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Chapter One: Arrival
The air was perfumed with a pungent odor similar to the smell of earth before rainfall. It was thick and heavy and I could feel it spreading through my veins. I was in India now, a foreign land where the air was infused with dirt. It was going to be a long summer I thought to myself as I followed Mom through the crowded airport.
Roshini, my sister, gloomily sauntered behind me. She was feeling the same way but neither exchanged words of comfort. Our eyes met amidst the crowd and that was as good as any verbal consolation. Dad was fumbling through his pocket for his passport; he had misplaced it, again. I glanced down at the small booklet in my hide. It had the American seal on it along with the golden letters; United States of America.
The line was long and tiring. I removed my iPod from my pocket and let the music blast through the headphones replacing the anxiety building in my heart. I hadn’t visited India since second grade and my parents were pestering me to get in touch with my heritage before I scurried off to college. But they didn’t understand that merely spending roughly a month in India won’t suddenly give birth to devotional nationalism. To be honest Bollywood movies were my only source for learning about Indian culture. If you ask me, something my parents did but didn't oblige to, I would rather be spending my time basking in the sun in our pool along with my friends. Instead, I get to spend a month in Hyderabad pretending to love it.
“Rohan, show your passport,” my mother’s voice interrupted my dismal thoughts.
The man at the counter was ogling at me as if I was an alien in their land, which was partly true. His gaze lingered before he took the passport from my hand. I looked at my mother who was beaming, she was nervous too but excited as well. She hasn’t seen her mother and brothers for over ten years and I doubt she counts the daily internet video conferences anything close to an actual visit. Dad had the same unreadable expression as usual; he was a simple man who didn’t burden himself with unnecessary worries or emotions. Roshni was observing the untidy airport, everything from the dingy ceiling fans to the ancient tube lights attached to the walls.
“Why are you here?” He asked. My mother crinkled her eyebrows, according to her it was an offensive question.
“Visiting family,” Dad answered before mom opened her mouth. Unconvinced, the man stamped our passports and we were free to go.
“Who does he think he is to ask us for a reason to visit our motherland?” my mother started.
“It’s ok Swathi, don’t get emotional,” my father assured as we made out way to the baggage claim.
I stifled a laugh before hurrying to the conveyor belt. Twenty minutes and three carts later, we made the overfilled carts to the customs. My dad mentioned that they were going to have a field day with our luggage. He was right, the officer didn’t even glance at our passports, and he immediately diverted us to the customs aisle. I sat at the foot of our cart, increased the volume on my iPod and closed my eyes.
“Ro, let’s go,” Roshni tapped my shoulder and the carts skid around unable to balance the heavy load. Finally, the doors slid open and we stepped into the dimly lit street. The first thing I noticed was hundreds of faces, each looking inside for their loved one. Others were holding placards but were peeving through nevertheless.
Nothing in the airport could’ve prepared us for what was outside of it. The pavement was infested with grime and dirt. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed an overflowing trash can. Cars were honking away and the air held the same pungent odor as before.
“Swati!!” A middle-aged man with a protruding belly hustled through the crowd towards us.
“Bhaiya!” my mother greeted. My sister and I stood still as he exchanged some incomprehensible words. I knew Hindi but his accent was different, besides he was talking too fast. He turned towards us, his face beaming.
“Kaisi Ho!” I smiled nervously. My sister’s face was blank. I leaned over inconspicuously and mumbled the translation: how are you? It was one of the few phrases I had down pat.
“Fine, fine!” she answered enthusiastically. I rolled my eyes, at least one of us was having a blast.
“I’ll bring the car, hold on.” He signaled before disappearing into the crowd. We looked utterly ridiculous standing in the corner with our overflowing luggage and with people staring at us. I closed my eyes hoping this was all a bad dream and I’ll wake up to find myself back in Ashburn. My eyes popped open when a stranger almost strangled me in the process of giving me a hug.
