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.He loved me so much and proclaimed if he had not found me he would have never given up searching, even if it took the rest of his life.He had travelled all the way to New Zealand to finally find his love so how could he spend his life without me? He had made a promise to my Mother to look after me.How would he have told my family he had lost me?Kishore’s second task was to write down in Hindi and English his parents name, address and phone number, telling me to keep it in my purse or somewhere on me at all times.He also gave me some rupees, enough to catch a taxi from anywhere in Delhi to his parents address, “Julie, keep this money to use only in an emergency,” and “don’t get into an auto, you must get a taxi.” When I asked him why he replied, “Autos are too open, Julie, when they stop at traffic lights anyone could reach in and grab you.”For the remainder of that day and the next I often felt his concerned eyes upon me, I’d turn to him and meekly smile, “Are you okay," he asked again and again, I simply nodded.It took me two days to begin to feel myself again.I didn’t blame Kishore at all, it wasn’t his fault, it was just a lack of planning from both of us.In the taxi on the way to the embassy with Raja, I had seriously thought about my future.Now, I had come to realise that incident had been yet another test, a test to see if we could survive.We were like two swimmers who were tentatively putting our toes in the water feeling the temperature.Could we jump in together and take the plunge? If we did, would we be swimming in the warm, calm tropical ocean or the icy, cold Antarctic sea?Our bond was certainly stronger as we had now together endured an extremely emotional event.If there was any uncertainty about Kishore’s love for me that incident had certainly dispelled it.CHAPTER TWENTY-NINEThe Hindi word for prince is rajakumar.Our stay in India was for one month.Twelve days had passed already in a flurry of visiting family, friends, markets and temples.Kishore’s family, including myself had quickly slipped into a familiar morning routine.His Father and siblings were not on holiday so life continued as normal for them.Ranjini and Saras attended high school, while Sunil, who was twenty-one, was at university studying to gain a business degree.Kishore’s Father followed in his bookkeeper Father’s footsteps and worked in a bank.I was surprised to find that their morning routine was similar to any family home.Everybody rushing to get ready, wanting to use the bathroom first.Mother urging ‘eat your breakfast quickly’ and to the girls, ‘don’t spill anything on your clean school uniform' and 'have you got your books?’ As each person dashed out of the door she exclaimed, ‘don’t forget your lunch.’A lunchbox in India is called a ‘tiffian carrier,’ a metal cylinder with three compartments, each section stacked on top of the other with a handle over the top.One compartment might contain dahl or a meat dish, the next a cooked vegetable or salad and the last, rotis and a spoonful of chutney.As Kishore’s family flat was on the top floor, they had access to the roof which doubled as a private balcony.They enjoyed this area as a place to sit, chat and watch the goings-on in the street below and be happy for once that they’re not a part of it.As we were on holiday there was no rush for Kishore and myself to get ready so we kept out of everyone’s way, most mornings we went up onto the balcony.I liked to go to the edge, lean over the railing and look down at the mayhem that was the traffic, people going about their morning business and the sheer mass of diverse humanity.On this morning as I stared at the view from my vantage point, I noticed a lazy mist covering the city.It was as if the clouds had drifted down to join us in welcoming the morning.Across the street in the opposite garden a gentle breeze tantalised the leaves encouraging them to join their dance.Kishore and I as a young couple savoured this time.After all, we were still in the full flux of new love so anytime spent alone together was special.I joined him as he sat cross-legged on the concrete floor, we faced each other, taking advantage of the early morning sun.We positioned our backs to soak up its warmth, just like cats, we basked in its rays.I gazed into Kishore's eyes and him into mine, perhaps we would even sneak a tender kiss - knowing our love for each other was apparent, words were not always necessary.Once everybody had left the house, before Kishore’s Mother began her daily chores, she joined us on the balcony.As she reached the top of the stairs, she conveniently coughed to announce her arrival.Usually, we discussed our plans for the day while we sat drinking tea and eating breakfast, which we carefully carried up the stairs.As I was now immersed in the language, I understood a lot more Hindi.Aided with Kishore’s Mothers broken English, we managed to communicate quite easily.Little did I know as she joined us on the balcony on this day she had something special to talk about.As she lowered herself to sit, crossing her legs with ease, I was perturbed, as she strangely did not look at me [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]