“Forget me. I’m more worried about you! Try to stay out of trouble,” I teased.
“Bye, Esha,” Reet said with a sigh. Even my teasing wasn’t going to put her in a cheery mood today. It was disconcerting to see her so down.
After one last hug, I turned away and climbed into the jeep. I waved goodbye to my three best friends as we drove away. As the image of Mandy, Carrie and Reet became smaller and eventually disappeared, I was struck by an unsettling fear.
Up to this point, travelling to India had been an idea, then a discussion. Later it had become a topic of great curiosity for my friends. Now, with no discussion, no friends and no humour, the reality of the situation began to set in. I was going through with it. I was really going to India.
I was going to be with the family that had been at the root of my fights with both of my parents for the past year. I was going to meet the family that had been created by a malicious attack, carried out by an uncle who until recently I didn’t even know existed. My every instinct screamed that I wasn’t prepared for what awaited me on the other side. This was going to be one hell of a trip.
“Shit,” I said out loud.
“Esha, this is not the time to swear,” my mother scolded. “This is the time to pray to Waheguru that you have a safe trip to India, and that your father’s last wish is realized. After which, you will once again join us. Waheguru, look over my sweet daughter.”
“Oh, Mom.” I swung my arm around her and smiled. “I’ll be just fine. You should feel sorry for the poor Indians that are going to have to put up with me. I’ll be back in no time, just you wait and see.”
She returned my smile, but as her eyes met mine, I saw her fear. I guess mothers never can stop worrying.
Indians.
I took a deep breath and looked out at the passing mountains. My whole life, I had been surrounded by the beauty of these very mountains. It saddened me to think I wouldn’t be waking up to them for the next few weeks.
Don’t worry, mountains; I’ll be back very soon.
FIVE
June 1984
Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats and fasten your seatbelts. We will begin our descent to the Palam Airport in New Delhi shortly. Thank you.”
My stomach tightened as the airplane descended. So far the flight had been unbearable, and as the plane now began its landing, my impatience grew. Massaging the back of my stiff neck didn’t do much for the discomfort. It must have been over sixteen hours since we’d departed. Thankfully, I had a window seat with no one beside me. The flight wasn’t as packed as I had feared it would be.
“Shit—I hate planes. Why did I have to come all this way?” I complained as I stretched out my arms. The answer, however, was resting on my lap. “Oops. Sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to swear again. I can’t wait to get off this plane. You know how I . . .” my voice trailed off.
I realized that I wasn’t speaking to a real person. Instead I was speaking to a box of ashes. It had been a painful experience collecting his urn from the funeral home. My mother’s strong façade had fallen apart as soon as she’d laid eyes upon the urn. Soon after, both my sister and mother had become faint, and so of course, swallowing my emotions, I’d stepped forward and completed the formalities.
Now, however, as I held my father’s urn, I couldn’t help but remember a man who had chased after me during my toddler days; a man who’d picked me up and carried me on his shoulders when I couldn’t walk any further; a man who was very much alive and excited for life and his children. That man was now nothing more than ashes, tied in a bag, secured in a wooden box and placed in a suede emerald sack.
“You did love us, right, Daddy? But, then why did you lie all of these years? And especially when you knew I had found that photo. Why didn’t you say anything then? It would have changed things, changed the way I ended things . . .”
A sea of lights lit up the late-night cityscape below. As the plane glided towards the runway, the crowded streets became more visible. The plane gave a bit of a jolt as it touched down on the tarmac. Just as it came to a stop, I took a deep breath. Here we go.
As soon as I stepped off the plane, I was engulfed in thick smog that carried a rank smell, as if there were month-old dirty socks in every pocket of Delhi. If that wasn’t bad enough, the heat was excruciating. It was like walking into an oven.
Well, this is going to take some getting used to! I thought as I made my way towards the baggage collection area.
While collecting my bags, I noticed that I was being stared at quite a bit. Walking towards the exit, I realized I was still drawing a lot of attention. I usually am quite pleased to attract attention, but the constant stares were admittedly a bit unnerving. I looked down, trying to see if there was something wrong with my clothes or if something was out of place, but there wasn’t, so I just moved on. I desperately hoped my ride was waiting for me.
Once outside, I scanned the curious faces in the crowded gated area through which all arrivals had to pass after collecting their bags. It was mostly men in the crowd. I could barely spot any women. They were shouting out names, smiling and waving at their relatives. Eventually my gaze landed on a short, skinny, dark-complexioned man with large round eyes. He was holding a sign that read: Esha Kaur Sidhu—Canada.
“Kaur? Great, I’m not even out of the airport yet, and they’re already turning me into a full-fledged Sikh . . . Indian . . . whatever!” I walked up to the man with the sign, and he looked relieved that he had finally found me. I smiled and offered my hand. “Hi, I’m Esha. Just simple Esha, not EEE-sha, but like the sound of an ‘a’, okay, Esha. And please no Kaur, okay?”
He eyed my offered hand nervously, simply nodded and said, “Hello, ma’am. I am Chotu, the family driver.”
“Chotu? Is that your full name?” I asked in Punjabi as I took my hand back. As expected, he didn’t speak English.
“No, ma’am. It is Chandrasheiker Singh. Everybody calls me Chotu, well, because as you can see, I am not so very tall. It is since childhood. Just Chotu,” he said smiling, clearly pleased that I had taken interest in his name. I followed him to a medium-sized white car in the airport parking lot. The stares from passersby still had not ceased.
“So, Chotu, why is it that wherever I pass, people are staring at me?”
Chotu found this funny. “Oh, ma’am, do not worry too much about it. You are a very fair-looking young woman. It is only normal that they will stare at a foreigner such as yourself.”
“I see. So, uh . . . where’s the family? I mean, I thought Ekant would come to collect me.”
“Sir was busy with business, so he sent me to receive you. The family is eagerly awaiting your arrival at home. It is the first time we are having a foreign guest visit. Everyone is very excited to see you, but also very sad to hear about your father.” Chotu lowered his gaze to the urn held tightly in my hands.
“Yeah, me too,” I sighed as I climbed into the backseat and he loaded up my baggage.
The drive to the house didn’t take very long. After the time it had taken to get through customs, collect my bags and exit the airport, it had gotten pretty late, almost midnight. Therefore, as Chotu explained, the streets now were clear for a smooth, traffic-free drive.
I rolled down my window, hoping to feel a breeze. The humidity was making my hair frizz, so I tied it back. The last thing I should do is show up looking like a crazy bag lady. I straightened my clothes and tried to make myself look presentable. I did the best I could from the backseat of the car and in such poor light. A spritz of perfume and the cool feel of lotion on my arms and face