“Rohan, mera beta, it’s been too long!” She pulled free and I noticed my grandmother. I smiled as she cupped my face in her hands and kissed my forehead. My mother’s eyes were already tearing up but I noticed the subtle gesture. I sighed and bent down to touch her feet.
“Bless you, my child.” She said with her hand behind my head. Roshni followed and in one fell swoop grandma picked up. Our little reunion was interrupted by the sound of a car horn; uncle was back with the mini van. It took a little over five minutes to fit the entire luggage into the trunk. I got into the back seat and noticed that the back windshield was completely covered.
“Is it safe to drive like that?” I pointed to the covered windshield. My uncle stared back trying to comprehend my accent so I had to repeat it for him slowly. He gave out a loud, haughty laugh.
“Don’t worry Rohan, in Hyderabad there are no rules.” I heard what he said but couldn't understand its meaning until we were on the road. It reminded me of the video game Nascar Racing. Lanes and traffic lights were only placed for asthetic reasons and were completely ignored. If uncle hadn’t warned me, I would’ve thought he was driving like a maniac.
“Rahul, Is it alright if we stay at your house? I’m sure we can find a hotel,” my father started. My mother jabbed him in the stomach and he almost winced in pain. It was an insult to many Indians if their close family chose to live in a hotel rather than their house. My father had apparently forgotten.
“Don’t be silly! We’d love you have you here,” Uncle assured. I
stared out of the hazy window, the streets were empty with the exception of a few street dogs running around. Roshni had fallen asleep with her head rested against her cabin bag. The van slowed down with a low rumble. I looked out the window to see three police cars stopped in front of a building called Runway 9.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Teenagers these days, times have changed Swathi.” He started. “It’s a raid on a club which was supposed to close at ten sharp. The club did close but, the kids didn’t go home. They were still inside, fondling with illegal drugs and God knows what else. Waqt badla: times have changed.”
A police officer emerged with three teens cuffed. They slowly got into the truck and we maneuvered past them.
After a long, silent ride I realized we had entered into the neighborhood. The houses resembled large, colorful rectangular blocks, each with their own gate. We stopped near the one at the end, I got down and though there the street lights were dim, I noticed the dark, maroon paint on the walls. The gate opened with a loud squeak as we started moving the luggage. A few more people scrambled out of the tiny door. What happened next was a blur, let’s just say I have never been hugged by so many people in the span of five minutes. Before I could recognize their faces, they either pinched my cheeks or completely fell on me. It felt like a workout and afterwards my body was sore.
“Rohan, want something to eat?” Grandma asked me as I followed her into the kitchen. I kept close to her because she was the only person I vaguely remember before going to America.
“No,” I mumbled. The kitchen shelves were stacked with steel cans, one on top of the other. I watched her ignite the stove with a lighter, a tall, cylindrical object with a button at the end. Indian stoves didn’t have lighters built in and a thick, green wire emerged from the side connecting to the red gas cylinder below. Déjà vu hit me every room I visited and didn’t leave me when I fell on the bed. Mom and Dad were addressing the relatives while I opened my cabin bag and took out my pajamas.
“Where are we?” I turned to see Roshni staring around, confused.
“Grandma’s house, I think” I replied.
“It’s so hot,” she complained.
“It’s going to get hotter,” With that I walked into the bathroom which was lit by the dying bulb. There were buckets filled with water and I struggled to change without knocking one down.
“How long do we have to stay again?” Roshni asked once I came out. I smirked, closed the door behind me and sat at the edge of the bed.
“A little over a month,” To be honest, I didn’t want to know the official number, it made reality even gloomier. Her hair was a mess, and I knew if I told her this she would be offended. She was what Americans would call a “pre-teen”. Frankly, the term was totally unnecessary, three categories are more than enough; children, teenagers and adults. As soon as I closed my eyes to rest, I heard my name.
“Rohan, come here! I want you to meet somebody.” It took a great deal to get out of bed, down the stairs and into the living room. When I entered, everyone was staring at me, I shifted uncomfortably.
