THE IMMIGRANT by Manju Kapur Page A

loan was unavoidable, he wanted it to be as low as possible. Gary and the nation could go on paying interest on borrowed money, but he saw no necessity to follow suit.
    Gradually Ananda lost Gary to Sue. Occasionally he joined them, but he was hesitant about being an awkward third, the bone in the kebab, the fly on the wall of their love. He envied his friend the security of his relationship. Sue was territory he had explored but had not been able to possess. She had been willing but an essential part of him remained hiding in his pants, shy, insecure and frightened. Now she and his friend had found each other and day and night they bloomed.
    Gary and he talked of partnership, of loans, rentals, offices, practices, equipment, types of insurance and hiring staff, but when it came to anything intimate, he fell silent. Unlike Gary’s, his personal life was confined to the same, monotonous, never varying place.
    Many girls were attracted to him, but he could keep nothing going beyond a few dates. Still, he was hopeful. With an understanding partner, sexual prowess could improve. He dropped all those who suggested doctors, they were trying to undermine his confidence. How could there be anything wrong with him when he wanted sex so much? And which doctor did these stupid women think he could go to? He belonged to the medical fraternity, and he knew no sex therapist existed in Halifax.
    Two years later Gary emerged a fully fledged specialist. By now Ananda had gained experience and popularity at Dr Cameron’s. Being Indian turned out to be his USP. Arranged marriages, elephants, tigers, tree houses, there was no end to his patients’ curiosity or misconceptions. There they were, pinned to their chairs by their open mouths, happy to listen to him, willing to be distracted, eager to be enlightened. Dr Cameron was very sorry to see him go.
    Gary and Ananda bought a house on the corner of Durant and Leslie Streets. By himself Ananda would not have dared to venture into a future tied up in mortgage payments, but with the security of Gary by his side, he felt bold and Canadian.
    Ananda loved the house. It was double storied with brown wooden shingles. Twin hydrangea bushes flowered on either side of the steps, and on the front lawn was a Japanese maple with maroon leaves.
    The pair hired an architect to help them convert the ground floor into a dental clinic comprising three offices, a reception with picture windows and a tiny kitchen. A ramp was built for wheelchairs. Upstairs was transformed into a self-contained residential unit that the zoning laws demanded. It had hardwood floors, a fireplace, a tree brushing against the back window and large rooms; a place to die for. Gary fixed the rent, and decided that he would be the one to stay there—if his partner didn’t mind. For, he explained, things were getting serious with Sue, and he needed a proper place. Of course, said Ananda, of course Gary must take the apartment.
    Nothing further was said. Both saw it fit that Gary should retain the privileges his birth and country gave him. Later Gary would get the slightly larger office with the slightly better view.
    Many of the repairs Gary intended they carry out themselves.
    ‘I am not a carpenter,’ complained Ananda as they drove towards Canadian Tire.
    ‘You’ll learn on the job, that’s what we all do. As it is, the plumbing will cost a bomb.’
    They sawed, they fixed, they painted. Dr Geller senior helped, as did all their friends. The chumminess reminded Ananda of his friends at King Edward Medical College. How many of them, he wondered, had built their own shelters in a strange land? Truly an immigrant had to be skilled in many things.
    Despite Ananda’s two years of saving, his debts became oppressive. A friend of Dr Geller senior sold them his practice for twenty five thousand dollars. That was twelve thousand five hundred his share, plus ten thousand on filling materials, five thousand each on new dental chairs, six