two months. I never knew I would be gone so long. Sometimes I’m surprised when I think ‘It’s only been two months’ and other times it’s more like everything about my life has changed, and it seems like I don’t remember it being otherwise.”
“Is it a good change, or would you undo it all if you could?” He was watching her intently, but she just smiled.
“The jury’s out on that one. Let’s wait and see.”
He turned to look out of the window, but she could see a twitch in the muscles of his jaw, and realized that he was smiling. His leg was bouncing slightly, and he was working the tendons of his knuckles absent-mindedly. ‘He’s never still,’ she thought, and she imagined a motor humming.
When the train pulled up at her home station, Rehan picked up her bag and nodded away her remonstrances. The platform was familiar and strange at the same time, like a childhood art project dug out of a dusty folder after many years.
The house was dark and cool, and for a moment, they both hesitated at the doorsill. “Tell you what,” said Rehan, “you go up and get your things. I’ll be down here. Give me a yell when you’re ready.”
She nodded, and he opened the door to the living room and sank into an armchair. He smiled at her, holding up the crystal swan family that had been on their coffee table as long as she could remember.
“Nice,” he said.
“Shut up.”
Her bedroom curtains were closed, and the room smelled like an attic. She did not open them. Instead, she opened her closet and pulled out a few items of clothing, found her hairdryer in the bathroom cabinet under the sink and closed all the doors gently. She was rushing, she knew, but she would not examine why. She put her hand on the door to the living room and called, “Would you like some tea before we leave?”
Rehan was looking at her family’s photographs on the mantelpiece. “Yes, thanks. Your parents?” he asked, holding up a black and white photo taken at her father’s company event at the racetrack. Amal had always wondered at the oddity of seeing her parents standing demurely in a crowd of cheerful, beer-drinking colleagues, her mother holding the bordered edge of her sari, pulling it over her shoulder for comfort. Her father’s smile was broad, but there was stiffness in his posture. “You look like your mother,” he said and she nodded. “Pretty,” he said absentmindedly, and she blushed and mumbled something about ‘that tea’.
When she returned with a tray, he was still looking at the photos. There was something different about the set of his shoulders and she put the tray down a little loudly to get his attention. He turned in a moment and smiled thinly. “You think that there’s nothing you want to do more than open the door and keep walking, but years later, you find that you just walked in a huge circle and are back where you started.”
“Will you try to find him?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to, but, then again, I do. Bet that makes no sense to you.”
“No, I get it. I felt that way, when I was told to go “fix” Uncle Mirza. But I can’t leave now. Not sure who needs whom most right now. I can’t see myself living here again. By myself.”
“Nobody should be alone for too long. It’s like you’ve been ripped out of context. Advertisers make a lot of money selling us on the idea that we’re unique, but we’ve overlooked the fact that it’s the bonds we have with other people that keep us whole.”
“You’re thinking of Mirza Uncle?”
“No, well, yes, him too. What or who has he got? Where are his friends? He’s been living like a nomad for two months, a nomad who doesn’t know where he’s going, and I don’t see anyone looking out for him.”
“He has us—and the neighbors,” Amal replied defensively. “That’s not nothing.”
“But now he has to start from scratch. He is lucky you turned up, though.” He was silent, and she did not know what to say. “Are
“Is it a good change, or would you undo it all if you could?” He was watching her intently, but she just smiled.
“The jury’s out on that one. Let’s wait and see.”
He turned to look out of the window, but she could see a twitch in the muscles of his jaw, and realized that he was smiling. His leg was bouncing slightly, and he was working the tendons of his knuckles absent-mindedly. ‘He’s never still,’ she thought, and she imagined a motor humming.
When the train pulled up at her home station, Rehan picked up her bag and nodded away her remonstrances. The platform was familiar and strange at the same time, like a childhood art project dug out of a dusty folder after many years.
The house was dark and cool, and for a moment, they both hesitated at the doorsill. “Tell you what,” said Rehan, “you go up and get your things. I’ll be down here. Give me a yell when you’re ready.”
She nodded, and he opened the door to the living room and sank into an armchair. He smiled at her, holding up the crystal swan family that had been on their coffee table as long as she could remember.
“Nice,” he said.
“Shut up.”
Her bedroom curtains were closed, and the room smelled like an attic. She did not open them. Instead, she opened her closet and pulled out a few items of clothing, found her hairdryer in the bathroom cabinet under the sink and closed all the doors gently. She was rushing, she knew, but she would not examine why. She put her hand on the door to the living room and called, “Would you like some tea before we leave?”
Rehan was looking at her family’s photographs on the mantelpiece. “Yes, thanks. Your parents?” he asked, holding up a black and white photo taken at her father’s company event at the racetrack. Amal had always wondered at the oddity of seeing her parents standing demurely in a crowd of cheerful, beer-drinking colleagues, her mother holding the bordered edge of her sari, pulling it over her shoulder for comfort. Her father’s smile was broad, but there was stiffness in his posture. “You look like your mother,” he said and she nodded. “Pretty,” he said absentmindedly, and she blushed and mumbled something about ‘that tea’.
When she returned with a tray, he was still looking at the photos. There was something different about the set of his shoulders and she put the tray down a little loudly to get his attention. He turned in a moment and smiled thinly. “You think that there’s nothing you want to do more than open the door and keep walking, but years later, you find that you just walked in a huge circle and are back where you started.”
“Will you try to find him?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to, but, then again, I do. Bet that makes no sense to you.”
“No, I get it. I felt that way, when I was told to go “fix” Uncle Mirza. But I can’t leave now. Not sure who needs whom most right now. I can’t see myself living here again. By myself.”
“Nobody should be alone for too long. It’s like you’ve been ripped out of context. Advertisers make a lot of money selling us on the idea that we’re unique, but we’ve overlooked the fact that it’s the bonds we have with other people that keep us whole.”
“You’re thinking of Mirza Uncle?”
“No, well, yes, him too. What or who has he got? Where are his friends? He’s been living like a nomad for two months, a nomad who doesn’t know where he’s going, and I don’t see anyone looking out for him.”
“He has us—and the neighbors,” Amal replied defensively. “That’s not nothing.”
“But now he has to start from scratch. He is lucky you turned up, though.” He was silent, and she did not know what to say. “Are
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