THE IMMIGRANT by Manju Kapur

dismissed these thoughts as trivial rubbish. The fact that his penis seemed to have its own notions made him a little vulnerable, that was all.
    The few Indian girls he met in Halifax did not attract him. He was too suspicious of the strings he saw around them. They might be looking for marriage, they might regard any physical contact as commitment, they might get their parents to contact his uncle.
    And then too Indian women meant he could never escape his country. His uncle might remember on occasion that he was Indian, Nancy might enjoy playing the native, but for him the basement of the Equador Hotel on Diwali and Holi only evoked the shadows of home without its beauty. He hadn’t travelled so far for that.
    For a while he was edgy around Gary, wary of Sue’s presence and judgement. But Sue met him with her usual friendliness and Ananda was forced to behave as she did. Gary continued to be his natural self, and gradually the trust that had been severely shaken was reaffirmed. Such a friend was worth crossing the seven seas for.
    Meanwhile Ananda threw himself into his work. He had done well in the first part of his DDS, he was soon appearing for the clinical evaluation. His skill in passing exams stood him in good stead.
    Finally he was a qualified Canadian dentist. Dr Cameron offered him a junior partnership. He was getting old, his back hurt, his eyes were giving him trouble. It was time to semi-retire. Ananda was delighted to prove that he was not the menial he had seemed the previous summer. All those people for whom he had made impressions, mixed silver, filled glasses of water, now all those people were going to see him in his true avatar.
    When his uncle posed the big question—did Ananda want to specialise?—the nephew replied that he could not afford to. Gary however was going to become a paediatric dental surgeon. After that the two friends were thinking of a practice together. Yes, professionally things were going smoothly, congratulated Dr Sharma. Now for his personal life. ‘Beta, here one is alone. You need a companion. Unfortunately these things are not arranged as they are in India, otherwise—’
    The boy blushed, ‘Uncle, please, there is no need. First I want to repay my debts.’
    Didn’t Ananda know that in Canada a wife was willing to support you while you established yourself? Women did demand—some of them—equality, but in turn they also shouldered considerable responsibilities. The boy was good-looking, with sharp features, dimples, smooth skin brownish red in colour, bright intelligent eyes behind black rimmed glasses. Was he gay? Gary?
    ‘Does your friend have a girlfriend?’
    ‘Lots.’
    You too could have lots, cried the uncle’s heart, you are such a good boy. Any woman would be lucky to have you—steady, faithful, reliable, earning well.
    But he had to let him be. His wife was never tired of pointing out that he was obsessed with his nephew. He wasn’t, but he had a special empathy for young Indian immigrants, facing his own initial difficulties.
    Ananda fixed his eyes on the grass outside the ceiling window, picked his lips with his fingers, tapped his foot against the floor and withdrew into his shell. After a few minutes the uncle left, leaving Ananda free to throw himself face down on the bed. He could smell his uncle’s cologne and it made him furious. What he did with his emotional life was his business. They were not in India. In the guise of discussing his future he could not come and say anything he liked.
    To himself he could admit how desperately he wanted a girl to love. His experience with Sue had been traumatic, but maybe another? In this country nothing was awarded the faint-hearted.
    There was little variation in the next two years of Ananda’s life. He worked at Dr Cameron’s and saved money. He did not move out of his bedsit, and he did not take a holiday. Gary accused him of penny-pinching—but that was Gary not understanding his ways. Though another