“What?” I asked trying to sound polite but, I doubt people noticed my effort.
“Remember Aryan?” What raised my left eyebrow; she wasn’t serious, was she?
“No,”
“Meet your cousin, Aryan. He’s the same age as you, now you guys can hang out, right?” It’s the water, I told myself. The water here was making my mom hallucinate. How can Aryan and I hang out? We bloody have nothing in common.
“Hi,” I greeted and extended my hand.
“Hi,” he said simply but his voice held no audible trace of sympathy, it was a mechanic response. Mom left us alone and I tried my best to look at the situation positively, if we did get along, I wouldn't be bored out my mind for a whole month.
"So, what do you do for fun around here?" I started. He didn't reply immediately and was too busy playing with his phone.
"A lot of things," his response couldn't have been more ambiguous even if he had tried. I tried to question further but his phone rang and he left. So much for friendship, I thought. He was weird and I second guessed my chances of spending time with him which left me helpless.
Instead of lingering amongst my relatives and hearing their pointless babble, I took time to explore the house. The two-storied building consisted of a total of eight bedrooms, four bathrooms and two large kitchens. My uncle and aunt, that is Aryan's parents, and my grandparents occupied the rooms on the second floor while my younger aunt and uncle were on the bottom. The joint family concept was completely foreign to me and I could never imagine living in the same house as Roshni and her future husband.
A set of stairs were located at the end of the second floor leading up to the open balcony upstairs. Perfect, I thought to myself and zipped to the bedroom. Roshni was still sleeping and I grabbed my iPod. I quietly swept past the living room, desperate not to attract attention though the lot was absorbed in a conversation.
Taking two steps at once, I stepped onto the open space taking in the first fresh, odorless breath of air since I had landed. I latched my headphone and the music started blasting into my ears. As I rested my hands on the railings, I felt a gentle breeze coming from the large neem tree planted next to the house.
People owing independent houses usually planted neem trees in order to keep the house cool during the deadly summers. The house wasn't at the heart of the city so, the noise pollution was tolerable though I could hear an occasional honk of a car or an auto.
The house was perfectly positioned away from the others and privacy wasn't an issue. I walked around for a bit until the strain of the long journey from home started settling in. I placed a hand behind my neck, trying to ease the knots when I heard a noise. I place both hands on the edge and peeked below.
"Hey!" The voice belonged to a stranger, a girl to be more precise. I pointed to myself.
"Me?" I asked, confused.
"No, me," she placed both hands on her hips and I narrowed my eyebrows.
"Aryan ghar pe hai kya?" I didn't understand a word she said but strangely didn't want to admit it, so I nodded nervously.
"Yes or No?" she hissed, glancing around to make sure the coast was clear. I realized that she couldn't see my gesture in such dim surroundings.
"What?" I asked hoping she would repeat the sentence in English.
"Is Aryan home?"
"Yes," I answered.
"Call him," she ordered.
Her face was masked by the darkness but, I did notice her long hair which cascaded well past her shoulders and before I left to call him, he appeared next to her. He looked up at me, but I couldn't read his expression. They had a short conversation and she left. I made my way downstairs and intercepted him at the foot of the stairs.
"Don't tell anyone," he said and I could sense fear in his voice. I nodded and though he didn't deserve my sympathy, I wasn't ready to make enemies during my short stay.
"Rohan is so handsome," I heard my aunt say as I walked by and I gave her a nervous smile. "He's going to get married...."
I closed the door before I could hear the rest and rolled my eyes. I fumbled through the cabin baggage and emerged with a small pouch, a compliment from Lufthansa airlines. I flipped through the headphones, small bag of unopened peanuts and a toothbrush before grabbing a small piece of paper. It was a mini-calender, I grabbed a small pen from the same pouch and put a small 'x' through July 1st. Only thirty eight more days to go.
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Excuse me if my Hindi is rusty, I'll gave to go back and revise it!
So, I know there isn't anything romantic yet, but what you guys think?
Thanks!
--starry
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