara’s faces fell at the confirmation of their suspicions.
‘I have to. It’s the only way. I can’t afford to stay, but at least if I go now then I’ll be able to come back some day.’
Arun searched his siblings' eyes, pleading for understanding, and though their sadness was tangible, he knew that they appreciated what a difficult decision it had been. Rising from her seat, Hanara crawled across the floor and circled her arms around Arun’s shoulders.
‘We will miss you. I will miss you,’ she whispered.
‘I will miss you both too, but I will come back, whenever I can.’
‘Promise?’
‘I promise.’
It was the most heartfelt promise that Arun had ever made. India was where he wanted to be, it was where his heart belonged and whatever came to pass, whatever he had to do, he was going to return as soon as he could.